The Veritas Conflict (5 page)

“… and here she is!” Her mom handed her the cordless phone. Claire looked at it blankly. Her mom raised an eyebrow, mouthing
Dad
.

Claire tried to pull herself together. “Daddy! Did Mom tell you?”

“No, and I’m going crazy! What is it? Wait … you got accepted to Wheaton didn’t you?” A banshee yell came over the line. “I knew it! I just knew it.”

“Dad.…”

“What?”

“Well, I don’t …” Claire looked wildly at her mother, who was going through the stack of mail on the kitchen table.

“You
didn’t
get accepted?”

“No, Dad, I mean … I don’t know about Wheaton yet.” She heard her mother’s soft cry and saw her pick up a manila envelope embossed with Wheaton’s logo.

She closed her eyes and tried to muster up the same excitement she’d felt just moments before. “Dad, I got into Harvard!
Harvard!
”

A pause. “Wow, Clairie-bell, that’s just wonderful. I’m really proud of you!” He cleared his throat. “No matter what, you should be real proud of yourself.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and her throat closed. It was the same old thing.

“… and we’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great, Daddy.”

A moment later, Barbara Rivers watched her daughter carefully replace the phone in it’s cradle and leave the room without a word. Barbara bowed her head for a moment, growing tense, then shoved her chair back from the table. She picked up a dog-eared book from the kitchen counter and headed for the glassed-in porch at the side of the house.

Upstairs, Claire flopped across her bed, one arm flung over her eyes.
What’s wrong with this picture? This should be the happiest day of my life!
Her glance fell on the file drawer where months ago she had stashed nearly two dozen college catalogs, a handful of SAT practice tests and score sheets, and her admissions applications to eight schools. Funny. Such a small space to hold so many big dreams.

Claire suddenly breathed an exultant sigh and giggled. She had gotten into Harvard University! She, a middle-class girl from the Midwest! In the eight years since her Christian high school had been chartered, only a handful of graduates had gone on to Ivy League colleges, and she would be the first one at Harvard. Unbelievable.

Claire rolled over and grabbed the threadbare Eeyore that had been her companion since birth. She hugged it to her chest and stared at the other members of her well-loved Winnie the Pooh collection.

At lunch yesterday a bunch of her girlfriends had lamented the closeness of graduation, wishing that high school could last forever. Claire had looked at them like they were crazy.

She knew she was different. It wasn’t just the schoolwork and the grades that
seemed to come so easily, or the fact that she was just as eager to investigate genealogy or to volunteer at the crisis pregnancy center as she was to hang out at the mall; it was her yearning for
life
. She wanted to see the world, to venture beyond the boundaries of church, school, and family that had defined her for so long. Some of her college-bound friends talked more about finding a husband than finding a career. She wanted to get married someday, of course, but she also wanted to do great things with her life, to make a contribution, to change the world. Her father and mother had always told her she could do anything she set her mind to, and she believed them. They had weathered a few big storms as a family, and she knew she was stronger for it.

Claire twisted Eeyore’s floppy ear around and around her finger. As far back as she could remember, her parents had assumed her plans would include their alma mater: Wheaton, the Harvard of Christian colleges. In the last year or two she had tried to drop hints that she might want to look elsewhere, but they never really heard her. She knew they wanted her to go to a Christian college for the same reason they had scraped and saved to pay tuition for her private high school: They didn’t want their eldest daughter corrupted by the world.

Well, maybe I can use a little corrupting!
That thought was followed just as quickly by a sharp sense of shame.
O Lord, forgive me. You know I don’t mean that. I just want…
What did she want? She lay quietly for a long moment, fighting with the turmoil that had been her constant companion for the last few weeks.
I just want
more!

She sat up, pounding Eeyore’s nose into the floral duvet covering the bed. Her mom and dad might not want to recognize the truth, but it was plain as day that no matter how great a Christian college was, an Ivy League school would open far more doors for her. They needed to trust her and the values they had instilled in her.

