Okay, lemme say this: I in no way advocate that your life will immediately get better if you start believing in God. This happened to pass through my mind as I looked at this chapter. (Oh, dear, I'm not even sure I should be posting this chapter given my level of comprehension right now. Just ignore me.)
He was shocked when he climbed into Shaun's car after school and answered his "how was school?" with a "Fine." Even Shaun stopped and blinked, then looked at him before nodding.
"Fine?"
"Yeah… fine."
Shaun hummed, and Desmond blinked as he stared at the road. His day had been fine. He was quiet, reflecting on the day and how his day had been better than most. Only one pencil had broken, he hadn't gotten the worst of the food in the cafeteria. He hadn't lost his eraser today. Of course, it had gone flying across the room and hit the teacher, but the teacher had realized it was him, scowled, and turned back to the lesson. He could have sworn that he heard laughing at one point when it nailed the teacher, but he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He needed to speak with that angel, Altair.
Shaun dropped him off at home, where he insisted that he would be fine alone. He darted up the stairs, opened his door—
And saw a man on his couch. He looked slightly like the man—"Demon," his mind whispered—from this morning, but he had blue eyes and a slimmer build. When he was noticed, the man smiled, then winked.
"Hey there, Dessie! You're looking good!"
"Wh-who are—"
He jumped when he saw a large expanse of white in front of him. It must be Altair. He found himself gripping the back of Altair's robes before he knew what he was doing. He briefly wondered just why things happened the way they did in his life. It had to be the curse.
"Aren't you just adorable? Of course, I've been telling my brother that ever since we were sent to take care of your line."
"Be silent, demon, and leave us alone."
"Oh, so you're the angel God sent down. Fascinating. Fine, I'll go. I see your charge has is about to explode with questions, and you may as well answer them. Although him exploding would be funny. Humans make such a mess when they explode. My name's Kadar by the way. My brother is Malik. He was the one that laughed when we flung the eraser at your teacher and beamed in him the head."
His eyes widened, and he watched as the man disappeared before his eyes. Altair straightened and looked at him. He could feel those golden eyes observing him carefully as he tip-toed over to the place where Kadar sat.
"You have questions?"
He swallowed, straightened, looked at the angel, and nodded once. Altair didn't look entirely pleased, but he seemed acceptant of the fact.
"Very well. I can try."
He blinked. "You will?"
Altair sighed. "I will let the Lord guide my tongue, and the answers you receive will be his to choose. When he does not want one answered, he will close my lips."
Desmond nodded and followed him to the two seats in the kitchen. He sat down, a little nervous under the angel's gaze. So, God could just randomly shut Altair's mouth. That didn't sound promising. God was probably already irritated that he was even trying to talk to the angel, if angels weren't supposed to be seen in the first place.
"Do not be afraid. God is good. What is it you wish to know?"
Desmond swallowed once, mustering up the courage and trying to ignore the giant flaming sword on the man's back.
"I… I want to know about the war going on that you talked about earlier."
Altair blinked, then pursed his lips. Desmond could see him thinking about what to say, and finally, he opened his mouth to speak.
"The holy war had been going long before humans were as plentiful as today. It started when Lucifer let himself be corrupted by his own intelligence. The honor of serving our wonderful Creator was not enough. He wanted the power."
Desmond blinked. He couldn't quite grasp the concept of an angel wanting more power.
"So the good Lord cast him out of Heaven, into Hell. Lucifer took his followers with him, and they became his demons. They now roam this earth."
"Then why do you guys fight them if this is where they were sentenced?"
"Because the good Lord commands it. We are to protect his followers."
"Then why doesn't he just… zap away the evil?"
He could see a smile at the corners of Altair's lips. "Because the world was handed over to Lucifer when Adam and Eve bit from the fruit."
"The apple?"
Altair quirked an eyebrow. "Apple?"
"Yeah, the pictures always show apples."
Altair snorted. "Where does it say apple in the Bible?"
Desmond blinked. "I don't know. I haven't read it."
"You should. It's not just a book for pleasure-reading."
Desmond was silent. He knew he should read the Bible, but reading wasn't exactly something he enjoyed. He wondered if it was a sin not to read the book. Then, shaking himself of those questions for a later time, he asked, "Then why doesn't God just poof away the demons if the angel starts to lose?"
"Because then it comes down to faith and repentance. Bad things will always happen, Desmond, to test faith and because this world no longer belongs to God. Just as angels were created with free will, so were humans."
"Why doesn't God take it back?"
"Why fight for what won't come back?"
Desmond blinked. "Why wouldn't they come back?"
"Because evil is fun, Desmond. Remember what the demon this morning said? 'It's my job.' If evil wasn't fun, people wouldn't do it. Why struggle for good, if you can have fun?"
"That makes sense, I guess. Why doesn't he just force them to come back to him?"
"It's not true love if it's forced. He gave them free will and the ability to repent if they want to love him. He won't force them."
Desmond was silent. He looked at his hands, when had ended up on the tabletop at some point. He pursed his lips.
"But we're getting off topic. What else do you want to know about the war?"
