Free A Hideous Beauty by Jack Cavanaugh Page B

began gathering up papers and books from the table in preparation to leave.
    The professor placed a hand on her arm. “Miss Ling. I’m going to stay here and talk to Mr. Austin. Please start my class for me.”
    Miss Ling scowled. She directed her displeasure at me.
    The professor gave her instructions. “They’re supposed to have read the chapter on General Revelation,” he said. “Discuss the material with them. If it becomes apparent they are ill-equipped for the discussion, give them a pop quiz. There’s a list of questions in the front of my book.”
    Her gaze was dark and cold and unwavering. She didn’t like me.
    â€œMiss Ling . . . ?”
    She gathered up her things and was gone.
    The professor folded his arms. “Two for two, Mr. Austin. Do you always have this effect on people?”
    I was as perplexed as he was amused. “Honestly, Professor, I’m a very likable guy.”
    The professor motioned toward a chair. “How about if you have a seat and explain to me what’s so important it’s keeping me from my class.”
    â€œYes . . . well . . .” Now that I’d gained a hearing, I wasn’t sure how to begin. I took the chair vacated by the brooding giant. “All right . . . I’m going to mention a name and I want you to tell me if you recognize it.”
    â€œAre you testing me, Mr. Austin?”
    â€œBelieve me, Professor, that’s not my intention. If you’ll indulge me.”
    I took his silence as consent. I let a significant pause cleanse the air and I readied myself to judge his reaction. “Semyaza.”
    He didn’t blink.
    â€œDo you recognize the name?” I asked.
    â€œI do.”
    â€œCan you tell me in what context?”
    Tilting back his head, he studied me a moment. “No,” he said.
    â€œNo?”
    â€œI prefer you to set the context, Mr. Austin.”
    His reluctance indicated he was leery of my intentions. Fair enough. He didn’t know me. “What if I told you I might have met someone who is using the name Semyaza for reasons unknown. What would you say to that?”
    â€œI’d say the phrasing of your question indicates you’ve been hanging around too many politicians.”
    I grinned. “All right. Let me rephrase.”
    â€œNow you sound like a lawyer.” The man had a quick wit and wasn’t afraid to use it. I like that in a professor.
    I tried again. “What would you say if I told you I met someone who called himself Semyaza?”
    â€œI’d say someone was playing a practical joke on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”
    â€œProfessor, wait! Please . . . this is important. Have you heard the name Semyaza used in any other context than . . . than . . .”
    â€œThan what, Mr. Austin?”
    I swallowed hard. “Than angels,” I said.
    He leaned back. “First, you tell me you’ve met someone named Semyaza. Then, you ask me if Semyaza can be anything other than an angel. Mr. Austin, are you telling me you’ve seen an angel?”
    â€œNo! An angel? Of course not! It’s just that . . .” I sighedheavily. “Frankly, Professor, I don’t know what I saw, or if I really saw it.”
    For a long time, the professor said nothing. “What is it you want from me, Mr. Austin? You’re an intelligent man. I find it hard to believe you came all this way to ask me something you could have looked up in an encyclopedia.”
    I leaned forward, forearms on knees, and stared at my hands. Why was I so reluctant to tell him what I saw? What’s the worst he could say to me? Taking a deep breath, I said, “I had an experience I can’t explain. An unusual encounter. Highly unusual. And during that encounter, I heard the name Semyaza.”
    â€œYou heard the