But how could she make them see that? Suddenly, she was filled with a piercing fear that they wouldn’t see it, that they would present her with a choice between their helping to pay for Wheaton and her paying for Harvard. The whole family had sacrificed to build up a small college account for her, but her father called it the Wheaton fund. What if they weren’t willing to use it for a non-Christian school? She could probably get a partial scholarship and a job, but no way could she earn the thirty-five thousand dollars a year it would cost.

Claire jumped to her feet and circled the room. Her foot thumped against something heavy on the floor by her backpack. She bent down, flicking away quiz papers and magazines, and saw her student study Bible. She hadn’t picked it up since Sunday.

Claire was suddenly flooded with conviction … and longing. She had so many anxieties, but she hadn’t prayed. She hadn’t spent time in the Word. She hadn’t turned all these concerns over to the Lord. Instead, she had griped and complained and let fear take hold. She dropped her head.

“O God, forgive me. I am so weak.”

Claire locked her door, then knelt by her bed.

In the sunroom, Barbara was suddenly flooded by peace. She raised her head from the pillows on the love seat and wiped her eyes. The floor around her was littered with scrunched-up tissues, a silent testament to the hour she had spent praying for her daughter. She didn’t know exactly what had happened, but she knew God had heard her prayers and released the burden that had weighed on her since she awakened at dawn.

She had said something about her heaviness of heart to Tom as he dressed for work, but he had been distracted with thoughts of the day ahead. He’d just smiled at her worried reflection in the mirror as he tied his tie and combed his hair and told her not to worry about it.

Barbara shook her head, remembering. Tom was a wonderful husband and father; she just wished he would spend more time reading the Bible and praying rather than just listening to sermons on tape or reading an inspirational book now and then. But she knew his walk had been a long and sometimes rocky road. Barbara prayed often that God would deepen Tom’s relationship with Him.

And now Claire. Today was the first time in months she had felt such an urgency to pray for her daughter. It had started in the morning as an undefined uneasiness and had grown throughout the day until the mail came. When Claire walked out of the kitchen, Barbara knew she had urgent business to do for her child.

Over the past few years, the Lord had shown her that when she felt she should drop everything and pray, she should listen. The lesson had solidified one day last year when she suddenly found herself thinking of a missionary friend in the Philippines. His image in her mind was so strong that she stopped washing the dishes and got on her knees. She had prayed for more than half an hour; then the burden of prayer had departed. The missionary’s “praise report” arrived a month later, telling his friends that he had evaded a kidnapping attempt by Marxist guerrillas on the very day Barbara had prayed. The experience had shaken and excited her and had renewed her determination to listen to that urging.

Barbara looked up now with that same sense of release and gave thanks to God. Then she picked up a clock and peered at it. She stifled a wince and laughed. She had a lot to do before Tom got home.

Out in the cul-de-sac three large beings met in conference, their attention fixed on the writhing spirit that one angel held in tight control.

“Tell us your name, spirit!”

The demon hissed out foul curses, struggling to get free. His captor winced as a black talon raked across his side.

Another angel of high rank drew his sword. “In the name of the Lord Jesus, tell us your name and designation.”

The demon cringed. “I am Pargon, of the troop of Krolech.”

The first angel started, eyes narrowing. “What is your assignment?” His grip tightened, and he pointed a glowing sword toward the demons throat when he hesitated. “The Lord Himself revealed you to us; you have no choice but to comply.”

Pargon straightened as well as he could. “I am ordered to bring confusion, fear, distraction, and rebellion to the girl, an assignment I have carried out rather well, I might add.” He spat at his captor. “You have no hope against her pride and desire for independence. You cannot force her to do anything outside her will—and she’s a strong-willed one, she is.”

“What was your assigned goal, Pargon?” The angel kept the sword pointed at Pargon’s neck.

