2 The Judas Kiss

by Angella Graff

  I listened to his words and while I could sympathize, I had no reference. I couldn’t possibly begin to imagine what that would have been like, to share a bond the way the twins did, and then to be abandoned without second thought.

  “I am sorry, Yehuda. I truly am,” I said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through—”

  “No, you can’t,” he said, staring at me with a look I’d never seen before. His face was drawn, serious, his eyes full of a pain that went deeper than I had ever seen it. “You, Makabi, could never understand how alone I am. You, at least, have your wife and family. I live with you, but outside of everyone’s circle. I was always different, and I always imagined Yeshua would be there with me, but even he left me alone to bear this weight.”

  I was confused, unsure what Yehuda was talking about, but I was afraid to ask him to speak further on it. Even today I don’t believe it would have made a difference, had he explained to me exactly what he meant, but sometimes I do wonder. Yehuda was in love with me. I was the reason he never took a wife, and while he felt this way, he never said anything. It wasn’t until Alexandria burned that I found out how he really and truly felt, and I don’t believe knowing back then would have made a difference.

  “So I will never understand, I accept that, but right now you aren’t helping, and Yeshua needs you. He may have abandoned you, but that’s no reason to abandon him. You’re angry, and no one is telling you not to be. But you still love him, and you know it, and right now we all need your help.”

  Licking his lips and sighing, Yehuda sat back, crossed his arms and glanced again out the window. “I know.”

  “So will you help? Please?”

  “He’s probably going to die, you know,” Yehuda said, but I could hear in his tone that he had acquiesced and was ready to start looking the moment the sun went down.

  We sat there in silence, watching the afternoon pass into dusk. The hazy orange sunset filtered across the sky, turning red, then fading into the deep purple of the impending night. After a while, the soldiers’ numbers began to lessen, and as the town was settling in for sleep, the footfalls on the sandy streets slowly disappeared.

  Andrew had not yet returned with Miriam, which had me worried, but I couldn’t focus on that. Yaakov and Cephas were ready to go, and I knew it was now or never. I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that we were searching for a man wanted for questioning by the Jewish High Priest. The Sadducees controlled the Sanhedrin most of the time, and worked close in hand with Pilatus. The last thing I needed was to be arrested for conspiring against the government. There would be no escaping fierce punishment for that, even if I fell back to my Roman heritage and citizenship.

  We crept out, feet bare, sliding across the sand until we reached the base of the mount. It was not a massive place, and wrapped around into the deep desert without trees or brush to hide in. It was a place that the local people believed demons resided, waiting to destroy and devour any man foolish enough to wander in too far.

  I, personally, didn’t believe in such things. The idea of demons, ancient angry gods, devils or the like was just too much. I’d worshiped pantheons of gods, and I’d worshiped just one, and never had I seen anything to validate those beliefs.

  The others seemed timid, including Yehuda, though he put on a brave face and kept pace with me. We split from the other two, telling them to check in the surrounding area while Yehuda and I ventured up a small trail leading up the side of the mountain.

  “Do you know where he is?” I whispered. I had a feeling that Yehuda would be able to sense him, and I knew I was right when he gave me a stiff nod and took the lead.

  The walk took an hour, but before long we reached a small plateau overlooking the north side of the land. The plateau was dark, flat, and the wind was high and angry, whipping our faces with grains of sand. My eyes stung and I shielded my face with my hand as we moved toward an unconscious body lying precariously close to the edge.

  I could tell it was him by the tattered robes, bright orange even in the dim light of the half-moon. Yehuda reached his side first, kneeling down and checking to see if there was still breath in his body.

  “It’s going to be difficult to carry him down,” he said, trying to make himself heard over the whipping wind. “Can you manage with me?”

  I nodded and moved to Yeshua’s feet, and together we lifted him, pushing ourselves against the strong winds as we walked the winding path back down. The half-way point, the wind died down and the journey became easier. I could see the small, shadowy figures of Yaakov and Cephas waiting for us, and when we approached them, they rushed to our sides.

  “Is he alive?” Cephas breathed, bending down low over Yeshua’s face.

  “Yes, but he’s going to need a lot of care,” I said, shifting my weight from one side to the other. “Is there anyone in your group skilled with healing?”

  “Only Yeshua,” Cephas said.

  “I doubt he can heal himself. The powers seem wrong to me, and I don’t want to venture in that direction,” Yehuda said. “Let’s get him somewhere safe and see if we can get him fluids.”

  We reached the house and laid him out on the floor, making a pillow of robes under his head. His skin was dry, cracked in many places, and from the state of his lips I could tell he hadn’t had liquid in many days. He was likely near death, and I wasn’t sure he was going to pull out of this slumber.

  We managed to get moisture into him, by squeezing water from a sponge into his mouth. We watched him all night, and as the sun finally began to rise, he started to stir, taking more liquid eagerly, but weakly, suckling from the sponge like a newborn child.

  Those of us left in the house took shifts with him, keeping him drinking as much as possible, and trying to keep him cool. Around noon his entire body began to heat, a fever raging through him, and even bathing him in water did little to take the fever down.

