Bones of Angels by Christopher Forrest Page A

to the sleeping Quiz on his bunk.
    “Hey, lazybones,” she said, kissing him on the forehead lightly. “Want some company?”
    Quiz propped himself on one elbow while running the fingers of his free hand through his hair. Squinting, he reached for the watch on his nightstand.
    “Holy crap,” he said. “I’m late.”
    “For what?” asked DJ.
    “Mrs. Caine asked me to show Angela around the ship before the late-morning briefing.”
    “Go back to bed,” said DJ. “I’ll give her the grand tour myself.”
    “Thanks, but I need to ask her a few questions. I believe there’s an upcoming mission. I’ll, uh, need some historical background.”
    DJ stood, her features expressionless. “Very well. Maybe some other time,” she said with no inflection.
    “Sure,” said Quiz.
    * I believe the modern expression is ‘I told you so.’
    You’re in deep trouble, my friend. *
    I have to obey Mrs. Caine.
    * Quite true. But don’t expect DJ to be happy about it. I’d tell you what’s coming, but you wouldn’t believe me. *
    Ignorance is bliss. I have to get going.
    Aft Observation Deck
    Aboard the Alamiranta
     
    Having completed a tour of those portions of the ship open to civilians, DJ and Angela stood side by side, leaning on the ship’s railing.
    * Since you spent years ensconced in your grandfather’s library, reading every book on his shelves, scholarly and otherwise, you know the logical questions to ask. *
    Yes, I do. Especially since I think I’ll be assigned to the mission to find my grandfather.
    * You most certainly will. *
    “Father Reynard and the Council of Nine believe that the discovery of the Archangel’s bones is a harbinger of the end of the world,” Quiz said. “But I’m puzzled over a few things.”
    Angela turned towards her tour guide. Her face was inches from his, and she maintained direct eye contact with the young computer expert. Her hair was tossed sensuously by the winds of the languid, blue Mediterranean.
    * Body language, my boy. *
    Yes. I see that. Now be quiet for a while.
    “Archbishop Donovan told us that Reynard’s beliefs are based on ancient texts and Biblical prophecies,” said Quiz thoughtfully. “But the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament speaks of a future battle of good and evil, of a battle of the angels at the end of time. So does the Book of Revelation. What do bones already entombed in rock have to do with the future?  I’m not getting the connection. It sounds like the battle has already taken place.”
    Angela nodded her head. “You’re pretty smart.”
    Blushing, Quiz gazed momentarily at the azure sea. “I guess so. My head’s been buried in books most of my life.”
    Angela laughed. “That’s not a bad thing, Quiz. Remember, you’re talking to an anthropology student.”
    “Point taken. So what am I to make of all this?”
    “You’ve read Milton’s Paradise Lost, no doubt.”
    “Of course,” said Quiz. “An epic poem about the fall of Lucifer.”
    “Right. But Milton based his classic on a few sources.”
    “Such as?”
    “Isaiah, chapter fourteen, mentions the fall of Lucifer, also called the Day Star or Light Bearer. He dared to believe that he and his followers were greater than God himself.”
    Quiz nodded, once again looking at the grad student he found so scintillating.
    “But Milton’s tale is also derived in part from certain apocryphal Jewish books not included in the Old Testament. The two most famous are the Book of Enoch and the Assumption of Moses. They speak of the fallen angels. More specifically, they talk of a battle between Michael and Lucifer.”
    “But I still don’t understand how — ”
    Angela put an upraised index finger against Quiz’s lips, silencing his question in mid-sentence. Quiz smelled a lovely fragrance on her hand.
    “Patience,” Angela said. “Your grandfather and Archbishop Connolly have believed for some time that there is another text that possibly bridges the two accounts. They believed