The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection With EXCLUSIVE Post-Shiva Short Story (42 page)

“Wait! I’ll go with you!”

* * *

Head swimming, Rebecca was glad that somehow the men hadn’t begun World War III in this graced chamber, but now that she was standing exposed between her protector and her pursuer, she wasn’t so sure that this was the best move she could have made.

“Damn it, Rebecca, get behind me!” Brandt growled, and as much as she wished she could, she knew it was past that point.

Rebecca spoke to the dark-skinned man. “You talk smack pretty well, but the fact is you need me.”

Tok looked her up and down, making her skin crawl even though there was nothing sexual about his stare. It was worse. It was if he was not only stripping her of clothes, but of her flesh as well. That somehow he was studying her bones to see if they held her story. Her heart. Her mettle.

“You’re looking for Christ just like we are. Only we’re up three skeletons to one,” Rebecca added, gulping. When they first entered, she hadn’t realized how metallic the air had tasted.

A grim smile spread across his lips. It was strange that Petir spoke for him, yet Tok’s mouth never moved. “For just that arrogant reason. Your greatest ambition is to become a footnote in the annals of history, and you will destroy anyone’s faith if they dare stand in your way.”

Rebecca tried not to let her reaction to his words reach her face. The pained look in Brandt’s eyes was still too fresh in her mind, but if Tok thought her an arrogant cretin, why not play the part?

“Whatever,” she said as she shrugged casually. “You obviously need my cooperation, so let’s finish this.”

Tok turned from her as his man spoke. “I have given you my terms.”

“Yeah, but you obviously don’t realize it was I who found this chamber and James’ bones in Budapest. Lochum will just slow us down.”

“Now wait a minute—” the professor protested, but Walker elbowed him hard enough knock the wind from him.

The archaeologist agreed wholeheartedly with Rebecca. “It’s true. Rebecca has always been the brains behind Lochum’s bluster.”

“I will not have my reputation savaged, even if it means to save my life,” the professor stated as he walked out to join her.

How could she tell him that now was not the time to finally be chivalrous? She needed Lochum to stay with the soldiers so that he might lead Brandt to her. He was the only other person on the planet who could retrace the travels of Jesus’ remains.

“Then it is settled,” the spokesman said.

“Not by far,” Brandt retorted, his gun at the ready.

She had seen the stance before too many times. He was ready to act.

The sergeant spoke through gritted teeth. “You want to bring this place down? Let’s bring this place down!”

Rebecca heard herself shout, “No!” but then she found it hard to take another breath as gunfire burst around her—then everything was drowned out by explosion after explosion.

Boom…boom…boom…

Smoke swelled.

As everyone scattered, Rebecca tasted a sharp bitterness to the smoke. Gas. Poison. How long had they been piping it in? The oily gas filled her lungs, seeping through her like liquid fire. She fought to stay conscious. The only two who didn’t seem affected were Tok and his translator. Brandt and Svengurd struggled in vain to stay upright. As she swooned backward, the ceiling cracked overhead and crashed down, sinking them into darkness.

Only the flash of gun muzzles and the spark of ricochets illuminated the room.

Someone screamed as her head hit the marble floor.

* * *

Fuck, fuck, and more fuck
, Brandt thought as his arms refused to raise his weapon. As soon as he had tasted the metal bitterness in the air, he had forced out all the air in his lungs, but obviously that wasn’t good enough.

They were screwed. Rebecca and Lochum were already down and Walker was nowhere to be found. To the left, Svengurd had propped himself up against the wall as debris tumbled from the tiled roof and whatever had been holding back the wall of mud from the dungeon had given way. Any escape back through the dungeon was impossible.

Into the blurred chaos, Brandt fired as Tok scrambled to grab the remains, but a huge piece of ceiling came off, shattering the skeleton. Moving in slow motion, he tried to intercept, but his legs gave out from under him.

Petir yelled, but Brandt realized too late they were evacuating. Tok grabbed Rebecca while Petir dragged Lochum toward the back of the room.

“Svengurd!” Brandt used precious breath to yell, but as the corporal pushed off the wall to intercept, he fell to his knees, then to his face.

Taking a breath that he knew would bring more knockout gas, he got his feet moving. He was almost there. Almost, when Walker stumbled out from behind the pedestal. Blood poured from a gash in his head. Brandt tried to shove him out of the way, but the dazed archaeologist grabbed his sleeve.

