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“Well, if there isn’t a Satan, then how can there be demons?” the film major asked.

“More properly, what you’re referring to are devils. ‘Demon’ comes from the Greek
daimon
, or spirit. A daimon can be good or evil; it’s natural and uncontrollable. Devil is a more accurate term when discussing the minions of the New Testament’s Satan because, like ha-satan
,
the Greek
diabolus
suggests an adversary or obstruction.” Todd looked around as the students dutifully wrote that down. “Devils have a long history in human religion and folklore, just like gods; we find traces of pagan gods and devils in the oldest books of the Bible. Angels, as well. Michael and Gabriel are the only angels named in the Old Testament, and both come from Babylonian-Chaldean sources.”

“But there are a lot more angels than those,” the film student protested. “I can Google on angels and get, like, hundreds of names.”

“Only three angels are named in the Bible; Michael and Gabriel, as I said, and Raphael in the
Book of Tobit
, which is part of the apocrypha to you Protestants in the room, but canonical for you Catholics. Most of the angel names you’ll find on the Internet come from the Koran, which was written after the Old Testament, or from the intertestamental
Book of Enoch
. Others come from traditions and legends or were derived from Zoroastrianism. And, I’m sorry to say, quite a few angelic names are mere fabrications invented by medieval and Renaissance authors of magical grimoires.”

The students scribbled in their notebooks, some looking surprised. Todd found it dismaying that people who called themselves Christians could know so little about their beliefs. Sometimes he was tempted to open a door to hell for them. How would they react to Amon slinking through the classroom whispering sweet temptations, or an angel speaking to them in eye-searing splendor?

“So, was there a real angel that fell from heaven, or what?” a student asked.

“Judaism doesn’t have any tradition of fallen angels; it conceives of God as all-powerful and all-good. Christianity recharacterized Judaism in a way that more closely reflected Persia’s Zoroastrianism. Zoroastrianism pits Ahura Mazda, the god of light, and Ahriman, the god of evil, against each other in a war for the world. Zoroastrians considered the two powers approximately equal, and later Gnostic traditions put evil in ascendance. Christians, of course, believe that evil is less powerful than good; that’s how the fallen-angel story evolved.  You’ll find the first references to a damned devil and fallen angels in the New Testament. Jarret, would you read Matthew 25:41?”

Jarret dutifully flipped through his Bible and read aloud in the rolling voice of a future preacher: “ ‘Then he will say to those on his left, Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.’ ”

“The Revelation of St. John goes into even more detail, although we’ve already discussed why it should be interpreted very cautiously....”

After class, Todd stood in the hall having his usual polite disagreement with Jarret.

“Well, what if Zoroastrianism was, you know, humanity seeing the fight between God and the devil but not understanding it?” Jarret was objecting. “Maybe the Z’s and the Jews saw parts of the truth but got it wrong until God sent Jesus down to clear things up for them.”

“Hello, Jarret. Good morning, Edward,” said Andrew Markham, walking down the hall with a bundle of books under one arm. He stopped, and students broke and eddied around them.

“Good morning, Professor Markham. I was just talking to Dr. Todd about his class,” Jarret said. “I don’t see how anybody who calls himself a Christian can say there isn’t a devil.”

Todd wondered whether his colleague would take the student’s side, but Markham just smiled.

“Were you lecturing about the history of hell today, Edward?” he asked.

“Very briefly.”

“Dr. Todd told us about Hades and Sheol, but I think they’re just different names for hell.”

“There’s a Catholic tradition—it started with St. Augustine, as I recall—that anybody who rejects God’s love is already in hell,” Markham said. “Hell doesn’t have to be someplace you go after you die, Jarret.  It can simply be a matter of living without accepting God’s grace.”

Todd gave the former priest a sharp look, but Markham didn’t seem to be directing the words to him in particular.

“The Bible talks about everlasting fire,” Jarret insisted.

“Don’t you feel your face burn when you’re embarrassed, or angry, or frustrated, or in despair? All those times you feel like God has abandoned you?” Markham patted Jarret on the shoulder. “Come by my office sometime if you want to talk more about the subject.  But if you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late to your next class.”

“It’s just water polo practice,” Jarret said with a cheery grin. “Bye, Dr. Todd. See you later, Professor Markham.”

“I’m glad to know you’re disturbing the students, Edward,” Markham said. “I’ve almost stopped caring
what
they believe, as long as I know they’ve thought about their beliefs.”

“I agree,” Todd said. Markham fell into step with him, greeting students as they walked through the rapidly emptying hall and headed upstairs to the faculty offices.

“So how has your first semester been?” Markham asked. “Are you looking forward to finals as much as I am?”

“I expect so.”

“Every semester I thank God that I’m finally on the right side of final exams.” Markham stopped at his office door. “You know, we haven’t had much chance to talk, Edward. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? My friend Jack is making shrimp Creole. He likes it hot, but I can have him cut back on the spices, if you like.”

