2 The Judas Kiss (8 page)

             
“Hello Ben,” came the cheerful voice of Greg.  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you any time soon.”

             
“I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important,” Ben said, prickling at the sound of the doctor’s voice.  Ben still wasn’t quite over the past events, and frankly any reminder of Abby’s fall to the gods was painful.  “Do you know what happened yesterday around four forty-five PM?”

             
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Greg said, sounding perplexed.  “I was working until nearly six.”

             
“As yourself?” Ben asked.

             
“Yes,” Greg said.  “I thought I made it fairly clear that Asclepius only helps out in dire circumstances.”

             
“You made that clear, yes, but after everything I went through, I’m not so sure I believe everything you say.”

             
There was a pregnant pause before Greg spoke again.  “I’m very sorry about your sister.  She was a very sweet girl.”

             
Ben felt his throat tighten a little and he cleared it.  “Yes, well, that’s not what I’m calling about.”

             
“What happened?”

             
Ben hesitated.  He didn’t want to give Greg any unnecessary information, and he wasn’t quite sure it would be a good idea to let him know that Stella might be involved.  “There was an explosion,” he finally said, choosing to use info that had been likely on the news already.  “A building floor blew up yesterday here in the city.  A posh apartment building.”

             
“I saw that this morning,” Greg said slowly.  “What does that have to do with me?”

             
“Probably nothing,” Ben said.  “But that building was the place Mark and Judas were living.”

             
There was silence on the line for so long Ben had to check to make sure the call was still connected.  “So they found them.”

             
Ben rested his forehead on the steering wheel and let out a long, slow breath.  “Nike found another host, or whatever you call it?”

             
“I suppose, or someone else orchestrated it,” Greg said quietly.  “Look Ben, I don’t know a lot.  Asclepius made it very clear that we’re to stay out of this entire mess.  I came too close to dying last time, and neither one of us are in a hurry to repeat that experience.”

             
“I’m only asking if you know anything that I should know,” Ben said, trying to keep patient and calm.  “Anything at all?”

             
“Look, we’ve been keeping to ourselves, okay?” Greg insisted. 

             
“Fine.  If you think of anything, just call me.”  Ben hesitated once more and then asked, “Have you heard from Stella, lately?”

             
“No,” Greg said slowly.  “Why?”

             
“Just wondering,” Ben said.  He had a feeling Greg was lying, but there was no point in pushing him over the phone.  “I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.  Thanks.”

             
He didn’t give Greg any time for a goodbye, and ended the call.  Feeling frustrated, without any answers, Ben decided the best, and only thing he could do for the moment, was head home to wait.

Chapter Four

              Jude woke with a groan.  His entire body ached and his skin felt tender and burnt.  He opened his eyes, but saw only blackness and wondered if the room was dark, or if he had been blinded.  He stretched out his arms, grateful that he wasn’t bound, and felt the floor beneath him was hard and cold.

             
He sat up gingerly and in the very corner of the room, he saw the palest yellow light through a crack in the floor.  So not blind, he reasoned as he attempted to stand.  Though his legs weren’t bound, they were weak.  He was dressed in a shirt and pants that were too big for him, and he struggled to remember what had happened.

             
He recalled the funeral, getting his first glimpse of the detective Mark had been working with while Jude had been incapacitated by his power drain.  Ben looked sad, his very essence dark and confused.  Jude could read instantly that Ben was special.  He wasn’t a god, and he wasn’t immortal, but he gave off an almost scent of power that Jude didn’t quite understand.

             
After the funeral, Mark had driven home, furious with Ben and irritated with Jude.  He knew he should feel bad for refusing to defend himself, but he was so tired, and Mark just couldn’t understand how he was feeling.  Jude, for his part, was finished.  He was done being outside of the mortal coil.  The pair of them had been wandering the earth for so long that Jude barely remembered his former life.  He barely remembered what it was like to feel human, to feel fear.  To feel anything, really.

             
Mark’s gift was different than Jude’s, and while Jude was quickly driven into madness by people draining his abilities, Mark was cursed with the exact opposite.  Mark could not feel even the slightest bit of insanity, and that in itself was its own hell.  Jude didn’t experience it, but he understood it.

             
Feeling stronger, Jude began to pace the room, arms outstretched, eyes squinting in an attempt to see something, anything, in the pitch blackness.  His fingers brushed the wall, and he made the rounds through the square room.  He counted seventy five steps, so the room was small, and the door on the inside had no handle.  He was also alone, so he could only begin imagine where Mark was, and who had taken him.

             
He remembered the woman on their sofa when they got home from the funeral.  She was one of them, those gods, but she was a friend.  She wasn’t good, by any means, but she didn’t wish them harm, and the moment Jude laid eyes on her, he knew she loved Ben.  She wasn’t responsible for this, Jude knew that immediately, and he wondered if she, too, had been taken.

             
The last thing Jude remembered was lying on his bed and falling asleep.  He’d closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he was in this room.  With a sigh, Jude finally called out, “Mark?  Are you there?  Can you hear me?”

             
Jude couldn’t hear the steps outside the door, but he could feel someone coming down the hall, someone powerful and armed.  The door to the room swung open and he squinted against the sudden onslaught of bright light.  It was a man, big and burly, and he immediately grabbed Jude’s arms, binding them behind his back.

