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there in the whole world? Three, four?”
    “So? He’s a book collector,” Whalen said.
    Will couldn’t wait anymore. “Would someone mind telling me what The Book of Enoch is?”
    Kiff turned to Will, grabbed his arm. “Just one of the most ancient books of alchemy and occultism ever, Will, my boy. It’s called the fucking Black Bible. Shit, it’s still on the Vatican’s top ten proscribed list.”
    “But can you dance to it?” Tim said.
    No one laughed.
    “And what else?” Will said.
    “There was a lot of books. Some of the spines felt as if they’d crumble away in my hands. But I saw two more titles that I knew. Two more major books in the world of the occult — A-number-one tracts for the old dark forces.”
    “Shit,” Tim said, “you sound like Father Williamson having one of his visionary attacks in the middle of mass.”
    “Don’t laugh, Tim. These are incredible books.” Kiff licked his lips. And Will — for the first time-was scared of Kiff.
    He looked gone .   .   .
    And where Kiff was, Will didn’t want to follow.
    “So what’s the big deal?” Will asked, knowing just how unconvincing he sounded.
    Mr. Kokovinis started over to their table.
    Kiff — with eyes in the back of his head, apparently — shook his head to Will and started slurping at what was now an empty glass of soda.
    “You-a boys want some more?” Koko said none too pleasantly. They always overstayed their welcome for the one soda they bought.
    Kiff popped up. “Another round, barkeep,” he said. Koko shook his head and walked away.
    “Hey, I gotta go,” Narrio said.
    Kiff shot out a hand and imprisoned Narrio.
    And Kiff — crazy, wild — told him to wait. It sounded like an order. An order to them all to wait.
    At least until he heard Kiff’s plan.
    And Will listened, thinking, What the hell does this have to do with me?
    Not knowing that the answer to that question was everything .
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    5
     
    Nobody had any Coca-Cola left by the time Kiff wrapped up his pitch. And Will watched Kiff sit back, just like a carnival huckster, to wait for the suckers to take the bait.
    Kiff made his plan simple, so simple that it was hard to find a reason to say no. Mr. Scott has these books, he explained. And these books have ceremonies, rites, for doing things.
    Cool stuff.
    “So let’s get one and try it,” Kiff said.
    The jukebox went quiet.
    “How?” Tim said, dropping his cigarette butt into the dregs of the Coke.
    Narrio leaned over to Will. “I gotta go. I should have left —”
    Kiff’s voice cut in, loud, pushing away Narrio’s nervous squeaks.
    “That’s the great part,” Kiff said, looking around as if Mr. Kokovinis might actually be interested in this nonsense.
    And that’s what it was, Will knew. Nonsense. The occult, the spirit world, black magic.
    Cue Twilight Zone music, or maybe the even eerier wail that opened One Step Beyond .
    Just bullshit, stuff to talk about on hot summer nights, hanging out on the corner. Looking at a yellow moon, UFOs. King Tut’s curse. And is John Dillinger’s prick really in the Smithsonian? Bullshit. That’s all it was .   .   .
    “Scott’s rehearsing Hamlet. And” — Kiff fairly sputtered in excitement —”it will be a long rehearsal, until six, at least.”
    “Oh, Christ. I know where this is leading,” Whalen groaned.
    “What we do, guys, is go over there and” — Kiff took a breath —”break into Scott’s apartment. I know how to do it and —”
    Tim laughed. “Right. Breaking and entering. Just what I need on my records before I apply to Princeton. Right, Kiff. You got a real chance.”
    “No. Tim, Will — guys . It’s no big deal. Scott’s basement apartment has a back door. I saw the lock. It’s a piece of cake.”
    “You notice those things, do you?” Whalen said.
    “One of us can watch while another gets in. We won’t even take the fucking book. We’ll just copy down the instructions —”
    “Yeah,” Tim howled.