Part 41 (2/2)

I took a ragged breath. The fight had gone out of me. Semyaza was right. I was overmatched. I couldn't win. A heavy weariness came over me. I wore it like a shroud.

But before I could speak, company came.

I don't know why I was surprised. If I was going to pledge allegiance to him, it was only right that Lucifer would be there to receive it.

Of greater surprise than his coming was his appearance. He didn't come as a roaring lion. A soft glow preceded him, and when he materialized his beauty was stunning.

Naturally every angel in the circle recognized him and afforded him the respect due a powerful leader. I've been in rooms when charismatic world leaders were announced. Heads turn. A hush falls over the room in antic.i.p.ation.

So it was now. To say his coming took my breath away doesn't begin to describe what I felt. I found myself in the presence of beauty incarnate.

My lips wanted to sing his praises. My feet wanted to dance and my hands wave in adoration. My knees . . . my knees almost betrayed me. Never have I been so overwhelmed by such wondrous glory. I wanted to bow down to him. I started to bow down to him.

And then Abdiel said, ”Lucifer.”

I caught myself.

I couldn't believe what I had almost done. Lucifer was so alluring, I didn't realize what I was doing until it was almost too late. So attracted was I to his radiance, I nearly offered him an eternity of torment for a moment of it.

Does true beauty demand a price? What kind of beauty enslaves the wors.h.i.+pper, hurts you and leaves you poorer for the experience, and exchanges a moment of pleasure for a lifetime of regret?

A hideous beauty.

That's how the professor described it, didn't he?

Lucifer did not join the circle. He remained at an elevated distance.

Semyaza said, ”The time has come, Grant Austin.”

All eyes turned to me. I fought to keep from looking at Lucifer, afraid that if I did I'd sell myself out. Even then I wasn't sure how much longer I could resist. His allure went beyond visual. I could feel its tug on me.

”You've convinced me,” I said to the circle. ”Your argument was overwhelming. How can I compete against powers and authorities that can do the things you do? While others are protected by the Holy Spirit, because of who I am, that protection has been denied me. I stand alone.”

”All you need do is bend your knee and pledge your allegiance to Lucifer and this tribunal is adjourned,” Semyaza said. ”Afterward we'll go someplace and begin planning the life you've always wanted.”

”The presidential suite of the U.S. Grant Hotel?”

”If that is your wish.”

I couldn't help but grin. The life I've always wanted. And they could do it too. After what I'd seen this afternoon, I was convinced of it.

”By the way,” I said, ”that was quite a demonstration you put on for me today-”

”Just kneel and pledge,” granite angel barked.

”Yeah, well about that . . . no. It isn't going to happen. The thing about making choices is to know your options, not only what you're choosing, but what you're giving up. And so, at the recommendation of a friend, I did a little reading in the Gospels about your compet.i.tion. And I have to say, while your demonstration was powerful and flashy, when I compared it to the three-year demonstration of the Son . . . well, let me put it this way . . . I would rather be on the side that builds than destroys, that edifies rather than deceives, that heals rather than hurts. I want to spend whatever days are granted me making people happy rather than trying to figure out ways they can make me happy.”

”Fool!” Semyaza shouted. ”Without Lucifer, you have no life, only torment.”

Lucifer stepped forward, instantly commanding attention. He addressed me directly. ”You would choose to serve the Father who has denied salvation to you and your kind, thus condemning you to eternal torment?”

Speaking to the gravel, for I dared not look up, I replied, ”It's true. The Son cannot be my Savior. But where does it say that prevents me from serving him? That is my choice whether in this world, or in a world of torment. If I am destined to be a missionary to the demons, so be it.”

”Look at me!” Lucifer thundered.

I took a deep breath. He was right. If I was going to choose against him, I should be man enough to look him in the eye when I did it.

Slowly, I raised my head, focusing hard on what I had to say, not on him.

When our eyes met, I nearly lost it. I saw every dream, every hope, every promise of happiness reflected in his eyes. And I wanted to believe him.

A memory flashed of how I had imagined it would be like to be chosen by the prettiest, most popular girl on campus. How one look in her eyes conquered me. How her smile melted me. Take that memory and multiply by infinity and you have an understanding of what I felt at that moment gazing into Lucifer's eyes.

Somehow, I managed to say, ”In ages past, you made your choice. Respect my right to make mine. If there is any doubt as to where I stand, hear this: I will serve the Son. Though you slay me, I will serve him; though he condemns me to torment, I will serve him.”

Lucifer made no reply. He didn't fly into a rage. Why should he? What was I to him? He vanished, leaving me in the hands of the tribunal.

Semyaza was beside himself.

Overhead the a.s.sembled demons became agitated, anxious for what was to happen next.

”You ungrateful wretch,” Semyaza spat. ”Arrogance has always been your blind side. How many times have I used your pigheadedness to lure you to do my bidding? And now it will be your undoing. You underestimate the agony that awaits you. Reconsider, before it's too late.”

I turned to him and said, ”You know, for some reason, you look smaller. What you call pigheadedness, I call free will. You've heard my choice. Do what you will.”

Semyaza grinned that insufferable grin of his. ”With pleasure,” he said.

When I was a child I would sometimes watch old westerns on Sat.u.r.day afternoons. A standard scene was when the cowboy in the black hat, the bad guy, finally got his due and was riddled with bullets. Replace bullets with demons and you have a picture of what happened to me next.

Demons. .h.i.t me from every direction, clawing their way into my chest and back and face and throat and arms and legs. Penetrating my heart. Filling my mind. They squeezed my optic nerves until I became blind and clamped my vocal chords so that I was mute. I filled up quickly, still they came, elbowing and bickering for s.p.a.ce. A myriad of anguished voices screamed in my head.

Vaguely I felt myself dropping to my knees, then my hands. The pain was incredible, but I had no voice to express it. I wanted to pa.s.s out, but they wouldn't let me. With every second I was losing control. They flopped me onto my back, racking my body with convulsions.

Though I couldn't see them, I fought to stretch a pleading hand in the direction of the faithful angels, praying that one of them might touch it and out of pity give me a measure of relief. My hand clutched air.

The next thing I knew my arm was flopping against the gravel. I'd lost control of it. But there was a greater concern. I was being trampled to death from the inside.

How to fight them? If I struck them, I bruised myself. If I clawed at them I tore my own flesh. How do you fight an enemy you can't see . . . can't touch? How do you do battle with spirit beings?

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood . . .

I was writhing on the floor.

. . . but against spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

You fight a spiritual battle with spiritual weapons.

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