Shadow's Play

Dedicated to the memory of a good man, dmallord, who sadly passed while I was writing this story. Hun, if you can read this, wherever you are, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

— Emily

A Widow's Bay / Angels & Demons crossover

with apologies to Katie Dippold and Stephen King

SHADOW'S PLAY

by Emily Miller

— The Bogeyman —

October 31, 2026 - fifty minutes after sunset

An island forty miles off the New England coast

arguably the next Martha's Vineyard

and definitely not cursed

"Ahhh!"

He was still behind Patricia. Again!

Walking slowly, with that fucking limp, but relentless. She'd shot him - she'd shot him twice. Two shells from a Mossberg 500; the second at point-blank range. If only she had the shotgun with her now and not locked in a closet at home. But she'd not thought that she'd ever need it again. She'd seen his body cremated. It had been three months now. And yet...

"Ahhh!"

The trudging figure never stopped. His long, murderous blade was glinting in the flickering streetlamps. The electricity supply was seldom reliable on the island.

'It's déjà vu all over again,' thought Patricia. Her legs ached from seemingly nonstop running, her knuckles were sore from fruitlessly rapping on unresponsive doors. The streets were strangely empty. Where were the trick-or-treaters? They normally appeared soon after sunset, which had been nearly an hour ago. Where was everybody?

And where the fuck was Loftis? This was a mayoral issue, surely. The municipality shouldn't allow psychopathic, homicidal maniacs to roam at will. There had to be some civic ordinance prohibiting that sort of thing. She'd have to search the town code for... Wait! Patricia was pretty sure she'd lose her Town Clerk privileges once she was dead. No, that was no good.

Bechir, maybe. Though the sheriff had been worse than useless last time Patricia had been attacked; and his gun had been wisely confiscated after what he'd done to Ruth. Poor Ruth. Patricia shuddered at the memory. This fucking place drove everyone crazy; the good guys more than most.

Or Wyck, perhaps. But what would he do? Sing her would-be-assailant to sleep with an ancient sea shanty? Shit, even Rosemary from the town hall might be of more help. Or Dale... No, not Dale. Her colleague would be of no help at all.

Glancing behind at the masked horror, Patricia thought, 'Why was it always only him and her?' She had truly believed that her personal nightmare was over. Then she knew only too well that nothing was ever really over in Widow's Bay.

Patricia was tired. Not just physically, emotionally. She couldn't do this. Not again. She stopped. She turned. She stood still, eyes closed. She awaited the inevitable. This was easier. Easier than living in fear. She chose death on her own terms. At least she had that agency left.

She heard his footsteps. Heavy footsteps on damp asphalt. He must be close by now. Soon it would be over. Soon she could rest. Rest in a peace the island had never allowed her in life.

The footsteps halted. She could hear his breath. Still she forced her lids to stay closed. The stench of him reached her nostrils. The last thing she would ever smell was corrupted flesh. Or...

... was that bacon?

Opening her eyes, she first saw the crisped husk of what once had been... was he even human? It was lying three feet in front of her, and smoldering.

"Fucking fourth-rate demon," came a female voice from her left-hand side. Patricia still stared at the embers of The Bogeyman, trying to process what had happened.

"Now, Emma," another voice chimed in from Patricia's right, "we've spoken about language before, haven't we?"

The first voice had been a deep contralto, the second a light soprano. And yet... they were somehow the same.

Wondering what new torture the island had in store for her, Patricia looked first right, and then left, and then thought that she must be seeing double. Was it the twins from The Shining, but all grown up? Well, not all grown up, maybe, she corrected herself, as both of the - apparently identical - blonde women were a good four inches shorter than her. And Patricia didn't recall the Grady girls being quite so freckled.

"Is he?" asked the one on her right.

"Best to make sure, I suppose," replied the one on the left.

Patricia had been swiveling to look at each speaker in turn. Now the one on her left raised both arms, extended her fingers, and shot arcing, crackling bolts of what appeared to be red electricity coursing through the fallen body; again and again and again. When she finally dropped her limbs, there were fewer remains of Patricia's nemesis than there had been in the Widow's Bay crematorium. And the aroma of bacon had been replaced by burned toast.

Patricia pondered how best to respond to these two new presences. Ones who had clearly saved her life. After due consideration, she began, "Thank you, obviously. But... what the actual fuck?"

— — —

"Oh, come on," said red-electricity-girl. "The Bogeyman, the Murder Clown, the undead eighteenth century Lord Protector, the Sea Hag, for fuck's sake. And a little pyrotechnics discombobulates you? Sheesh, humans!"

"Wait, you're... not human?" asked Patricia, wondering if maybe death would not have been so bad.

"We're being rude," said the other woman, "well, Emma is. She can't really help it. Demons tend to be... somewhat abrupt."

"But you said that he was a demon..." said Patricia, looking at the pile of ashes on the road.

"Yeah. Fourth-rate is what I said," replied the woman apparently called Emma.

"What my fiancée is trying to say," interjected the other woman, "is that not all demons are bad. They just get bad publicity, right Em?"

"Fiancée...?" Patricia said, weakly. "I think I might need to sit down."

"Of course," the second woman replied. "Let's find a bench or something for you. I'm Lily, by the way."

Patricia shook the woman's extended hand, suddenly feeling it wasn't that bad a day. "And you're a... good demon too?"

"Oh no," said Lily with a tinkling laugh. "I'm an angel. Sorry if it's all confusing."

There was no bench in sight, but the trio went and sat on the porch steps of a house whose lights were all out. "I don't think anyone is home," said Lily. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you," replied Patricia.

Putting on her determined face - the one she used when reviewing complex liquor license renewals - she went on, "So not all demons are bad. And some angels even get engaged to them. And... do supernatural beings often marry their twin sister?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Not this again."

Lily exhibited the patience of, well, an angel, explaining, "It's a long and frankly kinda boring story and we don't have time now. Let's just say we aren't related whatsoever, OK?"

"OK," said Patricia. "Hey, are you here to destroy whatever lurks beneath the island? That's certainly evil."

"Sorry," replied Emma, "not our department. That's more of a Lucy-level deal."

"Who?" asked Patricia, her head spinning yet again. Well not literally spinning, then you could never tell in these parts.

"You know that self-help book you read?" said Lily. "Your Turn, or whatever. Who was the author?"

"Hang on, how do you know about that, and the Murder Clown, and, well, everything?" asked Patricia.

"We watched the show," both of the women replied in unison, which Patricia found disconcerting. "It's very popular."

"Show...? What the actual fuck?"

"Listen," said Lily, "it's weird I know. I found it weird when I first read about our own adventures in stories. But you kinda get used to it."

"Huh...?" said a thoroughly confused Patricia.

"Someone, a woman called Dippold to be precise, wrote a TV show based on the island," continued Lily. "You - well not you, the actress who plays you - won an Emmy for her portrayal."

"Cool name for an award," interrupted Emma.

"Cool name for an award," confirmed Lily.

"O... K..." said Patricia, rather wishing she hadn't gotten up this morning.

"And the author...? Of the book, not the TV show...?" prompted Lily.

"Um... Lucy Fours," answered Patricia. "I didn't really get it until... Wait, you mean Lucifer? Fuck!"

"No," said Emma, "that was a bad pun. I think our biographer suggested it to the Dippold woman; they both love bad puns. Anyway, they have been 'messaging' apparently." She made bunny ears with her fingers as she spoke.

"The real Queen of Hell is Lucy Morningstar," said Lily. "And she's terribly nice. So long as you don't imperil her daughter."

"As my father did," interjected Emma.

"Or kidnap her second-in-command's daughter," continued Lily.

"Hi," said Emma with a wave of her hand. "And, again, that's what my father did."

"Or she's just in a bad mood," mused Lily.

"She does get in bad moods sometimes," agreed Emma.

"So, angels and demons can marry, and Satan is a woman - who didn't write Your Turn, and I'm a TV star, right?" ventured Patricia. "And... well what the fuck are you doing here, if not helping with all this?"

"Tell her," said Emma.

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" asked Lily.

"Others...?" said Patricia, thinking this evening couldn't get any weirder. Then wishing she hadn't thought that.

Lily pulled out a rolled-up piece of papyrus from a backpack that Patricia now noticed the angel had slung over her shoulders. "So..." she began, unrolling the scroll, "I have a... Thomas Loftis, and a... um... not sure if this is a first name or a surname, but just... a Wyck, with a 'y.' Don't tell me that the Dippold woman invented them? Our biographer adores her little embellishments."

"No... no, they're real," said Patricia. "I guess they're... my friends. After all we've been through together. Are they in the TV show too?"

Lily nodded. "And where do we find them?"

"Other side of the island," said Patricia. "We could get my car, but I ran a long way trying to... well, you know."

"Wait," said Lily, "didn't we pass a car on the side of the road back there?"

They all got up and retraced their steps.

The car was old, a Plymouth, thought Patricia. It might once have been red. But it was too dirty, rusted, and beat up to be sure. But you could still see its license plate: CQB 241. One of the front doors was open wide invitingly. "Great," she said. "Either of you know how to hotwire a car?"

"Um..." said Emma, "maybe we should find another car. Just sayin'"

Lily concurred for some reason, and then said, "We could fly?"

"Fly?" said Patricia. "You're kidding, right?"

Emma and Lily looked sideways at each other, held hands, and turned back toward Patricia. They closed their eyes and their brows furrowed.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Flap! Flap!

Each woman was now sporting large, blood-spattered wings; white and feathered for Lily, black and skin-covered for Emma. Emma appeared to have acquired horns and a tail. While Lily's head was now topped by a golden halo.

"We never kid," said Lily. "Except sometimes in the bedroom."

"Except sometimes in the bedroom," agreed Emma.

"Well, OK then," said Patricia, with a tilt of her head and an 'I can deal with this' look. "Who's gonna carry me?"

"Me," said Lily decisively. "Emma's flying has improved, hasn't it, honey? But... me."

And so it was decided.

Slung under the angel, with Lily's arms clasped tightly around her torso and deafened by the thumping of heavenly wings, Patricia thought that the island looked very different from all the way up here. And Lily's backpack was kinda heavy to hold too. Her arms ached.

