The energy in the room lurched and Ben’s body went stiff when he read the final sentence. He looked up, his head moving impossibly slow, and his eyes were half-lidded. They fixed on Mark, though they didn’t appear to see him, and the thing Mark was most afraid of, that subtle, almost reddish glow, appeared.
The pages on Ben’s lap shivered and shifted, a sort of haze around them like heat on the pavement seen from a distance. Mark reached for the gun he’d tucked away. Before he could draw the weapon, however, everything suddenly dropped. The power rushed out, Ben’s eyes flashed brightly and then faded to his natural color. He let out a breath and put his hands down on his lap.
“That wasn’t the end,” he said.
Mark frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You stopped writing before you got to the end. You didn’t tell what happened to Yeshua while you waited outside of the tomb.”
Mark stared for the longest time, unsure what to say. Ben had clearly absorbed the power, and although there had been a slight shift in him, he hadn’t changed. The words on the page, from what Mark could see, had remained the same. No other human had seen the words, unlike the only other time this had happened, the world remained safe from the shift. There would be no rioting, no murder or religious war. If Mark could destroy the papers before anyone else got their hands on them, they would avoid disaster.
“Ah, no that wasn’t the end. I’m afraid your daring rescue interrupted my flow of words,” Mark eventually said with a slight grin.
Ben moved slowly, shifting the pages neatly into a pile, and then he closed them back up into the briefcase, locking it with a loud click. He rested it against the wall, and glanced at Stella briefly before his eyes came to rest on Mark once more. “What happened? What happened when Yehuda went into the tomb?”
Mark chanced a small smile and he gave a shrug. “He lived. Yeshua lived. We were brought into the tomb once the guards had cleared. There was a man there, a tall, Roman man who had paid for the tomb, and he brought herbs with him to heal the wounds, but they turned out to be unnecessary.
“Yehuda healed him, though at the time we didn’t quite know what was happening. He was near death, barely breathing, his body in pain and the drug he’d been given on the sponge nearly killed him. But Yehuda touched him and after a moment, he rose.
“He was frightened, but he was free. He laughed and laughed as we stood there in awe, the wounds on his wrists and feet healing into small scars. He’d always be known for those scars, those gentle indents in the skin. When he was buried, the tomb carving had his footprints, and they carved the scars on there, forever a reminder of what he’d been through.
“He didn’t tell Yehuda that the power had passed on, I’m not quite sure if he really understood that it had, but it was the first time I’d seen him free of the burden, and he escaped that night with his wife and child. We tried our best to keep it a secret, but the word got out and the tomb was opened, finding only the shroud left, stained with his blood, and some called it a miracle.
“Others called it a conspiracy, but they stopped looking for him. There wasn’t word of him again in Jerusalem for almost forty years, and by that time Yehuda and I had gone, afraid that people would notice that we were different.
“Yehuda was the first to find out that even death couldn’t bring us release from the powers we’d been given by his brother hanging on the cross. Weeks passed, and as the powers slowly drove him mad, he wept all day, and never slept. He refused to eat and when others touched him, they drew the power out of him. The insanity set in almost immediately, and he turned all comforts away. It was a summer morning that I found him, hanging from a tree.
“I thought him dead so I cut him down, sobbing, calling over his mother and father to help me prepare the body. Several hours later he breathed again, gasping and clawing at his neck against the noose that was no longer there.
“A few months later he gutted himself in the middle of a field, again desperate to be rid of this life. He collapsed in a pool of his own blood, and again within hours, he woke, healed and unable to escape his torment.
“It was easier when we were together, and we had to abandon every last comfort of home, lest someone find out what we were capable of. He didn’t want the others to know he’d been gifted the power of healing, for every time he healed, it destroyed his mind a little more. He recovered better when he was with me, but the longer we traveled, the more we hated each other until we could bear the sight of each other no longer.
“It had been nearly fifty years, and I decided to travel to the East, to accomplish that dream I’d had when I was so young, when I had no idea what my future would hold. The journey was long, it was rough, but when I arrived I felt a sense of peace like I never had before.
“It was on a small hill that I saw Yeshua for the last time. He was an old man, peaceful, weary and ready for death. He recognized me instantly and laughed as I approached, holding his arms out for me, embracing me. His warmth flooded through me, a sense of home that I hadn’t experienced in so long. He’d lived a long life, a peaceful life, one that I could only dream to have, but that was not for me.
“He told me that his path had already been marked, and whatever had been after Yehuda had mistaken them, and it nearly killed him. He had achieved oneness, nirvana on earth, and when he died, he would be free of the mortal cycle. He would move on, his soul was ready, and he said one day we would join him, he just didn’t know when.
“He died shortly after, mourned by his children and grandchildren, and he left such a legacy behind. They knew him, Isa, the man who survived a crucifixion, the man who truly had transcended fear and death, to become a Buddha.
“I left India that night, after they put him in his tomb for his final rest, and I went further east to Alexandria, to the place where I had truly felt the most at ease with myself. It was there that I wrote for the first time, and it was there that an overzealous man, desperate for knowledge in the mystery of religion, sought me out, sought out my story, and took back with him writings that should have never been. His name was Paul, and he began the bloody Christian faith that men know today.”
Ben listened to Mark with rapt attention finally let out a long, sharp breath when Mark fell quiet. “And that’s how it began?”
“That’s how it began,” Mark said. “There is so much more to my history, thousands of years’ worth of it, but that was how it began, and that’s what I’m trying to find an answer to. I believe that once I know why, I’ll be allowed to pass on to whatever is out there waiting for me.”
