2 The Judas Kiss

by Angella Graff

  She slowly pressed down the syringe, a sick smile on her face as Jude screamed. His eyes rolled back into his head, his body twitching and seizing. After a moment, blood came pouring out of his nose, and he fell out of her arms.

  The screams echoed in Mark’s head, his eyes filling with tears as he sat there helpless, unable to move, desperate to ease his pain. Nike crossed the distance between them and grabbed Mark’s chin between her fingers, squeezing so hard Mark heard the bones in his jaw crack.

  He cried out, muffled as she held his mouth closed. She brought her face down to his, her breath hot against his skin as she hissed, “I told you that there was no escape.”

  Mark and Jude were dragged back down the stairs, Mark’s jaw unmoving from the cracked bones. He wanted to cry out, but he forced himself to stay silent as they were shoved back into the room. Jude was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor with a sickening thud as he twitched and involuntarily cried out in pain.

  “Now, back in your seat, you naughty boy. Next time it’s the dunce cap for you!” she said and cackled at her joke. She had the papers in her hands now, Mark noticed, as he took his seat back at the desk.

  He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slid the stack into a small brief case he hadn’t noticed before, and she threw it on the floor, sitting down atop the pages.

  “Now, there will be no more interruptions,” she declared. “Back to work or he gets another shot,” she said, and kicked her foot out at Jude, missing him by a few inches. With a sigh, she drew her legs into her chest and hugged them.

  Mark wanted to say something, anything, but the pain in his jaw prevented him from moving, and he realized that he was outmatched. He had the opportunity to escape and he’d lost it. She’d won. There was nothing left to do but pray to a god that didn’t exist that Ben would somehow find him, and take Nike out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sun was low in the sky by the time Stella called, and she sounded different. Her voice was harder, unfamiliar, and that shaking fear was gone. When Ben answered, Andrew had just begun to stir from the bed, but he didn’t look close to being coherent enough to accompany him and Alex on a rescue mission.

  “Are you in the city?” he asked her, ignoring all semblance of formalities. He stepped outside the hotel room and lit up a cigarette. Across the sidewalk was a small bench with a small ashtray, indicating it was an acceptable smoking area. The temperature was rapidly dropping as evening approached, and Ben hugged his arm over his chest.

  “I just left my apartment,” she said, her voice sharp and irritated. “I suppose I’ll need to meet with you.”

  It only took Ben a moment to realize he wasn’t speaking with the Stella he knew. He wasn’t sure what to say or do, so he chose his words carefully. “Is this the god half of you?”

  “Is that what she told you?” she asked with a harsh laugh. “Yeah well whatever you want to believe, Tiger. She just left a note saying that I needed to meet with you, and she wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours.”

  Ben glanced at the closed door of the hotel room and knew it would be several hours most likely, before Andrew was functional. He knew that if he mentioned it to Alex, she would try and stop him from going. Truthfully it was stupid, and probably very dangerous, but Ben had reached the point of desperate.

  “Where do you want to meet?” he finally asked.

  “Where are you at right now?”

  “Near Mission Bay.” Ben didn’t want to give her any specifics in case she was the traitor. He needed to make sure that Andrew and Alex wouldn’t be put in any danger in case of the idiotic move he was about to pull. “We can meet somewhere near there.”

  She was silent for some time, and then barked out an address of a small restaurant and told him to meet her there in half an hour. Ben sighed, familiar with the restaurant. It was only a few miles away, set right on the waters of Pacific Beach. It was always crowded, but he figured that the bigger the crowd the better. It was possible, he realized, Stella—or whoever she was—was thinking the same thing.

  He agreed to meet and hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket. Alex had yet to look for him, and it was possible with her powers and strength, she already knew what he was up to. Either way, he didn’t want to risk her trying to stop him, so he felt his pocket for his keys and dashed to the parking lot before he could be questioned.

