Operation Chaos

XXXV

There’s no such thing as living happily ever after.

You’d like to be famous? You can have it, buster: every last reporter, crystal interview, daily ton of mail, pitch for Worthy Causes, autograph hound, belligerent drunk, crank phone call, uninvited visitor, sycophant, and you name it. Luckily, we followed sound advice and played loose. I ended up with a better position than I probably rate, Ginny with the freelance studio she’d always wanted, and we’re no longer especially newsworthy. Meanwhile Valeria’s gotten to the boy-friend stage, and none of them seem worthy of her. They tell me every father of a girl goes through that. The other children keep me too busy to fret much.

It was quite a story. The demon’s public confession brought the Johannine Church down in spectacular style. We’ve got its diehards around yet, but they’re harmless. Then there’s the reformed sect of it—where my old sparring partner Marmiadon is prominent—that tries to promulgate the Gospel of Love as merely another creed. Since the Gnosticism and the secret diabolism are out, I don’t expect that either St. Peter or gentle St. John greatly mind.

Before he left me for Heaven, Lobachevsky proved some theorems I don’t understand. I’m told they’ve doubled the effectiveness of the spells that Barney’s people worked out in those long-ago terrible hours. Our buddy Bob Shining Knife had a lot to do with arranging sensible dissemination of the new knowledge. It has to be classified; you can’t trust any old nut with the capabilities conferred. However, the United States government is not the only one that knows how to invade hell if provoked. The armies of Earth couldn’t hope to conquer it, but they could make big trouble, and Heaven would probably intervene. As a result, we’ve no cause to fear other direct assaults from the Adversary’s dominion. From men, yes-because he still tempts, corrupts, seduces, tricks, and betrays. But I think if we keep our honor clean and our powder dry we won’t suffer more than we can bear.

Looking back, I often can’t believe it happened: that this was done by a red-haired witch, a bobtailed werewolf, and a snooty black tomcat. Then I remember it’s the Adversary who is humorless. I’m sure God likes to laugh.