“To ensure that her rebellion leads her to Harvard, decimating her family relationships in the process. The previous team was incompetent, but this time will be different. We have known for weeks that she was accepted, and we are waiting to welcome her to our territory with open arms. It has, after all, been rightfully
our
territory since your filthy Leader was officially uninvited. One of the always-growing number of areas that meets that description. How delightful that the prince of this world was instated not just by default but by the active behest of all those delicious souls who enjoy their own rule rather than that of our Enemy.” He rubbed his hands together. “Perhaps once your young charge leaves that home she will join the club.” The demon cackled, then gasped as the giant sword sent him spinning into space.

His captor’s voice boomed after him. “We command you to depart from this family and region and to go where Jesus may send you.”

They watched the black dot disappear into the distance, and then the high-ranking warrior sheathed his sword, turning toward his comrades.

“Well met, Gael, Mattai,” he nodded to the demons captor and his silent comrade. “It’s been a long time. Report.”

“Kai, my friend, you may know that I have been assigned from time to time to Claire Rivers, the young girl Pargon was harassing,” Gael said.

Kai nodded. “Yes, actually, I knew you were on her team since before her birth.” He smiled as Gael raised his eyebrows but didn’t explain further. “Continue.”

“She committed to walk with the Lord nearly two years ago, and we have been watching her closely since that time. Other than the attack on the family years ago, the
enemy has harassed her primarily with the minor demons that have plagued so many teenagers in this recent age. But they have largely been dealt with through the covering of prayer that surrounds this home.”

“The praying mother,” Kai said.

“Yes, her mother. Because of that prayer, Mattal and I have been able to counter much of the usual harassment. But things changed a few weeks ago.” Gael looked at his comrade.

Mattal nodded, remembering. “One day, a half troop of dark spirits showed up. We were not familiar with them. We … did not know until now that they were from the troop of Krolech. They descended on the house and began what appeared to be a strategic, concerted torment. We could tell they were trying to drive a wedge in the family, and we were outmatched. We joined several battles to protect our charges and were both severely injured. Of course, we were going to call for backup when it all started, but—well—the Lord stopped us.”

“Continue.”

“By the power of the Lord, we were able to shield Claire from the worst attacks, but many still prevailed. She has been growing increasingly agitated, anxious, and rebellious in recent weeks. Her mother and father believe it a natural part of adolescence—the enemy’s version of modern adolescence, that is—and chalk it up to her waiting to hear from colleges. They were not aware of the increasing spiritual warfare surrounding their household.”

Gael looked at Kai, his eyes piercing. “Today, without warning, the rest of the spirits departed, leaving Pargon on duty. He was hounding Claire with confusion and fear, and Mattal stirred her mother to pray. When Claire repented and submitted to her Master, the Lord delivered the spirit into our hands. Then you arrived just as we were about to interrogate him.”

Gael fell silent, the unspoken question hanging in the air. After a moment of thought, Kai stirred.

“I have been told to brief both of you on why I am here,” Kai said, “but I myself know only a piece of the story. I do know that the torment of recent weeks was allowed by the Lord to see whether Claire would submit to Him in her time of need. That is why you were allowed to be outmatched. Despite Claire’s sometimes stubborn and strong will, she has a soft heart, and she successfully passed this test, may the Lord be praised. This was necessary because many more tests await her. More than she can possibly imagine.”

“Will she be stubborn and go to Harvard?” Gael asked.

Kai smiled, and he looked around to ensure their privacy. “Actually, our Master intends Claire Rivers to go to Harvard. Before her birth I was told that a place and a
special purpose had been prepared for her there. A purpose for the ages.
He
has been the one putting the desire for Harvard into her heart since she became a new creation two years ago.”

Kai moved forward and placed his hand on Gael’s shoulder. “Friend, you know what this means. You are going back to Cambridge.”

THREE

September

C
LAIRE PUSHED OPEN THE DOORS
of the science center, a new student orientation program clutched in her hand. She was half-expecting to see yesterday’s deserted space, but the center was alive with activity. Hundreds of freshmen milled around inspecting flyers and schedules on the large bulletin boards that lined one long hallway.