Free The Veritas Conflict by Shaunti Feldhahn Page A

on the walls of the kiosk.
    The other angel caught Gael’s eye and gestured toward his young charge. “This one has been gifted to serve the Prince of Peace as an evangelist.” His voice was proud, though purposely muted from any enemy ears.
    Gael made a congratulatory gesture. “May his gift be realized. And may the Lord of hosts strengthen you in your work.”
    The T began to move. Gael folded his wings and dropped into the car. Claire was perched on the edge of a crowded bench seat, her back ramrod straight. She looked at her watch.
    Peace, Claire. God is in control .
    Claire looked at her watch again, her mouth tightening. Gael stood in the swaying car, mingling with the suitcases of an airport traveler, considering his charge. Not only was Claire letting pride have sway; she was not listening, not praying, had not gone before the Throne in days. The Lord of hosts longed to pour out all His love and wisdomon His adopted child, but she was not seeking it.
    Gael shook his head. Every member of the heavenly host longed always to be in that golden throne room, to sing holy, holy, holy to the King! And here these children of the King dallied and strayed like that toddler he had just seen, letting anything distract them from going into His presence.
    And she wasn’t just any toddler, either. Kai’s words rang in his head. 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 . The angel’s countenance grew solemn, a subtle gleam appearing in his eye as he pondered his next move.
    Claire shifted from foot to foot, staring at the numbers above the elevator doors in the lobby. She picked up her purse, then returned it to the floor. She pulled her zipper up to the neck of her jacket, then down again.
    The elevator must have been put into service fifty years ago.
    A grandmotherly lady was resting her arm on an ornate railing bolstering the lobby wall. She cast a kind eye at Claire.
    “All aflutter today, are we?” Her voice carried the gentle hint of an Irish brogue.
    “Yes.” Claire kept her eyes on the creeping numbers. Seven … six … Suddenly, she shook herself and turned around. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Her smile was sheepish. “I’m trying not to be anxious about this meeting—a meeting that just has to be on the top floor when I’m already running late!”
    The grandmother smiled. “Maybe God is trying to teach you patience, child.”
    “Yes. I’m sure He is.” Claire forced herself to take a calming breath. “Are you a Christian, by chance?”
    The wrinkled eyes lifted in a smile. “I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ.”
    “So am I. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that there aren’t as many believers here in Boston as I thought there would be. People don’t usually bring up God out of the blue. This whole city just seems colder, harder, than I had expected.”
    The elevator dinged, the doors opening to discharge a group of people. Claire tried not to be impatient as the elderly lady shuffled quietly on board. The doors slowly closed, and Claire punched the top button, looking over at her companion, who nodded for the same floor.
    The car began its tortoiselike movement. Claire gritted her teeth, again staring at the numbers above the door.
    “In the early days,” the old lady said, “this area was the seedbed for great devotion. But that gradually changed as so many became sure that they knew so much. Theybegan to look for enlightenment in so many other places: to science, within themselves, to some counterfeit sense of reason from which almighty God was removed.” Her wrinkled fingers caressed the curve of her walking stick. “As if reason that dared to account for the Author of all knowledge somehow didn’t count.”
    Her voice was gentle, almost sad. “Dark became light and light dark, just as Isaiah warned the wicked of Judah. Many