Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(56)

Someone's gonna get hurt and then there'll be trouble.

Social services took a dim view of broken arms in foster care. Sadly, they were rarely an accident.

I doubted arms could be broken here no matter what these kids did. So a game of king of the mountain, even with someone three times your age and five times your weight, wasn't going to be dangerous at all. I'd envy them, except they were dead.

"The true name of the Devil is known only to God," Ruthie answered, "who stripped Satan of all identity when he rebelled."

"Then where did the word 'Satan' come from?"

"Hebrew term for the Devil was Ha Satan. Lucifer is the name given to him by the Babylonians. He said he was the angel of light, the morning star."

"When, exactly, did he claim this?"

" 'How you have fallen from heaven, O star of morning, son of the dawn!'" Ruthie quoted. "Isaiah—chapter fourteen, verse twelve."

"I don't remember that one."

Ruthie's eyes narrowed. "Mebe you should have paid better attention in church."

"I knew I was going to regret that." Perhaps not then, but I sure did now. Wasn't that always the way? Church never seemed like a good idea until it was too late.

"The evil one was called different things by different prophets." Ruthie paused, tilting her head until the sun sparked a halo around her graying Afro. "I believe John used the term 'evil one' Matthew, Mark, and Luke called him 'Beelzebub,' Prince of Demons. In second Corinthians, Paul calls him 'Belial,' or worthless."

Despite Ruthie's admonition, I had a hard time believing I'd zoned out during a sermon on the multiple names of Satan. I doubted the info would be of much use to a layman.

"I still don't understand what purpose is served by confusing everyone with all these names."

"Having too many names is worse than having no name at all. Who are you? No one knows. No one cares,"

"People care." Way too much.

Sometimes I thought the modern world was more in-terested in Satan, in all his incarnations, than they were in God. Which was probably why we were in the fix we were in. Despite my stupidity about all things Doomsday, I did seem to recall the end times following a pe-roid of disintegrating moral values.

"Naming Satan based on a characteristic separates him into pieces," Ruthie said. "He's parts, not a whole. With no true name, no true identity. He is defeatable."

"You believe that?"

She met my eyes, and in hers I saw utter conviction. "I do."

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the house. I wished I had Ruthie's faith. But I couldn't tell her so. She might knock my block off, and I liked my block right where it was.

Ruthie had always had many colorful ways to threaten us. Along with the aforementioned knocking off of the block, there had been "slap you silly," "slap you stupid," "knock your head to a peak and then knock the peak off," "knock you into next week," "kick your butt so hard you'll be wearing it for a hat," and my particular favorite, "pull your lip over your head until your inside is your outside."

In truth, she rarely touched us except with love. The warning was all that was needed. Usually.

"Why you smilin'?" Ruthie asked.

Remembering Ruthie's threatened retaliations for misbehavior had only made me think of how very much I wanted to save the world. The world was worth saving. Ruthie had been worth saving. Too bad I hadn't known she'd need saving until she was dead.

"No reason," I said, and she lifted a brow. Of all her children, I'd probably been the least inclined to smile for no reason. Didn't mean I couldn't change. Not that I had.

"If Satan's confined in Tartarus," I continued, "and has been since the angels fell"—whenever that was— "then how is it that the apostles and prophets were chatting about his deeds long after his imprisonment?"

"Just 'cause he's locked up don't mean he can't cause trouble. That's what the Nephilim are here for. And make no mistake, he's been pullin' their strings all along."

"What about possession?" I sat up again. "Exorcist-type stuff? Does that happen?" "Of course."

"So not only do I have to worry about actual demons on earth—"

"Half demons," she corrected. "Least until one of them opens Tartarus."

"Fine." I rubbed my forehead. "Right now I'll worry about half demons and people possessed by demons."

"I wouldn't worry too much about the possessed."

"Why not?" I'd seen The Exorcist. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to stop worrying about that.

"These days when people start gibberin' in other languages, throwing up pea soup, and discussing the demons whisperin' in their heads, what do you think happens?"

"They're given antibiotics and a free vacation at Camp Psycho."

"Got that right," Ruthie agreed.

Which meant that the possessed were incarcerated. Though I was certain not all of them were.

"Have you ever tried to find the Book of Samyaza?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"