— Many Meetings —

"Just there!" yelled Patricia above the noise of rushing wind and beating wings. "That's Tom's house," she added, pointing.

They alighted discreetly by the edge of the forest and the angel and demon each absorbed their additional accoutrements.

"Must be useful, being able to fly," said Patricia. "Let me talk to Tom first, he can get... excitable."

They walked up to the entrance. It was adorned with spider webs and flanked by two jack-o'-lanterns. Patricia knocked. There was no reply for a few minutes, then a teenage boy popped his curly head around the door.

"Um... hi, Miss Moyer," he began affably enough.

"Hi, Evan. Is your dad around?"

Evan had now noticed the two other women who were standing a little behind Patricia.

"Um... hi," he repeated, his eyes widening and clearly unable to suppress his staring.

"Does he... know something?" whispered Emma to Lily.

"I believe we are experiencing emergent human male hormones," replied Lily quietly. "Maybe a bit of soothing angelic balm?"

Nothing would have been obvious to an onlooker, but the young man suddenly relaxed, adopting a dopey smile. Unaware of what Lily had done, Patricia said, "Evan! Do I have to mention those... funny cigarettes to your father again?"

But Evan seemed unperturbed. "You're from the mainland?" he asked the supernatural pair.

"Yes, Evan," interjected Patricia. "Just like that nice girl you were hanging out with. Kelly, right? What happened to her?"

"Had to go back home," said Evan wistfully. "But you two are here now," he went on, rallying a little.

"We might be a bit old for you, sweetie," said Lily gently.

"Yeah, by several millennia," added Emma helpfully.

"Huh...?"

"Tom... your father, where is he, Evan?" asked Patricia, trying to get to the purpose of their visit.

"Oh... Dad... he's, like, hanging out with Wyck. They're, like, BFFs now. Something about both supervising the high school Halloween Ball. Did you want to come in?"

"We have to go," said Patricia, ushering the other two away. "But, hey, I heard you were taking Carietta White. What happened?"

"Guess someone told her about Kelly," replied Evan with a shrug.

"Well, OK then," said Patricia, "you have a good night, now."

When they were far enough away and Evan had closed the door, Lily asked, "Is it far? Do we need to fly?"

"It's at The Salty Whale," Patricia replied. "We can walk."

"Carietta... Carietta..." said Emma to herself. "Reminds me of..."

"Maybe it's the White, sweetie," suggested Lily. "You know, like Emma and Lily White."

"I thought you weren't related," said Patricia.

"We're not," replied Lily. "It was an undercover alias that kinda stuck, another long story."

"Over thirty-two thousand words," said Emma. "But no. It's not that. It's... it's gone again. Which way to the Halloween Ball?"

— — —

As they walked, they met small kids, dressed as fairies or Iron Men, shepherded by their parents, and carrying treat bags. The night air was damp and the street lamps were encased in glowing halos.

Lily asked Patricia, "The Salty Whale, isn't that where you hosted..."

"Sunset cocktails," said Emma. The pair appeared to be fond of finishing each other's sentences.

"Yes. But I don't really want to talk about that," said Patricia. "Actually my lawyer advised me that..."

"Bad things happening at a party!" interrupted Emma. "I remember. Carietta White. A high school gathering. Don't you see...?"

"But it's Halloween. Prom season was months ago," objected Lily.

Emma shrugged. "You want to bet on there not being a massacre, based only on a few months' difference?"

"When you put it that way, I suppose not," Lily replied.

Turning to an even more confused Patricia, she asked, "Can you maybe point out the White girl to me when we get there?"

"They are pretty much all white. This is coastal New... oh, you mean... Sure."

As the three women approached the restaurant, strains of Olivia Rodrigo met their ears. Emma began to sing along; she had a pleasing voice:

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today, I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

"Older blondes are always a better bet," she grinned. "And seems like Olivia is really making the most of her Faustian bargain with Lucy."

"She did what?" asked Patricia.

"They all do it," explained Lily. "Sabrina, Chappell, PinkPantheress."

"All of them?" said Patricia, incredulously.

"Not all," replied Emma. "Taylor Swift is a high-ranking demon in her own right. One of Lucy's coterie. Doesn't everyone know that? Except for Travis, of course."

"I guess that tracks," said Patricia. "Huh."

She opened the venue door. A man dressed as Freddy Krueger used his steel-tipped hands to

wave them down a hallway and into the main building.

The tables and chairs had been moved back to clear a space for dancing. Someone had hung a disco ball; would this 1970s relic still be adorning gatherings in the 2070s? There were more of the ubiquitous spiderwebs and diaphanous ghosts twisting slowly on their threads.

The darkened room was full of costumed teens, and Patricia could almost taste their raging hormones in the air. The gathering was watchfully monitored by a number of adults standing by the walls and looking out for any inappropriate touching. Two of the invigilators - both men - noticed the three women enter. The black-haired one waved at Patricia, while the older, bearded, and more grizzled man nodded his head. They were on the far side of the room and Patricia made to stride forward.

"Carietta," Lily reminded her.

"Oh, right," replied Patricia, raising her voice to make herself heard over the music. "The mousy-haired girl there, standing by herself. Dressed as, I think, Snow White. Makes sense, I guess. She's kinda... well, I guess chunky is an unkind word."

"I'll go see her and catch up with you later," said Lily.

"Don't drink the punch," said Patricia with great earnestness.

As she and Emma reached the two men, the DJ announced, "We're gonna take a ten-minute break. Remember to stay hydrated. We'll be back soon with Charli XCX."

"Hey, Tom, Wyck," began Patricia, "this is Emma. She's..."

"Pleased to meet you," interrupted Emma, extending a hand.

"Hi," said Tom, "I'm Evan's Dad. I don't think we've met." Wyck simply nodded again.

"Can we maybe go outside for a few moments?" asked Patricia. "Actually, I might need you to leave the chaperoning to the other adults."

"What's going on?" said Tom, a frown crossing his face. "Is Evan OK?"

"He's fine," said Patricia. "But can we?"

On the street, Emma scanned the surroundings, but they seemed to be alone.

"Don't freak out," said Patricia, "but... The Bogeyman, well, he was back."

"Was?" asked Wyck, picking up on her tense.

"Yeah, was. Emma here, well, she kinda... fried him."

"What fresh Hell has the island concocted for us now?" said Wyck, his eyes widening and taking a step back.

Suddenly they were joined by another presence and both Tom and Wyck seemed to relax.

"Hi, I'm Lily, Emma's fiancée. Nice to meet you."

Both the men smiled calmly. "Likewise," they said in lockstep.

"Is that contagious?" asked Patricia. "Oh, never mind."

"Did you talk to her?" asked Emma.

"Yeah, she's feeling a lot better about life. I gave her both our numbers, said there was a job waiting for her after high school if she was interested. And I explained that boys weren't worth getting all het up about. She's going home, I think she'll be fine."

"And the pigs' blood?"

"I also explained a few facts of life to Chris Hargensen. She's going home too."

"Well, alright then," said Patricia, not really comprehending any of this.

She gave a small nod of resolution and began. "OK, Emma is a demon, but a good demon. Lily is an angel, but... I guess all angels are good, right?"

"Most," answered Lily.

Patricia decided it would be unhelpful to mention the TV show at this point.

"Anyway, they saved me from The Bogeyman, and apparently they want to talk to all of us."

— The Subject Matter Expert —

Whether it was Lily's angelic influence or the quotidian nature of supernatural events in Widow's Bay, the mayor and the fisherman both took Patricia's news in stride.

"Are you here to help?" asked Tom. "We could sure use some help."

"Sort of," said Lily, diplomatically. "Your... island problem, well, that's been around for millennia. Longer even than the Sunnydale Anomaly. But... well, we're here to stop things from getting any worse."

"Thing is," added Emma, "malevolent anomalies like yours kinda attract other ne'er-do-wells. They feed on its energy. It's one of them that we have been sent here to deal with. Us and Cozbi, that is."

"Who?" said Patricia.

"Our... colleague," said Emma.

"Friend, honey," said Lily. "Again, this is something we have talked about."

"I know," said Emma, shuffling her feet and her eyes cast down to the ground.

"Anyway, she's taking a boat. Said she didn't trust Emma to carry her. She should be here soon."

"And she's... what?" asked Tom. "Another angel?"

Emma guffawed.

"Em!" said Lily sternly. "No, she's a demon, like Emma." She rolled her eyes. "And Em and her have... history, don't you, sweetie?"

Emma muttered something inaudible.

"And this... Cozbi, did you say?" asked Wyck. "Is she a good demon too?"

"Er..." said Lily.

"Um..." said Emma.

"Kinda, most of the time," they replied in unison.

"Great!" said Tom. "Just like always."

"Anyway," went on Lily, "our friend," here she looked pointedly at Emma, "is sort of an expert on our person of interest."

"Massive fangirl," interjected Emma. "I'm sorry, she is. Used to even dress like him."

"That was a long time ago," said Lily. "Before she met Emily."

"Too many names!" said Tom. "So, your target, who is he, and why the fuck should we care about your problems? We have enough going on as it is."

"Let me try to explain," said Lily, patiently.

"Yeah, I think we'd all like that," said Patricia.

"So," began Lily, "whatever lies beneath your island is kinda above our pay grade. Emma's dad is a demigod, her mom is the second most powerful demon in Hell, and my parents were..." she paused for a second and clearly collected herself before continuing, "were both archangels. But your... island problem is too ancient and too powerful for us, even combining our abilities. But the... person who has come here, who is using the island to fuel his dark necromancy? Well, between me, Emma, and Cozbi, we can probably take him down. Or at least get him to leave, to separate him from the island's power. Well, we'll certainly try, right Em?"

"Right," confirmed Emma.

"As for Tom's question," said Lily. "You may be up to your eyes in supernatural alligators - OK you clearly are - but you do not want this guy wandering your streets." Looking at Patricia, she added, "This guy would eat ten Bogeymen for breakfast with a side order of a dozen Sea Hags."

"OK," said Tom, his position making him the group's spokesperson, "but why do you need to involve us? Won't we just be getting in the way?"

