disruption.”
My heart sank at the thought of waiting around until five.
Not so for Professor McMaster. His eyes lit up, and he said, “Later, you can tel me al about the beginnings of the vampire myth.” Hardly my interest.
Chapter Thirty-seven
I walked out of Professor McMaster’s building and into the sea of students that fil ed up Harvard Square. For a split second, I felt like one of them, caught up in the excitement of fresh discoveries and the frenzy of deadlines. I slung my bag across my chest, imagining it to be ful of term papers instead of scribbles on the mysteries of myself, and pretended to be a student at the col ege of my dreams.
But then I saw a distinctive flash of short, white-blond hair across the square. My heart started racing and, even though my gut told me to run in the opposite direction, I fol owed it as it bobbed away from the square. I needed to know if that hair belonged to Ezekiel or Michael—and whether they had already found me. Plus, I told myself that it would be better to learn the truth while in a crowd. Safety in numbers and al that.
The person moved quickly, darting from one side street to the next in a mad dash somewhere. I tried to keep his pace while keeping my distance, but it wasn’t easy; I was no trained detective. Just when I thought I’d hit my stride, he took an unexpected, sharp right turn down a more commercial road and disappeared from my sight. I craned my neck trying to get a look. Countless blond students walked down the road, but none had the distinctive platinum shimmer of Ezekiel or Michael. I slowed down, furious with myself for losing either one of them. If it was real y Ezekiel or Michael.
The remnants of adrenaline coursed through me. I al owed the remaining momentum to carry me away from the commercial thoroughfare into the far reaches of the campus. The crowds thinned as the students raced into classes, and I found myself in a little brick courtyard bordered by ivy-covered wal s. It was straight from a campus movie set, picture perfect—almost too perfect.
The spot looked so inviting. A wrought-iron bench sat in one corner, under a weeping wil ow tree. I hadn’t slept the night before, and nothing in the world looked more enticing than that courtyard and that bench. I slowed my pace even more, strol ed over to the bench, and sat down.
For the first few minutes, I just breathed in the calmness of the place and watched the students trickle into class. They reminded me of the feeling of belonging I’d experienced just before I’d glimpsed the possible Ezekiel or Michael, the brief fantasy I’d had about actual y being a Harvard student. I realized that the fleeting playacting might be the closest I would ever come to being a col ege student. How could someone like me—
whatever I was—hope to move past al this drama and strangeness and go to col ege?
I started crying. Pretty quickly, the trickle of tears turned into a torrent, and I was sobbing. Al I wanted was a normal life—a high school boyfriend, a good col ege, supportive parents, and nice friends. Instead, here I was, a sixteen-year-old girl, total y on my own—no parents or friends that I could contact, and certainly no boyfriend to speak of—trying to figure out what I was.
Out of nowhere, a sweet-looking blond girl wearing a Harvard sweatshirt stood before me. She asked, “Are you al right? Can I get you anything?”
Through my tears, I answered. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Before I could offer her a seat, she sat down beside me. She didn’t actual y touch me, but her presence felt comforting. Almost as if she’d hugged me.
“You know, when you are looking for answers, it is always best to start with the questions.”
“Pardon me?” Her advice seemed an odd choice to offer a sobbing stranger on a col ege campus, even though her demeanor was otherwise soothing.
She laughed a delightful, tinkly-sounding giggle. “I’m sorry. My friends are always accusing me of being obscure. Al I meant was that you look like you are struggling with some big issues. I always return to the questions when looking for answers to a tough problem. Then I start my research.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
The girl smiled serenely and then handed me a tissue. Abruptly, she stood up and said, “Wel , I better run. I’m real y late for class.”
After wiping away the rest of my tears so I appeared somewhat presentable, I looked up to thank her. But the girl had disappeared into the thicket of sidewalks and buildings surrounding the courtyard.
Her words lingered, as did her pervading sense of calm. Maybe she was right. Maybe the answers lay in the questions themselves—in part, anyway. And maybe I should start researching the answers to those questions. After al , I was at Harvard, one of the research capitals of the world.
I stopped the pity party, and real y homed in on my questions, the ones I’d scribbled down on the train ride. More than anything, I wanted to know who I was. I didn’t know whether I was a fal en angel, one of these Nephilim beings, or some creature related to the biblical stories. But I did know that I was important enough that two “good” fal en angels sacrificed their own immortality to raise me as their own daughter. I also knew that one of the “bad” fal en angels—Ezekiel—said that I was destined to rule at his side. I didn’t think his words were mere flattery; given his advanced gifts, Ezekiel could lure any number of people to join his ranks without hyperbole. Whatever I was, the stakes were high. And I needed to find out, to deal with Ezekiel.
Only six hours left until I met Professor McMaster again. I would use the time to prepare—even arm myself—for the coming days.
I left my peaceful little courtyard with reluctance, even though I welcomed the safety of the student crowds. When I final y reached the throngs in Harvard Square, I felt like I’d been tossed a life preserver.
But then I saw that distinctive flash of platinum again. And I knew that evil lurked in the masses as wel as on deserted streets. Ezekiel was here, and he was taunting me.
Chapter Thirty-eight
After consulting a guidebook, I decided to visit the Andover-Harvard Theological Library, on the northeast part of the campus. The guide described the library as containing a preeminent col ection of biblical research materials, one of the largest in the United States. If I was going to find helpful information on angels or other biblical creatures, I guessed the Andover-Harvard Theological Library would be the place.
