2 The Judas Kiss

by Angella Graff

  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.”

  Jude looked down at her hands resting on his thighs, and then back up at her face. Her eyes were low lidded and mouth hung slightly open. She was trying to seduce him, he realized with some amusement. “The key is me,” he repeated.

  “The key is you,” she said, squeezing his legs gently with the tips of her fingers. She crept her hands up even higher. “You see, your little friend over there, he was very telling when I sent some of my friends to try and convince you boys to come out and play. The moment he saw someone standing over you with a gun… and really what could a gun do to you?” she asked with a laugh. “We all saw your wonderful recovery when you got shot in the damn forehead, didn’t we?” She pressed her finger hard for a moment to the center of his skull where the bone had healed, but left an indented scar.

  “Yes,” Jude said quietly. He felt the urge to pull away from her grasp, but he didn’t give in to it.

  She began drawing her hands slowly up and down his thighs. Moving higher up on her knees, she brought her face very close to his. “He acted like you could actually get hurt. I realized then that you were the key. Despite the fact that we couldn’t do any real damage, his poor, over-rationalized brain, thinks we can. Thinks you can’t handle it. Granted, we could put you through that mortal Christian version of hell if we wanted to, but I don’t think he’ll let us get that far, do you?”

  Jude leaned back to look over at Mark’s prone body once more. “Likely not,” he admitted with a sigh. He turned his gaze back to Nike who was still impossibly close to him.

  With a small smile, she drew her hand to the inside of his thigh and squeezed gently. She paused, and then, when she felt no reaction under her hand, she frowned. “You’d think after being locked up in that crazy little head of yours, you’d be a little more interested,” she said with a pout.

  Jude studied her and saw she was being genuine. She wanted him, she wanted that control and that power over him, and she was honestly bothered by his lack of response. He gave no answer, but continued to look at her without expression.

  She rubbed him a little harder, and after a moment, when nothing happened, her eyes brightened and she laughed. “Oh my god. How did I not see it before?”

  “See it?”

  She cackled and sat back on her heels, dropping her hands to her sides. “You
… how does the term go? Swing the other way? Play for the other team?”

  Jude blinked slowly, saying nothing, but watched her reaction with curiosity.

  Nike peered over her shoulder where Mark was laying and then her eyebrows shot up. “You love him.”

  Jude let out a slow breath and gave a nonchalant shrug. “We have a complicated history.”

  “But he likes me. Or well, he likes Abby. Liked her, anyway. Did he tell you about that? Me climbing on top of him and riding him like a goddamn race horse in his office? Now that was the highlight of this human experience. He’s not bad, your friend,” she said cruelly.

  Jude laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m not surprised. I’ve never heard a woman complain about Mark’s gifts.”

  Nike’s eyes narrowed. She’s been trying to hurt him, and Jude’s apathetic attitude was getting to her. “Well it’s a shame he’d choose some crazy god over you, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not a surprise,” Jude said softly. “My love for him is hardly unrequited, but it was rejected and there’s nothing more I can do.” He smiled at her and shook his head. “You forget, I’m insane, and he hates me.”

  Nike stood up, furious, eyes literally glowing with rage, shining bright from the human skull. Her hands were trembling and as she walked to the table, she stumbled. “Shit,” she cursed, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a break from our little chat, but don’t worry, I’m going to make you quite comfortable.”

  She walked to him with a long syringe in her hand, and before Jude could say anything, she plunged the needle into his neck and depressed it. It only took seconds before the drug hit, and the last thing Jude saw before his eyes slipped closed was the body of Ben Stanford’s sister hitting the ground.

  Chapter Five

  Ben was in the middle of his apartment, pacing. He’d tried Stella’s phone several more times before giving up. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she wasn’t being honest with him. He wasn’t quite surprised, especially after her confession earlier that morning, but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around her being in any way responsible for the explosion.

  Still, if Ben was being completely honest with himself, there had been signs of her deceit. However he had so desperately wanted to ignore them in that time of horrible chaos, to have one person on his side willing to say that the gods weren’t real. He didn’t want to admit that she seemed to know an awful lot about him, about Greg and Mark and even Judas. He didn’t want to admit that it was unlikely a detective of her position would bother to get involved in such a simple missing persons case, would pull investigating detectives off of his case who thought him a suspect, or even encourage him to go against procedure to get his sister back.

  Ben wanted a drink but he needed a clear head. He grabbed a can of club soda and chugged it down before stepping onto his balcony. The afternoon fog was rolling in hard, the wind picking up slightly, and he felt his skin breakout into goose bumps. He leaned his head back slightly and took in a cleansing breath, trying to stay as calm as he could.

  He needed to do something, to find some way to speak to Stella. Ben was never able to sit around and do nothing when there was work to be done. When there was mystery to be solved, or people to be saved. Ben was completely convinced that someone had taken Mark and Judas, but he had no leads, no clues, and no suspects other than intangible beings who could be possessing nearly anyone who walked by him. The only person who could possibly give him answers was Stella, and it wasn’t in his nature to just sit on his ass and wait for her to call.

  “The Hilton,” he said suddenly, remembering she’d mentioned where she was staying. Grabbing his coat, Ben flew down the stairs and jumped into his car. He wasn’t sure how many Hilton brand hotels were downtown, but he was going to find the one she was at, he didn’t care if it took all day. Racing down the road, Ben picked up his phone and began the search.

