. . .

“Will you be my antichrist?” asks the Devil, a little uneasily. “Will you be born to take people from their quest for God, to tangle their spirits, to bind them to the material, and eventually to be my flesh and rule an empire of evil things?”

Linus shrugs.

“Whatever,” Linus says.

“You will flourish into damnation,” says the Devil, temptingly. “And drag the world down into unholy revelry. You will become an awful flame.”

“Is that so?” says Linus, like he’s getting something precious and secret.

“That’s so,” says the Devil.

Linus looks at him.

Then Linus shrugs. He snorts out half a laugh. “I guess that’s fine.”

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