The Tears of Time

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Ella sat shivering in the branches of a sycamore, conveniently in view of both the grove’s clearing and a way out to either side. To her left she could look up the river towards the bridge and skyscrapers. To the right were the life-saving, though dirty, public toilets, with the Library square opening out onto the park. Straight ahead was the clearing, and behind her the river wound its congealed way throughout the city.

Having escaped the hawthorn bush that morning, she’d made her way into the city centre. Realising how odd a 17-year-old girl looked wandering around before nine in the morning; she’d quickly ducked into the only open shop, a small second-hand bookstore, and browsed for as long as she felt comfortable. In between the tall forest of shelves, she’d felt safe for the first time in a couple of days. With no money, and the middle-aged woman who ran the store peering over her shoulder trying to help, Elanor had quit the store quickly just before it turned nine.

The streets were busy now, commuters marching to and fro from offices, clutching coffee and preaching loudly down mobile phones, with the occasional older elderly lady clutching plastic bags and a tweed shopping trolley. Feeling safer in the crowd, she had sat down on a bench, watching the people passing by.

Her situation was bad, and she was trying not to think about it. But with so much spare time, there wasn’t much else to do. She had no money, no contacts, nothing. Emily had been her last chance, but anybody in the medical profession freaked Ella out now. Dr Patterson had known her, and it seemed to be something more than Emily’s memories. She couldn’t eat or get a bed for the night without money, but how could she earn it?

A little white sign caught her eye, sitting in the window of a coffee shop; “Counter Girl Wanted.” She could go in perhaps… But she had no references, and it was doubtful that she would be able to turn up every day in the same, already dirty, and smelling rather stale, clothes. In her current state of anxiety, she wasn’t sure they’d even let her in to ask. She gave up, walking away from the sign and back towards the square in the city centre. A little later, sitting next to the clear, blue trickle of a marble fountain, her hopes seemed even bleaker.

Without thinking about it, she had wandered back to the park by midmorning and passing the park itself, she found herself on the library steps. A warning sign flashed in her head, and she turned quickly around to go back.

“Elanor!” someone greeted her from behind. She froze, her mind racing for an escape. A smiling face came round from behind her, the owner’s hand pushing his glasses back.

“Professor Miller,” Ella stuttered, thinking about the book he’d trusted her with, even though she didn’t have a library card.

“It’s nice to see you again so soon. You must be quite interested in this project of yours!”

“Oh,” She nodded, happy to use the excuse, “Yes, I thought I’d do some more study.”

“Well come on in. I was just going to see if I could find that book I told you about…” The professor kept talking as he began to walk back into the Library. With little choice, Elanor followed him inside, hoping her book wouldn’t come up in conversation. Inside, the professor led her into a quiet backroom reserved for study, where he promptly dumped his pile of books, and returned with several more. She smiled at him, making a point of busying herself with looking for something in the latest book.

The professor had soon became absorbed in his own work, hopping from book to book with an excited enthusiasm you might find in a 4-year-old’s birthday party, as the child rips impatiently through each present’s wrapping paper, discarding the present after a short glance. Elanor allowed herself to relax, slipping her sore feet out of her shoes, leaning back into the soft chair. Her head nodded slightly, and within seconds the comfort and warmth of the Library had sent her to sleep.

The professor continued to work unawares across from her, his pen scribbling rapidly as he came across something. He put down one book, reaching for one to his side, bound in brown leather, worn and cracked at the edges. He flipped it open, flicking through the pages to find the reference he wanted. A bright picture on one of the pages he passed caught his eye, and he turned back, hoping desperately he hadn’t lost it.

“Oh! Elanor, look at this-” Professor Miller exclaimed, looking up to see her sleeping form peacefully curled up in the chair. For the second time since he had met her, he wandered what the child was doing. He’d known when he’d first seen her, something wasn’t right. Her shabby appearance this morning had only convinced him further. He could tell that she’d slept outside last night, most likely in the park outside. And her unlikely interest in the Apocalypse. Her lack of a folder or school books confirmed his fear that it wasn’t a school project.

He smiled sadly to himself, looking back at the picture he’d found in a copy of some medieval texts. An angel smiled back at him, the female face copied by the skilled hand of a religious painter. Lifelike, the eyes stared out of the page, cutting his soul with their clarity. He looked back at the sleeping form of the girl he’d known for only a few hours. The likeness was severe. As if the painter had seen the face that now slept in front of the professor, and quickly painted in order to capture the stunning image. He put the book to one side, pushing a piece of paper between the pages that kept the realistic oil painting a secret, and then returned to his work.

Elanor woke up in a hurry, her mind broken apart by a fiery image which she quickly tried to dispel. She wouldn’t have a vision now. Not in front of the one person who might understand what was happening to her. Professor Miller looked up as she stretched, and gave her a wry smile. He nodded at a tray to his left, holding a pot of tea and a plate of digestive biscuits. Ella’s hunger took her unawares, and her stomach cramped painfully. Not sure when her next meal would be, she quickly finished off the three remaining biscuits, whilst swallowing several cups of tea.