  “Do you think he’s going to die?” Yehuda asked wearily, late in the evening as Tau’ma was on shift. Tau’ma was wiping Yeshua’s brow down with a wet cloth, and we watched as the water all but disappeared the moment it touched his skin.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. That was the truth. I’d never seen a man that sick who didn’t eventually succumb to death. Even after my mother’s illness ravaged her body and she recovered, she was never the same, and eventually it took her. “We can pray.”

  “Prayer is for the weak or for the foolish,” Yehuda barked out. “We are neither, Makabi.”

  “Then we simply wait,” I replied.

  Days passed with Yeshua in this manner. Miriam attempted to enter the house, but she was with child and no one was sure if the illness was catching, so she was turned away. She wept at the door, but she understood eventually that it was for her safety. Yehuda and I had yet to meet her, as we were the ones who carried Yeshua down from the mount, and it was unclear if we, too, would succumb to this illness.

  After the days passed and we felt no signs of it, we were sure we were safe, but we still had no answers as to why Yeshua was near death. He mumbled in his sleep often, crying out, muttering words and names we didn’t understand.

  “He’s fighting off demons,” a few of his followers muttered, but we did little to fuel these rumors. During his waking hours we got him to eat, but he was able to take only bits of bread and the occasional bite of fish.

  A week passed, with no sign of him recovering. “We must prepare for his death,” Cephas finally said, gathering all of the followers together. “It has been a week and Yeshua shows no signs of recovery. We will need to transport him home as quickly as possible.”

  “I believe it’s time to let Miriam see him,” Yehuda said, and glared at the sudden muttering of the crowd. “She is his wife, and there is no sense in keeping her away. None of us have fallen ill, so there’s no reason to believe she’ll be at risk.”

  I noticed looks between the men, and I realized that there was more to their hesitation in letting her in. “
What is it?” I demanded, talking above their grumbling. “Why don’t you want her in?”

  Cephas looked around at the others before pulling me aside. We moved to the back of the room where it was quieter and he could speak more freely. “The men have taken issue with Miriam’s place with us,” he said.

  I frowned, looking up at the man I’d always cared for. He looked older now, his face darker from traveling, his eyes wrinkled, squinted and worn. His hand had a slight tremble to them as he clasped it around my arm. “What do you mean her place with you?”

  “Miriam was not just his wife, but also a student of his,” Cephas said. “She seemed to grasp concepts that Yeshua was teaching that none of us could understand, and he was starting to prepare her for taking over upon his death. None of us here could possibly imagine a woman in that role. That role is not meant for women, it never has been.”

  I looked over at Yeshua who was still pale, lying on the floor with his head to the side, his breathing rough. “Are you saying he saw his death coming?”

  “Not like this,” Cephas said, shaking his head sadly. “He spoke of his own death often, though. At the hands of the Romans, he said to us, at the height of their anger. He said he would be betrayed by a brother, though which one of us, we cannot know.”

  I let out a breath as I stared at him, confused, but I believed that Yeshua may know these things. He was different than all of us, and he’d never given me reason to doubt him. “Perhaps he’s not to die now, then.”

  “Look at him, Makabi! He’s not long for this world, any man can see that.”

  “And yet he still breathes,” I reminded him. “Cephas, you have lived in Rome, you have been amongst Romans and their way of life. You recognized me for what I was before Yosef told you, and so you must know that I do not find a woman teacher strange. Some of my best tutors were women, and some of the bravest, smartest people I have ever known have been as well. If Yeshua believed she is the one to finish his journey, let her.”

  “If we do that, the men will revolt. They will destroy this way of peace we’ve worked so hard to build.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “Let the wife see her husband, then, and I will work out the rest.”

  Cephas nodded and squeezed my arm. “You are a good man, Makabi.”

  I wanted to argue with him. I had never really felt like a good man, nor would I ever feel that way, but now was not the time to challenge that statement. I bowed my head as he walked to the door and sent for Miriam.

  Yehuda quickly moved to my side as tension filled the room and the men began to grumble louder about her presence. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “No,” I answered honestly, “but if Yeshua is going to pass, he should have his wife by his side.”

  We waited as patiently as we could, and before long, Cephas escorted a very pregnant, quiet young woman to her husband’s side. She was pretty, a strong face, her jaw clenched in determination as she ignored the stares of the men in the room and knelt by her husband’s side. She touched his face and kissed his brow, taking over bathing his forehead with the wet, cool cloth.

  When it became clear that she had no intention of taking over command, the men began to relax, and went about trying to pull together a plan to transport Yeshua home while he was incapacitated. I wasn’t so sure that was the best plan, but the man who was housing us started to seem rather eager to have us move along.

  While they did this, I went to Miriam’s side and knelt down. “I am sorry they kept you out for so long. It was for your safety.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she said. Her words carried an accent I couldn’t place, but it was not the time to question her background. “They hate me. They fear me for my relationship with Yeshua, and my knowledge of the things he preaches. My father studied in the Buddhist temples of the far East and I’ve always known this way of life. These men fear it, they’ve not been able to let go of the ideas that their god will punish them. They want a way of peace, but they’re blind to the path.”