"Um..." said Lily.

"Er..." said Emma.

"We... don't really know," they both said somewhat apologetically.

"They don't tell us everything, fucking angels," said Emma. "Well, not all angels, obviously," she added hurriedly when Lily gave her the look.

"See, the problem is Emily," Emma went on. Looking at Lily, she clarified, "Who is just one angel and not at all representative of all angels, even ones who look exactly like her."

"I'm sorry," said Tom, "but are you actually fucking kidding me? What are you even talking about?"

Lily spoke up, the soul of reasonableness as always. "Emily is what we call a Justice Angel. A very senior Justice Angel. She's... well, she's not our manager exactly."

"Cozbi works for her, as well as sharing her bed," interjected Emma.

"Quite," resumed Lily. "I - at least notionally - work for my Uncle Oúriēl. He's First Angel. And Emma... well, I suppose she ultimately works for her mother, Naamah. She's Lucy's Head of Demonic Intelligence. It's just..."

"It's just we do what Emily tells us to do," chimed in Emma.

"Er... yeah... what she said," confirmed Lily. "Emily gives us these little jobs. But..."

"But she doesn't always explain exactly what we are doing or why," said Emma. "She loves her 'need to know' shit." The demon mimed quotation marks as she spoke.

"But," continued Lily brightly, "she told us it was terribly important that we meet with you three and that we should involve you in our plans."

Patricia, Wyck, and Tom looked at each other in silence and confusion. Tom was clearly about to ask a question when...

"Hold on a moment," said Emma, "I'm getting a message."

"Mobile phones don't work on the island," interrupted Tom.

"Who needs a phone when you have Demon-Vision?" said Emma.

She held out her hands and made a few complicated movements. In front of her the very air seemed to swirl and coalesce. First there was a glowing mist, then the face of a woman appeared. Apparently Levantine, with arched brows and olive-toned skin. And she looked kinda pissed.

"Where the fuck are you in this God-forsaken shit-hole?" she began. "The excuse for a boat had a fucking leak, and my Manolo Blahniks are probably ruined."

"Um..." interjected Tom, "I'm the mayor of this... charming fishing community, one that the New York Times labeled..."

"I don't care, Haddock Breath," snapped Cozbi - it was obviously her, "let me talk to the Barbie-dwarf twins."

"I thought you said...?" asked Patricia.

Emma held up a hand. "You need rescuing... again? Your majesty?"

Lily stepped in. "Hello, Cozbi. Lovely to see you. If you could tell us where you are, we could..."

"I don't know, Rumpelclitqueen. I just know it's damp and dark and smells of fish. Much like your girlfriend's..."

"That's quite enough of that, Cozbi," said Lily sternly. "Angels have a messaging system too. Would you like me to call Emily?"

"No," said Cozbi, rather sulkily. "No need for that."

"OK," said Lily, mouthing 'Emma's ex' to the others, "you must be by the dock. We're outside the Salty Whale. Could you ask the boatman to...?"

"He's gone," said Cozbi. "Said something about mainland bitches. I assumed he meant you two."

"We'll come find you," said Lily, a little tersely, while Emma snickered.

— — —

It was only a few minutes' walk, but time enough for Patricia to ask, "You sure your friend is, well, on our side?"

"Cozbi?" replied Lily. "She's a total pussycat. Well, maybe a smilodon."

Patricia found this information less comforting than it might have been intended to be.

Then, out of the seamist, a statuesque figure appeared. Cozbi was tall, as were the heels of her - rather worse-for-wear - shoes. Her short, black dress clung to her generous curves.

"It's about time," she said. "What a dump this place is. The next Martha's Vineyard? More like the next Hyannis, if you ask me. What the fuck am I doing here?"

"Following orders," said Emma, clearly attempting to sound as sweet and innocent as her fiancée; and failing miserably.

"I don't take orders from anyone," said the imposing demon. She stepped forward, fire in her eyes, and stopped with her face only inches from her much smaller ex.

"Except for Emily, right?" interjected Lily, in an innocent and reasonable tone, one that had wholly escaped Emma.

"Right," said Emma, not backing off an inch. "And didn't Oúriēl make her an archangel now? Your girlfriend... boss, I mean. Archangel Emily and her pet vengeance demon."

"Um..." said Cozbi, as fiercely as she could manage in the circumstances, which - it had to be said - was not very fiercely at all.

Recovering her poise, she went on, "Anyway, I know who wears the pants in our house, and it isn't the angel."

"Oh!" cried Lily, clapping her hands together. "I love playing dress-up with Emma. Do you grow a mustache, Cozbi? It would suit you."

Emma sputtered with laughter, Cozbi looked bewildered, and an irate Patricia said, "Didn't one of you say something about fighting some evil bad guy? Or are we gonna have episodes of Brothers & Sisters all evening?"

Wyck had been silent, but now spoke up. "Good evening, young Miss," he began. "Been many a year since such a fine-looking woman - or demon - has lighted on these shores. May I take it upon myself to be your humble guide?"

Emma rolled her eyes, but a look from Lily prevented her from saying anything.

Cozbi took the fisherman's proffered arm, saying, "At least one of you has manners. Where do I get a quadruple whiskey?"

Tom looked at Patricia. Patricia looked at Tom. "The Barnabus Tavern?" they both said. Shit! It was contagious.

— — —

The bar was nearby. Now seated together in a nook, the four women and two men talked in hushed tones.

"So," began Patricia, "your person of interest, as Emma described them, do you have a name? Or an address? Or a description?"

"I'll defer to Cozbi," said Lily, "she's the expert."

"Names?" began the vengeance demon in a tone that suggested she rather liked being the center of attention. Wyck gazed at her as if entranced.

"He has many epithets. The Dark Man. The Walkin' Dude. The Ageless Stranger. As for actual names, he most commonly uses Randall Flagg, though he also has a multitude of variants, many with the initials R. F. Richard Fannin, for example."

She took a large gulp of her bourbon. "Appearance? It's said that he looks different to each person who gazes on him. But he often has long hair. Black as a raven, and ravens are his familiars."

"So... not a lot to go on, then," said the ever practical Patricia.

Undeterred, Cozbi scanned the faces of her human associates. "He is cloaked in mystery. Some say he was once human. Others that he has always been and will always be. His powers and knowledge of arcane lore are considerable. But his preference is to work through others. He is the master manipulator. A true agent of chaos."

"It sounds almost as if you admire him," said Tom with a smile, expecting the others to see the funny side.

"In another life, yes," replied Cozbi, for once sounding very serious. "But demons can change, become more enlightened."

"Become tamed by their angelic better halves you mean," laughed Emma.

"Demons in glasshouses..." said Lily quietly, and Emma subsided.

"So, to recap," said Patricia. "We don't know what name he's using. We don't know what he really looks like - apart from maybe the hair thing, and that seems a bit uncertain. What's the plan?"

"Don't ask me," said Cozbi, leaning back in her chair. "The mini-bitches do the bureaucracy, I just break shit."

"Yeah, we're the brains, you're the brawn," scoffed Emma.

"I suggest," said Lily, ignoring both her supernatural counterparts, "that we ask our new friends about anyone who has moved to the island recently, or who has started behaving differently."

"We've all started behaving differently," said Tom. "An ancient entity demanding regular human sacrifices will do that to you. Or so I'm told."

Wyck and Patricia nodded in agreement.

"OK, point," conceded Lily. "But what about new people?"

"There's the folks who took over the funeral home after Gideon Blackwood passed," suggested Wyck. "Renamed the business. It's now Barlow & Straker's Funeral Services. They have a fancy new sign."

Emma's brow furrowed. "I know those names. Argh, it's gone again. But somewhere to start, perhaps."

"Any other ideas?" asked Lily.

"Only one," replied Patricia. "Someone bought Alden Libby's cottage. But I don't think they ever moved in. The place is still boarded up."

"Well, worth checking," said Lily. "Which is closer?"

"The Funeral Home," said each of Tom, Patricia, and Wyck. This synchronicity was getting weird.

"Funeral Home it is then," said Lily.

She, Emma, and Cozbi stood to leave.

"You're coming too," said Cozbi. "My girlfriend was most particular about that."

Its three human members visibly reluctant, the whole group set off.

"We can all fit in my car," suggested Tom.

The Jeep was just about capacious enough. However, Cozbi still complained about being cramped. This despite commandeering the passenger seat and then sliding it back to crush Emma. "You don't need much room, do you, sweetie?" she said with a leer.

Patricia was perched in the center of the back seat, and Lily ended up sitting on Wyck's lap. She smiled sweetly at the imposition, but the fisherman raised no objections.

"I guess Lily's old enough to be your mother," giggled Emma, drawing a frown from her angelic partner.

— The Funeral Home —

"It's close," said Tom.

"Pull over," said Lily. "Let's scope it out."

There wasn't much to see, only a rather unimpressive and kind of dilapidated clapboard house. But the new sign was indeed very fine, though the impression of order was rather undermined by the proximity of a single, crushed and moldering pumpkin.

"Let's get out," said Emma, dying to stretch her legs.

As she exited the car, she began to sniff the air. When the others joined her, Lily asked, "What is it?"

Emma held up a hand to shush her and sniffed harder.

"Chase's super sniffer is on the case," yawned Cozbi, examining her nails. "Except Chase is rather prettier."

"Isn't Chase a boy pup?" asked Patricia. She wasn't a Paw Patrol devotee.

"Kinda my point, Pattypus," grinned the vengeance demon.

For once Emma ignored her. One more sniff, and she declared, "I smell the undead."

"Shit!" exclaimed Tom. "You mean like..." he looked from side to side as if expecting someone to be there, "... vampires?" The last word was only a hoarse whisper.

"What's the secrecy for?" asked Cozbi.

"They might hear us," hissed Tom, clearly flustered.

"It's only vampires," said Emma. "I guess this isn't our guy."

"But..." interjected Wyck, "it's... vampires." He made his hands into claws and bared his teeth.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Emma, exasperated. "Nightwalkers are pretty low down the demonic hierarchy. Even Queen Coz-bee could give them a nasty sting."