“Hungry?” Professor Miller chuckled.

“Sorry, I didn’t have lunch,” Ella excused herself.

“That’s quite alright. I often forget to eat lunch; I’m so absorbed in my work.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” Ella inquired, blushing when she saw the clock and realised how long she’d been asleep.

“Yes, actually,” the professor said, looking at her in a curious manner.

“What was it?” She asked, unaware of the Professor’s gaze as she doodled on a piece of filing paper.

“Oh, err, just a fact about… Um,” he stuttered, his glasses falling off in his hurry to find something to show her, grasping a random book. He let it fall open, without realising what it was.

Elanor’s face went white in seconds.

Shocked, he looked down at the book he was holding, its black, worn and cracked leather cover felt rough under his fingers. The angel of the apocalypse stared back, her arms raised, wielding a blazing double-edged sword above her haloed head.

“Elanor?” the professor asked, as she stayed frozen in the same shocked position. A short delay, and then her face changed.

“Sorry, I just, I saw the time. I’d better go.” She stood up flustered, pulling her coat off the back of the chair, and leaving swiftly. The professor half stood then sat down again with a thump. He pushed his glasses back on, and stayed as he was staring at the picture for a very long time.

Marching outside, Elanor couldn’t believe what she had just seen. Her own face, clearly and plainly hers, staring out of a medieval image of the angel of death. And the professor had seen it, and recognised her. Inside her head she begged fervently with any god in existence that he had only taken it as coincidence.

But Elanor talked in her sleep.

Lucifer missed her by seconds, appearing in the room minutes after she had left. The professor still sat slumped in his chair, caught up in the picture in front of him, unaware of the unwanted visitor. Lucifer cocked his head to one side and surveyed the little man in front of him with a look of pure disdain. He smirked as the professor wiped his brow with a pocket handkerchief. The perfect, clichéd image of a professor so engaged in his studies that he forgets to live. Lucifer got tired of watching him. The girl was clearly not here, and this man seemed to have found a rather interesting picture.

“May I take a look?” Lucifer whispered, making the professor jump. Lucifer snorted at the reaction, sliding into the seat across from him. Still warm. Someone had sat here minutes ago.

“I didn’t see you there,” Miller replied, his voice shaking slightly. Lucifer smiled as he smelt the sweat begin to emerge. He was used to this reaction, but he still enjoyed it. At a subconscious level, some humans seemed to be able to sense his intentions. Miller stood up, straightening his clothes and closing the book.

“I have a quiet walk,” Lucifer sneered, his face twisting unpleasantly, “The book? Please.”

“I’m afraid this is a reference book unavailable to members of the public,” Miller claimed, beginning to move out of the room. Lucifer moved in a blur, blocking the professor’s exit. Miller blinked, his breath catching at the unnatural speed.

“The book,” Lucifer whispered, his voice tight with displeasure. Miller passed it to the man, aware that the stranger wasn’t used to being referred to as a ‘member of the public’.

“Thank you,” Lucifer purred, his face changing suddenly to one of sick delight, “Ah…”

The book fell open once more to the same page. Lucifer listened as the professor’s vitals sped up rapidly, the heart beat trebling and the stench of sweat changing as adrenalin coursed through the man’s veins. Lucifer ignored them for a moment, surveying the page with glee.

“Elanor, you should be more careful who you show your face to… someone might paint a picture of you.”

“How-” the professor began, cut off by an imperious wave.

“You know this girl then? She was in here, was she not?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the professor denied. Lucifer grinned, delighted to finally have a victim worth torturing. It had been a while…

“Don’t lie to me professor,” he purred. The professor stepped back, the instinct of fight or flight kicking in.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Miller stuttered again, falling backwards as his knees hit the chair behind him. Lucifer snapped his left arm out, grabbing the man by the tie, taking the strain of the man’s weight with ease.

“Professor, have you ever felt like you’re being watched?” the professor said nothing, finding it difficult to breathe as the tie cut into his neck, “Well, I’m the one who does the watching.”

Miller’s eyes widened, as Lucifer’s grew cold and black, then blazed orange with a hellish fire. He pulled back on the tie, bringing the man shooting towards him. Grabbing the front of his shirt, Lucifer threw him across the room in one swift movement of his left arm. The professor slammed into a bookshelf, the wood shattering with a crash. Concerned voices came from outside, and footsteps began to approach the open doorway.

With a flick of his wrist Lucifer made the door slam shut in the face of the librarian. Miller stirred from the bookshelf, his vision blurring. The stranger continued blurring in his vision, the figure elongating and growing darker. Thinking he must be hallucinating, Miller watched as the figure seemed to become a lack of light in the room, a gaping black hole wreathed in living red flame which danced with a violent ferocity.

“Now professor, answer my question. What do you know about this girl?”