  By the time Ben found parking in the Financial District, he’d located the hotel Stella was registered at. All it took was a simple phone call to the first Hilton hotel asking for her room, and he’d gotten the information he needed. He even let the front desk ring her room, but as he suspected, there was no answer.

  Ben managed to secure a spot in a parking garage not far from the hotel, and steeling his nerves, he stepped onto the street and headed north for the hotel entrance. He was a few hundred feet from the garage when he noticed it, however. Someone was following him.

  It was a man, younger than Ben, tall with pitch black hair covered by a beanie. He was carrying a skateboard and wearing a grey hoodie and a pair of jeans so baggy Ben couldn’t figure out how the kid could actually walk in them.

  There was something else about the kid that Ben noticed, and it only took a glance. Though he was young, probably twenty at the most, his eyes were narrow and intense, almost ageless. No twenty-year-old looked like that, not even the ones who’d been through the ringer.

  He stopped on the street when he could see the entrance to the hotel, and with fierce speed, put his hand on his gun and turned. “Why are you following me?”

  The kid stared, unsurprised, for several moments. Eventually, his face broke into a smile, revealing white, uneven teeth. “Very good, Stanford.”

  Ben’s hand on his gun twitched as he fought off the urge to pull it and shoot. He’d had enough of those things, enough of the constant threat, and the mystery of these people who refused to reveal who and what they really were. “Start talking or I’m going to shoot you.”

  “An unarmed kid in the middle of downtown?” the kid asked. His voice had a strange quality to it, just like the other things Ben had encountered, and it sent chills down his spine. “You’d be arrested and convicted of murder, detective or no. How would that benefit either of us?”

  “What do you want?” Ben asked through clenched teeth. “You’re following me for a reason.”

  “I am,” the kid said with a nod. He looked around for a moment, and then ducked into a small overhang from a large bank that was closed for the day. He motioned Ben over with his head, and after a minute, Ben followed.

  “I will not hesitate in shooting you if you try anything funny. You might have special powers, or whatever, but that didn’t stop me from taking out several of your kind,” Ben warned.

  “You took out several helpless, comatose patients who were being used as puppets. If you think for a moment any of those beings inside of the humans were harmed, you’re sorely mistaken,” the kid replied.

  “Who are you?” Ben demanded.

  “We’ve met before,” he said, staring at Ben with wide eyes.

  Ben paused and then it hit him. “The funeral. You killed the priest.”

  The kid laughed and shook his head. “Hardly. That priest was already five seconds away from shuffling loose the mortal coil. It didn’t help that his heart wasn’t strong enough to take my presence, but if it wasn’t me, it was going to be the large pizza he intended on ordering after the services.”

  Ben crossed his arms and glared at the kid. “So who are you?”

  The kid sighed. “What is it with you humans and names? When I walked the earth amongst your ancestors, the humans insisted on a name, trying to bestow upon me some version of humanity that went against my very nature.”

  “Your nature?” Ben asked, trying his best not to sound sarcastic.

  “I’m well aware of your disdain for our kind,” the kid said with a patient tone. “I, myself, have no taste for interaction with others like me. When we arrived in this realm to guide the humans, a lot of us were charmed by the elements instead, finding their chaotic nature far more welcoming. You were all such squalling newborns, useless, pointless, needy,” he said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately some of my brethren were much like you. Greedy and desperate for attention and power. They never learned to grow up.”

  “Well thanks for the theology lesson,” Ben said, tired of the kid, “but unfortunately I’m right in the middle of som
ething.”

  Ben started away, but the kid grabbed him, impossible strength in his hands, and he pressed Ben to the wall. Ben attempted to struggle, but he found he was unable to move. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to stop you,” the kid said. “In fact, unlike several of your little friends who have their own agendas, I’m simply on your side.”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

  The kid released Ben slowly and took a step back. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I don’t care if you want my help or not. Just understand that the very last place I want to be is inside one of these breakable porcelain dolls who constantly fight my presence in their bodies.”

  That gave Ben pause. He stared at the kid for several moments before speaking. “Are you saying you’ve taken over a conscious body?”

  “Unlike your Greek friends, I’ve mastered the ability to obtain a human form when and where I need it. Again, my Greek brethren never really learned what they were meant to learn. My downfall was the seduction by the elements.” He dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and at that moment the wind picked up so heavy and fierce that it knocked Ben back against the wall. The kid lifted his head and the wind stopped abruptly. “There’s nothing like it,” he said with a grin.

  Ben felt afraid of this thing, suddenly, more afraid than he’d been of any of them so far. “What do you want?”

  “I want to stop that little, pompous Greek goddess. The one so desperate to be human that she still clings to her mortal name, and seeks out the children of her kind to inhabit,” he said. “Your friends Mark and Judas, they’re important, and they’re in danger, and we have to get them back before they cause irreparable damage to the human race.”

  Ben gave a slow nod. “I was attempting to find them before you stopped me… whoever you are.”

  “I was once called Heimdall, but I suppose that would be an unacceptable name for a human of my age and generation,” he said in an almost bored tone. He fished into his pockets, pulled out a wallet and stared down at the ID card. “Andrew. That will suffice, won’t it?”