by L. A. Boruff
Michael whistled. “Wow.”
“I-I don't even know where to begin,” Professor King mumbled. “First, it was Lord Acton who said; “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Second, you want me to believe those fallen angels are those who question authority and basically God smited them, casting them down to Earth?”
Isaiah’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes.”
Professor King laughed. “Oh to be woefully ignorant.”
“I am not ignorant,” the boy snarled. “You are brainwashed into believing some stupid story.”
Professor King tsked, wagging his finger at Isaiah. “Now would be the time for you to sit and listen.”
Ryan's eyes gleamed with amusement and excitement. Michael rubbed at the chain of his leash. Fear and trepidation filled his features. Nova didn't understand the juxtaposition between the two guys. Paul placed his hand on her thigh and warmth seeped through it, almost as if he did it in preparation of what was to come, which didn't make a lick of sense either to her.
“It was the battle of good and evil. A battle for your very soul, Mr. Marshall. Lucifer or Satan by most text, the dragon or serpent battled the forces of good to see who would have dominion over your soul. He believed man to be inherently corrupt and wanted to cultivate that. The angels and God believed that humanity was good despite their frailties. All Satan wanted was a chance to prove the worth of humanity and in a moment of prideful thinking, Satan overestimated himself. He and others like him were cast out from heaven. Satan became the ruler of hell and his fallen angels became his demons.”
“Ha!” Isaiah exclaimed. “If that were true, why did God destroy town after town, killing hundreds if not thousands of people because they wouldn't do his bidding? Don't tell me that I should be reading the New Testament not the old, either.” He smirked. “Again, there is all this talk about free agency, but when it comes right down to it, God doesn't care because God can't exist.”
An uneasy feeling wiggled through Nova's stomach. There was something off about Isaiah. She'd said it more than once already but hearing the way he spoke sent a chill down her spine. Nova glanced up at Professor King. His hands were clenched at his side. His steely gaze bore into Isaiah. Her breath hitched. Her heart hammered. The silent war they waged between them tinged the air with anxious energy and tension so thick, she could cut it with a knife.
Professor King chuckled. “You're proud of your ideals. I can see it in your eyes. Your confidence borders on conceit.”
“It's only conceit when others won't acknowledge the hypocrisy within the Bible. It's superiority when a person can cut the chains holding them to false doctrine and be able to use the free will given to them from birth.” Isaiah sat down. A twisted self-satisfying smirk tugged at his mouth. He must have thought he defeated the teacher if his posture was any indication.
“Bold words, Mr. Marshall. A bold challenge as well. Yet, you forget something. There is also a Church of Satan. The Satanic Temple, I believe is what they're called. They supposedly follow the teachings of Satan and their illustrious leader, Anton Szandor LaVey. Are you going to tell them that they too believe in a fictitious character? That they too are wrong?”
“Well, if it looks like a duck...” Isaiah shrugged.
“Interesting. Well, here is your daily dose of information. You're right. Some of the things in the Bible do contradict each other. The war did happen. God did cast Lucifer out, making him the ruler of hell. Giving him the power to torture and maim horrid soul after horrid soul for eternity. Your confidence is your downfall as well. You don't believe anyone can prove you wrong because in your estimation they're already wrong. That's a horrible attitude to have Mr. Marshall. As much as God disliked the fact that his angels fought, he allowed it as well, since it was their free will!” He rolled his neck then returned to the book on the podium. “I would think carefully about returning to my class, Mr. Marshall. Your opinion is of no value here if you’re unwilling to learn or listen.”
“Because I am not your sheep,” Isaiah snapped.
“No.” Mr. King lifted his gaze, staring a hole into Isaiah. “Because your mind is closed too tight, you don't have the capacity to learn let alone accept that others will have differing opinions from yours. Your superiority complex has no place in society. You are what is wrong with this world.”
“Would you say that to an atheist?” Isaiah challenged, gathering up his things.
“No. They decided to take both scripture and science and compare the two. They aren't bastardizing the Bible to fit their narrative. They're simply saying they don't believe. They are entitled to that opinion and I will defend it for them. You, on the other hand, are calling those who do believe weak when they are anything but. Tell me, Mr. Marshall, what do you believe in?”
Isaiah hefted his bag over his shoulder and made a derisive sound. “Wouldn't you like to know?” He strode out the door, head held high as he headed down the hallway.
Nova let out a breath and scrubbed her face. What the hell just happened? She glanced up at the professor then around the class. No one said a word, not even Paul or Michael. Ryan looked like he thoroughly enjoyed the war of words and the others...they were stunned silent.
A shiver of fear rushed down her spine. Professor King looked deadly standing there in front of the classroom, his arms folded. His eyes narrowed in challenge. She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door, not exactly sure what she expected to see. When she glanced up at the instructor, he'd visibly relaxed. The hard, unyielding tension in his body dissipated. He let out a breath while rubbing at his brow.
