"What's going on here?" asked Word.

Yolanda turned to him and shook her head. "Word, the part of you that doesn't understand doesn't need to know, and—"

"Oh, shut up," said Word, and he left the room. Whatever they were doing in there was none of his business. If it didn't bother Rev Theo, it didn't bother him.

There was magic in this. And Yolanda seemed to know all about the change in him. Talking about a part of him this and a part of him that.

Whatever possessed him was not God. It was more like Bag Man. It was about babies being born after a one-hour pregnancy. It was about an old man reaching out to be healed by a fourteen-year-old boy who had no idea what he was doing. It was about his father finding all his poems spread all over the internet and getting reviewed scornfully—the old man was almost catatonic, refusing to go to the office, and Mother was staying with him all day because she was afraid he might kill himself.

It was about magic and evil and not Jesus' healing power.

Yet the people who were blessed last night were truly blessed. There was no trick in it. Not like what happened in Baldwin Hills.

The rumors were flying all over the neighborhood about Ophelia McCallister in her husband's grave and Sherita Banks being transported to a gang bang. And Sabrina Chum had a hideous fast-growing cancer removed from her nose. The doctors said that if it hadn't been discovered till morning, it would have spread so far through her nose that the whole thing would have had to be removed. And Madeline Tucker was spreading around what Ceese told her—that Mack Street saw these people's dreams and knew that something bad was happening and saved them.

Look at it one way, and it was a blessing, a miracle. Mack knew their dreams and he saved them.

So was Mack saving them? Or profiting from their terror and gratitude? Ophelia McCallister was in her living room telling every visitor how beautiful it felt to have that coffin lid open and Mack Street and Grand Harrison lift her up out of the grave. "It was a rehearsal for the judgment day. For the rapture!" she told anybody who came by.

And then Word came back down to the church and spent the day thinking and praying and reading the scriptures. All day he'd been telling himself that the stuff that happened in Baldwin Hills had nothing to do with the Christian miracles here in this church last night. But now he knew it wasn't true. Now he knew that it was all part of the same thing. Whatever had crept inside him, this woman knew what it was, or who it was. She claimed that Mack Street was somehow already her husband.

So by preaching to the people, was he advancing the cause of that vile man who took Mack Street out of his parents' bedroom in a grocery bag? Or opposing it? Whose side was he on? What was good?

Good was that baby being saved last night.

Good was the way Rev Theo greeted him with a hug when he came in this morning, and told him, "The blessing of God is on my house again, thanks to you."

"Thanks be to Jesus alone," said Word to him, and meant it. But now... now he just didn't know.

Was it Jesus? Or was Jesus just... something like Mack? Or something like Word? Possessed. Or some divided-off part of his "father" who wasn't in heaven at all?

He went back to the office door and knocked on it. Hard. He didn't care what they were doing.

He needed answers more than they needed to consummate their marriage in the pastor's office.

He opened the door. Neither of them was inside. The windows were still closed. The door had been locked. Word had never been out of sight of the door.

But all their clothes were lying on the couch as if they had simply disappeared while embracing each other.

Frustrated, angry, afraid, Word went to the window and opened it and looked down at the hundreds of people gathering in the street. No way would they all fit inside the church.

How could he come down and say, What happened last night, that was evil. Because it wasn't evil. It was good. It was healing, and blessing, and it had to come from God.

If I preach to them tonight, just so they won't be disappointed, there'll be an even bigger crowd tomorrow. And bigger, and bigger, because these blessings work. Everybody can see it. Not some vague or phony miracles like a medicine show. He didn't have somebody out working the line, learning facts about these people in order to fake up a mind-reading act. Whatever possessed him was going to change their lives. Some of them, anyway.

How could he say no to that?

"But I don't love you," he said. "I don't even know you."

"Never knew a man to be bothered by that," said Yo Yo. "Men always find out they love me, as soon as I do this." She kissed him.

"I'm not a man," said Mack. "You said so yourself."

"That's right," she said. "You don't have to love me."

"I didn't know I'd feel this way. I just thought it would be... like the guys at school talk about.

Getting laid."

"Not with me."

"I don't want it to be nothing," he said. "I want it to be real. I want it to last."

She giggled. "Well, if it just went on and on, you'd never get anything else done."

"Yo Yo," he said. "I want to love you forever."

"What do you think I want?" She pulled him down to sit by her on the couch. "Think I imprisoned you in the underworld because I hated you? No, I loved you. I loved this part of you. The Mack Street part. Sure, the other part was fun, the contest between us was... entertaining. But you never let this part of you out. This is the part you hid away, and now you threw it away, but you're wrong, Oberon, this Mack Street part of you is pure love and light."

"No I'm not," said Mack. "I'm not part of something else, I'm me."

"I know it, Mack," she said. "You don't know how important it is that I know you, and you know me."

"It's just spying to you."

"No, Mack. It's discovering. It's making something. It's the love of my life."

"I don't want you to be the love of my life," said Mack. "I want to love someone who thinks I'm complete by myself."

"Then that someone would believe in a lie. Because you aren't complete. You're the best part of someone great, marvelous, powerful, and addicted to cruelty. You don't know that side of you, but I do. What I never got to know was this part of you. Oh, Mack Street, don't hide yourself from me any longer."

They weren't sitting on the couch anymore. They were sitting on a moss-covered stone, cool but not cold, and the sun was shining through the canopy of leaves and warming their naked skin. He did love her, just as she had told him he would. In fact, he discovered that he already knew her body in ways that he had not imagined. They were not strangers. They were husband and wife.

He wondered if he actually looked like Oberon, or if things like that didn't matter. What was she seeing when she kissed him and held him?

Not Mack Street.

But here, in her embrace, naked among the trees, he didn't care.

Word and Rev Theo carried their whole PA system out into the street. Once this had been a thoroughfare, and these storefronts had been full of business and the streets full of people and cars, but now hardly anybody drove along here, and if some cop came up he'd see it wasn't a riot or a demonstration, it was church, it was religion. Nobody would interfere.

Because the thing that possessed him wouldn't let them.

It doesn't rule me. If it tries to turn this thing to evil, I won't let it. I'm still Word, the same man I've always been. I searched for God and this thing came instead, but that doesn't mean it wasn't also an answer to my prayers. Couldn't God have sent this to him? Given him this power in order to fulfil a mission from the Lord?

Wasn't this what it felt like for Jesus, when the multitude came to listen to his word, and then he reached out and healed them, and gathered up their children and blessed them?