"All right. I agree to your terms."

The girls nodded their agreement. Business concluded, they turned toward the door.

"You're right. He does have nice legs," Sue said on the way out.

"Would I lie about something like that?" Jana said, pulling the door closed behind her.

With little chance of sleeping anytime soon, I pulled out a chair at the table. With the night skyline outside my window I read the professor's ma.n.u.script, beginning with a note in the professor's hand, paper-clipped to the front page.

CHAPTER 18.

The Spectacle A HISTORY OF ANGEL WAR.

As told to J. P. Forsythe This is the faithful narrative pa.s.sed down to me by the Seraph Abdiel, an eyewitness to the events contained herein. Having served under the Archangel Lucifer before the rebellion, Abdiel proved himself "faithful among the faithless-unmoved, unshaken, unseduced, unterrified." His loyalty, love, and zeal for the Almighty G.o.d are well doc.u.mented in the annals of the angels.

I would add a note about style. During the dictation I have observed that angels-beings who were created to exist outside of time-struggle with chronology. At times the phrasing in the narrative reflects this. I also got the impression that the narrative itself is not solely of Abdiel's creation, but rather a telling that has been handed down, not unlike an oral history.

J. P. Forsythe u(pernikw=men (We are more than conquerors) You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty . . . you were on the holy mount of G.o.d . . . till wickedness was found in you . . . and you sinned. So I drove you in disgrace from the mount of G.o.d . . . I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you . . .

Ezekiel 28:12-17 And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.

Colossians 2:15 How do I, Abdiel, Seraph of the heavens, describe to humans clothed in flesh the horrors of celestial war? How do I explain countless dimensions to beings entombed in time? How do I narrate the tales of eternity, of heaven's enduring villains, to a people who cannot conceive of life without a past, present, or future?

And what of war itself and angel death?

Of battle's din and hills alive with celestial tribes, Of angels clad in armor clear as crystal, their swords flashing with sacred light, Of bugled advances and tattooed retreats, Of chariots converging on heavenly plains?

These are the fantasies of a fallen race. War is never glorious. And spiritual warfare, which has none of these attractions, is most hideous of all.

Lucifer's weapons are largely unseen; discounted by fools, they strike straight and true, skewering the heart and piercing the soul.

Depression is his dagger, deceit his poison.

An efficient a.s.sa.s.sin, he slips in unnoticed, Destroys a career with a well-timed lie.

With visions of grandeur he lays waste to nations, With guilt and suspicion he undermines lives.

He understands the nature of mankind- Spill a man's blood and he fights to live, Wound a man's spirit and he prays to die.

Do angels die? As surely as light can be extinguished. Anything created can be uncreated. Where injury or loss or death are absent, there can be no war.

This is the account of how a great Archangel seduced himself, then others, creating eternal enemies of eternal friends and turning paradise into a battlefield. For clarity, I will speak of time and s.p.a.ce where there is no time or s.p.a.ce, using terms you understand.

I speak from pain. For the time was when angel and honorable were one and the same, when the courts of heaven were free from sin and strife; when the bringer of light, the son of the morning, the chief of all angelic host, second only to the Father himself, was my mentor, my brother, my friend. Lucifer is his name.

He walked among the fiery stones in highest regard, his magnificence unequaled, his beauty flawless, and his wisdom unsurpa.s.sed. He had no equal. Not Michael. Not Gabriel. Not Uriel. He was our advocate to the Father, our captain, our counselor. Nothing he asked of us we wouldn't do . . . or so we thought.

How regally he ruled the angelic council, dispensing justice and mediating feuds between agents of free will. Unrivaled at peacemaking, Lucifer settled disputes with equity for all. His judgments went unchallenged. He charted the course of the will of the Father with boldness, imagination, and verve. With voice and example he led us in worship, our hearts lifted up in praise to G.o.d.

And thus, my narrative begins- Summoned to the throne room, A wonder we beheld, A marvel mixed with mystery, Such as angel eyes had never seen.

Two thrones where one alone had stood; The second, a seat of favor.

Excitement crackled through the room As Lucifer arrived.