“I prefer spicy cooking,” Todd replied, truthfully. He couldn’t taste anything that wasn’t overspiced.

“Then we’ll see you around seven.”  Markham waved and Todd returned the gesture, continuing down the hall to his own office.

So, things were starting to fall into place. Todd studied the probabilityscape as he walked and felt a tingle of anticipation.

III

Jack strolled along the edge of the north campus expansion. At four-thirty, the shadows were lengthening and the balmy winter day was cooling down with desert rapidity. The new construction continued, however. California Hills University wanted to get as much done as possible before the winter rains began.

He’d spent several hours in the Scandinavian Library, a collection of family artifacts and old leather-bound books housed in the Gudrun Ranch House at the heart of the campus. Only about half the books were in English, but he had enjoyed chatting with the library’s elderly caretaker, Dr. Dunstan Graeme. Graeme had offered to teach him a few Scandinavian folk songs if he brought his guitar next time. 

It’s good to be back on a campus again
, he thought, jamming his hands into his jeans pockets.  He could feel the tension of next week's finals in the air. Students hurried from their classrooms to their dorm rooms with looks of restrained panic, clutching books and cups of steaming coffee.  He remembered what that was like.

None of them realized how lucky they were to have this brief lull in their lives before entering the responsibilities of independent adulthood.  Jack had never appreciated college, either, before he and his friends had gone to Anchorage and his world had gone to hell.

He crouched on the plowed dirt and pulled a pack of Marlboros from his jacket pocket. He’d bought it at the corner drug store that morning, after waking up to find that Andy had flushed all his other cigarettes down the toilet. They’d argued, but now he felt a twinge of shame as he fingered out a fresh cigarette. Andy was just trying to protect him.

As always.

He rolled the cigarette between his fingers and watched the bulldozers dumping loads of dirt into the back of a truck. One of the construction workers ambled over to him. Jack straightened and stood.

“Neighbor?” the worker asked genially.

“Just a visitor. Smoke?”

“Thanks.”

Jack offered the pack and pulled out his lighter. He’d been thinking about putting the cigarette back, but now that somebody else was smoking, it’d be rude not to join in. He lit up with guilty pleasure.

“How’s it coming along?” he asked, after a moment.

“Pretty good. Got slowed down for a couple of days when we found out the gas pipes weren’t buried as deep as the county plans showed.”

“No?”

“Ground shifts after fifty years of erosion and earthquakes.” The worker shrugged. “Regs say we gotta have at least six feet of soil over the pipes, so the last couple days all we’ve been doing is rearranging dirt.”

“Sounds frustrating.”

“Well, we had to dig some holes for foundations, anyway. But it’s going slower than we’d hoped.”

“What are you building?”

“That’ll be the gymnasium, indoor court, offices for the coaches and staff.” The worker squinted as though he could actually see a building standing over the broken soil. “The parking lot will go next to it, then tennis courts and a soccer field.”

“No football field?”

“Not in the first phase of construction, but it’ll come.”

“I—” Jack broke off as the bulldozer shuddered to a halt and the driver started shouting.

“Aw, crap, I hope he didn’t bust a pipe.” His companion tossed the cigarette down and jogged back to the work site. Jack took a moment to grind out the smoldering butt before sidling closer.

For the first few moments he couldn’t see anything, but then the workers began to fall back, swearing and exclaiming.

Dirt-covered bones spilled from the bulldozer’s teeth.

“All right everyone, get back, get back,” one of the foremen shouted, looking worried. Another pulled out his cell phone.

“There wasn’t any graveyard on the city plans,” one of the workers muttered, looking uneasy.

“Maybe they’re animal bones,” another suggested.

Jack stared at the curved top of a skull that was half-buried in the dirt and blew out a thin stream of smoke. The sun hung low over the surrounding hills, lighting them with a crimson glow, and for a moment the broken field seemed covered in blood.

Andy had been hunkered over his laptop for an hour, searching through the web for a reason why bones might have been found on the north campus. Jack, after a few abortive attempts to engage him in conversation, had given up and started chopping tomatoes and bell peppers. At least Andy had stopped analyzing the recipe’s fat and cholesterol value.

“Would you mind humming something a little more cheerful?” Andy demanded at last, looking up.

“What?”

“First it was ‘Man of Constant Sorrow,’ and then ‘Wayfaring Stranger,’ and now ‘When Sorrows Encompass Me ’Round.’ I swear, Jack, I feel like I’m at a funeral.”

“Sorry.” Jack set down his knife. “I wasn’t paying attention. Did you find anything?”

“The land was part of the Gudrun Ranch before it was donated to the college. If it was being used as a graveyard, it wasn’t licensed by the state or the county.”

“Maybe it was private?”

“Either way, I think we’ve just entered the angel’s vision.”

“I’d say you’re right about that,” Jack agreed. “But why would an angel in L.A. warn us about something out here in Vista Hills?”

“You’re assuming distance matters to an angel. Remember, God works in mysterious ways.”

“I hate that.”