Human Unforgiven is the prequel to the Adam Kinde (rhymes with find) series.
Like the other novels, it’s a mystery mixed with philosophical (and sometimes theological) issues.
The story reflects an aspect of my own, very conservative fundamentalist, upbringing.
When I wrote it, I still believed that I was the only person who had ever worried about committing Adam’s “sin.” Since then I have learned that a great many adolescents in fundamentalist circles go through his agony at some point.
“We have few records of Adam Kinde’s years in seminary. At seventeen he was a witness in an inquiry into the moral character of the seminary chaplain. At nineteen he was returned to the seminary one night in an inebriated state by the local police. Beyond that, we must deduce what we can from other sources.”
Silas Redford, The Real Adam Kinde: An Experiment in Biography
It was the week after I committed the unforgivable sin—and the week before the body was found.
Dolores Thomas tugged at my sleeve on the way to student chapel. I caught a whiff of her perfume, so I knew it was her before I turned.
“Would you do something for me, Adam?”
We both knew the answer to that.
Mr. Matthews, my history teacher, told us about a kind of morality tale that was prevalent toward the end of the Dark Age—in the dispensation just prior to the second coming of Joshua and his thousand-year reign. It was called “film noir” and was based on the story of Adam and Eve in the Bible.
The stories were all different, but basically they were tragedies, each tracing the fall and destruction of a man because he was seduced by the charms of a woman.
I’m not saying that Dolores was a “femme fatale” (that’s what the women in those stories were called), but there was something about her that reminded me of those morality tales.
I was seventeen at the time, and Dolores was sixteen, going on twenty-five.
She was my Eve in one way—the same way she was for every boy in the seminary.
She was the only girl in our world.
Her father, Dr. Thomas, was the head of the lower school, and Dolores had had the run of the place since she was old enough to run.
But she had just recently become conscious of her effect on the young men who filled its halls, and she couldn’t resist experimenting. She had a way of looking you in the eyes that was very unnerving, and she enjoyed using it.
It worked, even on me—even though I had no interest in her romantically. She could still make me blush at twenty paces with a single inappropriately intimate glance. It had an even stronger effect on the half of the student body who were secretly in love with her.
But she wasn’t playing that game just then. I could tell by her tone that she was in her other role, the one I was more familiar with—and much more comfortable with as well.
She was in “little sister” mode, wanting to cry on my shoulder, or confide in me, or ask for my help.
I stepped out of the herd of students moving toward chapel and led her through a stone archway into the cooler air of an alcove, ignoring the jealous glances I received.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose at me.
“You’re friends with Flash, right?”
Flash Andrews was a year older than me, quarterback on our football team, one of the stars in the school constellation. He was arrogant, and a bit of a bully. My connection with him was complicated.
“We’re friendly enough.”
“Oh. Well, I mean… Would he talk to you? About personal stuff?”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why?”
“I was, just—just hoping you could find something out for me.”
“Like what?”
I’d guessed already, but I wanted to be wrong.
“I was wondering if you could find out if he—if he has… if he’s noticed me.”
“You’re the only girl on campus. Everybody’s noticed you.”
“Yeah, but I mean…”
I frowned.
“You mean is he interested in you. Romantically.”
She blushed and nodded.
* * * * *
The first time I saw Flash Andrews he was torturing an angel.
Back home, on the Franklyn estate where my father worked and my family lived, the very idea of an angel had been a source of awe to me.
I had only seen one ever, and then only caught a glimpse of it through the branches of a tree, but it had been a critical moment. It was the reason I chose to go to seminary when I was offered the chance. I wanted desperately to learn as much as I could about the part of creation that held such wonders.
But I was soon to learn, once I arrived at the seminary, that angels could be mundane to the point of boredom. Or at least Dr. Thomas’ guardian angel was. Dr. Thomas mostly used it to summon students to his office, so we saw a lot of it, which was one reason it quickly lost its magic for us.
Supernatural being or not, you can’t appear day after day to a group of young boys with the same deep intonation of “FEAR NOT!” on your tongue without becoming a target of humor.
By the second week we had lost all sense of awe. By the third week, the idea that there was anything to fear about the creature was ludicrous. By the fourth week the humorists among us were getting predictable laughs by intoning “Fear Not!” from the back of the classroom.
And, of course, angels are the most humorless and the most literal of all of God’s creations. That, in itself, was enough to make this one an object of fun.
But while we might have stifled a giggle or two in the angel’s presence, none of us were likely to actually be cruel to the poor thing.
Except Flash.
I was on my way to class one morning and rounded a corner just in time to see the angel shimmer into existence in front of Flash and a couple of his friends. They were older students, so I backed off and watched from a distance—not wanting to call attention to myself.
“FEAR NOT! Flash Andrews, your presence is required at—”
“Oooowahhhhh!”
Something halfway between a deep moan and a terrified scream emerged from Flash’s mouth, and he staggered backwards, his arm covering his face.
His friends exchanged amused glances.
The angel stopped mid-sentence, assessed the situation, and changed tactics.
“There is no need to fear, Flash Andrews. I will not harm—”
Flash screamed again, then cowered.
“Don’t kill me! Please! Let me live!”
The angel was silent for a moment, then tried again, in a quieter voice.
“You are safe in my presence, Flash Andrews. You need not—”
Flash pushed one of his friends toward the angel.
“Here. You can kill him. Just please leave me alone!”
The angel was silent again for a time, then apparently decided to cut to the chase.
“Please report to the head of school.”
Flash lowered his arm, feigning amazement.
“That’s all?”
“That is all,” the angel said. “There was no need to fear—”
Flash interrupted.
“Why did you have to threaten me like that?” he demanded.
His friends were in hysterics.
The angel was clearly confused.
“I did not threaten—”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, terrorizing a mere mortal.”
“I did not intend—”
But Flash cut him off.
“Tell the head I’ll be right there.”
The angel stared at him for a moment in confusion, then simply vanished.
Flash and his friends fell over each other laughing.
I felt sorry for the angel.