Moonshadow

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by J. D. Gregory


  Diana couldn’t take her eyes from the boy. Something was strange about him—something she couldn’t quite figure out. He seemed extremely out of place in this group of college students, but why? Other than dressing considerably better than every other guy in the room, nothing about him suggested that he was anything other than a typical young man starting classes for the year. His black hair was slicked and combed in a vintage style that greatly contrasted the mops of varying lengths on the heads of the majority of the guys standing around him, and he wore light tan slacks, a white collared shirt with a blue and red striped tie, and a red-lined blue sport coat—an ensemble that looked like it had been set out for a prince to wear on his first day of school. Maybe that’s it; he’s some royal slumming it at a school in America.

  “Diana Selene? Is Diana Selene here?” Dr. Osgood’s raised voice tore her from her strange fixations. He sounded as if he had called her name a few times already.

  “Yes—sorry—I’m Diana Selene; I’m here,” she answered. She quickly sat down at her assigned desk in the front corner, quite pleased to not be sitting in the back of the room.

  While Dr. Osgood went on assigning seats, Diana felt a strange coldness in her chest and turned towards the window to see if it was open, but it wasn’t. For a brief moment, her eyes locked with those of the black-haired boy; he had a puzzled look on his face but he quickly returned his irritated gaze out the window.

  Was he staring at me? Diana shook off the notion as the professor called a few more names. A guy like that had no reason to stare at her.

  “Darien Shepherd,” Dr. Osgood called and motioned to a desk a few behind hers.

  Without a word, Diana’s strange black-haired boy nodded his head to the professor, as if Dr. Osgood were a valet that had brought his car around, and then took his seat. His attention was immediately given back to the world beyond the window.

  Darien Shepherd. The name did sound like some British lord from a Jane Austen novel. Maybe she wasn’t so delusional after all.

  Turning around in her seat to look at the clock, Diana stole another glance at Darien. He had a peculiar maturity about him—like he’d traveled the world and had experiences typical children don’t usually get to have. He was also strikingly handsome. Everything about his fair skinned face was perfect—his strong pointed nose, prominent cheekbones, and thin lips—but what drew Diana’s attention the most were his eyes. They were a deep, sparkling, gray color that looked like polished stone.

  Why did she find him so intriguing? He was probably just the typical rich, handsome, jerk that treated the common, middle-class, folk like rubbish. She’d known a few guys like that in high school; they barely acknowledged her existence most of the time, which was fine by her. Darien didn’t hold himself like they did though—reclining in some unearned confidence that signaled to those around them that they deserved their respect and admiration for no other reason save they have money. Darien, by contrast, sat straight and tall with a veiled confidence, seeking no one’s admiration, or attention, whatsoever. Caring very little for the world unfolding around him, he looked like an elegant brooding vampire.

  “You’re wondering if he sparkles, aren’t you?” The guy seated behind Diana positioned himself to block her view of Darien.

  His grin startled her back to reality and she almost burst with laughter. He had read her mind.

  “Vampires don’t sparkle,” she replied with a smirk. “They are supposed to be scary creatures of the dark—not emo.” She nodded to Darien, “And that guy definitely seems the emo type.”

  “He’s something all right,” said the boy, who turned out to have a nice pair of green eyes and short, unkempt, dirty-blonde hair. He looked the California surfer type but she doubted he’d ever seen the Pacific in his life. “I’ve been here two years now, and I’ve never seen that guy out doing anything other than studying at the library. The only people he ever really talks to are teachers or his brother and sister.”

  “His brother and sister go here too?” she asked, finding the notion rather odd. “Siblings don’t usually go to the same colleges; they must be a pretty close family.”

  “Yeah, the brother and sister are way different than Darien—they actually like to go out and have a good time. I see them at parties once in a while. I don’t know what his problem is though. He even treats professors like trash most of the time. I bet he’s French.” He extended his hand to her. “My name’s Eric Seymour, by the way.”

  “I remember”, Diana replied. She really didn’t, even though the professor had just called his name less than ninety seconds ago. She had been so spaced out that she hadn’t even heard her own name called.

  “I’m Diana, in case you forgot,” she replied, surprised by her flintiness. It wasn’t like her to flirt with a guy she had literally just met. He was pretty cute though, for a surfer boy.

  For the rest of the class period, Dr. Osgood went over the syllabus and explained the structure of the class. In the next session, there would be a lecture on the ancient Sumerians; a subject that Diana found particularly exciting.

  The remainder of her first day of college turned out to be just as uneventful. In each of her classes the teacher went over the syllabus and talked about how the class was structured, grading, and the like. Her schedule was pretty tame. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday, she had History 111 at 8:30. At 10:00 she had Quantitative Reasoning—a general education math class—then she was free until 1:30, when she had English 110. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she only had two classes, Cultural Pluralism at 10:00 and Akkadian at 1:00. Out of all her classes, she was only really looking forward to Akkadian. Learning the language of ancient Babylon was going to be a lot of fun. She was such a history nerd.

