The Veritas Conflict (73 page)

He barked an order, and there was a rustling in the crowd.

Claire saw someone being pushed through the throng, then thrown on the ground before her.

“
Ian
!” Tears leapt to her eyes. “O Lord God, no!”

Someone else pushed his way forward, and she looked up.

“Hello, Father.” Stefan’s voice was flat, emotionless.

A satisfied smile appeared on Anton’s face as his voice hissed out. “The heir returns …”

Ian looked up at Claire, speaking quickly. “Don’t stop praying, Claire! Don’t stop—”

Stefan kicked him in the side, and Ian arched his back in pain. Victor walked over as Stefan and another man hauled Ian to his feet. Victor made a gesture, and they pulled outward, stringing him between them. Claire heard him clamp his mouth on a groan.

Victor spoke in a high, almost gleeful voice. “You also can join our little ceremony.” He turned back to stand by his brother, and the two men faced their captives with proprietary looks.

Victor glanced at his watch. “Let us begin.”

Anton planted the pike in the ground, it’s metal tip glinting. Then he began an eerie chant, which spread to the crowd.

Claire began to tremble again as the sense of evil deepened. It was entwining itself about them, lacing through the crowd, staring out of Anton’s and Victor’s eyes.

She looked over at Stefan, intent on his task, in something like despair. How could he choose this?

When the chant was well underway, Anton held the rod aloft and cried out words Claire didn’t fully understand, shouting about “the family symbol of our ancient line.”

Hanging between the two henchmen, she looked at Ian, somehow comforted by his presence. She remembered his words and began to pray, quivering, in a small voice that could not be heard over the chanting.

It didn’t matter.

Antons otherworldly eyes opened wide. He screamed and pointed the pike at her. “Stop!”

She tensed for a blow.

Suddenly, he looked above and behind her, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing? You cannot interfere!”

Anton was gaping at an empty spot in the air, Victor beside him. Claire looked at Ian, confused. He also was staring at the astonishment, the anger on the faces of their captors.

A tiny warmth began to glow in her belly.

He shall give His angels charge over thee…

Anton held the pike aloft, shouting upward. “This is our territory!” He pointed at the crowd, which shifted, murmuring uneasily, behind him. “These are our possessions! Our rightful ownership.” He curled his fingers tighter around the pike. “The symbol of our honor! Our power!”

Claire’s eyes widened as Anton’s face contorted into that of a raging beast.

He jabbed the pike upward and roared at the sky. “I
will
use it for the sacrifice!”

He hefted the weapon, pointed it toward Claire, and reared back.

Suddenly, there was a roar of wind, and Anton, Victor, and the entire crowd screamed and flinched back, covering their faces as if scathed by a blinding light. Anton dropped the pike as though it had turned red-hot. Each henchman put a hand to his face, holding Claire’s wrist with only one hand.

In an instant, as if in slow motion, Claire twisted her wrists away and downward, breaking their grip. She fell backward, scrabbling, watching as Ian also twisted free. She picked herself up and ran headlong from the crowd, away from the house, parallel with the bluffs, into a grove of trees.

They didn’t come after her.

There were no other footsteps. She turned in her flight, looking over her shoulder, calling for Ian.

He was on the ground, surrounded.

In despair, she watched as Stefan yanked him to his feet.

Anton’s voice rang out. “Do you want to watch, Claire? We will kill him and then find you. If you come back now, perhaps we might spare his life.”

Ian tried to yell something to her, but a punch to the stomach silenced him. She could hear him coughing, trying to get air.

She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. “O God, what do I do?”

Ian dropped to one knee, coughing, gagging.

God, thank You for getting Claire away. Don’t let her come back!

He was again yanked to his feet. Anton and the man beside him—it must be Victor Pike—were arguing with each other, pointing at the pike on the ground. Ian winced as Stefan and the other man again wrenched his arms outward.

Stefan
.

Ian looked sideways, trying to catch Stefan’s eye. “It’s not too late to commit, Stefan.” His voice was low enough that the other man wouldn’t hear. “It only takes an instant.”

Stefan’s eyes flickered, but his grip didn’t loosen.

“You said you didn’t want to be a pawn of Satan. You can still choose light instead of darkness.”

Stefan turned his head and stared at him. There was a sudden vulnerability in his eyes, the vulnerability that had vanished right before he betrayed Ian to the guards.

Ian looked into his face and could see the struggle, could see the desperate young man who had earlier broken down and asked for help. Had it only been that morning?

“God wants you, Stefan. Remember the man you saw with Mansfield?”

Stefan’s eyes flickered again.

“Remember Jesus? You were longing for Him. He loves you. Turn to Him!”

“
NO!
”

Ian’s head snapped around at the almighty roar. Anton, his eyes wild, snatched up the pike, took two charging steps toward Ian, and threw. The pike whistled through the air.

Ian closed his eyes.
Jesus…

He heard a sickening grunt, and his eyes flew open. Stefan was standing face-to-face with him, infinity in his eyes.

