Inside Lucifer's War (17 page)

Her kitchen and dining room are to the right, her living room to the left. Her furnishings are upscale, especially for her age, but not over the top. It has an inviting feel. She escorts me to the living room, where she picks up the remote and turns off the television.

“Have a seat,” she says, pointing to the couch. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

A minute later she sits in the chair next to the couch. “So, what’s going on? It sounded urgent.”

I look down at my water glass for a minute and try to think of what to say without saying what I need to say.

But before I can speak, she says, “Thomas, you’re a curious man. I can’t figure you out. This is something serious, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I finally say. “Look, Stacie, I don’t know how else to start this. There are some things I need to leave vague in this conversation. I can’t explain why, but I need for you to know that.”

“Okay . . . ,” she says, looking very serious. Her eyebrows lower slightly and her nose crinkles.

“I’m in a situation. I can’t even describe it.”

“Oh, my Lord. Did you get that woman pregnant?” she interrupts.

I laugh. I laugh for a while. I’m not sure why this is so funny to me, but I suddenly feel more at ease. “No. I haven’t gotten anyone pregnant.”

“You can’t blame me for thinking that,” she responds.

“No. I can’t blame you. Listen, you can’t say anything about this. Not even to Mike. Please,” I tell her.

She nods as I continue.

“Let’s just say that I’m in a high-stakes game I never knew existed. You have to understand, though, I didn’t pursue this. It pursued me. I had no choice. He pursued me, pushed me into a corner, and captured me. I don’t think I can get out. I’m not sure getting out is even an option. If I play it right, I can be all I’ve ever wanted to be. Is that so terrible?” I find myself rambling.

“Whoa. Stop, Tom. You’re not making sense. I can’t keep up with you. Who pursued you?” Stacie asks.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I don’t even believe it sometimes. Maybe I should leave. This is a mistake.” I stand up to leave.

Stacie reaches out and grabs my hand. She gently pulls me back to the couch. “Listen, Tom. I’m not going to lie to you. That’s one thing you should always know. I will not lie to you. I’ve never trusted you much because I’ve seen and heard how you’ve treated so many women. I can see now, though, that you’re struggling with an incredible burden. I want to be here for you, as a friend. Let’s just slow down and talk. Okay?”

I suddenly realize she has a few freckles scattered about her nose, and she isn’t wearing earrings. Her face is calm and lovely. I settle myself and ask, “Do you believe in Satan and demons?”

“Of course, I do,” she responds. “You know that I do, as a Christian.”

“I don’t mean some vague concept of evil. I mean a literal person. A being named Lucifer,” I ask again.

“Yes, I do. The Bible teaches that he was an angel that led a rebellion against God, and he was cast down from heaven. Job paints a picture of him roaming the earth, making accusations, spreading lies, and wreaking havoc and destruction wherever he goes. One day he will be cast into the fires of hell,” she says matter-of-factly.

“What if I told you I’ve seen him?” I ask, not looking into her eyes.

“At the bottom of what bottle?” she asks.

“You think I was drunk?” I ask sharply.

“I know it doesn’t sound like you.
You
would never be drunk. Look, you wouldn’t be the first person who’s seen Satan at the bottom of a bottle,” she responds. “I believe that you believe that you’ve seen him. I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just questioning how you saw him.”

I try to pull my arm away from her in frustration. But as I pull it away, she turns my arm over in her hands and sees the inside of the forearm. She touches the mark on my forearm, and it starts to burn. I pull it away.

“What is that?” she asks. “Did you burn yourself?”

“It’s nothing. It’s fine. I probably burned it when I was drunk,” I say, standing up again.

“Tom, don’t go. I’m sorry. Please sit down,” she asks.

“This was a mistake,” I say and walk toward the door.

“Don’t go, Tom. I’m asking you to stay and talk with me. I was rude, and I was wrong,” she says.

“Look, I shouldn’t have brought you into this. You might get hurt, and that’s the last thing I would want. I see what I have to do now. I was wrong to fight this. I should embrace the opportunity in front of me,” I angrily spew.

“Tom, look at me. You came here for a reason. Don’t run away now. I want to be your friend. You’re not going to hurt me. Please. I’m asking you. Stay. Let’s talk.”

She looks so beautiful. Her eyes are penetrating, but her gaze is soft. Everything about her is inviting, which scares me. I want to run to her, wrap my arms around her. I want something from her I haven’t wanted from any other woman. I want her to love me. I know, though, that I can’t hurt her. Not her. She is the one woman I don’t want to hurt or see get hurt. I know if I bring her further into this, she will undoubtedly be hurt. Either by my actions or by theirs, she will be hurt, or worse. I can’t abide that. I’m surprised to feel a tear fall from my eye and down my cheek. I have to leave now or I never will, so I give my patented smile, a short wink, and then I walk out the door without saying a word.

I walk quickly across the complex to my car, but I catch a glimpse of the two movers, still moving the same boxes as before.

C
HAPTER 17

The Ultimatum

Monday morning I’m at my office on campus. I open my laptop and see the e-mail I’ve been expecting from Mike:

Hi, Thomas. I hope your lecture went well in Dallas. I’m not sure if you got a chance to watch any of the game, but it was great. Go Horns!

Stacie told me that you visited her yesterday. She was worried about you and asked me to get in touch with you. Do you have time to run some evening this week? If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but let’s get in a run. Tonight at 6:30 is open for me. I haven’t had a chance to run in a while, so I need to get out there.

Talk to you soon.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door. I really want to be alone this morning, but I can tell that’s not going to be easy. I can see through the glass that it’s Leslie. This is a conversation I’ve been dreading. After a few minutes, I agree to meet with Josephine and her counselor to allow her to express her feelings to me. It’s a step she needs in order to get closure and move forward with her life. I recall the image of Josephine in the bathtub, and I know I must do what is right. Leslie warns me that it will be difficult, but we schedule the meeting for Thursday evening.