  Feeling almost like he was being pursued by something, Ben struggled to jam the key into the ignition, started up the car with a loud roar and peeled out of the parking lot. It was only when he saw the hotel grow small in the rearview mirror did he breathe a sigh of relief. Leaning over, he popped his glove compartment and saw his gun resting safely in there. His jacket was in the back seat, so he knew he could enter the restaurant with his gun concealed, and he felt much better about being able to protect himself from whatever was inside of Stella.

  The drive to Pacific Beach took moments. There wasn’t any parking in the small parking lot, and he didn’t think having a valet park his car was the best idea if he needed to make a swift exit. There were already people lining up outside of the front doors and he wondered how they were going to get a table.

  A couple of families parked along the street were nearby and getting ready to leave, so Ben hurried to occupy their empty parking space and quickly armed himself before heading up the sidewalk. Being near so near the water was refreshing in that late afternoon. The sun was dipping low and the breeze coming off of the Pacific was rich, salty and cool. He’d always loved the smell of the sea weed, beach sand, the squawking of sea gulls as they dove around searching for scraps. It was peaceful in this terrible situation and he felt somewhat refreshed as he stepped past the massive crowds to the hostess standing behind the extremely elevated desk.

  “Bar’s open seating, if you can find something,” she said, sounding stressed.

  Ben nodded. “I’m actually waiting for someone. She’s about so tall,” he said, indicating with his hand, “long dark hair, name of Stella Horvath. Can you direct her to the bar if she puts her name in?”

  The hostess gave a terse nod and jotted down Stella’s name on a small, yellow pad beside her computer. Satisfied, Ben walked over to the bar and felt it was a good sign that there was one small table with four chairs, just being cleaned. He slid into the chair facing the large floor-to-ceiling windows and let out a breath.

  The restaurant was small, crowded and loud. It smelled amazing, and the people next to him had tall drinks made with fresh, crushed mint and he thought that maybe one would take the edge off. He ordered a tall whiskey sour with extra ice, a bowl of clam chowder and a plate of calamari while he waited.

  Stella arrived before the food did. He felt her before he saw her walk through the door, that little current of electricity, but it wasn’t as strong as before. He swiveled around in his chair and saw her there, standing by the hostess stand, frowning as the busy employee directed her to where Ben was sitting.

  She looked different somehow, carried herself with more slumped shoulders. Her hair hadn’t been brushed and was pulled into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. She had a sort of hitch in her walk, as though she’d been injured, and Ben thought it may have been the first time he’d ever seen her in jeans and a plain, ill-fitted t-shirt.

  He wondered if the god inside of her had any desire to be part of this mortal realm. Using his foot, Ben kicked one of the chairs back away from the table and she took it, fixing him with a firm stare, mouth drawn down at the corners.

  He cleared his throat uncomfortably as she kept his gaze locked with hers. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that somewhere in there was his Stella, and really, that was the one he wanted to talk to.

  “So uh… which one are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Stella,” she said. “Obviously.”

  “Right,” Ben said, his patience already worn thin. “But which one.”

  She stared at him blankly, her fingers toying with the folded na
pkin on her right. “She said I need protecting, which I think is stupid, but here I am. I don’t really want to die, but at this point I’m pretty tired of everything going on around me.”

  Ben was confused, but he didn’t let on. The server came by with food and dropped it on the table. Stella stared up at the pretty waitress and her entire demeanor changed. She smiled and rested her chin in her hand.

  “Oh bring me something sweet,” she said with a wink, making the server blush a little. “Something strong and sweet. Like you.”

  The server laughed a little and walked off without saying anything. Ben’s jaw dropped open a little as he stared at her, and after a moment he blurted, “So you’re male?”

  Stella’s face fell and her eyes snapped over to him. “Oh isn’t that typical male, assuming that because I’m attracted to a woman there must be a male inside of me. Your entire gender disgusts me. It’s all brute force and violence, and this bullshit sexism, assuming that if it has a vagina it belongs to a man.”

