Revelation: Trinity Part 1 Read online

  “He used to come to tea,” Ben chuckled, to lighten the mood. “We’d be out in the garden and Rose would announce that Her Christian was hungry – so we’d make him imaginary sandwiches. She chattered to him non-stop. Had me half believing he was real at one point.” He nudged her, pulling his hand out of hers to reach for his wine glass. “Daft thing.”

  Ana raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, and Rose smiled, embarrassed, as the first course was placed in front of her – the pork belly and apple salad making her mouth water.

  Ben moved the conversation on to lighter things as they ate their way through the courses, until Ana posed the question.

  “Why’d you name him Christian?” she asked, looking eagerly over to where the servers were rolling out dessert. “I mean – no offence, but it’s kind of…”

  “Obvious?” Ben supplied. Rose shot him a look and he grinned into his wine glass.

  “I was six,” she reminded them, pouting in mock-hurt as they continued to laugh at her. Shrugging, she huffed in defeat, before tucking into the chocolate cake placed in front of her.

  ***

  The next day, Rose stood anxiously outside the lecture room, trying to find the courage to go in. She’d already considered skipping it, but ruled that out almost instantly. This was what she was here for, after all – and skipping class today would only make it harder tomorrow.

  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched through the double doors, heading straight up to find a seat at the edge of the tiered seating. A few students were already here, she noted with relief, and they smiled in greeting as she sat down.

  It was typical as far as lecture halls went, the red brick walls and terracotta floor tiles giving it a warm, if slightly industrial feel. There was no natural light – a fact that should have had Rose feeling enclosed – but large fluorescent panels in the ceiling emitted a bright, warm glow, and the room was large enough to compensate.

  The folding seats were upholstered in faded cream, and small ledges had been hung in front of them; thin, walnut-coloured shelves, designed for students to put laptops and papers on.

  A large whiteboard covered most of the front wall, and a single desk and chair sat at the opposite end to the door – currently empty.

  Rose’s breath hissed out of her in a grateful rush, and she began setting up her laptop, trying to prepare for her first lesson while pretending that she wasn’t keeping an eye on the door.

  “Excuse me.”

  She looked up and was greeted by a pair of ice-blue eyes. She quickly shifted to allow the boy to move past, and he settled into a chair two along. His black jeans, steel-grey shirt, and leather jacket looked expensive, as did the laptop he was currently digging out of his bag. Jet-black hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, and he flicked it out of his eyes with a casual swipe that suggested he did it a lot.

  “Hi,” he greeted, turning towards her and resting his arm along the back of the chair between them. “I’m Nathaniel – Nate.” His voice was warm and friendly.

  “Rose,” she offered, with a smile.

  Nate grinned back, his eyes twinkling, before looking around as other students continued to take their seats. He studied them with quiet interest before turning to her again.

  “So,” he paused, his eyes catching and holding her gaze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a stuffy class like this?”

  She blinked, surprised at his cheesy line. “I could ask you the same thing,” she smiled, playing along, and he raised a brow in amused question. “No offence, but you don’t exactly look like the type to study Literature.” Nate considered her for a moment. “What course should I be taking then?” he asked, seeming intrigued.

  “Well,” she offered. “You look like you fell out of a tour bus, so Music?” she teased, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him.

  Nate laughed; an inviting, easy chuckle that made Rose want to laugh along with him.

  “That’s original,” he scoffed.

  Rose smiled before realising that the floor was no longer empty. Her whole attention diverted, she watched as He began to unpack his bag onto the desk at the front.

  Nate glanced down, following her gaze, then did a double-take, a frown on his face. “Do you know him?” he asked, “the Professor?”

  Rose pulled her eyes back to Nate with effort. “Only from yesterday,” she shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Matriculation.”

  Nate nodded, his eyes on the man below as the Professor stepped around the desk to face the rows of students. Determined to distract herself, Rose flipped her laptop open, ready to take notes.

  “Good afternoon,” the Professor began, and Rose looked up at the sound of his voice. It was deeper, more resonant than she’d imagined, with an unusual cadence – like the slightest hint of an accent she couldn’t place.

  “Welcome to English Literature and its Contexts.” He leaned back against the desk, comfortable in front of the large group of people. “My name is Christian Howard, and I will be reading for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries – Spenser and Milton in particular.”

  Rose stopped breathing. “Christian…?” She uttered. She drew in a breath, sitting back in her seat, entirely stunned, before a wide grin split her features.

  Nate raised an eyebrow, likely thinking that she was crazy, but she smiled and shook her head. He returned his focus back to the professor, bemused, as Rose pulled her mobile out of her bag.

  With a surreptitious look around, she composed a message.

  Professor CHRISTIAN Howard!!!

  She added both Ben and Ana’s number and clicked send.

  “This course will allow you to explore developments in language, literature and culture – in and over time,” the Professor had continued, his eyes scanning the rows of students. “You’ll be given the opportunity to study particular themes, and compare different genres across an array of texts…”

  Rose’s mobile vibrated in her palm and she looked down.

  What? You’re kidding!! Came Ben’s reply, and it quickly buzzed again with Ana’s.

