One Door From Heaven

the privacy that was necessary to torment the Hand at length, without much fear of interruption. And the very architecture of the Toad's bizarre construction provided an ideal home for terror. Preston's time alone in the Montana forest with the Gimp had been bliss. Admittedly, the bliss of a flawed man, but bliss nonetheless. This game with the Hand would be bliss doubled, tripled. And when it was over, as cruel as his pleasure would have been, he still would be able to take satisfaction-and even a measure of quiet pride-from the fact that in one day he had terminated three pathetic and useless drudges, preserving the resources that they would have consumed in the years ahead, sparing all useful people from the sight of their misery, and thereby increasing the total amount of happiness in the world.

Chapter 69
        
        THE ALIEN SHAPECHANGER, come to save the world, looked like a nice boy. Although not as dreamy as Haley Joel Osment, he had a sweet face and an appealing sprinkle of freckles.
        "In the entire known universe, there are only two species of shapechangers," he earnestly informed her, "and mine is one of them."
        "Congratulations," Leilani said.
        "Thank you, ma'am."
        "Call me Leilani."
        He beamed. "Call me… well, you wouldn't be able to pronounce it, considering the way the human tongue works, so just call me Curtis. Anyway, these are also the two most ancient species in the known universe."
        "How much of the universe is known?" she asked.
        "Some say forty percent, others think closer to sixty."
        "Gee, I thought it would be no more than fourteen to sixteen percent. Okay, so are you here to change the world for the better or to pretty much destroy it?"
        "Oh, Lord, no, my people aren't destroyers. That's the other species of shapechangers. They're evil, and they seek only to serve entropy. They love chaos, destruction, death."
        "So being the two most ancient species… it's sort of like angels and demons."
        "More than sort of," he said, with a smile as enigmatic as that of the sun god on the ceiling. "Not to say we're perfect. Good Lord, no. I myself have stolen money, orange juice, frankfurters, and a Mercury Mountaineer, although I hope and intend to make restitution. I have picked locks and entered premises not my own, driven a motor vehicle at night without headlights, failed to wear my seat belt, and lied on numerous occasions, though I'm not lying now."
        The funny thing was, she believed him. She didn't know exactly why she believed him, but he seemed credible. Having spent her entire life in the company of deceivers, she'd developed perfect pitch when it came to differentiating the sour notes of lies from the music of the truth. Besides, she'd spent half her life being hauled around in search of ETs, and as bogus as the vast majority of the chased-down reports had proved to be, she had nevertheless been steeped in the concept of otherworldly visitors, and unconsciously she had come to accept that, even if elusive, they were real.
        Here she stood face-to-face with a genuine space cadet and, for once, not one born on this world.
        "I've come here," the boy said, "because my dog told me you were in great distress and danger."
        "This keeps getting better."
        Shy, peering out from between Curtis's legs, head slightly bowed and eyes rolled up to gaze at Leilani, the cute mutt slaps its tail against the floor.
        "But I'm also here," the boy said, "because you're radiant."
        Second by second, Curtis appeared to be more the equal of Haley Joel Osment.
        "Do you need help?" he asked.
        "God, yes."
        "What's wrong?"
        Listening to herself, Leilani realized that what she was telling him-and what remained to be told-was nearly as incredible as his declaration of his extraterrestrial origin, and she hoped that he, too, possessed the perfect pitch to separate lies from truth. "My stepfather's a murderer who's going to kill me soon, my druggie mother doesn't care, and I don't have anywhere to go."
        "Now you do," said Curtis.
        "I do? Where? I'm not too keen on interstellar travel."
        From the bedroom at the back of the Fair Wind, with an unfailing instinct for spoiling a good mood, old Sinsemilla called, "LaniLaniLaniLaniLaniLani!" in an ululant squeal. "Come here, hurry! Lani, come, I neeeeeeed you!"
        So shrill