"Which is just what I'm gonna do," said the taller demon. "Watch and learn, my pocket-sized pickme gal."

Cozbi took long strides toward the door, despite her tight dress. She didn't stop or bother to remove her stilettos. Instead she kicked out and the wood shattered. Without slowing her momentum, she bent to pick up two foot-long shards of the former door and entered the building.

Emma and Lily followed her. The humans were rather more reluctant stragglers. The house was well-lit. Inside, Cozbi was standing in the center of an entrance hall. It had twin staircases on either side. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" she yelled. "Do you vant to drink my blood?" she added in a more sing-song manner.

"More Sesame Street than Transylvania," said Emma, just loud enough to ensure that Cozbi heard her.

Without turning around, the other demon raised a hand with her middle finger extended. "Spin on it, rust spots."

Before things could get heated, two figures appeared above, one at the top of either staircase.

"A Type One and a Type Three," said Emma to Lily. "I recall the names now, associates of Flagg."

Lily nodded. To Patricia, it seemed that the angel didn't fully share her two demonic friends' confidence. Then she had skipped the 'Interpreting Supernatural Beings' course at college, so maybe she was jumping at shadows.

"Hello boys," said Cozbi, wriggling her hips provocatively. "I think you are ready for this jelly."

"Oh good grief," said Emma, looking at the ceiling. "Get on with it, drama queen."

"My neck is very nice," went on Cozbi, tilting her head. "Such a juicy jugular. I bet you can't resist."

"For the love of Lucy," Emma breathed.

As the two vampires began to move quickly down the stairs, Cozbi became a blur of movement. One door fragment went spinning toward the left-hand figure, penetrating its chest with a heavy thwack. The other vampire rushed forward. Cozbi pirouetted matador-like and planted the second stake deep in his back.

She walked back toward the group, brushing off her hands. "Like falling off a log. Or maybe like falling onto a log for Emmy-Wemmy."

"That was... amazing," said a clearly starstruck Wyck.

"Um... Cozbi," said Lily.

"What?" asked the vengeance demon.

Lily pointed behind her friend. The vampires had initially fallen to the floor. But now, instead of turning into piles of dust like any self-respecting bloodsucker, they both slowly stood up. Each pulled the wood from their torsos. They didn't look at all pleased.

"That shouldn't happen," said Emma, bracing herself for a fight.

But Lily spoke up in her most persuasive voice. "Please, kind sirs, do not hurt my friends. Take me. I willingly submit my lifeblood to you."

The two vamps looked at each other and then shrugged. Lily walked past a frozen Cozbi and approached the larger of the pair. She stopped merely six inches away and tilted back her head, exposing her neck.

The vampire transformed as she approached. His hands became claws. Fangs sprouted from his mouth. And he didn't waste any time. A swing of his arm and Lily's throat was slashed deeply.

Surely such a wound would be fatal, thought Patricia. She screamed. Tom squeaked. Wyck cried, "No!"

The vampire leaned forward to taste the red liquid spraying from the maimed angel. Patricia wanted to turn away but she couldn't manage to do so. Instead she stared through her fingers at the butchered and helpless Lily.

But, as the scarlet droplets fell onto the vampire's pallid skin, they began to glow and then burn and then consume his flesh. He clasped his hands to his face and screamed in agony. It was such a scream as Patricia hoped she would never hear again.

Totally unperturbed, Lily strode toward the other vampire, who was now backing away. But the wall stopped him in his tracks. He cowered before her slight form. Smiling sweetly, Lily turned the carmine hose onto him with similar incendiary results. And that same horrendous scream, Patricia thought.

Satisfied with her work, the blood-soaked angel walked calmly to rejoin her friends. As she moved, she drew a hand slowly across her throat and Patricia could see the flesh knitting back together. By the time Lily dropped her arm to her side, there was only the faintest of scars visible.

There was now nothing left of the two vampires. The air smelled of ash.

"Well," Lily said cheerfully. "That was much harder than it ought to have been. What the fuck is going on?"

— — —

"Wait," said Tom, "is your blood, like, acid. Like those... things in Alien?"

"Xenomorphs," said Patricia, feeling more serene than she had any right to feel. Looking at Lily, she began to suspect that this was due to the angel's influence.

"Xeno-fuck," said Tom with some emotion. "We have actual fucking vampires here. Could they have turned others? What about Evan?" His voice had a note of panic in it. "I need to find a phone."

"Like that one?" said Cozbi, finding her voice again and pointing at a rather old-fashioned receiver.

Tom rushed to call his son.

"What actually happened here?" said Wyck. To Patricia, he often seemed happiest when the island offered up some new abomination.

"Well," replied Lily, with a slight cough, her voice otherwise unmodulated by the recent laryngeal trauma, "all that stuff about crucifixes and holy water is propaganda spread by organized religion. But angelic blood and nightwalkers, they don't exactly mix so good."

"Stupid sixth-rate demons," added Emma.

"And you knew that they'd attack you and that, well, that would happen?" said Patricia, still bathed in an unnatural calm.

Lily simply smiled.

"But couldn't Emma have just, you know?" Patricia pantomimed the demon using her electrical attack.

"Maybe," said Lily, "but after Cozbi's... misjudgment, I thought it best to bring out the big guns."

"I've never seen a vamp survive a staking," said a chastened Cozbi. "Do you think Flagg...?"

Emma interrupted, for once speaking civilly to her ex. "Emily told us that he was drawing power from the island. Maybe he's conferred some of it on his confederates." She reached up to put a hand on the vengeance demon's shoulder. "It's not your fault. I'd have done the same."

That got her a faint smile. "Thanks, Short Round," said Cozbi, not unkindly. "But doesn't that mean that Flagg..."

"Flagg might be a lot to deal with," said Lily. "We'll need a strategy. If we can find him, that is."

"Evan isn't answering the phone," said an agitated Tom, rejoining them. "He's out with his stoner friends and there could be vampires. There could be hundreds of vampires."

Patricia put a hand on the mayor's arm. "I'm sure Evan is fine." Looking at Lily, she tilted her head in Tom's direction and raised her eyebrows.

She must have guessed right about the angel's powers as her boss visibly calmed. "Of course, I'm sure he's fine. But... I'd still like to check on him."

"Where are they likely to be?" asked Emma.

Tom mentioned a few possible spots. "PJ Glanville has an old Volvo. They hang out in that."

"I don't know the lay of the land," said Emma, "but if Lily and Cozbi want to figure out a Flagg-related plan, I can fly you around until we find your son."

"Fly...?" said Tom weakly.

"Sure," said Patricia. "It's a piece of cake."

"Um..." gulped Tom, "OK, I... guess."

The demon and the local official left. The others decided that the air was too acrid where they were and explored the house, ending up in its kitchen to discuss what next.

— — —

It took a while for Emma and Tom to return. "Did you find the missing brat?" asked Cozbi.

"Yes," replied Tom, serenely. "He was having a sleepover party at PJ's. But it's all OK now. Rosemary's watching him. Evan just wanted to eat tortilla chips. He'd finished a bag before we left. And PJ was kind enough to give me a couple of these candies he'd gotten trick-or-treating."

'Gummies,' mouthed Emma, standing behind him.

"I wonder if there is anything to eat here?" said Tom, beginning to search the kitchen cabinets.

"Did you check that this woman, Sage, or whoever, wasn't a vampire?" asked Cozbi helpfully.

"Rosemary," said Tom, opening another door. "No, nothing here."

"Of course she's not," said Emma. "I'd have smelled something."

Cozbi shrugged. "Just trying to look out for the kid."

"So," said Emma, "have you guys come up with a brilliant plan?"

"Not really," said Lily. "I'm... well, to be honest, I'm finding it kinda hard to think like this." She looked down at her blood-stained clothes. "Maybe if I took a shower, I could focus better."

"They must have a shower upstairs," said Emma.

"Um... I'd kinda like to go somewhere else," said Lily.

Cozbi looked at Emma and the vengeance demon's words appeared in her ex's mind. 'She's having a reaction to earlier, let's get her out of here.'

"Is there anywhere else Lily could get cleaned up?" asked Emma.

"How about The Inn?" said Patricia. "They probably don't have a lot of guests - if any - at this time of year."

Lily nodded weakly. Emma went to her partner and let the angel lean on her as they made their way back to the car. Tom was munching on some stale pretzel sticks he had found. "Give me the key," said Patricia. "You can't drive."

"Not and eat these delicious pretzels at the same time," smiled Tom happily, handing over his keys.

It was a short distance. Cozbi even deigned to occupy one of the seats at the back, allowing the blissfully unconcerned Tom to sit next to Patricia as she drove. Wyck seemed less happy with Emma occupying his lap than he had been with Lily.

— The Breakwater Inn —

As they pulled up in front of The Inn, Emma said, "I don't recall that being there."

"The maze, you mean?" said Patricia. "That's newly planted. Kurt thought it would be a great tourist attraction for next season."

"You been here before, little girl?" asked Wyck of the demon sitting on his lap.

Emma looked at Lily, who mimed 'no' in response.

"Um..." said Emma, "I was thinking of the tourist brochure."

Patricia pulled into the lot, and thankfully there was no more time for this conversation.

They rapped on The Inn's door and the owner, Kurt, appeared. "I was just going home," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Then he saw Lily and went on, "Oh my. It wasn't The Inn. We haven't had an... incident... let alone a fatality for... it must be three weeks now."

"We just need somewhere for her to wash and change," said Emma.

"Well, I don't know," fussed Kurt. "There'd be a surcharge for any bloodied towels and what are the rest of you going to be doing?"

"It's not a problem," said Emma slowly and deliberately.

"It's not a problem, of course," replied Kurt, perhaps a little woodenly.

"My house is your house," continued Emma. "And drink what you want."

"Come in. Come in. My house is your house," said Kurt. "And I'll waive the honor system for tonight."

"You can go home now," said Emma as they stood in the lobby.

"I'll be going home now," said Kurt. "I've left the keys on the counter. Please lock up when you are done." With that he closed the door behind him.

"Demons can have a strong influence on the weak-minded," grinned Emma. "I'll take Lily upstairs."