  No freaking way!!!!

  Rose smiled, picturing their faces, before dropping her mobile back into her bag.

  “This course will examine the conditions under which texts were originally produced, and considers the reception and potential reshaping of those texts throughout history to the present day…”

  She began typing notes on her laptop, chuckling under her breath as she focused on her first lecture in Literature.

  ***

  Rose headed outside as Professor Howard dismissed them, needing some fresh air during the mid-break. Nate caught up with her on the way out of the door.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, shrugging on his jacket and matching her pace. Rose smiled her agreement and they headed out to the Backs – a wide strip of grass that ran between the back of the colleges and the river. Choosing a spot, she sat cross legged on the grass. Nate stretched out beside her, eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun.

  Rose studied him as he relaxed, tracing his prominent cheekbones and pale skin with curious eyes. He was strikingly handsome, she decided. Some might say beautiful.

  She followed the line of his jaw down to the apex of his shirt, where the contrast of his skin against the grey gave him an almost ethereal glow. His jacket looked soft, the leather well worn, and she was wondering what it would feel like, when he opened his eyes, their pale blue softening the angular lines of his face.

  “It’s rude to stare.” He arched a lazy, knowing eyebrow, making her blush. He grinned, comfortable under her scrutiny, so she reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket. It felt like suede as she rubbed it between her fingers. Nate watched her hand as it fell.

  “So what about the Professor's name,” he began, when she offered no explanation, “made you laugh so hard when you heard it?”

  Rose blinked, surprised he’d paid so much attention, as he shifted to face her, propping his head on h
is hand. “It’s a long story,” she shook her head. “And entirely uninteresting.”

  Nate nodded, accepting. “Well, please refrain from similar outbursts in future.” His eyes flashed. “It’s quite distracting.”

  “Distracting?” Rose queried, unsure if he was chastising or flirting.

  “Very.” His tone was serious, his expression that of a haughty scholar, but there was laughter in his eyes, so Rose played along, hiding her smile.

  “Duly noted,” she matched his tone, lifting her chin as she met his gaze.

  Nate grinned, pleased, and turned back to his original position; eyes closed, enjoying the sun on his face.

  “So what did you think?” he asked, as he settled. “Of the Professor.”

  “He seems okay,” she replied, carefully vague. “What did you think of the reading list?”

  “Paradise Lost?” Nate snorted. “Seems a little unoriginal.”

  “Have you read it before?”

  “Sure,” he said, opening his eyes to regard her. “Haven’t you?”

  “No,” she grinned, “which I think makes you my new favourite person – seeing as you have.”

  “I knew sitting with you was a bad idea.”

  Rose huffed a laugh at his woeful expression.

  “Come on.” He stood, offering her his hand. “We’d better get back.”

  Rose let him pull her up, brushing the grass from her jeans before following him back across the lawn.

  ***

  Christian frowned as Rose returned after the break, and he noted who was with her.

  He had been bewildered to see one of the Fallen in his class and had wondered why – until he had sat next to Rose and engaged her in conversation.

  It wasn’t unusual to find his kind in the Mortal plane – they enjoyed causing mischief and what better place to do it – but it seemed too much of a coincidence that he would pick this class and Rose as the object of his entertainment.

  Especially Nathaniel, he realised. It didn’t bode well.

  Christian watched Rose smile as they took their places, chatting to a couple of girls in the row of seats behind her. Nathaniel sat next to her, closer than before, and leaned against her shoulder to speak in her ear.

  Resentment rippled through him when she laughed, the gentle sound carrying across the room, and his fingers gripped the desk in front of him.

  He was forced to watch as the Fallen planted himself into Rose’s world. As he dared to assume the role of student, of friend – when Christian had gone to great lengths to deny himself the same advantage.

  He pulled in a tight breath, knowing it would do no good to dwell on that which he couldn’t change, but his body defied him, blood boiling, as he watched the two of them together.

  Envy, he realised. He was jealous.

  He closed his eyes, frustrated at himself, even as the wave of longing washed over him, the desire to be a tangible part of the world that he craved. Her world.

  Running a hand through his hair in defeat and stepped into the centre of the floor. “Welcome back,” he greeted, banishing his thoughts as he threw himself back into the lecture.

  4

  Rose sipped her bright green cocktail, fiddling with the little black straw. She’d been quick to agree when a couple of girls had approached her at the end of the lecture, asking if she would like to join them for a celebratory drink, having completed their first class. Rose had invited Ana, and they’d headed to one of Cambridge’s trendier cocktail bars, its red and black decor a moody setting for the girls cheery chatter.

  Louise, a pretty redhead with a wide smile and delicate, pointed features, turned to Rose.

  “And you,” she accused, merrily, “only go and bag the hottest guy there!”

  Ana turned to regard her. “Tell me everything,” she demanded, swirling the ice in her glass before taking a sip.

  “His name is Nate. Nathaniel,” Louise exaggerated his name, drawing out the syllables. She pulled out her phone, flicking through it. “I took his photo,” she admitted bashfully.

  “Cute,” Ana commented, as the picture passed her way. She grinned approvingly as she handed it over to Rose, who took a look.