             
He laughed to himself, wondering if the man knew that he didn’t have strength like Mark.  Wondering if the man knew that Jude had no will to fight him.  He didn’t care anymore.  Pain was simply a state of being, and when he couldn’t die, what was there to fear?

             
He was forced down a long, stone hallway, the wet, cool temperature indicating they were somewhere underground.  Their footfalls echoed off the wide walls and low ceilings as Jude was led by the large man.  Jude could tell from the electric-like vibrations that the man was inhabited by one of the gods, but he hadn’t yet figured out how to tell which god was inside, or how to get access to one of their minds the way he could do with humans.

             
The burly god stopped in front of a large steel door and opened it slowly.  Jude was marched inside and led to an old, wooden schoolhouse chair in the middle of the room.  He doubted it would hold much more weight than his own, and it creaked loudly as he sat.

             
The god situated his hands behind the chair, keeping them securely behind his back, and Jude looked straight ahead at the brick wall.  Closing his eyes, he felt around the room with his mind.  Another god, powerful, probably the leader, and Mark was in there too, but he was unconscious.

             
“Glad you’re awake.  I was starting to worry about you?” came a female voice with an almost metal-like quality to it.  Jude noticed immediately how the gods inside affected the human vocal cords, and found it amusing that others didn’t seem to notice the difference.

             
“Where am I?” Jude asked, not bothering to turn and look at his captor.

             
She let out a small peal of laughter and she began pacing behind him.  “Not the first question I expected you to ask.”

             
“What did you want me to say?” Jude asked curiously.

             
“Who are you?  What do you want with me?  Where’s my friend?” she said, her voice high and mocking.

             
“My friend is over there in the bed,” Jude said, nodding to the left.  He couldn’t see Mark in the bed, but he could feel him.  “As for who you are and what you want… I don’t really care.”

             
The god stilled, falling silent, and then with rapid speed, she marched in front of Jude, coming to rest directly in his line of sight.  She was tall, pretty, her hair pulled back, wearing a rather form-fitting dress in flaming red.  It only took Jude a minute of studying her dark eyes and drawn mouth to realize that this was the dead sister.  This was Abby.

             
“Oh,” he said with realization, though his voice showed little inflection.  “Abby.”

             
Her eyes widened.  “There was a rumor going around that you could do that,” she said, putting her hands on her slender hips.  She cocked her head to the side and stared at him.  “Reading minds, knowing things you shouldn’t.  Can you read my mind right now?”

             
“No.  Your consciousness isn’t human,” Jude said in the same dead tone.  “It’s not really mind-reading with humans, anyway.  More of an onslaught of the prayers they send out into the world.  If I could turn it off I would; I don’t like it.”

             
“Why not?” she asked with a wry grin.

             
Jude looked at her and mimicked her smile.  “Because they have nothing good to say.  It’s all selfish dribble, begging God to pay their mortgage, stop their addictions, make their children behave, bring them someone to love at night.  They’re never willing to help themselves, and it’s pathetic.”

             
She looked mildly surprised by the answer, and after a moment, she threw back her head and laughed.  “Well, I think I might like you after all, which is good, because your buddy over there is a serious drag.”

             
“He means well,” Jude said, finally turning his head far to the left to catch a glimpse of his companion who lay on a small cot, his pants seared, skin bright red with burns.  He looked back up at the god and lifted an eyebrow.  “You blew up our apartment.”

             
“I did,” she said, spreading her hands out.  “You’ll have to forgive me for the dramatics, but the pair of you have proven fairly difficult to capture.”

             
“Mark is clever,” Jude said with a shrug.  He struggled against the bonds a little, finding them itchy and pointless.  He wasn’t going to run, but he knew there was no way he could make her understand that.  “He’s also protective of my life, for some reason.”

             
“And you’re not?”

             
“Why protect something that doesn’t need protecting?” Jude asked quietly.  “I’m not going to die, and if by some miracle I did, it would be a sweet, blessed relief from this hell.”

             
“And they said you’re the crazy one,” she said with a laugh.

             
Jude shrugged and looked to his right where a small desk sat, a large stack of paper sitting in the center.  “So, Nike, is it?”

             
“Very good,” she said. 

             
“You want Mark to write out his story.  Our story.”

             
Nike’s grin widened, the smile threatening to split Abby’s face in two.  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the brick wall with one foot propped up near her thigh.  “Yes I do.”

             
“He won’t,” Jude said.  “You realize that pain doesn’t really affect us in the same way as it affects humans.  He won’t die, and he won’t get tired.  Eventually the human body you’re borrowing will exhaust itself, forcing your god consciousness to exit.  Mark will kill your vessel and you and I both know you don’t want that.  You wouldn’t have gone through such trouble to save her if she didn’t matter to you.”  Jude eyed the burn scars still marring the arm of the human body Nike possessed.

             
Nike covered the scars with one hand, her eyes narrow.  “You see, that’s what I thought.  I thought, well there’s nothing I can do to hurt him enough to make him talk… or… write, as it were.  I thought, what can I possibly do?”  She approached Jude, kneeling down in front of him and put her hands high up on his thighs.  “Then I realized that the key was you.  I mean granted, I need you and your amazing gifts once I get your little friend there to create a new religious movement for me, but more importantly, I need him to sit at that desk over there and write his little black heart out.”