The other four gathered in the parlor. Wyck and Patricia each sipped their rum on the rocks. Cozbi poured herself a large whiskey. Tom stuck to his pretzels. Before long Emma returned.

"Is she OK?" asked Patricia.

"She will be," replied the she-demon. "Angels always bounce back."

— — —

Upstairs, Emma had set the shower to run and adjusted the temperature to one she knew Lily liked. "Want me to scrub your back?" she'd asked.

"Normally, yes," Lily had replied quietly. "But I... I think I'd like some time, if that's OK."

"Of course," Emma had said, briefly kissing her fiancée's forehead. "I'm just downstairs if you need anything."

Now alone, Lily undressed and pulled back the shower curtain. She tested the water. Perfect. Emma was such a sweetie. She stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain behind her. The water felt soothing after a troubling evening and the prospect of more difficulties to come. She let the warm rivulets flow over her skin and wash the blood off. Looking down, she saw that the water spiraling into the drain was stained red.

Suddenly the curtain was yanked to one side and a figure with a long knife appeared. They raised it and let it fall toward the angel in a murderous arc.

Lily caught the swinging limb and flicked her wrist. There was a horrific crack as both radius and ulna snapped, followed by an agonized scream.

"This isn't even the right fictional universe," said Lily. "And can we cut the shrieking violins please?"

The shrill sound of strings abated, and Lily sweetly asked, "Where do I find Flagg?"

— — —

The group downstairs had - for the most part - lapsed into a tired silence. Wyck and Patricia were trying to come to terms with the latest supernatural events. Cozbi was taking a nap. Tom was still chowing down on his salty snacks.

Their quietude was interrupted by a dull, repetitive thumping sound. Thump! Thump! Thump! Then a pair of feet appeared descending the staircase, followed by legs, a naked butt, a nude female torso, and finally all of Lily. She was dragging something behind her by its left leg. Its head was generating the thumps.

"Look what I found," she said in her tinkling voice.

"Are you OK?" cried Emma, alarmed and rushing to her girlfriend.

"I'm a little damp," replied Lily, who was covered in water droplets, "but otherwise unharmed."

Patricia knew she should turn away, or cover her eyes, but her body wasn't being responsive. The way that Lily's skin sparkled was just too... no, that couldn't be the word. Wyck openly stared. "You have lots of freckles," Tom beamed. "And you're so perky."

"Please," said Cozbi, opening one eye. "Only hack erotica writers use the word perky. It's almost as bad as moist."

Opening the other eye, she asked, "What have you got there?"

"A rather impotent boy demon in a dress," replied Lily. "And there seems to be something wrong with his arm."

The figure's right forearm was indeed forming an alarming angle. He - it was clearly a he - also appeared to be unconscious, if not worse.

"Did you break him, sweetie?" inquired Cozbi.

"Just a little," said the angel. "He had this nasty knife, you see."

Addressing the vengeance demon, she continued. "Maybe you could, um, secure him, or whatever you demons do. He told me where Flagg may be found, but let's keep him. Demons don't always tell the truth, do they?"

She looked at Emma who began whistling, while examining a particularly interesting section of ceiling.

Cozbi got up. "OK, buddy! Let's see if Auntie Cozbi can find a nice chain for you somewhere."

She picked up the motionless figure with some ease and slung him over her shoulder. "I hear the crawlspace in the basement is delightful," were the last words the rest of the group heard before she disappeared with her burden.

"Shall I get you a towel?" asked Emma. When Lily nodded, she ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Patricia was mostly failing to deal with various unaccustomed thoughts and feelings racing through her mind and other parts of her body. Involuntarily she found herself whispering, "Rosebuds."

Angels have exceptionally acute hearing. "Wrong fictional universe - again!" said Lily. But she smiled indulgently at Patricia and mouthed, 'It's OK.'

Then Emma was back with what seemed to be a googolplexian of towels and some spare clothes. Finally Patricia turned away. She shepherded her two male friends back to the lobby, saying, "Let's give her some privacy."

As she left, Patricia couldn't shake the image of the angel's naked body from her mind. Was it the island playing tricks on her or was it something else? She decided that there were more important things to think about and did her best to think about them instead.

— — —

A few minutes later, Emma came into the lobby. "You can come back in," she said.

Lily was clothed once more; Patricia experienced a momentary feeling of regret, which she suppressed. Cozbi had also returned. She was concentrating on filing her beautifully manicured nails. "Stupid chain," she said by way of explanation.

"So," began Patricia, "you said you knew where the big bad guy is, right?"

"Yes," replied Lily, "it's the place you suggested. But, more important than that, he told me what Flagg is doing."

"How did you do that, Lilliputian? I didn't know angels could be so... persuasive," drawled Cozbi.

"I might have taught her a few... techniques," said Emma.

"Basically, he didn't want me to do to his left arm what I'd done to his right," explained Lily innocently.

"So," interrupted Patricia, who was not very interested in supernatural interrogation techniques, "what did you find out?"

"Well," began the angel, "the intelligence that Flagg is trying to channel the island's dark energy to support his own aims is correct."

"And ursines defecate in arboreal settings," yawned Cozbi.

Ignoring the vengeance demon, Lily continued. "But the key to this is the lighthouse."

"The second-oldest operational lighthouse in the U. S.," said Tom, sounding a little more like himself, and now in guidebook mode.

"Could be," said Lily. "But, more to the point, the only one designed to concentrate and harness the substantial power of an ancient, malevolent, island-dwelling entity."

"You should update the tourist information," said Cozbi. "That would sure draw the crowds."

Once more paying no heed to her demonic associate, the angel went on, "And his plans are well-advanced. Apparently today is the optimal time for him to act. My assailant said that Flagg is probably already in situ. There is a ceremony to be conducted. He may already have started it."

"Your little friend seems to have been very communicative," said Wyck. "Remind me not to ever upset you."

"He was very... motivated," said Lily.

"So what do we do?" asked Emma. "A full-frontal attack?"

"It's doubtful that would be successful," replied Lily. "I tried to reach Emily on the angelic message service, but... the line seems to have been cut, metaphorically speaking. Could you try Naamah?"

Emma moved her extended hands in the same manner as when she had earlier spoken to a newly arrived Cozbi. But the swirling clouds never resolved into anything. "It's being blocked," the she-demon said. "Just like you. I guess we have to figure this out by ourselves."

"Not entirely by ourselves," said Lily. "It's a universal law that any structure built by an evil antagonist must have a hidden weakness which can be exploited by the plucky protagonists."

"Ah! The Death Star doctrine," said Patricia. "What?" she went on to Tom and Wyck. "Can't a woman have a hobby?"

"Of course," both men replied hurriedly.

"And my assumption," continued Lily, "is that somewhere in the Widow's Bay municipal offices will be the original lighthouse plans."

Smiling at Patricia, she added, "If only we knew someone who could find them." Turning her eyes to Tom, she went on, "And someone else who could unlock any confidential archives."

"Do you think that's why Emily was so insistent that we team up with the puny humans?" asked Emma.

"It's a working hypothesis," smiled the angel.

"What about this puny human?" said Wyck.

"I assume you have a boat," said Lily.

When the fisherman nodded, she said, "Maybe not a full-frontal attack, which Flagg might expect and have no doubt prepared for. But one launched from the rear, from the sea. That might allow us to interrupt his ceremony and perhaps buy Patricia enough time to figure out something we can use."

"It might," said Cozbi, "or we might die trying."

"Maybe," said Lily. "But we have to do something."

"Either you or I will have to stay with Tom and Patricia," said Emma. "So as to be able to fly to the others with any salient information about the lighthouse."

"Sounds like a job for two demons and a fisherman to me," said Cozbi. "Lily needs to recover from the vampire fiasco I caused."

Lily was about to say something, when Patricia interrupted. "She's totally right. You stick with me and Tom and recuperate - or whatever angels do - and we'll do our best to find what you need quickly, OK?"

When put like that, Lily couldn't find a cogent way to argue, and so things were settled. Time was now of the essence.

— To The Lighthouse —

Patricia drove to the dock to drop off Cozbi, Emma, and Wyck. "Good luck," said Lily, hugging each of them in turn, augmented by a brief kiss with her fiancée. "Be careful, honey," she added.

"Never am," grinned Emma. "Would you want me any other way?"

"I'd prefer you alive, you stupid towhead," said Lily.

"Hey, that's my line," grinned Emma.

"I'll take care of half-pint for you," said Cozbi. "Now go figure out a fucking plan, won't you?"

It was a short drive to the Town Hall. Tom, Patricia, and Lily scrambled up the stairs. Patricia unlocked the offices and they entered the darkened building.

"Where do we start?" asked Tom, now apparently clearheaded once again.

"I had an idea on the way," said Patricia. "You remember the two USGS people who were here after the quake?"

"When the island woke up, you mean?" asked Tom.

"Yeah, I could swear their report mentioned some sort of anomaly. An anomaly on the cape where the lighthouse stands. There was too much else going on at the time to pay much heed to it."

"If you can dig that out," said Tom, "I'll go look for the plans."

"What do I do?" said Lily.

"Do angels know how to make coffee?" asked Patricia.

Lily gave her a look that she normally reserved for Emma. "Just point me at the machine," she said.

— — —

Wyck had fired up the boat's engine and was now charting a course for the lighthouse.

"I could have flown us there," said Emma.

"I am not leaving the ground with a garden gnome holding me, OK?" insisted Cozbi. "Anyway, Wyck likes to feel useful, don't you, sweetie?"

Wyck tried not to blush and focused on the sea ahead. But Cozbi sure was a fine-looking woman. Maybe Emma and Lily had a certain schoolyard charm, but he preferred a more mature and robust kinda gal.

He dimmed the boat's lights. No sense announcing their arrival. The moon was a waning gibbous, so there was plenty of light, and he knew these waters well.

— — —

Patricia fired up her computer. A search through Outlook found the report quickly. She decided to print it, the better to share with the others. Now, highlighter pen in hand, she flipped the pages.

Interferometric Synthetic Aperture Radar: hmm.

Sub-pixel offset fields imaging: uh-huh.

Airborne LiDAR: NEHRP was very thorough.

The USGS field report, including ground-based LiDAR: interesting.

