“I want to know the truth. Tell me everything you know.”

Dorian hadn’t even greeted Joey when he entered the kitchen the next day. He looked frazzled as if he’d been pacing for hours, his hands trembling, biting his lip. Joey read the desperation in the demon’s mind and smiled.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Tell me now before I change my mind.”

“I need a computer so I can show you a picture.”

They went to the basement, the three other band members following anxiously. “I told them they can listen,” Dorian said. “No use hiding anything.”

At the recording computer, Joey searched up the article he had previously found, letting them all see the headline and the picture. Dorian sat in his chair, staring silently at his former human self as Joey spoke.

“Your name was Paul Mason. You died on November 30th, 1992 at age thirty-seven. You were a biology teacher at a Catholic high school in Houston. Supposedly you taught your classes evolution despite strict rules against it, and you were immediately fired. In retaliation, you set off an explosion in your classroom that killed you and three others, all students. That’s why you went to Hell. You murdered people.”

The room was painfully silent. As much as Joey had wanted to tell Dorian this, it now hurt. Dorian was frozen in his chair, staring at his picture. He swallowed hard, his breathing shaky. Finally he spoke, his voice cracking in a whisper. “You’re sure that’s me?”

“Yes. And I might be able to prove it more if you let me see that memory again.”

While Dorian pondered the opportunity, Joey pulled his mind away from the demon’s flashing thoughts to look up at the other three, also frozen in silence. Their expressions were of shock as they looked at their companion. It hurt them as well. Even though Dorian had often been cruel to them, they still seemed to care.

“Okay,” Dorian said at last, sitting up straight, his face now full of determination. “Do it.”

Joey nodded. “I think you should lay down. And I want you to think about chemistry or something. You obviously knew a lot about it if you knew what would make a massive explosion on the spot.”

“Okay.” Dorian stumbled as he got on the floor, laying on his back. “I think I know of some combinations I could have used, so I’ll think of those.”

“Good.” Joey knelt beside Dorian and leaned over him, his hands on his shoulders. “Ready?”

Dorian nodded.

Joey dove in, quickly entering the open door made by Dorian’s thoughts and digging through to search for more of the memory. He tried to dig fast to hopefully shorten the amount of time Dorian would be in pain. Then he found it, clearer than ever before, and he grabbed it tight. He felt Dorian twitch hard under his hands and groan, but he did not fight back like he used to.

This was going to hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

* * *

The teacher leaned forward on his desk at the front of the classroom, looking out at his silent students. It was hard to hide his devious smirk; twenty still-malleable minds sat before him. They had no idea what was coming.

“My name is Mr. Mason,” he said, standing up straight. “You are all here to learn biology of course, but there is a lot more to the subject than just our current physical being, our current bodies, and that of animals. Those are all important of course, and I will teach you this, but the more important topic and the one that should be the first you learn in my class, is how we got to our current state. What you have been taught your whole life has been a lie, and I am about to explain why.”

Curiosity filled the faces of the room, many students fidgeting in their seats, some looking at each other in concern. But no one spoke.

“Intelligent design, which you have likely been hearing about for as long as you can remember, has been disproven in countless ways by scientists for decades upon decades. Now, I’m not going to go into things like the Big Bang or details on how the world came to be. Instead, I’m going to show you and explain to you how our human race came to be over billions of years.”

A boy slowly raised his hand. “Are you talking about evolution?”

“Precisely.”

There were a handful of gasps around the room.

“Calm down, calm down. I can’t force you to believe in what I’m going to be teaching you. But I plan to give you the evidence you need to ask your own questions, to think more broadly about your world. Consider what else is in our world and our lives besides God.”

For the entire hour of class, Paul Mason enthusiastically explained the evolution of mankind, using pictures on an overhead projector, walking among the desks to get closer to his students, to help them feel immersed in his lesson. None of them dared speak, but a few showed interest, and he strived to speak to them more. There was so much potential in their eyes. Finally, the brainwashed will see.

Twice more during the day he did this, finding the two or three that reluctantly grasped onto his words and encouraged their eagerness. He felt invigorated, so much so that he pushed it harder and harder, giving no care to the fact that high school students were the best gossipers.

He taught no classes during the last period of the day, so Paul spent his time in his classroom preparing the next day’s lessons, excitedly formulating ways to integrate what he had taught into the topics he was required to teach. He jumped at the loud knock on the door. His smile was met with the furious glare of the principal.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Mr. Harlowe,” Paul greeted the tall, thin older man. “What can I do for you?”

“We must talk.” The principal entered the room and briskly closed the door behind him. “Is it true you have been teaching evolution to our students?”

Paul sat still, staring. Though he had hoped the news wouldn’t spread that quickly, there was no denying it. Enough minds had been opened to have made one day worth it. “I am teaching biology, sir.”

Mr. Harlowe narrowed his eyes, standing tall over the teacher. “You know very well what our biology curriculum includes. You even showed me your lesson plans that excellently tied the subject in to our faith teachings.”

Yes, the ones I threw away immediately after.

“Does this mean that the faithfulness you’ve shown over the years as our physics and chemistry instructor was a lie? That you accepted this opening in biology to spread your hidden agenda?”

The principal was much more intelligent than Paul had given him credit for. “I do not need to believe in God to be a good science teacher.”

“You do if you want to teach in any Catholic school. Effective immediately, you are no longer a member of our faculty.”

Paul’s mouth fell open slightly, though he had started to expect what had just happened. He had just hoped he could get one more chance, one more lesson.

“It’s a shame,” Mr. Harlowe continued. “The students have always talked about how great you were, how much you knew, how fun your classes were. I’d say I wish I’d kept you in chemistry, but now that I know your intentions, the school is far better off without you. Gather your things and leave now.”

