And the Angelfucker makes his move.

“But who has been flinging kindness back in your face?” Paul asked, oblivious to the dragon who was standing behind him, silently breathing fire.

Julia was mute and unconsciously hugged him more tightly.

“Tell me, Rabbit, and I’ll fix him. Her. Whomever.” Paul’s lips moved against Julia’s hair. “You know that you’re special to me, right? If you ever need anything, you just have to ask. Anything at all. Okay?”

She sighed against his chest. “I know.”

The blue-eyed dragon turned on his heel and abruptly departed, cursing about a Rabbitfucker as he disappeared down the hallway.

Julia broke free first. “Thanks, Paul. And thanks for this.” She held the key ring up and smiled.

I could look at that smile forever, he thought. “You’re welcome. My pleasure.”

Shortly thereafter, they entered the seminar room. Julia studiously avoided making eye contact with Gabriel, laughing softly at one of Paul’s jokes. His hand pressed familiarly to her lower back as he guided her to their seats. At the front of the seminar room, Gabriel seethed, his long white fingers gripping the edge of the lectern and not letting go.

Hands off her back, Rabbitfucker.

The Professor stared with hostility at Paul until he was suddenly distracted by Julia’s book bag. He wondered how she’d been able to transform it so effectively from its previous putrid state and why she wasn’t using his gift, instead. The thought tortured him.

Did Rachel tell her the bag was from me?

He fidgeted slightly with his bow tie, purposefully drawing attention to it. He’d worn it as a sign of his own self-mortification. He’d worn it to attract her attention. But she didn’t seem to notice, and she certainly wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was whispering and laughing with Paul, her dark hair long and flowing, her cheeks slightly pink and her mouth…Julia was even more beautiful now than in his memory.

“Miss Mitchell, I need to speak with you after class, please.” Gabriel smiled in her direction and looked down at his shiny shoes, shuffling his feet. He was about to begin his seminar when a small but determined voice from the back of the classroom interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, Professor, I can’t. I have an urgent appointment afterward that cannot be delayed.” Julia looked over at Paul and winked.

Gabriel slowly raised his head and stared at her. Ten graduate students inhaled as one and began to move backward in their chairs, fearful that he might explode, or that a dagger from his eye might fly out and gut them.

She was baiting him. And he knew it. Her tone, her physical proximity to Paul, the way she flicked her hair behind her shoulder with one hand…

Gabriel was distracted momentarily by the curve of her neck, her delicate skin, the scent of vanilla that either wafted toward him or came to him only in memory. He wanted to say something, to demand that she speak with him, but he knew that he couldn’t. If he lost his temper now, she would only retreat further from his grasp, and he would lose her. He could not let that happen.

Gabriel blinked. Rapidly.

“Of course, Miss Mitchell. These things happen. Please e-mail me to set up an appointment.” He tried to smile, but found that he couldn’t; only one-half of his mouth would curl up, making him look as if he’d been stricken with palsy.

Julia shifted her gaze to stare back at him, her eyes empty. She did not blush. She did not blink. She just looked…vacant.

Gabriel noticed her expression, which he’d never seen before, and began to panic. I’m trying to be nice to her, and she looks at me as if I wasn’t there. Is it really so surprising that I can be cordial? That I can keep my temper?

Paul dropped his hand below the table and quickly but gently squeezed Julia’s arm at the elbow. His touch distracted her so she looked at him, and he shook his head, his eyes flickering to the front of the room and back to her.

She seemed to be awakened from her reverie. “Of course, Professor.

Another time.” For good measure, she averted her eyes and waited without expression for the class to begin.

Gabriel’s mind was racing. If he couldn’t speak with her today, he would have to go days and perhaps weeks without explaining. He couldn’t wait that long. Their separation was eating away at him. The longer he waited, the less receptive she was going to be to his explanation. He had to do something.

He had to find some way of communicating with her. Immediately.

“Um, I’ve decided that rather than have a normal seminar today, I will deliver a lecture. I’ll be examining the relationship between Dante and Beatrice. In particular, what transpired when Dante met Beatrice the second time and she rejected him.”

Julia stifled a gasp and looked up at him in horror.

“I’m sorry to have to do this,” his voice took on a conciliatory tone,

“but I was left with no other choice. A misunderstanding has emerged that must be dealt with before it’s too late.” His eyes met hers for mere seconds, and he lowered his gaze to his notes. Of course, his notes were of no use for this particular lecture.

Julia’s heart raced. Oh, no. He wouldn’t….

Gabriel inhaled deeply and began. “Beatrice represents many things for Dante. Most importantly, an ideal of womanhood and femininity. Beatrice is beautiful. She’s intelligent and charming. She has all of the character qualities Dante believes are essential to the ideal woman.

“He first encounters her when they are both very young, too young for any kind of relationship. Rather than sully their love with any kind of pedestrian or tawdry entanglement, he chooses to adore her reverently but distantly, in deference to her age and experience.

“Time passes. He meets Beatrice again. She has matured into a talented young lady; she is even more gifted and beautiful. Now his feelings for her are much stronger, even though he is married to someone else. He pours his affection into writing poetry and pens several sonnets for Beatrice, but none for his wife.

“Dante does not know Beatrice. He has little contact with her. Even so, he adores her from afar. After she dies at the age of twenty-four, he celebrates her in his writings.

“In The Divine Comedy, Dante’s most famous work, Beatrice helps to persuade Virgil to guide Dante through Hell because she, as one of the redeemed in Paradise, is unable to descend into Hell to rescue him. Once Virgil sees Dante safely through Hell, she joins him and guides him through Purgatory and into Paradise.

“In my lecture today, I wish to pose the following question: where was Beatrice and what was she doing in between her two meetings with Dante?

“He waited for her for years. She knew where he lived. She knew his family; she was friendly, very friendly, with them. If she cared about him, why didn’t she write to him? Why did she make no attempt to contact him? I think the answer is obvious: their relationship was entirely one-sided. Dante cared for Beatrice, but Beatrice cared nothing for Dante.”

Julia almost fell off her chair.

All of the graduate students were following his lecture diligently and taking copious notes, although Paul, Julia, and Christa, who were familiar with Dante, found precious little that was new in his lecture. With the exception of the last full paragraph, which had nothing whatsoever to do with Dante Alighieri and Beatrice Portinari, at all.

Gabriel’s eyes wandered to Julia’s and lingered there almost a beat too long, before he turned to Christa, smiling flirtatiously. Julia fumed. He was doing that on purpose — purposefully looking at her and then focusing all of his attention on Christa-the-Gollum, just so she could see how easily she would be replaced.

Fine. If he wants to play the jealousy game, bring it.