Aha! A summary and the actual images in an appendix: she just knew there had been something.

Tom joined her shortly, carrying two rolls of paper. He was followed by Lily with a couple of steaming mugs. "I don't touch caffeine. It makes me spacey," she explained.

"What have you found?" asked Tom.

"A few things," Patricia replied. "But let's start with the plans."

"OK," the mayor replied, carefully spreading out the first roll of paper. "These really should be digitized," he said, "but..."

"No money," said Patricia, shrugging. "The same old story."

"Yeah," said Tom, "someone should do something about that." The colleagues shared a look. Neither of them needed to refer to how well Tom's revenue-generating schemes had gone.

"This is the original drawing," went on Tom. "Nothing remarkable, right?"

"Nope," confirmed Patricia.

He unrolled the second plan. The paper was newer and in much better condition. "This was based on a 1970s survey relating to the new building code. Can you see the difference?"

Patricia pored over the diagram. "The foundations," she said, "they seem much more extensive."

— — —

The boat chugged through the calm waters, but Wyck was uneasy. The ocean around Widow's Bay was unpredictable at best and often perilous. Unbidden, as so often happened out here, his mind went back to that night. The night Mark Doyle had been taken. The night he'd failed to save his friend. The image of the... creature burned into his brain and haunting his dreams. Grimly he stared ahead and pushed the throttle forward.

Emma stood on the small rear deck. She seemed restless. "Missing your diminutive doppelgänger?" asked Cozbi, while reclining against the side of the boat, arms spread on either side.

"Yes," the she-demon replied, "but it's not that... it's something else. I can't put my finger on it."

Inside the cabin, Wyck increased the speed further. He glanced at the sonar. 'What! No, this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening again.'

— — —

Patricia put two pages on top of the newer plan, either side of the actual lighthouse. She nodded in satisfaction.

"The foundations are... monumental. The post-quake report suggests they penetrate even deeper than the 1970s survey. And the new findings indicate that they are made of some sort of metal, though there is no speculation as to what."

"My assumption is a magnesium-tungsten alloy with selenium cores," said Lily.

When the other two stared at her, she added, "We've seen this before. In New York to be specific. It looks like a giant superconductive antenna, an architecture specifically designed to channel supernatural forces."

"Why hasn't it been used before?" asked Patricia, "And why is Flagg using it now?"

"I have no idea," replied Lily. "But I know we have to end it. I know we have to try."

Patricia flipped through a few pages of the report and then pointed a finger at one of the printouts. "There! The earthquake opened a new fissure. It runs right down to one of the foundation pillars. Could we...?"

"It needs all three antenna components to function," said Lily. "If we damaged one of them..."

"Um..." interrupted Tom, "is this going to impact the actual lighthouse? It's very popular with the..." He petered out as Lily and Patricia stared at him in disbelief. "OK then," he went on, "let's fuck that fucker. But how?"

"The dock extension," said Patricia excitedly, "weren't they going to do some blasting? Before... well everything else happened. Didn't you sign a permit for the storage of high explosives?"

Tom nodded. "But wait! The opening of the fissure is at the foot of a cliff. Won't it be underwater?"

"Low tide is at 11:15 p. m.," said Patricia. "High tide won't be until 5:00 a. m. tomorrow. I think it should be accessible, if we move quickly, and assuming that the seawater drains out of it."

"Let's go blow shit up then," said Tom. "But how do we get there?"

"We'll find a way," said Lily.

— — —

Wyck was frozen, expecting an impact. The same sickening impact that had splintered the boat he and his teen friends had stolen all those years ago. But it never came. Instead he heard a short shriek, followed by Emma's voice yelling, "What the fuck?"

Suddenly able to move again, Wyck shuffled to the back of the boat. Emma had wings. But after everything else that had recently happened this evening, it didn't faze Wyck. Of course she had wings. "Where's Cozbi?" he asked urgently.

"It took her. It had tentacles. I'm... well, I don't know what I'm going to do. Something... I guess."

With that the she-demon took to the air, circling and peering down into the dark sea. Wyck went to the side of the boat and did the same. The surface was choppy and bubbles spiraled up from the depths, but he could see nothing more.

Then, in his peripheral vision, there was a movement. Looking sideways, he saw Emma dive gannet-like into the ocean, her wings furled close to her body.

Then... nothing.

— — —

Tom backed up the Jeep to the storage cabinet. It was located some distance from town for obvious reasons. He opened the tailgate. Lily and Patricia examined the industrial-strength padlock securing the steel doors. "They're meant to leave a key at the Town Hall," said Patricia in frustration, "but does anyone take notice of that?"

"I can open it," said Lily.

"Um... there are high explosives in there," said Patricia warily. "You're not going to do that Emma electricity thing are you?"

"Unlike my girlfriend, I can be subtle, precise even," replied the angel.

She held up her index finger, from which a bright, glowing, blue light emerged. It was maybe two inches long. As she applied the paranormal flame to the lock, the metal began to glow, then melt.

As Lily worked, Patricia asked Tom, "Can we swing by my place on the way to the dock? I need to get... something."

— — —

Wyck gazed at the waters. It had surely been too long. Then who knew how demonic respiratory systems worked? He had no clue what to do, and frankly feared the creature's return.

Then the waters boiled and Wyck shielded his eyes, waiting for the kraken of his nightmares to emerge. Waiting for the end.

But a winged shape burst from the sea. It was carrying a larger figure. A clearly nude larger figure.

Emma unceremoniously dropped Cozbi onto the deck from a few feet up and then alighted next to her. "Shit, you're heavy," she said, panting a little.

"I had it all under control, until you showed up, small fry," said Cozbi.

As the vengeance demon got to her feet, Wyck's eyes widened.

"What's up, Captain Ahab," Cozbi challenged him, arms akimbo. "Never seen a lady who lost her dress grappling with a giant squid? Ugh! Not a big fan of calamari, to be honest. It gets stuck in your teeth. Anyone got a pick?"

As she spoke, Cozbi's skin briefly glowed and the water droplets covering her turned to steam. Her hair was now also dry again.

Wyck couldn't help asking, "Did it do that to you?" He pointed a trembling finger at the demon's naked lower abdomen, which was traced by an ugly laceration.

"Sure you weren't looking a little lower, Captain?" purred Cozbi, stroking her mound and the wispy black hair below.

"I... er..." stuttered Wyck, casting his eyes down.

"Stop fucking with him, Cozbi," said Emma, her breath now back. "Or at least fuck with him, if you really need to get something out of your system."

"That," said Cozbi, ignoring her counterpart, "is my transition scar."

"You used to be a...", mumbled Wyck.

"A man? No," replied the vengeance demon. "I mean I used to be a living human, just like you. Until some religious zealots saw to that."

"I didn't mean to pry," said Wyck. "Are you hurt?"

When Cozbi said she wasn't, he went on, "I might have something to wear below decks. I mean it would be my own clothing, but..."

"Sure," said Cozbi, winking at Emma, and dragging Wyck toward the stairs.

"Cozbi, we don't have a lot of time," said a somewhat exasperated Emma.

"He won't take long," grinned the vengeance demon. "I just need something to take away the taste of bad sashimi."

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Cozbi reemerged. The demon was dressed in a pair of work pants and a plaid shirt. She was barefoot. Licking her lips, she said, "As good as mouthwash."

Wyck followed her up, looking a little disheveled, and with a beatific smile on his face.

"About time too," said Emma, pointing at the sky.

Amid the gloom, a small figure was flapping toward them on white wings.

"You haven't gotten very far," said Lily, as she landed. "Engine problems, or been sightseeing?"

"Kind of the latter," said the vengeance demon.

"What happened to your dress, Cozbi?" asked the angel, while embracing her girlfriend.

"Seemed out of place on a boat," she replied. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"I need you to turn around," said Lily. "No time to explain now. Emma and I are going to try to slow Flagg down. Tom and Patricia will fill you in on the plan. Cozbi, I need you to look after the humans. Can you do that?"

Cozbi saluted the angel, but her face was more serious. "Don't get killed before I get back, deal?"

"Deal," said Emma and Lily together.

The three supernaturals stacked their hands. "On three," said Lily.

"One... two... three... Emma's Escorts!"

Wyck was still too blissful to even wonder what was going on or why. But Cozbi eventually convinced him to set course for the dock.

Emma and Lily took wing, heading for the lighthouse and its current occupant.

— Flagg —

Patricia and Tom had been busy. By the time that Wyck's boat docked, they had transferred the explosives and detonators that they had loaded into the Jeep to the quayside. They weren't light, otherwise they could have traveled by Lily Air. But, with Cozbi's superhuman strength, there should be no delay in stowing them aboard.

Wyck looked at the stacks of matériel with wide eyes. "We planning to start a war?" he asked.

"Just blow up a lighthouse," replied Patricia.

"Want to catch us up?" asked Cozbi, one eyebrow arching.

Between the two of them, Tom and Patricia explained about the paranormal antenna and accessing it via the newly created fissure.

"And which of you is the explosives expert?" asked the vengeance demon.

"I... we watched a YouTube video," said Tom.

"Probably on an FBI watchlist now," muttered Patricia.

"And the explosives have a helpful 'how to detonate me' sticker on the side," added Tom. "Look."

He held up one of the cartridges for the others to read.

"Don't do that," cried Wyck.

"It's perfectly safe without a detonator," said Tom.

"Why is it smoking then?" asked Wyck.

With a shriek, Tom threw the offending item into the sea. Nothing happened.

"See... I told you..." Tom was interrupted by a sharp crack, a dull resonating boom, and a towering plume of water bursting up and soaking the onlookers, as the dock itself reverberated.

"Let's make a new rule," said Cozbi. "The competent Midianite she-demon handles the nasty bang-bang toys, OK?"

Looking at Patricia, she went on, "Question: how do we... deploy this stuff? Tell me that you weren't just thinking of tossing it into the crack and hoping for the best."

"Um..." said Patricia and Tom in unison.

"We're local government officials, not a demolition crew," said Patricia. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest Wyck gets me to the lighthouse, leaves me with the kit to do the grown-up stuff, and navigates to a mile offshore. Any objections?"