  Ben flushed and stammered, gulping down a long drink of his whiskey. He wiped his mouth on his napkin, trying to regain his composure after her attack. So it was a lesbian god. He wasn’t very well researched into the topic, and seeing as she could have come from any pantheon, he wasn’t sure who the hell she could be, and frankly he didn’t want another rant directed at him.

  “So you want protection,” Ben said. He offered the plate of calamari to her but she shook her head with a glare. “I guess I can help with that.”

  “I don’t want protection,” Stella amended. “In fact, the last thing I want is to be around a bunch of misogynistic assholes who think that because I don’t have a cock I can’t protect myself. Never mind I’m a god damn detective who worked hard to reach that position.”

  “Didn’t Stella do most of that work?” Ben asked irritably, no longer caring if he insulted this mouthy entity.

  “Yeah,” she said pointedly. “Stella did do most of the work. Anyway I’m here, and honestly all I really want to know is if you know of any danger. If not, I’m going to drink my drink and then leave.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. If Stella… the other Stella… wants me to keep an eye on things, I’m going to trust her judgment. The last thing I need is for you to get injured or murdered because you didn’t feel like being careful,” Ben demanded.

  She sighed but said nothing as the server came back with the drink and a phone number written on a napkin. Stella winked and slipped the number into her pocket without a word. Ben tried not to acknowledge the fact that his girlfriend was getting numbers from waitresses while they were sitting together. It just felt so damn complicated, and he wasn’t sure he was interested in being in a relationship where things like this might happen.

  He ate in silence, not really able to enjoy his food, his brain struggling for a solution to this problem. He was now being asked to take care of Stella’s other half, rescue Mark, and all of that without any leads or real back-up. He figured Alex would be pretty angry by this point, and there was no telling if Andrew would be awake and coherent any time soon. Ben rested his forehead in his hands and groaned.

  “Clearly you’re not into this,” Stella said, her voice just a little bit softer than before. “I don’t like it much, either. I don’t like opening up my eyes in this body and seeing a man in my bed, or some note from my darling other half telling me I have to seek refuge with some man I don’t even know. I’m not sure what she got herself mixed up in, but I’m about ready to call it a day and take this body and bolt.”

  Ben’s eyes snapped up and he shook his head. “Aside from the fact that I care about other Stella, I think that’s a colossally bad idea. There are people getting kidnapped and killed left and right, and if she thinks you’re in danger, it’s for a real reason. The best hope you have is to stick with me. Look, I have a hotel-”

  But Ben was cut off when a furious, red-faced Alex stormed up to the table. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and when she spoke, it was like the entire room hushed, and Ben heard only her voice. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Do you realize what you could unleash if she’s not on our side?”

  Ben bowed his head. He had known, and he accepted that what he’d done was stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. This was Stella, and despite the fact that she’d lied and deceived him, he cared enough to find out what she needed. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

  Alex gave Stella a once over and she frowned. “Well that makes a lot of sense, now doesn’t it?”

  “He hasn’t figured it out yet,” Stella said, nodding to Ben.

  “Figured what out?” Ben demanded.

  “It’s not important,” Alex snapped. “Pay your bill and let’s go. Andrew’s finally coming to and if we’re careful, we can make our move. I only have a few hours left in this body before it has to be returned, and there’s no way I can get my other self all the way to California before all hell breaks loose.”

  There was a sense of urgency in Alex’s voice, enough to get Ben moving swiftly. He paid for the tab and hurried outside after Alex and Stella. He didn’t argue when Alex said she’d be taking Stella with her, and he hurried to his car, feeling building anticipation, panic and dread.

  This was it. They were going to have to move on their information, and they were going to have to do it soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mark’s Story

  In all of the rejoicing about Yeshua’s return, no one but I noticed that Yehuda had disappeared. To this day I could never be sure if it was anger or shock that drove him out that night, but whatever he had been feeling, it was strong enough to keep him away for the better part of six days.

