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child's mouth to silencehis irksome cries. Things were proceeding nicely, and the Archons waited patiently as the transformationprogressed.
    Soon there would be nothing left of Stevie. His memory of Aaron burned the brightest, its loving warmthproviding some insulation against the agony his tiny, seven-year-old body was forced to endure. Aaronwould come for him. Aaron would rescue him from the pain; he need only hold on to what little he stillhad.
    Archon Sabaoth was the first to notice. He tilted his head and listened. Sounds were coming from thechild's body—other than the muffled screams of his discomfort. Cracking, grinding, ripping and tearingsounds: The boy's body had begun to change—to grow—to mature beyond his seven years. This wasthe most dangerous part of the ritual, and the Archons studied their subject with unblinking eyes,

    searching for signs that the magicks might have gone awry.
    Archon Katspiel remembered a subject whose bone structure had grown disproportionately, leaving thepoor creature hideously deformed. Its mind had been so psychologically damaged by the pain that they'dhad no choice but to order Archon Domiel to put it out of its misery. It had been a shame, really, for thatsubject had shown great potential—almost as much as this latest effort.
    Stevie held on as long as he could, clutching at the final memory of his brother, friend, andprotector—but it was slipping away, piece by jagged piece. He wanted to hold on to it, to remember thebeautiful face of the boy who had promised never to leave him, but the pain— there was so much of it.   What was the boy's name?   he wondered as he curled up within himself, no longer knowing the question,no longer caring. It didn't matter. Now there was only pain. He was the pain—and the pain was he.
    Archon Erathaol unlocked the manacles around the subject's chafed wrists and ankles while the otherswatched. The ritual appears to have been successful,   he mused as they watched the subject curl into afetal position on the floor of the solarium. What had once been a frail child was now a mature adult, hisbody altered to physical perfection, and his sensitivity to the preternatural greatly augmented. The Archons had succeeded in their task.
    Verchiel would be pleased.
    chapter six
    It was quite possibly the best meat loaf Aaron had ever had. He shoveled the last bit of mashed potatoesand peas into his mouth, leaving a good bite of meat loaf uneaten. Gabriel lay beside his chair looking uppathetically a puddle of drool between his paws.
    Aaron looked at Mrs. Provost across the kitchen table. She was sipping a cup of instantcoffee— madewith the coffee bags, not that granulecrap,   she had informed him.
    "Do you mind?" he asked, pointing at the piece of meat covered in dark brown gravy and motioning
    toward the dog.
    "I don't care," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Would have given him his own plate if you'd'a let me."
    Aaron picked up the meat and gave it to Gabriel. "He had his supper, and besides, toomuchpeople-food isn't good for him," he said as the dog greedily gobbled the meat from his fingers, makingcertain to lick every ounce of grease and gravy from the digits. "Makes him gassy."
    "Are you trying to embarrass me?"Gabriel grunted licking his chops.
    Aaron laughed and ruffled the yellow dog's velvety soft ears.
    "That's something I can relate to," the old woman said, hauling herself up from her seat. "Somedays I feel
    like that blimp for the tires, I'm so full a' gas."
    Aaron stifled a laugh.
    She reached across the table for his plate and stacked it atop hers. "Meal couldn't a, been too bad," shesaid, staring at his empty plate. "I don't even have to wash this one," she said with a wise smirk.

    "Didn't mean to be a pig," Aaron said as Mrs. Provost took the dirty dishes to the sink. "It was really
    good. Thanks again."
    She turned on the water and started washing the dishes. Aaron thought about asking if he could do thatfor her, but