We fixed our eyes on him.

He fixed his eyes upon the throne.

A single thought we shared.

With intent clear, the Father would, Before the day was done, Elevate the best of us To this high honored throne.

As G.o.d the Father graced the room, Divine decree He made; A proclamation thunderclap, But not our expectation.

He told us of a cosmos dancing, stars and worlds in pinwheel galaxies; Immense and intricate it was A companion universe.

Sculpted chaos, matter and time becoming an ever-changing art.

Moment on moment in unbroken chain, With colors and textures never the same.

A plan unimagined of force and s.p.a.ce, The crown of creation, humans would be.

Composed of matter with spark divine, Endowing them with eternity.

The shepherd of man Lucifer would be, According to the Father's plan.

A singular honor, a guardian grand, Their teacher and mentor he.

Reward turned to snare as pride swelled his head, When Lucifer accepted the post.

He fantasized how they would love him, Revere him, praise and adore.

He'd take for himself the worship due G.o.d, And dwell on the earth evermore.

Transparent as gla.s.s we are to be Wherever mankind is concerned.

Looking at us, they should see G.o.d, This from our lessons we learned.

Lucifer coveted what was not his, First step of his downfall he made.

With plan under way, a.s.signments doled out, We waited creation's first light.

We nearly forgot the throne to G.o.d's right As we labored with antic.i.p.ation.

But soon came the day for a great convocation, The birth of the earth was at hand.

a.s.sembled we there, we opened with song In the hall of the Almighty King.

High and lifted up was He, Entering with power, moving with grace.

Foundations shook, incense rose, As Seraphs, their voices raised.

All glory to the Father G.o.d, Forever is his reign.

The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, And worthy of all praise.

Conspicuous in vacancy, the throne beside Him stood.

Antic.i.p.ation filled the room, As we awaited word Of announcement as to who would sit Upon that holy chair.

Lucifer, the Morning Star, stood serenely by.

A perfect pairing it would be, to see him sitting there.

How could we that day foresee That it was not to be?

Jehovah Father, G.o.d alone, Is all that we had ever known.

The floor became fiery stones, A rainbow encircled the room.

Bursts of light shot from the throne, As thunder rumbled our heavenly home.

The Father stood, tall and proud, as He said, "Behold, my Son."

A Being so pure it pained us to look Appeared at the Father's right hand.

Surprised by joy, Laughter welled up.

Praises spilled from our lips.

Worthy is the Son of G.o.d, Our love endures forever.

You fill our hearts with wondrous joy, Our love endures forever.

With every breath we shout your name, Our love endures forever.

We dance and weep in joyous song, Our love endures forever.

It was a new day.

Everything changed with the coming of the Son.

Take all the pride, all the admiration, all the love we held for Lucifer, And it would be but a fleeting glimpse of the love we held for the Son.

G.o.d the Father presented His heir And gave Him a name above all.

That at the name of Jesus Every knee shall bow In heaven, and soon, on earth.

Every tongue shall confess Exalted Lord is He, No other Lord above Him stands, His reign endures forever.

We shouted to our G.o.d and King Until we could shout no more.

Every tongue confessed Him Lord, Every knee before Him bowed.

Every knee except Lucifer's.

In one swift moment, s.n.a.t.c.hed from him was everything Lucifer dreamed.

That's how he saw it, That's how he felt.

Jesus, not he, would sit on the throne.

Jesus, not he, was Lord of creation.

Jesus, not he, would be worshipped and praised.

The Father spoke, "Lucifer? Why are you downcast?

Would you be G.o.d?"

No answer he offered, The throne room he fled.

Conceived at that moment, Sp.a.w.ned by disappointment, An Antichrist was born.

CHAPTER 19.

As I drove to Heritage College the next morning I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with a writer friend who was trying to break into Hollywood.

As in any industry, he told me, Hollywood has its own language. Apparently, producers are unable to grasp a concept unless it's couched in reference to a film that's already been produced. He said a pitch usually goes something like this: "It's a World War II story about a soldier and a German shepherd who is combat trained. Think Band of Brothers meets La.s.sie."

The key was that something always met something else.