Note: Reviews make me SQUEE!
(This chapter revised on Oct. 10, 2010, to fix dumb errors like typos.)
The Damocles Solution 4.
The phone rang on Dr. Albion Tennent's elaborately carved oak desk. Picking it up eagerly, the short but sturdily-built elderly sociologist spoke his name, and, smiling, awaited for the reply.
"Doctor Tennent?"
"Hmmm, yeeeeees?" he answered slowly, absentmindedly straightening the black-and-gold name placard behind the phone receiver. "And with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
"This is Dolores Aracelli. I am calling to tell you of an extremely important dinner you are to attend. I will also be there. So will the other. You and the other are to receive your phone invitations to this event as of today."
The Doctor recognized the speaker's name. A shudder ran through him, as he needed no more than her name to know exactly what she was referencing. "Hm. Ah, yes, Mrs. Aracelli. I do understand. So I am to take it that the whole meal is, therefore, rather to be considered a farce compared to your little after-dinner tete-a-tete between myself, you, and my former student? That is, if I understand your veiled references clearly-"
"More, shall we say, background noise…than anything else. I have seen things I cannot repeat over the phone. I must speak to each of you, together and privately. It is an urgent matter. It will not intrude upon your time by an unforgiveable degree; I am very close to where the event will be held. Just make sure you get to the affair. I have heard that the coodinator is rather generous with his fellow associates, especially when the event is to discuss paranormal matters." She laughed. It was the laugh of a mature woman who has seen many, many years go by, but also contained a spark of an undying child within her. "Doctor, I heard that the dessert itself will be worth your travel expenses, which for you, will be quite high, as you will have to cross the Atlantic to do so. Please do attend so we may have some tea together."
The man smiled. "Dessert would be a welcome distraction from that matter."
"Most certainly."
"Very well, then," he said with a smile, but also a rather brusque finality. "I will respond to this invitation promptly, and arrange private transportation, so I may discuss this issue with you, and therefore ruin my entire luxurious night."
He would have hung up there and then, if he did not hear a firm "Oh, and…Doctor!" on the other end of the line.
"Hmmm? Yes, Mrs. Aracelli?"
"Do not consider this a tete-a-tete. Consider it more of a…prescription for the future."
"Yes, madam. Thank you for your gracious call."
"You're most welcome, sir. I await your audience, and that of your former student, too."
Dr. Tennent placed the phone on the receiver. He twined his fingers together and brought them up to his mustacioed face, in deep, agitated, unnerved thought.
He eyes scanned the sheer number of doctorate plaques, honorary memberships, and various other certificates of knowledge that lined the walls of his University office, but his thoughts made him look right through them, than at them.
"I felt its presence leave. I know it was brought, then sent away. I thought the trouble in New York City was the end of it. Obviously, she doesn't think so. I'd never thought anyone would seriously ever consider using it. I never thought I'd have to deal with Ragnarok ever again," he whispered to himself, horrified.