The Rising: Antichrist Is Born by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

or am afraid of him.”
    “Well said. You must take the time to examine yourself and your motives. And meanwhile, prepare your husband and get his permission for my visit. I daresay things will be communicated at that time that will put your heart and mind and soul at rest,”
    “Rest?” Marilena said. “I feel as if I will never rest again until I come to terms with my feelings toward this god you speak of.”
    “Think of it this way,” Viviana said. “Love him because he first loved you.”
    “And how will I know my own heart? Should I come to own such a love, how will I know it’s true and not based on fear or on my own longing for what he offers me?”
    “He will know.”
    “You’ll tell him?”
      “No, Marilena, you will.”
    “How?”
    “He is a god. Gods may be prayed to.”
    “I have never prayed.”
    “I hope soon that you will not be able to say that.”
    Marilena shuddered, fighting the question that plagued her. “How should I address him?”
    Viviana smiled beatifically. “As the angel of light. As the morning star. As the prince and power of the air.”
    “That’s what I was afraid of,” Marilena said. “You know I’m widely read. I know his name.”
    Viviana reached for Marilena and pulled her back toward the library. “Of course you do. You are a student and a professor of classical literature. But what you have read of him is from the perspective of one who is so cos-mically jealous of his beauty and power and, yes, ambition, that it must be wholly discounted. I would urge you to read of him from other sources. And then read the Bible again with new eyes. If the God of the Bible lays legitimate claim to being the God above all gods who sits high above the heavens, and if Lucifer were really evil, why would God not simply exterminate him?
    “No, Marilena, my god—the true and living god, the one who loves me and cares for me and gives me all things—has ascended to the throne as the god of the universe. He has chosen to bestow upon you a son, and for that all he asks is that you pledge him your love and allegiance.”
    In spite of herself, Marilena laughed. “As you can imagine, this continues to be nearly impossible to fathom. But one thing I know: this is one subject you will want to avoid should Sorin be open to granting you an audience.”
    All the way home on the bus, Marilena sat wrapped in herself, arms folded, chin to her chest, bag in her lap. How was it possible, after fewer than four months, for her to have swung so far from humanism and existentialism to’this full-blown acceptance of a spirit world? While she remained resistant to praying to Lucifer, let alone pledging her love, she bore not an iota of doubt regarding his reality, his existence, and even—as Viviana had communicated—his personal interest in her. The question was whether she wanted to pursue a relationship with him at this level. Could she not merely become a spiritualist, a believer, without becoming a disciple?
    She arrived yet again to an empty apartment. She could only imagine Sorin in his lover’s arms, telling him of the craziness that had come over his wife. Knowing a divorce was looming, probably within the year if Marilena could be impregnated soon, would Baduna begin preparing his wife for a severing as well?
    Sorin claimed Baduna was happy at home, but how could that be, given his relationship with his boss? Surely Baduna’s wife could not know of his inclinations or his affair. So much for that happy marriage.
    Marilena changed into a loose flannel gown and slippers and turned on the television. The news had already moved into sports, which held no interest for her. She turned it off and tried to read, but her mind was a jumble. It was as if physical pressure asserted itself at the base of her spine and vibrated at the back of her head.
    Unable to concentrate on anything else, Marilena felt compelled to pray. But was it she who wished to connect with this god of the spirit world, or