Circles of Seven by Bryan Davis Page B

highlighted the circle with his flashlight beam, the deep etchings sharpened. A man sat on a regal throne, a river gushing out from a hole under the base. A dozen crowns lay scattered around the man’s feet, hundreds of tiny worshipers bowed in reverence, and a child sat in his lap.
    “Heaven?” Billy asked.
    The professor aimed his flashlight at Billy’s chest. “We believe so, William. It resembles a paradise scene from the book of Revelation. It is the eighth circle, not part of the seven to which you will journey.” He lowered the beam and cast it on the other circles in turn. “Have you figured out what the other circles represent, if not heaven?”
    Billy’s tongue suddenly dried out. The question seemed too easy, yet the answer caught in his throat. “Hell?”

Chapter 5
    Merlin’s Warning
    Perhaps not exactly hell,” the professor explained. “The circles are not the final lake of fire, you see—”
    “Ahem! We shouldn’t recount terrifying stories yet, Merlin.” Sir Patrick waved his arm toward a circular table at the back of the room. “Since you were only a little late this morning, our noon meal can commence as planned. I would guess that a girl who just flew across the Atlantic Ocean must be starving.”
    Bonnie placed her hand over her stomach. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I could eat a horse.”
    “And since I already know about your wings, may I also suggest that you remove your backpack and make yourself more comfortable?”
    Bonnie began slipping the straps off her shoulders. “Sure. That would be great.”
    Patrick pulled a handheld radio to his lips and pressed a button on the side. “Markus, please tell the kitchen that we’re ready. Thank you.” He walked back to the wooden table and straightened an askew fork at one of the four perfectly placed settings of stoneware plates and stainless steel utensils.
    Pulling out one chair, he gestured for everyone to sit. “Miss Silver, may I?”
    Smiling at Billy, Bonnie slid into the chair and allowed Sir Patrick to seat her. She folded her hands in her lap, her silky hair falling in front of her shoulders. Billy sat across from her, while the professor pulled up his chair at Bonnie’s left and faced the chamber’s back wall of logs and stone. A cot sat against the wall next to a kneeling bench and a three-foot-tall wooden cross.
    “Who sleeps here?” Billy asked.
    Sir Patrick sat in his chair and pulled it up to the table. “That’s my bed.”
    Bonnie leaned forward in her chair, making more room for her wings. “Why do you sleep here? It can’t be comfortable without heat in the winter.”
    “With all the children coming and going, the bedrooms have new occupants on a monthly basis. At times I would give up my own bedroom and move my personal items from place to place. I decided it was easier just to camp out here. It’s a bit cold at times, but I am content. I have all I really need.”
    A tall, thin man wearing a white uniform entered pushing a wheeled table that rattled with teacups, drinking glasses, and an assortment of carafes and bottles. On top he balanced four pizza boxes.
    Sir Patrick moved the stacked pizzas to the table and placed his palm on top. Closing his eyes he prayed, “We thank you, Maker of all things, for the gift of nourishment. We know, as you stated yourself, that we live not by bread alone, but by every word that you speak. We humbly ask you to bless this delicious bounty. Amen.”
    “Amen,” the others chorused.
    Patrick slid the box off the top. “I did my research.” He set a pizza in front of each of his guests in turn. “Extra cheese for Bonnie, sausage for Billy, and mushrooms for Merlin.”
    Billy flipped up his box lid and took in a long sniff. “All right!”
    Bonnie opened her box and pulled out a slice. Long strings of melted cheese stretched from her hand to a greasy spot at the bottom of the box. “Thank you, Sir Patrick. What kind is yours?”
    He lifted his lid a crack and peeked