"We want to come too," said Patricia firmly. "Don't we, Tom?"

"Well..." said the mayor, clearly in some doubt. "Maybe... maybe I should check on Evan."

"Tom!" barked Patricia.

"I guess we can both tag along," he added hurriedly.

"Whatever!" said the vengeance demon, beginning to lift armfuls of the munitions.

— — —

Flying was a lot faster than sailing. Emma and Lily quickly zeroed in on their destination. As they drew near, it was evident that the customary rotating lighthouse beam had been replaced by a flickering eldritch glow. Citron and chartreuse hues intertwined in dizzying and ever-changing patterns. The light pulsed and twitched like a living, breathing thing. And, in the lantern room, stood a silhouetted figure. A figure with its arms raised in apparent invocation.

Above the roar of the wind, Emma shouted, "I'm guessing it's not as simple as incinerating the top of the building."

"Yeah," replied Lily. "And I'm guessing he has layers of protection spells in place. But it might attract his attention."

"More attention than we can deal with, but OK. One of us on either side, right?"

"Right," replied the angel.

The pair split up and took up positions hovering equidistant from the lighthouse and at one hundred and eighty degrees to each other. There was no need for a signal. Emma sent crackling branches of demonic power sizzling toward their target. Lily pulsed beams of coruscating cobalt blue energy from the other side.

Both hit a previously invisible shell that now shone green as it deflected the attacks radially as if water jets had splashed harmlessly against a window.

'Thought so,' said Emma to herself, noticing that the figure had now dropped his arms. 'What now?'

Her question was answered by two things. Volleys of what looked like viridian spheres of plasma speeding out toward both her and Lily. And, from the very top of the lighthouse, countless shadowy forms emerging. Flying shadowy forms that divided, with a platoon making a beeline for each woman.

"Shit! Here we go," thought Emma, somersaulting sideways and taking out two adumbrated attackers with a single blast of red fire.

— — —

The sea was still calm, but Wyck nevertheless scoured the waters ahead, fearing the creature's return. He understood that Cozbi and Emma had injured it badly - the vengeance demon had claimed to have bitten through two tentacles - but it apparently lived still, no doubt with its malice increased.

They rounded a promontory and the lighthouse came into view. It bathed the surroundings in an eerie, ungodly light. A light that picked out two moths dancing around its flame. If flames were noxious emerald and constantly spat out fireballs, that is.

Taking his binoculars, Wyck could see the angel and demon beset by winged frights. Sometimes their attackers seemed like giant bats, sometimes like cruel vultures, sometimes like human figures with rending claws. As he watched, more and more of these dark creatures puffed out of existence or fell from the skies glowing like meteors, defeated by searing red or blue rays. And yet Emma and Lily's swoops and dives looked labored to him.

"Cozbi!" he yelled. "Your friends are in trouble."

The tall demon joined him. She had no need of optical enhancements. "It's what they said they would do. To concentrate Flagg's defenses on them. What we can do to help is to stick to the plan. And maybe make this rusty bucket move a bit faster than a sea snail with physiologic atrophy."

Wyck was in no mood to defend his boat's capabilities and instead pushed the throttle to maximum. He hoped it would be quick enough.

— — —

Emma felt blood trickle down from her forehead and into her left eye. She'd let the last one get too close with its claws. In her peripheral vision, she saw something in the sea, but determined she wouldn't look closer. Her gaze could betray the others' location.

The distance was great, but she tried reaching out to Cozbi mentally. 'You getting into position?'

'Yeah,' came the reply. 'Remember our deal about you two not dying, OK?'

'I'll do my best,' Emma replied, ducking another fireball. 'Gotta go. Good luck!'

Emma grabbed two of the shadowy creatures and slammed them together. Their lifeless bodies began to plummet to the ground. With a second's respite, she checked on Lily. The number of assailants was definitely less. Perhaps they might yet prevail. But her partner looked as weary as Emma felt.

But, what was this? The torrent of fireballs was surely less; it actually seemed to be stopping. And no new creatures were emerging from the lighthouse. Could they be draining Flagg's batteries?

She fried a bat-shaped attacker and caught Lily's eye. 'Yes, I think we're actually winning,' the angel's voice replied in Emma's head.

Emma kicked out at a monstrous bird, then severed its head from its body with a sheet of red fire. Dare she? Extending her arms toward the lighthouse she loosed a short burst of electricity...

... and a large pane of glass shattered, its shards flying inward. As if their power supply had been instantaneously cut, the other attackers all winked out of existence, leaving the sky to just the demon and the angel.

The supernatural pair sped into the breach and crashed through it side by side. Tumbling acrobatically, they righted themselves and stood braced in the lantern room, back-to-back.

"That was too easy, right?" said Lily.

"Much too easy," replied Emma.

Then they heard the sound of clapping, and a voice solemnly intoned, "Well done, ladies. I'm most impressed. And honored, of course, to meet both Emmoreth, daughter of Naamah, and Lailah, daughter of Zerachiel."

"And Tzaphkiel," said Lily, with a determination that Emma suspected the angel didn't really feel. The she-demon decided it would be unhelpful to bring her deadbeat demigod dad into the conversation.

"And the long-lost Tzaphkiel, of course," the voice continued reasonably.

"But I'm being rude," he continued. "My name is Flagg, Randall Flagg. Maybe you have heard of me."

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Emma under her breath.

— — —

Cozbi was waist-deep in water. She was methodically moving the explosives from the bobbing boat to a narrow strip of sand, behind which the newly formed fissure yawned darkly.

The others had offered to help. The vengeance demon had declined. She was now carrying the last crate to shore, holding it above her head to keep the contents dry.

She clambered onto the sand again, then turned back to the sea. "Right, get the fuck out of here as fast as you can manage in that tortoise-like tugboat."

"What are you going to do?" yelled Tom above the crash of waves.

"Get this down there as deep as I can manage, set a timer, climb out, and swim for it," she replied. "If you want, you can try to keep an eye out for me. But the bangs are likely to be bigger than The Big One."

"I'll drop anchor a half-mile out," said Wyck. "We'll keep watch. Good luck."

He got a rarity in return, a non-snarky smile from the vengeance demon. "See ya 'round, Captain," she said with a salute.

— — —

Emma and Lily were still motionless, not knowing whether to attack or to prepare to be attacked. 'And how the fuck does he know so much about us?' wondered the she-demon.

As she waited for someone to make a move, she also thought, 'He's so unremarkable.' Kinda handsome, but not really. Neither tall nor short. If his hair was long and raven-colored, the hoodie he wore concealed this. Even his eyes were average-looking, though - to a demon - there was a hint of fire behind them.

Lily suddenly made as if to cast her sapphire flames at Flagg. He raised just one finger of his right hand and the attack was diverted upward, punching a hole in the roof.

"Now that was rather impolite," he said, with a nasty grin. "I'm a reasonable man, but I have my limits."

Emma braced herself for Flagg's counterattack, but it didn't come. Instead he pulled up a battered wooden chair, sat down, and said, "Let's talk a while, shall we?"

— — —

"What's going on up there?" asked Patricia as Wyck guided the boat away from the rocks and the scene above became visible once more. The airborne battle seemed to have ceased and the jade illumination was much fainter. "Is that a good sign?" she asked, forgetting for the moment that Cozbi was no longer aboard.

"I don't know," replied Tom. "It might be a good sign..."

Wyck just grunted, focusing on the waves, and wondering whether he'd ever see the vengeance demon again.

"I need to know what's going on," said Patricia in her decided voice. "Turn the boat around, Wyck," she demanded. "I want to get off."

"But Cozbi told us..." he began to remonstrate.

"You do what your girlfriend says, but put me ashore first," she insisted.

Without looking around, Wyck replied, "That's not a terribly kind way to speak about a woman - yes a woman - who may be sacrificing herself for us all right now. Anyway, she has a girlfriend, as I understand it."

"You're right," conceded Patricia. "That was unnecessary and inconsiderate of me. I apologize."

As she spoke, Patricia was unzipping a duffel bag, the contents of which she had earlier retrieved from her house. Filling the practical pockets of her dress with shells and shouldering the Mossberg, she quietly said, "Now, if you'd just set me ashore."

Something in her tone caused the fisherman to turn around. "What the fuck is that?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"Chekhov's shotgun," replied Patricia. "Now if you'd kindly do as I ask..."

— — —

It took a lot to make Cozbi break out in a sweat. Lucy Morningstar's tail did it every time. Or, she thought rather wistfully, Emily's tongue. Then there was that beanpole ginger futanari with her massive... No! Now was not the time. Those things made her perspire, but so did womanhandling crates of explosives down a narrow crevice in the dark, its sides still slick with seawater.

This was her third trip down. One more should do it. Then a bare foot slipped on the slimy rock. Cozbi just about caught herself, but the box began to slip from her grip. Instantaneously, her fingers morphed into claws, digging into the wooden container and arresting its fall. "Now why the fuck didn't you think about that before?" she chided herself, also letting her feet grow talons. "Much better."

Cozbi continued her descent, the dark crack illuminated only by a red radiance emanating from her face.

"You can do this, bitch. You can do this."

— — —

Further around the headland from the fissure was a narrow cove, from which a set of stone stairs ascended to the lighthouse above. Tom and Patricia were now negotiating these. "This is aerobic," puffed Tom. Patricia said nothing, wondering just what one woman could do against a demonic menace, but determined to find out.

Reaching the upper greensward, they now stood at the base of the monumental tower. "Won't it be locked?" asked Tom, looking at a hefty, stormproof door in the curved stonework.

"Let's see," replied Patricia, reaching for the handle.

Despite its weight, the door swung inward smoothly on its hinges. "Come on," she encouraged her rather reluctant boss.

Inside was lit and a spiral staircase hugged the circular walls, climbing to the lantern room far above. Cautiously, Patricia began to ascend, her shotgun held in front of her. Rather more slowly, Tom followed.

Above them, they began to hear voices.

— — —

Neither Lily nor Emma relaxed, but their adversary seemed the picture of serenity. "There is no need to be afraid," he said. His voice was almost gentle, but underpinned by a note of menace that he seemed unable to mask.