  I nodded, keeping my voice low as I spoke to her. “Yehuda and I will offer you our protection, should you need it.”

  “I may, and thank you. But you must understand that my husband will not die now. This is not his path,” she said.

  I frowned. “Are you so sure? Cephas said the same thing, that Yeshua claims his death will be at the hands of the Romans.”

  “Yeshua’s final path is not yet open to him, but this is not the end. There is much more to come. More suffering and pain, but for now we have to get him out of this house.”

  “The men are already coming up with a transport home,” I said, waving my hand at the group of them talking.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Yeshua must not go far from here. We need to stay in Jericho. There are caves, near the west of the mount. We can take him there until he recovers.”

  “Are you so sure he will?” I challenged.

  She smiled at me and took my hand, placing it on his forehead. Where there had been a near boiling heat, now his skin was clammy and cool. He had begun to sweat; the fever had broken, and even as I stared down at him, he began to shift and groan.

  Knowing the men would never listen to Miriam, I stood and cleared my throat, gaining their attention. I explained to them Yeshua’s path, and told them of the caves. I said that if we moved him there he could recover and could again, resume his mission and teachings.

  They seemed hesitant, but in that moment Yehuda and Cephas both stood up, declaring that this would be the plan. Miriam gave me a look of relief and thanks as we quickly moved to get Yeshua out of the house, and before dawn the next day, we had made it to the caves.

  It was cooler there than on the top of the plateau, and the wind was less. It wasn’t by any means comfortable, but it would do, and before long we had a fire going and Miriam was preparing a broth to feed her husband who had finally, for the first time in a week, opened his eyes.

  I wasn’t really sure what any of this meant, but I did know that this was the start to something big. Had I known what was in store for me, for all of us, I think I might have run. I think I would have become a coward and fled in fear, for the idea of immortality was too much to bear. But as it was, I knew nothing about the future, so I stayed, with trepidation and fear, but I stayed to see what was to come next.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One thing was for certain, Alex did not enjoy being inside of this body. Olivia, lurking just behind the shadows of his own consciousness, was not enjoying the dreamland he’d sent her into. She was a lot like Ben, staunch Atheist, stubborn, and determined to crawl out of the hole she’d been shoved into.

  Alex wasn’t the type of entity that enjoyed displacing human beings, he wasn’t like the Greeks. He was above those incorporeal toddlers who had been nothing but a pain in his ass since their conception. Alex wanted to free Olivia, and he wanted to do it swiftly.

  He wasn’t enjoying thinking of himself as a she, either. He loved women, he thought women were fantastic, but he was not a woman. Being subject to the hormones and the intense sensitivity was not very pleasant for him. He was far more irritated with Ben refusing to come along than he rightfully should have been.

  In all reality, Ben was right. Ben needed to stay back, because this could be a trap. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure on that, but it was coincidence enough to assume that something else was going on. He didn’t totally trust Stella, mainly because Stella was lying to Ben about her nature, but that didn’t mean she was working against him. Against them, really. Stella, or more precisely the Greek God inside of her, was in love with Ben, and it didn’t seem likely she was working with the entities trying to destroy the known world.

  Unused to driving in such a short body, Alex had trouble adjusting to his movements, but he managed to navigate the freeway. The human brain was sadly low on the totem pole of memory and cognitive ability, but he managed to find his way back to the hotel in the unfamiliar city with enough speed to make the trip worth it
.

  The tires squealed as he pulled into the parking lot and he jumped out, cursing Olivia’s desire for shoes with a heel. He tripped a few times, making his way back to the room, and wondered if women could ever make a swift get-away in these crimes against fashion.

  The door was slightly ajar as Alex pushed his way into the room and saw Andrew washing his face in the sink, looking pale but far more upright than he had been. “Where did she go?”

  “Not sure,” Andrew said, his true nature flashing a moment through the human eyes. That was a clear sign Andrew had been shaken up. It wasn’t like him to be overtaken by any entity, especially one of the Greeks, who were notoriously clumsy with their power, and far weaker than Andrew had ever been.

  “Can you follow her energy?” Alex asked, glancing around the room in a desperate hope that there might be a better choice of shoe that could fit the smaller foot of the body he was in. All that sat on the floor were Ben’s discarded sheets he’d kicked off the bed, and Andrew’s filthy hoodie.

  “I think so,” Andrew said. “This little mortal thing was so addicted to that drug he probably would have died had I not been in here. I’m starting to feel somewhat coherent now, though, so I should be able to keep it together. Honestly, Alex, I don’t know how these things live like this. Who would choose this life, this fate?”

  “It’s a sad fate for a lot of them, but welcome to my world,” Alex said impatiently. “We need to go. Ben decided to stay back at the building and wait.”

  “What the hell for?” Andrew asked, his face going slightly red with irritation. “Why would you let him stay there alone? If they catch him, they’re going to draw and quarter him and bathe in his blood.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Alex said, “but I didn’t have a choice. This could very well be a distraction while they attempt to move Mark and Judas, and we can’t leave that place unwatched. He has his gun, and despite your distaste for all things human, Ben is pretty damn clever. He can handle his own.”