“Rebecca!”

“That’s who I’m trying to rescue!” the sergeant growled.

Then Walker took a bullet in the throat. He groped at his neck, blood bubbling from a hit to the trachea. Brandt couldn’t help but assist the man to the floor, even though it sapped the strength from his own muscles.

“To the Prince…” he whispered as he shoved the bone he had been clutching into Brandt’s hands. As he took the bone, Walker’s jaw went slack.

Dead.

There was nothing more he could do, so with the last of his strength, he staggered to the hidden exit Rebecca had disappeared through, but found it blocked by a huge section of fallen ceiling.

“No!” Brandt pounded the rubble, not caring that he nearly broke his hand, and the world got smaller and smaller until it faded out completely.

The Thirteenth

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Judea

AD 42

Judas strode toward the small hut that had been their crowded dwelling, proud he had secured much finer accommodations elsewhere for the same fee. It had taken nearly three hours of bartering, but Judas did not mind the effort, for their coffers dwindled day by day, and just this morning James had instructed him to take even greater care with their coin.

This brought great delight to Judas’ ears, for it meant their relentless path toward Jerusalem and the horror that it held may not come to pass.

John the Baptist’s imprisonment at the fortress of Machaerus had given them all pause. But the Baptist had not been arrested for agitation against the Romans, as all had feared, but instead for speaking out against Herod’s illegal marriage to his brother’s wife.

Reports from Andrew’s brother, Levi, told of John’s good spirits, and despite the fact that Herod authorized the arrest, the governor seemed of temperate mood and was given to inviting the Baptist for meals, apparently roused by John’s faith.

Ignoring the pain in his knee as he climbed too quickly, Judas ducked under the doorframe, ready to tell the others of the good fortune, but clearly he had walked in on an argument long underway.

“Do not use his words against us!”Andrew said harshly to Magdalene.

The accused was seated, head bent over her stitching, but Judas could see the flush to Mary’s cheeks as the three men stood before her. Besides Andrew, there were Paul and Thomas.

“I speak only the truth,” she said without raising her eyes. “Jesus insisted that all the women, not just I, enter Jerusalem with him.”

“What?” Judas asked before he thought best of it.

He was not at all surprised that Jesus wished the women to accompany him into the Holy City for it was his way, but Judas was surprised that they were discussing the trek at all. James had made it seem that Jerusalem was a distant goal, no longer their driving force. They were not due to travel for another week. Otherwise, Judas would not have left such a sizable deposit at the inn.

Thomas obviously thought that Judas’ words indicated that he had thrown in with them and pointed an accusing finger at Magdalene. “She thinks to usurp us! She thinks herself special in the Lord’s eyes!”

Judas wished his leg were stronger, and he could carry him out the way he had entered. He wished to partake in none of this strife. The tension between the Twelve and Magdalene had been brewing, and now seemed near to bursting.

“You feel this way, do you not, Judas?” Paul asked.

In no other matter would the Twelve deign to consult Judas. In all other matters, he was an outcast among the apostles. Only Jesus or James ever inquired into his heart.

Before Judas was forced to answer, Andrew took up the call. “We go to the Holy City to announce Jesus’ claim to the throne of heaven. The high priests will cast their gaze far and wide to find reason to spurn his claim. Why would you not counsel Jesus to leave you behind?”

When Magdalene’s eyes rose, they flashed with anger. “Perhaps I do not feel that I should judge the wisdom of Jesus. Where he wishes my feet to tread, I shall walk.”

While every word in her retort was a stinging rebuke of the men, they could not argue against Magdalene without admitting the pride within their own words. The younger Mary had learned much from the Virgin when it came to quieting men’s tongues.

So again they turned to Judas. Paul the most exasperated. “Tell her, Judas. Tell Magdalene that Jesus’ eyes are clouded. That it is we, we the Twelve who have sworn to protect Christ, who must decide such things.”

“Why debate Jerusalem at all? Do we not have the luxury to ponder such delicate matters?” Judas asked, rather than answering Paul.

Thomas seemed taken aback. “Have you not heard?”

“Of what?”

Andrew’s voice cracked as he spoke. “John the Baptist is dead.”

Judas shook his head, not willing to accept such dire news. “He is but imprisoned.”