“I think that is all for class today,” Professor King whispered. “I apologize for the argument and the uncouth scene you witnessed. I took his bait and that was wrong of me. Please read chapters eight and sixteen then write a three-page paper comparing and contrasting good vs evil and why the angels fractured into their different sides. I'll see you Thursday night.”
Nova stepped out of the classroom and tried to catch her breath. The scene that unfolded only moments ago, twisted her insides. She thought, there for a second, Professor King and Isaiah were going to have a physical fight. Both men had passion for the subject, but Isaiah’s went beyond. He had this ugly aggression about him as if he had to beat the idea into a person, he would just to gain their submission. She didn't like it. It chilled her to the bone and left her feeling sick to her stomach.
The boy isn't right. Her father's words rang through her mind. They weren't meant for this particular situation, nonetheless, they had been right. Isaiah wasn't right.
“Hey.” Paul wrapped his arm around her, tugging her into his side. The scent of patchouli oil and something dark pushed back against the negativity still clinging to her. “You don't look so good. Want to get some fresh air?”
“I'd love to,” she said, giving him a small grin. “Class was interesting.”
Ryan chuckled. “It was something.”
They exited Williams Tower and walked in the direction of the quad. Nova couldn't get the look on Isaiah's face out of her mind nor Professor King's disturbing visage. It unnerved her. “Do you think he'll come back?”
Michael shook his head while placing his chain in her palm. The cool sensation grounded her. She still didn't understand it but went with it because, in her estimation, they both needed it at the time.
“No,” Paul said. “I don't think he'll have the guts to come back. He royally pissed off Prof. King.”
“Have you known him long?” She didn't miss the way each of the guys seemed to have a deeper understanding of their teacher than she did. It made her curious.
“No,” Ryan said. “Not really. I mean, do you ever really know someone?”
True. She thought she knew her father. She thought she knew the people she lived around and those she called friend, until the day they shipped off Drew. Until she saw them as snakes in the grass determined to vilify a person and destroy their will. No, no
one really knew anyone. “I suppose so.”
“Do you want to grab a drink?” Paul asked, directing her to one of the smaller local clubs near campus. “I think we could all kick off a little steam, don't you?”
Paul had a point. “Sure. Why not.”
“Great.” He tugged her into his side as they strolled down the sidewalk off of the campus.
“What kind of classes do you have tomorrow?” Michael prodded.
“Art history and an astronomy class,” she answered. “Tomorrow is my easy day. Tuesdays and Thursdays are the hardest.”
“We should hang out then. Maybe. If you want.” He shrugged.
“Sure. I'd like that.” She grinned, finally feeling a bit more like herself.
As the rounded the corner of the block near University Burger, yellow caution tape had cordoned off a section of the street. Police cars and a van blocked the area from view. Nova stared at the scene as people gathered around the tape to catch a glimpse of whatever happened.
“Maybe we should turn back?” she murmured.
“We'll keep going. I think we can get through.” Paul started forward while Ryan peeled off from them and headed right for the scene.
“Where's he going?” She inclined her chin in Ryan's direction.
“To see what happened and offer up his services,” Paul replied, easing her away from the scene.
“Do you ever feel like stuff happens in threes,” Nova blurted. “First the storm. Now, this. What will happen next?”
Paul frowned. “I hadn't thought about it that way before. I guess...maybe we shouldn't read so much into it?”
It was her turn scowl. She didn't like the way Paul looked away from her and back to the scene when he answered her. Or the way he seemingly brushed her genuine curiosity aside as though it meant nothing. “Maybe.”
“Hey, nothing will come from fretting over the small stuff.” Paul draped his arm over her shoulder, tucking her into his side. “It was probably a case of wrong place, wrong time.”
Maybe.
They continued on their path then stopped in front of a small blacked out building. Nova couldn't even see inside, much less if it'd been open or not. “Are you sure about this place?”
Paul chuckled ushering her inside. The interior reminded her of a smoke lounge, like the place her and Drew tried on their way west. The music had been somber. The people milling around were more interested in their drinks or their companions then they were about what happened around them. Large camel and desert-colored leather couches framed smaller seating arrangements, giving an air of intimacy. To her left against the wall was the bar. None of the bartenders flipped bottles or laughed. They did their job and offered up a generous smile when they placed a tumbler or glass on the polished teak.
“Wow.”
“It's our favorite place to go when we need to study,” Paul stated, directing her to one of the open sitting areas. “None of the drunk frat boys or girls to distract us.”
“Something told me you guys wouldn't be into that,” she murmured.
“They're gross,” Michael grumbled. “All they do is puke and dry hump anything with two legs.”
“Maybe four,” Paul teased, winking at her.
“So gross you guys,” she laughed, heat filling her cheeks.
“This calls for a round of drinks,” Paul proclaimed. “What's your poison, Nova?”
“Uh...” The beer had been interesting, but it'd been her first and probably last. It wasn't fulfilling or whatever people said when they drank on a constant or social basis. “Cherry soda?”