He blinked, then bit his bottom lip. "Well… not exactly about the war, but why did God put the fruit there, then?"
"God wanted to give them the freewill to choose whether they wanted to obey him."
"It seems to come back to freewill a lot."
"Desmond," the angel said, resting his elbows on the table, "the whole holy war comes down to freewill. God wanted the angels and mankind to love him out of their own free will. He didn't want a bunch of mindless drones to worship him. He wants those who truly want him to come to him on their own. Lucifer chose to be corrupt on his own: Adam and Eve ate of their own choice. God sends us down to fight for his children on the child's own will."
"So you don't get the choice to fight for him."
"We do, but we fight for him because we choose to. Because we love him. To put it in perspective, he lets us choose what we do—even at the cost of losing us. Evil is the ultimate freewill choice."
Desmond looked up at Altair, staring into his eyes. The gold held a certain warmth, quite the opposite of the hate-filled looks he was used to getting. He pursed his lips, mulling on the idea that the holy war was fueled solely on freewill.
"What else do you wish to know?"
"He doesn't want to know anything else," he heard purred from the doorway, and he looked to see Kadar standing there.
Altair rose, his sword drawn, and Desmond's eyes grew wide. Shit was about to hit the ceiling fan. And then he realized something.
"Why does Lucifer still try to fight God if he knows he'll lose in the end?"
There was silence in the kitchen. Kadar was blinking as if he hadn't heard the question right, and Altair turned to look at him properly. The flaming sword was loose in the angel's grip. He had heard it every time God and the like had come up: Satan would lose to God at the end of time. Finally, Kadar smiled, looking absolutely charming.
"Who said anything about Satan losing?"
Desmond yelped and jumped, running from where he stood, over behind Altair, and hugged the angel tightly around the waist. His skin was crawling. Malik was standing where he had been, laughing at him. So was Kadar. Fortunately, at least, Altair didn't look pleased at all.
"Silence your mouth, wretched creature. The dragon knows he will lose. He's incredibly intelligent."
Malik looked at his nails, one hand on his hip as he hummed disinterestedly. "Yes, he is rather… ingenious." He planted his hand on his hip. "So then, tell us oh high and mighty feather-brain why will he fight if he knows that he will lose?"
He moved his hands to Altair's back, placing them there gently in case he chose to attack. He almost felt guilty hiding behind an angel instead of just facing them himself. But he couldn't win, especially if he followed his hunched and guessed they were the source of his curse.
"That is not for me to know. Perhaps egotistical and delusional go hand-in-hand."
"Oh, you're so informative. You haven't told the poor boy anything that stupid book of yours couldn't," Malik said with a sneer.
Altair snarled, then relaxed his stance as Desmond heard a knock on the door, and he saw another angel appear. This one had long hair, but a similar scar, and a less imposing weapon than a massive flaming claymore.
"Two demons? Looks like you've got a lot on your plate, Altair."
"Ezio?"
"Shit," Malik hissed, and he and Kadar vanished with scowls.
"Go let Shaun in, Desmond," Altair said, placing the weapon on his back.
Desmond looked at the door, hearing another rap followed by a, "Open up, you fucking idiot. I brought you dinner."
"But…"
"Desmond, if you want to know why Lucifer insists on fighting, if someone you loathed told you that you were going to do exactly what he said, would you do it without a fight?"
He blinked as he walked over to the door. If there was someone he hated with all his life, he probably wouldn't bend over without a struggle. He opened the door, saying absentmindedly, "No, I guess not. That makes sense."
Shaun gave him a thoroughly confused look. "What? That you're an idiot?"
"No, no, not that… Something else I was discussing with…" he turned to look, but saw only the cat watching him from the kitchen.
"The cat? You were talking to the cat? Christ, Desmond, you are finally going crazy. Now, will you let me in? I have Chinese."
Desmond's eyes grew wide, and he stepped aside. "You didn't have to!"
"Well, I got a feeling you might want company tonight. And you've never turned me out before."
Desmond smiled. "Course not. I never would."
Shaun carried the food into the kitchen, watching as Altair hopped onto the table. When Altair sniffed the bag as Shaun set them down, his friend pushed him away.
"No, this is not for you. Off the table."
He watched Altair hop off, then eagerly stepped over and watched him unload sweet and sour chicken. Briefly, he entertained the thought that Altair had said he couldn't say why Lucifer would fight. Perhaps, if God could shut a mouth, God could speak through one, too.
"I can't pay you back, you know," he murmured, shaking that line of thought.
"That's okay. I'll live."
He grinned. "Thanks."
"It's no problem, you lug nut. Now, why were you talking to your cat? What was so terribly interesting you couldn't hold it in for a real person?"
"I was asking about Lucifer."
Shaun hummed before saying, "Well now, did he answer?"
"Who?"
"The cat."
Desmond blinked; then, remembering the conversation, he felt a grin creep across his face.
"Yeah. Yeah, he did."
He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and plopped into his seat at the table, ignoring the incredulous look Shaun was giving him as he dug into the chicken, laughing around a mouthful as Altair jumped into his lap and settled down