“Herod had him beheaded upon the insistence of his wife and stepdaughter. John’s head is now upon a spike above the fortress. Levy saw the sight with his own eyes. He is with Jesus now to tell him the all,” Paul explained when Andrew was unable to finish.

The Baptist was dead. Whatever tenuous thread that had been holding Jesus back was now severed. There was no doubt they would leave, perhaps by nightfall and would be in Jerusalem well ahead of Passover.

It seemed that fate was not one to be denied.

Paul turned back to Magdalene, but Peter rushed in. “Jesus has asked us to gather.” Mary went to join them, but his words were pointed. “Only the Twelve.”

With a sigh, she sat down as the other men fled the hut as if it were on fire. Judas more gingerly turned to leave when he heard a strangled sob. Magdalene tried to hide tears, but the pain had a life of its own.

Awkward, Judas did not wish to intrude, but nor could he just leave her in such a state. “Do not invest so much in their words, Mary.”

“But is that not what everyone thinks? That I seek to force a union with Jesus, or worse, that I am a whore?”

He was taken aback by her forceful words, but he could not argue their merit. Judas had heard similar proclamations and even worse from the Twelve, but he paid them no heed. Such talk revealed more of the men’s hearts than Mary’s honor.

“Tell me again how they cannot hurt me,” she said, locking his gaze.

“Does Jesus love you?” Judas asked, without thinking.

Mary seemed taken off-guard. Suspicion was sharp in her eyes. “Yes.”

“Then do not fret. They are only jealous because you are not of the Twelve.”

Magdalene tilted her head, clearly not understanding his meaning.

“We all are but members of the Twelve, none above the other, but you, singly, are the Thirteenth, Magdalene, and that grates against many.”

Tears drying, she still shook her head. “So I am to suffer their looks? Their words of rebuke?”

“Do you think me immune to such rough treatment?” he asked. When she could not argue, Judas continued, “What else shall we do, Magdalene? Will you refuse his call? Will you stay in the village stitching a pillow while Jesus goes to face his lot?” With a shake of her head, Judas had his answer. “Then I shall gather with the rest while you seek out Mary and console her, for news of the Baptist’s harsh death will sorely test her resolve.”

He turned toward the door, but Magdalene caught his arm. “I would do anything to keep Jesus safe from harm. From Jerusalem. I would die to keep him from this Passover if I could.”

“As would I,” Judas answered not certain where the determination in her grip and her words had come from.

“If I am the Thirteenth, then you are the First, Judas. You are his dearest of friends.” With that, Magdalene retired.

Despite her kind words, he was left with a heavy heart. Over the past while, Judas had come to hope John’s words would carry on the winds of time, scattering as each week passed, making them less and less potent. But the Baptist was dead. Jesus headed to Jerusalem, and Judas feared his own devotion would be as unsteady as his damaged leg.

CHAPTER 25

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Island in the Sea of Marmara

Slowly roused by the murmur of the sea, Rebecca found herself warm but not too warm. Even though it was hard stone beneath her, she felt perfectly comfortable. Through slit eyes, she found the room darkened except for a single shaft of moonlight that imparted a silvery glow.

Memories tried to awaken her more harshly, but they felt distant and fuzzy, unattainable. How could anything be wrong when she felt this good?

“That’s right,” a voice said as hands helped her into a sitting position. “Open your eyes.”

Reluctant to comply, Rebecca shook her head. After all that had happened, sleep was blissful. After all that had happened…

Startling awake, she jerked upright and pushed away the hands.

“Do not fight. Allow the antidote to do its work.” Ignoring the advice, Rebecca turned to find Petir translating for Tok. “Dr. Monroe, just relax and answer our questions.”

Scrambling away, her back hit a stone pedestal. Could it be the tablet that Magdalene had been upon? But that made no sense. The last she remembered, the chamber had been destroyed. “Where’s Brandt?”

Tok coaxed her away from the table. “Please, do not make this more painful for either of us.”

Rebecca struggled, trying to ask the bastard some hard questions, but her brain betrayed her. It simply didn’t want to argue. Whatever drug they gave her made her compliant. Yielding. Fighting the effect, Rebecca pictured the last time she saw Brandt. Not only was he alive, he was also firing. The sergeant had survived everything else this asshole had thrown at him, and he could survive the poison gas.