"I feel bad for you both," Flagg went on, his tone turning syrupy. "You have both been through so much."

'What the fuck was happening?' thought Emma. And yet his voice was so... reasonable, so soothing, the previous edge now smothered in thick molasses.

"Yes," he said, steepling his fingers and leaning forward. "You, Emmoreth. A plaything of the powerful. Betrayed by your false lover, the perfidious Cozbi. Your arrogant naïveté allowed the demon lord, Asmodeus, to ensnare you so easily. To use you. Then robbed of your former beauty by your own foolishness. Your rightful wings severed from your now puny, ugly body in punishment."

"I... I have my wings back..." the she-demon stuttered. "Lucy... she gave me..."

"But she also took them," continued Flagg. "You have had so much taken from you."

"No," said Emma, but the word sounded hollow to her.

"And you, Lailah," he went on. "As good as orphaned. What you allowed your father to do to you. Did you enjoy it? I think that maybe you did. But then how it broke your mother."

"That... that was Asmodeus's doing too. I... I was a victim," said Lily, her voice sounding as unconvincing as her partner's. "Mother was kidnapped... I had no choice... I..."

"There is always a choice," interrupted Flagg smoothly. "And you chose... poorly. Incest with your father to save your mother? That would always end in tragedy. Maybe you wanted that tragedy. Maybe you made it all happen. Perhaps it was your own sick fantasy all along."

"No... she... she's a good person," said Emma weakly, doubting the truth of her words.

"And how would you know? Betrayer of your father. Betrayer of your mother. Whose fault was it that Naamah was for so long incarcerated? Whose fault that stone walls yet bind your father? To have such a daughter is indeed any parent's nightmare."

"No," said Lily, tears running down her face. "She didn't... None of it is true. It wasn't like that."

"Your poor mother, Lily. Your poor crazed mother. And all because you wanted to take her place, to be your father's concubine. To shut her out."

"No," wailed both women in agonized unison.

"And look at you now," said Flagg, his voice crescendoing. "Diminished. Shadows of your former majesty. Cheap chibi simulacra. Playthings. Walking, talking fetishes. Sex dolls. Vessels empty of everything but the semen of random strangers. You know it's true. You know what you have become. Don't you disgust yourselves?"

"Yes," the women replied, their voices muted in shame. "We know what we are."

Flagg allowed himself a small smile. This had been easier than he had anticipated. Soon he would be rid of these meddlesome interruptions and free to focus on his objective. Power. Power was always his objective.

He looked up at Lily and Emma. Both suspended in midair. Both eyes closed. Both totally under his control.

His smile broadened into an evil grin.

— The Big Bang —

"Done," said Cozbi, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Before her were stacked the cartridges, detonators embedded, and the whole thing wired to a timer. The vengeance demon was rather disappointed that it didn't have a digital display with glowing red numbers. She set the contraption for ten minutes, more than enough time to get clear.

Now a final ascent. She briefly allowed herself to think of the others. "Get a grip, Cozbi," she admonished herself. "You're getting soft in your old age."

But then, as she began to climb on clawed appendages, Cozbi heard a sound above. The waves were louder. Salt water was beginning to drip, then run down the sides of the fissure. The rivulets became a waterfall.

Briefly she considered resetting the timer. Then she thought of Emma and Lily and what might have befallen them. No, she'd be fine. Just a little dampness. She'd be just fine.

— — —

Many feet above, Flagg was now cackling. He rubbed his hands together, delighted with his own cleverness. His superior intellect. These supposedly powerful beings were putty in his hands. It remained only to order their suicides.

But, as he opened his mouth, another voice rang out.

"Get away from them, you whiny little bitch!"

Patricia wasn't looking at Emma or Lily. Her eyes were trained down the barrel of her shotgun, Flagg in her sights, as she strode deliberately forward.

"Your weapon cannot harm me," he laughed.

"We'll see about that," she retorted.

"Tom, get up here!"

Loftis hesitantly emerged from the top of the stairs where he and his assistant had been hiding. Listening.

"Er... hi..." he began. "We... we just want to get our friends. Then we'll leave you to..." he gestured around the room. "To whatever evil antagonist plan you have concocted. To be honest, I thought you'd be taller."

"You, Tom Loftis," Flagg intoned. "Wife killer, betrayer of your child's grandmother, the innocent Ruth. Failed father..."

"Excuse me," interjected Tom. "I have a teenage son. You really need to up your game. Our friends, if you please..."

Flagg turned to Patricia. "And you. The weird misfit. The crazy delusional one. No friends. No one who cares..."

"She's... she's my friend," said Tom. "I... I care... Well, not like that, but..."

"Thanks, Tom," said Patricia, ice in her voice. "But I've got this."

She continued to advance. "I know you. I've always known you. You're every bully. You're every supposedly popular kid, desperately hiding your own insecurities. You're every person who hurts others to salve their own pain. I used to listen to you. I used to care what others said and thought about me. But... and I don't mean to be impolite here... fuck that shit!"

She raised her voice. "Emma! Lily! This douchebag is gaslighting you. Can you hear me?"

As Patricia spoke, the angel and the demon opened their eyes and began to move. Slowly they descended to the floor, looking dazed.

"Your prisons are your own minds, ladies," said Patricia, her eyes still on Flagg. "It took me too long to figure that one out. But, hey, I did eventually."

"I'll crush you," screamed Flagg, his eyes now flaming red.

"Go ahead, punk, make my day," said Patricia calmly.

"Isn't that rather a 1970s vibe, don't you think?" said Tom.

"Maybe," she replied. "I personally think that Eastwood's early movies have a timeless quality to them. The westerns in particular."

"You can't hurt me," raged Flagg. "You can't even see me. I can melt away like the mist."

Patricia ejected a spent cartridge from the Mossberg. "As I say, I know you. You're nothing. A nothing constantly trying to fill your vacuum with others' misery. You've got exactly five seconds to get the fuck off this island, or I'm gonna test your immunity to buckshot."

Emma and Lily, now themselves again, came and stood either side of Patricia. Even Tom tried to look threatening.

"One..." said Patricia.

"Two..."

But she got no further. A massive noise tore through the room and the whole building shook. For a moment, all was still. Then, with a groan of tortured stone and metal, the lighthouse began to tilt and its walls started to crack and crumble.

"This is not over," yelled Flagg. The air shimmered briefly, and suddenly it was as if he had never been there.

— — —

The explosion was deafening even three thousand feet out to sea. Wyck saw flames surge from the base of the cliff beneath the lighthouse, then the fearsome noise, then - seconds later - a fierce wind rocked the boat and tousled his hair. Binoculars glued to his eyes, he ignored the collapsing lighthouse and instead searched the dark waters for any sign of a vengeance demon.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Maybe she had made a misjudgment. Maybe the explosion had been premature. Still he looked.

"Seen a topless mermaid, Captain?" said a familiar voice from behind him.

"Cozbi!" he yelled, turning and embracing the demon.

Stepping back, he said, "But you have wings."

"Yeah, some dude - I guess you'd call him God - gifted them to me. Don't tell the mini-menaces. I have such fun with them and their elaborate plans to carry me. Our secret, OK?"

"Sure," smiled the fisherman, delighted to see the vengeance demon alive.

"Speaking of secrets," Cozbi went on. "I kinda liked it below-decks. Want to take a more leisurely tour? Nothing puts me more in the mood for a bang than, well, a bang."

"But the others...?" said Wyck, not with one hundred percent conviction.

Cozbi peered back at the ruined lighthouse. Despite the darkness, with her demon sight she could pick out two flapping figures, one carrying a man, the other a woman. She watched as the quartet safely alighted some distance from the stricken building.

"I'm sure they will be fine," she said. "Now you were going to show me some seamen tricks, right?"

— — —

Patricia, Tom, Emma, and Lily stood looking at the lighthouse, which had seemingly settled at a twenty-degree angle and had deep cracks running down its walls. Total collapse had apparently been averted for now, but the building was a purposeless wreck.

Patricia had been amazed at how quickly the angel and demon had moved to get her and Tom away from the falling debris. She could maybe get used to this idea of flying.

"Well," said Tom, "maybe we can market the Leaning Lighthouse of Widow's Bay."

The Town Clerk squeezed his arm. "It's a joke, Patricia. Just a joke," the mayor went on.

Emma and Lily embraced Patricia in turn. "Thank you for bringing us to our senses," said Lily. "We are both in your debt."

"Let's say we are even, after The Bogeyman," she replied.

"But..." said Emma, "how come he didn't affect you?"

"Kris Brewster," Patricia said, with a shrug.

"Huh?" replied the supernatural couple.

"If Patricia will allow me," said Tom. "Kris Brewster is the biggest stone-cold bitch in Widow's Bay. Sorry for the implied misogyny."

"Apology accepted," said Patricia. "I found a way not to care about her vitriol. To focus on the real friends I have." Here she smiled at Tom. "So, as I said, fuck Flagg's shit."

"You know that he might try again?" said Emma. "Though I'm guessing that this..." she looked at the ruined building, "... is a pretty major setback. But the evil he was trying to channel hasn't gone anywhere."

"We know," said Tom. "We'll find a way to live. We have so far."

"Well," said Lily, handing him a card, "you don't have to do it alone."

Tom looked at the printed text. "Emma's Escorts? What's that?"

"It's us," said Lily, taking her fiancée's hand. "Us and some friends. Cozbi too sometimes. Standing up for truth, justice, and the sex-positive way. If it ever gets too much to handle..."

"Who you gonna call?" interjected Emma.

"Thanks," said both Patricia and Tom together. They really had to stop doing that.

Emma and Lily took off, waving and still holding hands.

As they headed for Wyck's boat to extract their vengeance demon friend, Emma said, "You know I love you because of who you are and what you've done, not despite it?"

"I know," replied the angel. "That and my tongue, right? But let's try really hard not to forget that we always have each other."

The she-demon nodded, and they flew on.

"Hmm..." said Emma. "No sign of life on the boat. But it seems to be rocking. And not in time with the waves."

"Better check it out, I suppose," replied Lily.

THE END

Or is it...?

Endnotes