Paul tilted his head. “That's all?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Michael?” He glanced over at the man sitting next to Nova.
“Whatever you're having,” he answered.
Paul grunted then started for the bar. By the time he returned, Ryan had joined them the look on his face said everything Nova needed to know. Whatever happened, hadn't been nice. Whatever he saw, caused Ryan to be on alert while also a bit pale. It was as if death snatched at his soul.
“What happened,” Paul muttered, sitting beside Nova.
Ryan shook his head. “It's bad. I'm not sure we should talk here.”
“Then we'll talk at home,” Paul replied. “Until then, get yourself a beer and relax. You look like death warmed over.”
Michael sputtered, choking on his sip of beer. “Damn, Paul.”
“What, it’s the truth?” He grinned at Nova. “Sometimes, they just can’t take a joke.” However, from the matching expressions on their faces, she knew this hadn’t been a joking matter.
Chapter Six
Pestilence didn't have class the next day, so he decided to do a little investigating of his own. He returned to the scene with Death, Famine, and War in tow. The stain of dried blood and the stench of death clung to the area.
According to Death, the soul had been cleaved from the two bodies found there. Their eyes had been turned to ash, leaving two circular holes where they should've resided. It was as if they'd been smited. Only angels could smite. Which brought up a whole other set of problems.
So far, they didn't have a suspect. They didn't know where to begin, except for an article about a museum robbery and the purported theft of “the” seven sealed scrolls” of course there'd been no confirmation of authenticity. Supposedly, that would have been done on the coming Saturday during an open house event to raise money for the museum. Now, the scrolls were lost and all they had was a grainy picture of someone's back.
“This is another sign,” Pestilence murmured. “The fifth seal has been broken.”
Death grunted. “And here we are playing with our dicks because we have no idea who is doing it.”
Famine chuckled. “I always knew you had a fondness for playing with dicks.”
Death flipped him off.
“I think it's safe to say, all of this is happening in our area or else we wouldn't be here,” Pestilence stated.
“I agree,” Famine mumbled. “So, what do we do?”
“Spread out and start searching. If the person responsible is here, we'll find them.” Pestilence broke away from the guys. “I'll meet up with you later and we'll go over a plan of action from here out.”
“Where you going?” War asked.
“To see Nova. I think she knows something but is afraid to say it?”
“What?” Famine prodded.
He shrugged. “Not sure. But, I could see it on her face last night. She's hiding something.”
She put two and two together at the scene the night before. She even questioned him about it, and he brushed off her statement like it'd been nothing, hoping not to scare her. After visiting the scene and knowing the truth, he couldn't keep lying to her. It went against everything he knew.
Striding into her dorm building, he took the stairs two at a time until he stepped onto her floor and began walking down the hall. After the first time he walked her home, he did a little digging, i.e. paying off the floor RA, and got her dorm number. He wasn't sure about her schedule, but he'd wait, nonetheless. As he came to her door, he noticed it was open a bit. His gut clenched. His eyes narrowed. Pestilence pushed the door too and strode inside, not caring who saw him or who he'd frighten.
“Nova?” No answer. “Nova, it's Paul.”
Still no answer.
Inside, the room was... Plain. No photographs decorated the wall. Nova had basic bedding. Her desk sat empty with the exception of a pen or two. She didn't have a fridge like most college students did or a television. Even the light on the small stand next to her bed appeared second hand.
Across from where he stood, the room didn’t look like it belonged in Nova’s space. There were photos and lights hanging on the wall. Her roommate’s desk had cups of pens and pencils along with other little accents to make the space fill lived in and not just occupied. On Nova's roommate's closet door, was a calendar of all of her classes along with some part-time job she worked at while going to
school. Looked like to him she didn't have a life outside of school and work.
Out of curiosity, he went to Nova’s closet and checked inside. Seven days, it appeared, of clothing. Nothing more. What is going on with you, Nova? Not even one of those fancy calendars like her roomie had.
Soft humming filled the room and he turned to see Nova returning to her room. She wore a pair of earbuds and carried a small device in her hand. MP3 player? Talk about a relic. He shook his head as she danced a bit before closing the door. Then, when her eyes finally settled on him she shrieked, ripping her buds from her ears.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped. “You could have given me a heart attack!”
Pestilence wiggled his brows. “Good thing I know CPR.”
She swatted playfully at him and laughed. “How did you get in, anyway?” She glanced up at him as she placed her backpack on her desk chair. “My roomie isn't here today either.”
Pestilence frowned.
“You should work on adding more expressions to your repertoire.”
“Your door was open a crack. I thought you were inside studying and forgot?” A sense of dread filled his gut. “You did lock it before you left, didn't you?”
“Yeah, I always do.” She scrunched her face up in confusion. “Miranda would lock it too. She has more stuff than I do and it's much more expensive.”
Pestilence crossed to the door and stared at the jam and casing. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Didn't mean anything if someone had a lock picking kit. “You should have your RA and campus security do a report.”