  —

  Diana’s zeal for Akkadian fueled her with enough energy to get through the next morning and the mind-numbing snooze-fest that Cultural Pluralism turned out to be. She was fairly certain she already knew that racism was a bad thing and that all cultures should be treated with respect. Hadn’t she been through all of that in elementary school? Being required to take a semester-long college course on the topic was rather irritating. Only backwards, ignorant people were still racists in this day and age, and they probably wouldn’t be going to college to be educated about such things anyway. At least her grade point average would enjoy the class.

  After finally arriving at Malory Hall, Diana’s excitement faltered at the four flights of stairs she’d be climbing to reach her classroom. Reaching the fourth floor exhausted and out of breath, Diana was met with a closed door and the previous class still in session. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be early. With a drawn out sigh, Diana slumped down on the floor with her back against the wall, pulled out her cell phone, and began to wait.

  While mindlessly flipping through social media, Diana’s apps suddenly went crazy, froze, and the device finally shut itself off.

  “Stupid phone,” she muttered to herself as someone appeared from the stairwell and stood beside her. Looking up, Diana was startled to see Darien Shepherd looming overhead, wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit with a black tie, and impatiently checking his watch.

  “Oh hello,” Diana said with a smile. “We have World Civ together. Are you taking Akkadian too?”

  Darien turned his piercing gray eyes down towards Diana. They seemed to find her presence unbelievable.

  “How are you in this class?” he asked a bit too incredulously. “It’s a graduate level language course.”

  A slight heat of defensive anger rushed to Diana’s cheeks as she stood up. “I asked the professor for special permission; he didn’t seem have a problem with it.”

  “I see,” he replied while taking the measure of her like a piece of evidence in an investigation. “Forgive me, what was your name?”

  “Diana Selene,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Darien’s eyes twitched in surprise for a moment before a curious look filled them and a slight smirk crept to his mouth.<
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  “Diana Selene?” he repeated, as if her name sounded unbelievable.

  “I’m twice the moon goddess, I know,” she replied, trying her best to feign annoyance with Darien rather than the genuine delight that she felt. He was the first person to ever recognize that her first and last name were both moon deities—Roman and Greek respectively. It had always been Diana’s own private joke. She didn’t even think her parents realized they had done it.

  “Of course you are,” he replied with a curious look that came off as condescending. He seemed rather astonished by her, in fact. No doubt he assumed Diana was too stupid to even realize the significance of her own name.

  Who does this guy think he is?

  She was saved from the growing awkwardness when the door to the classroom suddenly opened and students began to pour out into the hall. When the room was empty, Darien looked to Diana and made an “after you” gesture with his arms, his gentlemanly demeanor feeling like mock courtesy. Once inside, they took seats on the opposite ends of the room and waited for the other students to arrive.

  Diana did not once glance in Darien’s direction, even though she couldn’t stop thinking about how patronizing he had been to her. How are you in this class? That jerk didn’t think some freshman girl had any business in a graduate level class. Diana would certainly show him who did and didn’t belong in the class. She’d been almost fluent in both German and French by the end of her junior year of high school, and then taught herself Latin last summer.

  A total of six other students—all male—had chosen to study Akkadian alongside Diana and Darien. When the professor arrived, he had everyone form a semi-circle out of their desks and sat himself in the middle. Unlike her other instructors, who had turned out to be eccentric caricatures of professors, this one seemed like a normal laid back fellow in his late thirties. As he was wearing a tie with a sweater-jacket, he left Darien being the most dressed up person in the room.

  “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” he began. “My name is Luke Rogers and I will be your guide through the Akkadian experience. Before we get down to it, can anyone tell me what he, or she, knows about the language?” He looked down to his class roster a moment. “Miss Selene, care to share?”

  “Sure.” Diana didn’t skip a beat. “Akkadian first developed in northern Mesopotamia around 3000 BC. It is one of the oldest known Semitic languages and is written using the Sumerian cuneiform script. When Sargon of Akkad conquered most of the ancient Near East around 2300 BC, Akkadian became the diplomatic language for well over a thousand years, until it was gradually replaced by Aramaic around the time of the Persian Empire.”

  Diana’s gaze went to meet Darien’s. His patronizing look of astonished amusement hadn’t changed, only strengthened. When he realized she was looking at him, he quickly turned to the professor.

  Diana’s eyes narrowed as her irritation grew.

  “Very good” The professor seemed to be impressed. “Let’s get at it then.” Dr. Rogers’ attention was caught by Diana’s cell phone. “Miss Selene, may I borrow that a moment?”

  “Sure, but it’s been acting up,” she replied and then handed the professor her phone.

  After a quick image search, Dr. Rogers held up the phone to display an ancient clay tablet with various cuneiform wedge marks on it. “While diplomacy is all well and good, the Akkadian language holds many other treasures as well.” A playful smirk crept across his face. “This, my friends, is the world’s first known beer recipe. Perhaps by the end of the semester you’ll all be brewing your own.”

  “Can that be the final exam?” asked one of the other students with a laugh.

  “We’ll see,” the professor replied as he placed the phone on Darien’s desk for him to look at before passing it on.