Afterward, I reply to Mike’s e-mail: “Tonight works for me. I’ll meet you at the lake trail at 6:30.”

I know I can’t not talk to Mike about what’s happening. He will be persistent. But I also know that I need to end my relationship with the Fischers. I’ll sever everything tonight, even if it is a friendship I’ve valued over the years. It’s that value that causes me to realize I have to end it. I hate knowing that I have to do it, but I fear for their lives. I can’t let them end up like Andrew because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if harm came to them because of something I did or will do.

I change the lecture I had prepared for my class. Instead of discussing the influence of corporations on America’s political parties, I’ll open the class to debate the topic of whether someone who has the means and influence to change society for what he feels is better, and he knows he could do it, has an obligation to do so. Or does that person have a right to shun mankind and diminish into obscurity.

The students launch into the discussion better than I hoped. I enjoy listening to their interpretation of personal responsibility. They have a great deal of passion for the topic. But it won’t be long before the daily grind of life zaps their fervor. They immediately assume that doctors and scientists have the greatest positive impact on society, but gradually the conversation changes to include historical figures like Hitler and Stalin and Pol Pot, who believed they would have a positive impact on the world, and the exact opposite was true.

One girl who is typically quiet remarks that a person has the right to slip into obscurity. I wonder if that is how she feels about herself. Is her life a world of obscurity?

After my last class, some of the students linger and continue the discussion. I gather my things slowly, giving them time to exhaust their thoughts. They finally carry the discussion into the hallway. I start to leave as well, and then I notice the quiet girl still sitting in the back, silently staring at her books. She slowly looks up at me, and I know I’m not looking at the student anymore. Her eyes reveal the demon within, and I feel my arm burn.

“Leave her alone,” I say in a surprisingly calm manner. It bothers me that the demon would harm an innocent young woman.

“‘Leave her alone,’ he says to us,” the demon responds. “Who are you? That request is not yours to grant. Only the One can make a claim on a person. The rest belong to us.”

“What do you want?” I ask, hoping to finish our business so the student can return.

“We’re watching you,” he tells me.

“I know,” I say fearfully, not for me, but fearful for Stacie. My arm burns more. “I’ve done everything he has asked. I’ve not broken any agreement. I’ll accept McKee’s offer tomorrow. Why are you following me?”

“End your relationship with the Fischers now,” the demon demands.

“Leave them alone. They have nothing to do with this. This is between us,” I say.

“End the relationship or we will,” the demon says venomously.

“Okay! Okay!” I say, raising my hands as if surrendering. “Please don’t harm them. I’ll end it tonight. I promise. I’m running with Mike tonight. I’ll end it.”

“There will be no more warnings. Be smart!” the demon says before the girl’s body slumps over her desk.

In a moment, the girl appears to snap back to reality from a daydream. She seems a bit bewildered and then gathers up her notebook and backpack.

“Take care of yourself, Danielle,” I say as she stands to leave.

“See you Wednesday, Professor Fields,” she says as she walks past me.

The rest of the day moves slowly. I find I don’t have the energy or attention span to do much of anything. I decide to leave the office early and head home for a snack and a change of clothes. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Mike. In fact, I can’t get Stacie out of my head, nor the conversation from Sunday. I wonder how it has come to this. When did I let the Fischers into my circle? When did I fall for Stacie? I had worked my entire life to prevent this, and all this slid in without me noticing it. I debate whether I should try to be mean to Mike and get him to naturally turn against me. I wonder if he would see through that. Maybe I should be honest with him.

I see Mike bounding through the trees to meet me at the trailhead that leads to the track around the lake. He has the usual smile on his face and is full of energy. It’s the direct opposite of how I feel. I am breathing heavier, slower. I see him, but I feel Stacie. I think back to the classroom. I know this has to be done. It has to end for a variety of reasons.

“Hey, man. We’re finally feeling a little bit of fall in the air. It’s nice, isn’t it?” he asks.

I hadn’t even noticed that it’s a nice evening, almost cold.

“Hopefully we have a long fall,” I respond as we start down the trail.

Before we actually hit the trail, Mike says, “Do you mind if we walk and talk a little first? We’ve been friends awhile, and I’d like to understand what’s going on. I’ll be honest. Not to sound too much like a chick, but your conversation with Stacie has me a little concerned.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I say.

“So tell me what’s been going on these past few weeks. Did something happen in Dallas?” he asks.

Dallas?! The whole thing storms back to me. The thought of it makes me ill. Anxiety creeps into my head. Kinsley. Dallas. Andrew. Death. Bishop. What if the situation wasn’t “cleaned” sufficiently? What if I’m accused? What can I say at this point? What if Kinsley and Bishop betray me? No. Calm down. They are at the mercy of Lucifer as well, and as long as I obey Lucifer, I’ll be fine.

“Mike, I’m taking a new job and leaving Austin,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think of.

“This is news. What are you going to be doing?” he asks.

“I can’t say too much about it, but it’ll give me some time to write the book I’ve been working on for a while,” I answer.

“Where are you moving to?” Mike asks.

“I’m not really going anywhere, but I’m going to be on the move. I’ll be traveling most of the time. Different libraries and archives across the country.”

“Well, that’s something you’ve said you’d always wanted to do. It sounds like a great opportunity. I hate to see you go, though,” he says sincerely. “When do you leave?”

“In a few weeks.”

“I’ll talk with Therese. We’ll throw you a party. I can’t let you leave without a proper Texas farewell,” he says.