Ian looked down. A spear point protruded from Stefan’s front. Ian grabbed his shoulders, holding him up. “No … Stefan …”

A slow smile spread over Stefan’s face as his eyes went opaque. “I … commit …”

He became too heavy to hold and slid to the ground, his eyes staring past Ian.

“It’s You.”

The whisper died away, and there was no longer anyone there.

Ian looked up. Anton, Victor, and the others were staring at Stefan in horror.

In an instant the crowd was thrown into confusion, Anton and Victor seeming to collapse in on themselves. The others scattered, screaming, fighting unseen enemies.

Ian jumped to his feet, backing away, running for the trees. Nobody even noticed.

“Over here!” Claire called out to Ian as he ran, eyes wild, searching the blackness of the trees.

He ran up and enfolded her in his arms, holding her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe, whispering tear-choked words in her ear.

“Thank You, God! Thank You, God!”

A dry voice interrupted him. “Can we get out of here?”

Claire jumped, turning swiftly. A tall man was standing at the edge of the bluffs.

Ian looked up and sagged in relief. “Gage, thank God.” Ian pulled Claire forward. “Come on, it’s okay. I’ll explain on the way.”

SIXTY

S
UNLIGHT POURED IN THROUGH THE FRONT WINDOWS
of the den, the friendly fire crackling as Edward beckoned Claire inside and closed the door.

An hour later she emerged, a bemused look on her face and a small burgundy-covered book in her hands. Edward was right behind her.

Ian stood up from his seat in the foyer and stepped forward. “I’m told I’m not allowed to ask, so I won’t bother.”

Edward inclined his head toward him, his voice amused. “There will come a day, young Ian, when you will have the right to know.”

Both young people blushed at the look he gave them.

“It’s all arranged,” Edward continued. “The leaders of HCF are in agreement. Claire will be the student speaker at Mansfield’s eulogy tomorrow. The memorial for the others will follow shortly thereafter. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you, Claire. Your friend Brad is listed in serious but stable condition. That’s all we know right now.”

He coughed, leaning on his walking stick with both hands. “And on another matter, I have it on good authority that a certain magazine will soon break the news of a major government investigation into Helion Pharmaceuticals’s business practices.”

“Just Helion?” Claire asked after a moment.

Edward sighed slightly. “They must have guessed Stefan had told us something, or that you had found something in your research. By the time the agents got a search warrant this morning, the thirty-ninth floor of that building was filled with information incriminating only Helion. The managers there are apparently taking the fall to save the entire holding company.”

“After getting so close …”

“You never know,” Ian said. “They can’t have covered their tracks
that
thoroughly in such a short time.”

Edward nodded. “All in good time. Well see. All in good time.”

“I have a question for you.” Claire struggled for the words. “When we were on that cliff last night, and Anton Pike tried to kill Ian … and hit Stefan instead … What happened? Why were they suddenly so powerless?” She stared up into the kind eyes, seeing a glimpse of the professor she already missed so much. “Why did the whole thing collapse then, and not before? Why did we have to go through that?”

“I can’t give you the answers, Claire. Only God can do that.”

“I understand. I’m just wondering—”

“My best guess is that the willing act of Stefan—their ‘heir’—giving his life for Ian was so Christlike in love and power as to demolish evil strongholds.”

His eyes glinted. “And I think there’s an additional possibility, taken from the book of Jude.” He recited a passage from memory. “And I remind you of the angels who did not stay within the limits of authority God gave them but left the place where they belonged. God has kept them chained in prisons of darkness, waiting for the day of judgment.’

“Remember that although the evil one is prince of this dark world, he can do nothing outside the boundaries God places on him. It certainly sounds like a mighty angel last night delivered a message that Satan’s sacrificial weapon was not to be used on the children of God. But the spirit possessing Anton overstepped his limits.”

Edward folded his hands over the head of his cane, looking with clear eyes at both students. “God knew what would happen, and knew these events would cripple part of the enemy’s hold over this place.” He smiled, his voice wistful. “Young Stefan made the right choice.”

Claire clutched several pages in her hand as she ascended the stairs to the outdoor stage in front of Memorial Church. The day was clear, the weather still unseasonably warm. Just as it had been on Saturday.

She crossed the platform, every fiber attuned to the thronging crowd, the steady red eyes of a dozen television cameras, the supportive presence of her parents and several friends in the front row. She wished Sherry had chosen to be here.

Claire approached the podium and the president of the university stepped back with a solemn smile, gesturing her forward. A gentle prayer coursed through Claire’s mind as she laid the slim sheaf of paper in front of the microphone and looked up.

New Harvard Yard was packed with people. The chairs extended all the way back to the steps of Widener Library. She had been told that thousands more squeezed into this space for commencement ceremonies, but right now she couldn’t imagine it.

Her throat tightened as she looked out at those who had come to pay their respects to Professor William Mansfield. People from all over the country. Students and faculty, senators and secretaries, luminaries and the unknown. A former U.S. president and his wife sat, their eyes sad, in the front row, surrounded by the secret service.

The faces looked up at her.