There was no use arguing. But as he stared into the eyes of his boss, he thought of the students he’d had in the palm of his hand that day. The ones who were ready to accept the truth. They would likely be lost now, brainwashed back to what they were before, pawns to their school and their elders. Paul bit back his anger, though it didn’t dissipate. He stood and began to stack his papers. “Yes, sir.”

“I must return to my office, but I expect you to be gone right away. Understood?”

Paul nodded and watched Mr. Harlowe walk out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

His anger boiled more, so much more that he thought he would burst. Anger at losing what he had worked hard for, but also anger that he had been careless and got caught so quickly. He looked around the classroom, the same one he had used when he taught chemistry the previous year and that was used by a fellow teacher who had taken his place. His devious smirk returning, Paul rushed to the closet to search for the items he needed, returning with a small plastic bottle, a bucket, and protective gloves.

After filling the bucket about three quarters full with water, Paul put on the gloves and opened the plastic bottle. His heart fluttered with excitement. It would be one of his favorite experiments to show his class, but on a grand scale. One that would destroy the classroom. Removing him as teacher was a destruction that no one would appreciate, but a violent symbol would do the trick.

He would have time to escape unharmed, at least get far enough down the hall that he would be out of range. He removed the dark gray chunks of potassium from the bottle and held them in his gloved hand. It was a hundred times more than he would normally use in class. His grin widened.

The bell rang and he paused. He didn’t realize how close to the end of the period it was. He looked at the open door. The hall isn’t busy. Quickly, he stepped toward the bucket, dropped the metal in, and ran toward the door.

“Mr. Mason?”

Paul recognized the girl as a student from his first class that day. One of the ones who had shown such interest in his teaching. She had the same expression on her face at that moment: curious, questioning, eager. But in those seconds that he looked into the innocent face of a girl who had such potential, her whole life ahead of her, the metal in the bucket had time to reach the surface of the water.

He knew it was coming.

He gave up on himself.

But he knew the life in front of him was leaving with him.

His heart hurt more than the explosion behind him.

* * *

Joey pulled away, falling backwards. The flashes of memories he had seen still hung in his mind. He had heard no words, but the tone of the voice was there, identical to what he heard every day. The teaching, the expressions of the students, the feelings of elation had all flashed by like a damaged movie film, interrupted by static, parts that had successfully been removed. A view of the angry principal, the brief flash of the experiment preparation, the devious power that filled his heart had gone by, but it all slowed at the view of the girl in the doorway. It was clearer than any other part of the memory. But nothing was stronger than the terror, the sadness, the regret that had flowed through at the very last moment.

Dorian lay on his side, his hands over his eyes. He was shaking terribly and crying. Joey couldn’t help but wonder what brought the tears—the physical pain from the entry into his mind, or what he had witnessed.

The others stood over them, staring, frozen and seeming to be holding their breath. Joey could read in their minds that they didn’t know what to do, whether to comfort or leave him alone. Slowly, Joey crawled back toward Dorian and knelt cautiously beside him. There he could read what was going on in his mind. It was full of agony. It hurts, it hurts. So much pain that very few other thoughts could go through. Those that did made Joey smile a very tiny smile.

The girl…why…I did that…I killed…young life gone.

Joey looked up at the others and whispered, “He’s not going to be able to get up for a while. But when he does, we might have a different Dorian.”

Cameron rushed upstairs and grabbed a pillow for him, but instead of laying on it, Dorian covered his head with it. Jack offered water but got no response. Miles sat on the floor behind Dorian, staring at the back of his head. It was an intense stare, and Joey smiled at the thoughts he was trying to send to the suffering demon. He was trying to use his power to help.

Whatever it was that happened, it’s over. You can’t bring back who you killed, but you have an eternity to do better. To be strong enough to stop the real evil out there.

“Miles, I know what you’re doing,” Dorian croaked.

Miles raised his eyebrows as if surprised that what he had done had worked. “Just trying to help. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed you feel guilty about whatever you did.”

Dorian pushed himself up and turned to face Miles. “You have no idea. Imagine looking into the eyes of someone moments before dying. Moments before they die because selfishness and greed and pointless anger drove you to do something unthinkable. An innocent person who held nothing against me, nor me toward them. Gone. If I could have stopped it, I would. If I could have saved her and whoever else went with us, I would. That remorse wasn’t enough. I got sent to where I belong. I might not be Buriel’s level of evil, but I’m evil nonetheless.”

Jack sat down beside him. “Maybe you don’t have to be.”

“I’m a demon. I’m evil whether I want to be or not.”

“Then explain why you don’t want to be.”

Dorian stared, but only Joey would know his answer.

Because of your power.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorian said. “It won’t change anything.” He looked at Joey. “You are terrifyingly powerful. At least you’re on our side.”

Joey knew it was Dorian’s version of a compliment. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Dorian shook his head and slowly stood. “Thanks, kid.” He stumbled up the stairs without a word.

Once the door had been closed, Miles looked at Joey and asked, “How bad was it?”

“He didn’t kill on purpose. It wasn’t cold blood. And he legitimately felt bad in his last moment alive. We felt what he felt then. And the fact that he feels it again now, still, means that a lot of who he was as a human carried over and remains. Maybe becoming a demon doesn’t change you. Maybe that means you guys weren’t so bad in life either. Just bad enough to not go to Heaven.”

He looked at Jack in particular. Joey had yet to see a single bit of evil from him, only kindness. Actual kindness. He shared the same thought that he read from Jack’s mind.

What could he have possibly done to land himself in Hell?