  I looked for him at first, wandering for hours, but no one had seen him and all seemed to be distracted by Yeshua’s miraculous return, and curious to hear about the experiences and knowledge he brought with him.

  When I finally returned to the house, Yeshua was there with Yosef, Maryam, Yaakov, my wife and daughters, eating and talking. There was a definite difference in him, a sort of calm like I had never seen before. He had about him a glow, as though the bitterness and evils of the world, of growing up oppressed and terrified, had not touched him. I had to consider that maybe they hadn’t. Maybe he’d escaped that life when he went with the men from the East, and I envied him a little.

  I may have started out carefree, Roman, wealthy, learned, but I had not ended my journey that way. He stood when I entered, smiling at me, and he embraced me, which was a surprise. Yeshua had never been one for physical affection, and almost seemed terrified to touch people. I accepted the gesture happily, glad to see him safe, despite his brother going missing and the intense curiosity surrounding his return.

  He looked healthy, though, full and satisfied, and when he spoke, he carried a slight accent to his words. He was foreign to this land he’d grown up in now; he was not part of us any longer. It occurred to me that he and I switched places, and I let the irony of that sink in as I joined everyone around the table for food and drink.

  While we sat there, he spoke. He spoke of the teachings of one called The Buddha. He spoke of a word called Dharma and of oneness and Nirvana. These things made no sense to me, even with my retained pagan background, but I absorbed them. He had done everything I had wanted to do as a child. He had traveled, experienced the world and cultures. He had been privy to books and knowledge that had been kept from me the moment I took my place here with these people. He was full and shining with information that I could never dream of touching.

  I sipped my wine and smiled at him, nodding as he expressed his joy in what he had learned, but I hated him a little for it. I thought perhaps I understood why, then, Yehuda had left. Yeshua had abandoned his brother, his family; he’d taken this journey that none of us could dare dream to take and now he returned, happy in a way that we could never have made him.

  He declined Yosef’s offer of work, explaining that he had a message to bring to our peo
ple. “We cling to this idea of freedom from the Romans,” he said, waving his glass around at all of us. “We believe that someone will come to save us, and I’ve come to realize that it isn’t the Romans we need freedom from. It’s fear and anger and hate. We must transcend all of that, and through the things I’ve learned, I can show us all how. The Romans do not hold us in place; it is our fears that keep us here.”

  It was clear from the faces of everyone in the room that they feared him, suddenly. What he spoke bordered on blasphemy, calling down into account the very laws given by God that we lived under, and telling us that it was not God who would liberate us, but ourselves. What he said made sense to me, but I could feel the terror rising in the room. If Yeshua was too vocal, too loud, someone would take notice.

  We were a peaceful people for the most part, but there was a growing unrest in Jerusalem. The prefect had been replaced by a tired, angry man by the name of Pontus Pilatus. Rumor had it he’d been displaced from his previous post for angering Caesar, and was now forced to hold office in Jerusalem. The Jews in the city knew this and used it to their advantage.

  The Roman Military numbers had increased to try and keep down the disruptions, but the Sadducee Counsel was using it to their advantage, doing what they could to control the government, and Pilatus wasn’t happy. Very little affected us outside of the city, but we’d seen an increase in Roman foot traffic and if Yeshua meant to stir up a revolution, he’d be taken down swiftly.

  “Things are dangerous in this part of the world, Yeshua,” I said, when no one dared to speak up against him. “If you mean to tread in the waters of blasphemy, you may want to take it somewhere more welcoming.”

  Yeshua’s eyes darkened. “This is not blasphemy, Makabi! This is truth. If you listen to what I have to say, the message I bring, you will see this does not go against God, or the Jewish way of life. I merely mean to explain that there is no warrior coming to liberate our people. There is no path of freedom in fighting the Romans. We must find that freedom in ourselves. Stop relying on predictions from the ancient texts and learn to bring peace to our own lives.”