  Darien quickly jerked his hand away as several sparks erupted from Diana’s phone before it hit the floor with a sound that made her cringe. Her mouth dropped open as she gazed upon the small plume of smoke that began to rise from the cracked screen.

  “What the hell happened?” she asked in alarm, running to inspect and gather the remains.

  “Your faulty device exploded in my hand,” Darien replied. “You did say it’d been acting up, didn’t you?” He seemed more annoyed than shocked and it drove her absolutely crazy.

  She stood up, clenching her hand around the deceased phone. “Yes but—cell phones don’t exactly just shoot sparks out like that.”

  Darien just shrugged. “Yours did. We all saw it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dr. Rogers interrupted with a calming gesture. “I’m sorry about your phone Miss Selene. Is it still under warranty?”

  “I think so, don’t worry about it.”

  Not wishing to keep the fuss going, Diana returned to her seat and let the business of the exploding phone go for the time being in favor of diving into Akkadian.

  To her great pleasure, the class period wasn’t devoted to just going over a syllabus and class plan. Towards the end, Dr. Rogers did go over a little of how the class was structured but did not waste too much time on it.

  When class was over Diana quickly returned to her room. Exhausted, she collapsed on her bed and looked at the clock—it was only 3:00 in the afternoon. She was going to have way too much time on her hands this semester.

  After a half an hour of relaxation, she grew rather bored and decided it was time to finally investigate the library.

  Diana walked across the grassy quad, taking in the sites as she made her way to the old stone church. Everyone was out and about playing Frisbee, lying out on the grass, reading or listening to music—it looked more like a beach than a college campus. There was even a group of people grilling food outside of the art center.

  Social people always seem so happy. Diana usually had trouble talking to strangers; she was too awkward. It was going to be worse here, where she had absolutely no comfort zone. At least I have Lani. The roommate part turned out to be a lot easier than she had expected.

  Passing through the library’s tall, arched, entryway of stone, Diana was overcome by a strange sense of familiarity—like she had just walked into her grandma’s house for the first time in months.

  She felt home.

  Perhaps it was because Diana was finally in her element, where she belonged—peace and quiet with untold amounts of books all around her. She loved the tranquil nature of libraries; they were her sanctuary. This was one of the most splendid libraries she had ever been in. Within the grand ambience of an elegant stone church, several floors of books, special reading rooms, and various computer labs existed where there had once been shrines, statues, and altars. She’d never even have to leave to eat—there was a small cafe on the ground floor that served coffee, tea, and sandwiches.

  At least Lani will know where to find me.

  With no particular scholastic destination in mind, Diana investigated the nearby directory map. Many areas looked promising, but her attention was soon caught by the Foxwell Flinders Special Collections Reading Room—it sounded like a treasure trove of wonders.

  After passing through mazes of bookshelves and ascending a few spiral stairwells, Diana finally reached her destination. Her mouth agape in awe, she beheld a magnificent, long, open, room with tall stained glass windows and walls lined with shelves containing hundreds of books, many of which looked very old. A few students sat at the round wooden tables in the center, while others enjoyed the comfort of the high-backed leather chairs situated in front of the windows. At the far end of the room stood a white marble statue of a woman veiled in mourning, her outstretched arms searching for a lost loved one. Even though she was veiled, Diana thought the woman’s face seemed terribly familiar.

  She tore her gaze from the mesmerizing statue to investigate a large plaque to one side of the entryway. It contained a black-and-white image of A. F. Flinders and a brief history.

  Upon his death, Flinders bequeathed all of his books, acquired artifacts, and other scholarly materials to the university after
having laid out an extensive plan for the preservation and redevelopment of the church into a library. It was likely for that reason alone that Flinders University had the best Archaeology program that wasn’t Ivy League. They had spent decades adding to the vast knowledge of Foxwell Flinders and approving upon his methods with more modern practices. Though he was often accused of being an overzealous relic-hunter, Flinders respected methodology and often used scientific deduction during his excavations.

  With an academic sense of wonder, Diana scanned the shelves for treasures to read. Passing by rows of dusty excavation reports and sections of studies on alchemy and mysticism, her eye was caught by a hefty brown leather tome entitled Sacred Chalice & Magnum Opus by A.F. Flinders—one of the more philosophical writings of the man himself.

  Diana took the large book from the shelf and sat down at a nearby table. She ran her hand over the cover, which contained a raised gilded image of a robed woman holding out a cup as if to present the chalice to the reader. In the four corners were a flame, a skull, a tree, and water pouring from a jug.

  The book opened with the soft creak of old leather and Diana breathed in the familiar smell of aged paper as she turned the soft, silk-like, pages to the table of contents of red inked titles and black descriptions.

  Flinders had compiled everything there was to know about the Holy Grail—the historical, literary, and philosophical aspects of the sacred chalice—and a great deal on what he called the “Great Quest.”

  Diana gently flipped through the pages and scanned several chapters. She hated to admit it—even to herself—but most of the content was extremely philosophical and well above her freshman head. However, she was more than content reading the sections of court poetry and romances.

  After a few hours of reveling in the medieval grail quests of the gallant knights Perceval, Gawain, and Galahad, Diana turned to the writings of the Romantic revivalists of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

 

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