  The picture showed leaning Nate over to her, one arm on the back of her chair. Louise had captured the smile in his eyes, the blush in her cheeks. They looked cosy, intimate. Like close friends, rather than almost strangers.

  Ana caught her eye and Rose felt heat warm her cheeks.

  “Oh, she’s blushing,” Ana crowed, utterly delighted. “It must be love.”

  “He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.” Louise shot Rose an envious look. “Lucky thing.”

  Rose passed the mobile to Toni, a girl with a full mouth and warm, chestnut-coloured skin. She declined the device as it was held out to her, with a roll of her wide doe eyes.

  “Not really my type,” she drawled, waving it away with a dismissive flick. “Now Professor Howard, on the other hand,” she grinned, “that’s a man.”

  Louise reached for the phone, changing the picture to show the professor, instead. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing generous forearms raised in animated description. The blue of his eyes and the gleam of his hair shone brighter under the fluorescents. Rose had to look away.

  The girls continued to banter, arguing over who was better-looking, as she sipped her cocktail thoughtfully.

  It hadn’t been as bad as she’d imagined. The professor was a good teacher, engaging and engrossing. Rose had enjoyed listening to him talk as she’d made copious notes on her laptop. It was only when she looked up, catching a glimpse of the familiar features, that she’d stumbled. Only when his gaze touched hers as they swept across the room.

  It would get easier, she reasoned, as she got used to him. The memories would fade again. She was resolving to try harder when Toni elbowed her, breaking her out of her reverie.

  “What do you think?” she asked, waving the picture at her. “Don’t you think he’s just perfect?”

  Rose smiled, even as the sight of him filled her veins with wistful longing once more. “He is gorgeous,” she admitted, smiling a little as she added, “Divine.”

  Ana choked on her drink, shooting Rose a wicked look. She reached out to touch Rose’s arm in surreptitious understanding, and Rose was grateful.

  “Right,” Ana stood. “My round – what are you drinking?”

  The girls placed their orders, and conversation turned to the more mundane; classes, reading, and facilities – leaving Nathaniel and the Professor behind.

  ***

  Rose read the same sentence three times before slamming her book shut in frustration. It was no use, she realised, pushing her copy of Paradise Lost to the side. She just couldn’t focus – not when her mind was spinning with thoughts of her new Professor, her Christian – comparing and evaluating until she lost all sense of calm.

  Rolling her head back in weary defeat, she contemplated seeking out Ben, before ruling it out quickly. She needed time to think, time to get her head around the memories that plagued her – and the man that had made them real.

  The night was cool and fresh, the air wafting through the open window enticing and sweet. Rose abandoned her desk and, grabbing her jacket and pocketing her key, she headed out the door.

  It didn’t matter really, she concluded, traipsing aimlessly across campus. It’s not as though she’d thought about her Christian for a long time, but it was unnerving to see the image in her mind come to life.

  Her six-year-old self had considered him more magnificent than attractive, had thought of him in awe rather than desire. But his eyes had never faded from her memory – and the feel of him, the sense of familiarity, was even harder to shake.

  Obviously he wasn’t her Christian, she reasoned as she meandered along the river bank, following a pair of ducks as they paddled across the water. She wasn’t as delusional as that. Her Christian was a figment of her imagination, a Guardian she’d invoked to protect her, comfort her, wh
en she’d needed it most.

  He’d stayed much longer than necessary, of course, but her parents hadn’t seemed to mind. They went so far as to indulge her fantasy, setting a place for him at the table, never forgetting to say Goodnight – even if he was a grown man with a wing span that filled their living room.

  These days, however, he was nothing more than the name in her diary, The Dear Christian being too ingrained to shake.

  Of course, the glow was still there – Rose doubted that would ever fade. A trickle of warmth down her spine, the faintest scent of cinnamon– it had always let her know her Christian was near, that he would hear her if she spoke to him. Now that she was older, that sensation was the only time her Christian ever crossed her mind.

  Feeling better for rationalising her reaction, she glanced up to check her whereabouts, spotting the main University Library. Its tall, industrial looking tower dominated the landscape and the bronze bollards, designed and shaped like book stacks, stood guard along the pathway.

  She’d pick up some extra reading, she decided, and headed over to the doors.

  ***

  Rose had always loved libraries. As a child they’d seemed magical. Quiet rooms filled with books of every kind, each one a journey, a revelation. A church of worship where people sat in quiet prayer, book in hand, and paid homage to the lyrical gods that inspired them. She breathed in the scent of books old and new, and relaxed as the peaceful atmosphere welcomed her in like an old friend, warm and inviting.

  Wandering through the aisles in contentment, trailing fingers down spines and reading odd titles as she roamed, she reached the reading room – and stopped dead in her tracks.

  There, at one of the tables, blond hair glinting in the halo of light from the overhead lamps, sat Professor Howard. He lounged in the chair, seeming relaxed and comfortable as he read, his blazer draped across the chair beside him.

  Rose, her heart stuttering at the unexpected sight of him, considered leaving, but he smiled in welcome as he noticed her, glancing up from his pages. Reminding herself that he didn’t know her, she approached the table.