Part 30 (1/2)
The professor offered me a seat on a soft sofa-blue cornflowers on a maroon background. He wheeled to a position facing me and gave me a good long look. ”Rough day,” he said.
It wasn't a question. I guess I looked even worse than I felt.
”Still wrestling with the news?” he asked.
I laughed.
”Something I said?”
”The news is wrestling back.”
I described what had happened in my hotel room. As I spoke, the professor closed his eyes. He listened as though he was in pain.
Sue Ling's voice preceded her entrance. ”Coffee will be ready in a . . . Grant, you look horrible!” she cried.
”Thanks. I'd hate to feel this lousy and n.o.body knew.”
It took half an instant for Sue to put the pieces together. She's quick. I was impressed not only with the speed of her deductive reasoning, but with the fact that she hadn't been listening to our conversation from the kitchen.
But what she deduced scared her, and the expression of horror on her face reminded me that I had demon blood racing through my veins. All of a sudden she couldn't look at me.
Her gaze laboriously avoiding me, she inched closer to the professor and placed a hand on his arm. The professor didn't acknowledge it. He seemed comfortable with it.
”Anyway,” Sue said to the floor, ”the coffee will be ready in a minute. I set out sugar and spoons. If you want creamer, it's in the refrigerator. Oh, and there are some cookies on the shelf beneath the toaster oven. The shortbread kind. They're the professor's favorite.” She gave his arm a pat.
”Thank you, Sue,” the professor said, reaching for her hand. Squeezing it.
”It's been a long day,” she said. ”I'm going to go to bed.”
Her next move was of great interest to me. Which direction would she go from here? To the back of the house? Or out the front door?
She bent over and kissed the professor on the forehead. ”Good night,” she said.
”Sleep well, Sue,” the professor replied.
Sue Ling then reached behind a chair, retrieved her purse, and let herself out the front door. I smiled. I think it was the first smile I'd smiled all day.
Now that we were alone, I said, ”How do I fight angels, Professor?”
Hands clasped in his lap, he thought a moment. ”Have you read the narrative accounts I sent you? The ones Abdiel dictated to me?”
”One of them.”
”How many do you have?”
”Two. Are there more?”
The professor's eyes lit up. ”Oh my, yes! Accounts of Lucifer's attempt to corrupt the kingly Davidic line from which the Messiah was promised; heaven's major offensive through the incarnation of the Son; the three years of head-to-head battle between Lucifer and Jesus; the battle of the cross; the raid on Sheol with the release of the captives. All of it. It's fascinating.”
”Will it help me fight them?”
”Those narrations are for you.”
”Me? I thought Abdiel didn't like me.”
”He doesn't. That's why he's dictating the narrative to me. Heaven has taken an interest in you, Grant.”
”I guess I should be flattered.”
”If you had any sense, you'd be scared.”
The comment reminded me how scared I was. I got up and paced.
”So how do I fight them?” I asked again. ”I'm tired of being Myles Shepherd's . . .”
It was going to take a while to adjust to his new name.
”Of being Semyaza's p.a.w.n. How do I fight him?”
I was eager to get my hands on something I could use to pummel Semyaza.
”Listen carefully, Grant. Reality is comprised of two parts, that which is seen and that which is unseen. Don't think of them as separate worlds, but as a unified cosmos. The world in which we live is comprised of the natural and the supernatural. Actually, even the term supernatural is misleading. It implies that it's not natural, when in reality it's just as much a part of the natural world as-”
”Excuse me, Professor.”
”Yes?”
”You're sounding like a professor.”
”Are you saying you don't understand?”
I slumped back on the sofa. ”Don't take this the wrong way, but right now I don't need a lecture. What I need are weapons.”
”I see.”
”Semyaza has all the weapons. I can't stop him. I don't even know where to begin.”
”Weapons.”
”Yeah. Something I can use to defend myself . . . something that will hurt him, or at least threaten him and make him back off.”
”Like a sword.”
”Exactly!”
”And maybe a s.h.i.+eld.”
I was getting through to him. ”Yes! Or if you have something more modern, maybe an automatic weapon or nuclear device.”
”A spiritual machine gun.”