“I’m sure that was of no consequence, Prof. Barry,” Heidmann answered abruptly. “The sculpture still exhibits the exact same features, which makes it irrelevant.”
“Of course,” Helen conceded. And with that she turned to go and take care of some administrative work, smiling to herself.
Chapter 5
Shortly before 8 pm, the lecture hall was filling up slowly. There were quite a few people interested in what the lecturer had to offer in the way of what certainly was a Devil’s Advocate point of view on the less popular gods of the main mythologies.
Sarah and Abbie had already taken their places in the second row from the front as most students and faculty preferred seats farther back in the auditorium.
“I feel singled out,” Abbie whispered to her friend.
Sarah chuckled, “You chose these seats, idiot. Do you want to sit in the back? We still have time, if you want to move.”
But Abbie’s face was frozen in astonishment, staring past her friend into the dark extremities of the hall where the bright auditorium lights did not reach.
“What are you looking at?” Sarah asked.
Only Abbie’s lips moved while her gaze remained frozen on her target. An expression of obsession and fear mingled on her face as her cold hand gripped Sarah’s forearm. “Don’t look now. You will see him soon enough.”
“That sounds vaguely ominous,” Sarah mumbled. She was not sure what to make of her friend’s countenance, but if anything it piqued her interest. “Abbie, are you going to keep me in suspense? Telling me not to look sort of makes me want to run and hide. Very creepy.”
“Shh,” her friend urged. “Be quiet.”
“Why?”
Abbie spoke like someone in a trance. “It’s him, Sarah. Oh my God, it’s the man Jess, and I chased down the other night. It is the same bloke!”
“Awesome!” Sarah smiled. “Now you can get his number,” she winked and nudged her friend, but Abbie was in no way amused. “What is wrong?”
For the first time since the conversation started, Abbie locked eyes with Sarah in a matter of urgency. “Did you forget what happened in the graveyard after I trailed this man, Sarah? I am not sure he is someone I want to know more intimately than at a healthy distance.”
“Oh,” Sarah replied. “I forgot about that part.”
Professor Maggie McIntyre, head of Celtic and Scottish Studies, walked up to the podium with the main spotlight seeking her as she moved. Finally, she stood before the microphone, pausing for a moment before speaking.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for joining us for this fascinating study of classical mythology and its perceived forgotten qualities, concerning the lesser known aspects of the Pantheon,” the 61 year old academic smiled into the darkness in front of her. The yellow light on her produced a shadow behind her that made her look decidedly titanic, and Abbie could not help but feel an inkling of fear at the sight of it. “It is my pleasure and honor this night to welcome our guest speaker all the way from the Universitas Obscurum in Piraeus, Greece.”
The auditorium lights dimmed, giving Abbie a distinct feeling of apprehension she could not explain. She could not see him anymore, but something moved in the darkness on the right side of the podium as Prof. McIntyre finally announced the name of the man Abbie had experienced as dream become nightmare.
“Professor Costa Megalos,” Prof. McIntyre smiled proudly and applauded along with the audience as she looked toward the dark corner from where her guest emerged. As the tall, lean man strode to the podium, Sarah gawked, enthralled by his retro allure and undeniable handsomeness. She squeezed Abbie’s hand, “Oh my God; he is gorgeous! No wonder you followed him all through Old Town.”
Abbie did not share her fascination this time, though. To her, all that mattered was that he was involved in something sinister that she still could not process. More than that, she had no idea what the heated discussion in the graveyard was about or how the people she saw there just seemed to disappear after she heard the awful sound that left the statue she then beheld.
Now, as she looked at him in plain sight, her feelings were challenged. There were still traces of adolescent lust for the good looking professor, no doubt, however, the bizarre circumstances under which he vanished that night had her more than wary around him. With Sarah’s swooning next to her it would be hard to listen to his lecture without prejudice.
“Shut it,” she whispered hard through the applause.
“Sorry,” Sarah grunted playfully, “but damn!”
“I know, I know,” Abbie agreed, “but I am trying to see him for what he is, and you are not helping, you horny bitch.” But Abbie had to smile at her friend’s reaction. At least she now knew it was not her alcohol consumption that had her acting like a queen cat in heat that night. Sarah had the same reaction.
“What do you think he is going to do? Shape-shift right here? Vanish into thin air? Make a lovely statue out of Prof. McIntyre to plant in the southern quad?” Sarah frowned as the applause died down.
Abbie just sighed. “He looks suspicious by default.”
“He looks like a Steampunk Jesus,” Sarah whispered in a naughty groan as the man started speaking in front of them.
“Thank you so much, and welcome to my lecture on ‘The Lost Pantheon: The Omnipotence of Corrupted Power’, a study of the influence religion and social tradition had on dismissing and demonizing the less genial deities of the central mythologies of the modern era,” Costa smiled.
“He is incredibly charming, isn’t he?” Sarah swooned.
“Aye, why do you think I chased him for so long?” Abbie winked.
“Pity you did not catch him. Good God, he is to die for,” Sarah whispered, flushing like a virgin at a strip show.
“I would like to draw you your attention, first off, to the role of so-called monsters in the old legends. Now, from what I have found in all my studies I have come to realize that pretty much all creatures of mythology are to some extent monsters,” he dove right into his lecture. Behind him, a screen lit up with the best known depictions of Greek, Roman, and Norse gods throughout history.
“As you can see, they have all been likened to humans by those philosophers, priests, and historians who perpetuated their legacies. And by no means unattractive were they depicted, right?” he asked with a playful wink that had the audience cackling softly in a hum of humor. Costa stepped back for a moment to allow the audience to see the paintings of Venus, Zeus, Poseidon, and many others.
Then he returned to the microphone, and his kind demeanor fell away, leaving his eyes dark with a perfectly timed leer across the heads of the people listening. He leaned heavily on the podium and spoke in a foreboding low tone for dramatic effect.
“But what makes a monster? What if I told you that these gods were not beautiful at all?” He paused, leaving the auditorium draped in an uncomfortable silence that almost had substance. “What if I told you that they did not even look like people? After all,” he said, dropping his gaze and piercing Abbie’s eyes directly, “can a monster not hide behind a beautiful face?”
Her heart stopped, but it did not shudder from affection or attraction. Abbie was terrified, knowing that he was speaking directly to her and that he was categorically telling her something. The frightened student swallowed hard, but her mouth was dried up, arid as the wastelands of the desert temples portrayed behind Costa’s frame.
After locking onto her for a long moment, suspending her in intimidated anticipation, he continued scanning his audience as before while he spoke. By his tone of voice, his listeners could quickly tell that the esteemed Professor Costa Megalos was no fan of the famous deities. His words were arched in disdain and twisted in contempt as if he had personally been cheated by them.