“So, why you?” Ben asked after a moment’s pause. “I mean, why did the powers get put into you?”
Mark let out a long slow breath, glanced over at Stella, and then said, “It was the kiss.” He laughed lightly and shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “Yehuda is, and remains to this day, absolutely in love with me.”
Ben gave a slow nod. “And do you love him back?”
“I’ve never loved him the way he loves me,” Mark said, “but in my own way, yes. Yes I do. I think that I was the only one who could love him, could have stayed with him over these endless years. The kiss, I believe, was all it took to show that.”
Ben rubbed his face and stared down at the case. “So what do we do with it?”
“We burn the pages. You’ve escaped its power, Ben, but there are others who can’t.”
Ben understood and passed the case to Mark, following silently down the stairs as they made their way to the small fireplace in the corner of the living room. Alex and Andrew were still there, watching quietly from the sofa as Ben lit the fire and one by one, Mark fed the pages to the flames.
They crackled and burned, falling to ash, hissing with smoke as the words were destroyed. When the last page became embers, they joined the Norse gods and discussed what their next move should be.
“An exit portal,” Ben repeated after Alex finished repeating everything he’d told Mark. “Maybe Greg can help with that
.”
“Or I can,” Stella finally said quietly. “The ah… the god side of me can sense them. It didn’t occur to me that’s what we needed, but I can find them wherever they are.”
Ben’s face lit up and he reached out for Stella’s hand. “Okay. We have a start! We find the portal and lure Nike there.”
“That’s all well and good, but we need a way to remove her from the moral form and push her through,” Andrew chimed in. “She’s not going to go willingly, and if you try and shove Abby’s body through there, she’ll be destroyed.”
Ben’s face fell. “So how do we manipulate her incorporeal form?”
Alex and Andrew shared a dark look before answering. “Someone’s going to have to drag her through. The only problem is, once they go, there’s no coming back. I don’t believe there’s a single portal in this realm that can let another being come through,” Alex said, looking at Stella.
“There’s not,” she said. “I have a fairly good idea where they all are. There’s about four left with enough power to let something out, and none of them are in this country. Asclepius’s portal is the strongest on this continent, but it would need a massive boost to open it further, and I have no idea how to harness that kind of power.”
Alex sighed. “We’re going to need time to formulate a plan, and that’s going to be difficult to do with Nike on our tail.”
“We need to distract her is what we need to do,” Ben said. “We have a way of removing her from Abby. That drug Greg carries with him, the anti-depressant. She was strong, but it booted her with a large enough dosage. If we can get close enough to give her the shot, we can save my sister. We just need to find someone willing to cross over.”
“The gods that have stayed behind are here for a reason,” Alex said in a quiet tone. “I don’t know of any who would be willing to give it up so easy.”
“So? We can start looking for one, and we keep searching until we find someone ready to cross over. Right now we have Jude and Mark in our custody. Nike can come after us, but we’ve proven twice that we can beat her. We’ve destroyed all of Mark’s words, so she’d have to start over from scratch, and I don’t know if she’s got the strength or patience for that. There’s no way she can defend herself against us.”
“There are ways,” Alex warned. “She could kill you Ben, if we’re being perfectly frank. She’s not killing you for a reason, and none of us know what that reason is right now. She had plenty of chances to really erase you, and she passed on them. Until we know enough, you need to take a lot more care. You’re not invincible against her, she just wants you alive.”
That deflated Ben instantly. He sat back, his eyes going soft and his hands going limp in his lap. Stella reached over in an attempt to comfort him, but he brushed her off. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Right now we’re holed up in this house without information, without a plan, without any sort of weapon, and you are all telling me that the only reason I’m alive is because she wants me alive. Tell me the truth, Thor,” he said, sneering the name a little, startling Mark because he had no idea that Alex was the famous Norse god, “do we have a chance?”
“If we can buy some time, and if we can get the right contacts, we may have a very good chance,” Alex insisted. “The only problem is where to look, and right now we don’t know who could be working with Nike, and who could be working against her.”
“Bakers,” Andrew said. “I realize it might be difficult as he’s already given us a lot of information, but if we can find a way to bribe him, he may be more willing to talk.”
Mark frowned and looked between the two gods. “Who is Bakers?”
“One of their contacts,” Ben said irritably.
“He’s considered the All-Seeing Eye of our realm,” Alex clarified. “He doesn’t care for humans, and he’s trapped between worlds, but he sees what others cannot. With enough of a bribe, we may be able to get the information we need.”
“What sort of bribe?” Jude asked quietly.
Alex pulled a face and shook his head. “You honestly shouldn’t ask, it’s not very kind, and likely to make you turn down the offer. For now just let me handle it, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“And in the meantime?” Ben asked. “We sit around and twiddle our thumbs?”
“We find a secure location,” Stella said. “I’ve resigned my position with the department, and Ben, I suggest you do the same. We head north, gather our resources and try and find a way to stay one step ahead of Nike until Alex can give us something we can go on. It’s not going to be pretty, and we have to be willing to do anything, and I mean anything to stay ahead of the game.”
It was in agreement, and before long, the group decided to turn in. Mark finally took the opportunity to shower once Alex produced a case full of clothing, most of which would be far too large on Mark, but would do in a pinch.
He stayed under the hot flow of water until his skin wrinkled, letting the steam curl up around him, enveloping him in a fog much like he’d described when Yeshua had let his powers flow into him. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the still-cool tiles of the shower wall, and watched the final scenes of Yeshua’s farewell play out in his memory.
Old and wrinkled, he’d smiled at Mark, the years having barely touched his soft brown eyes. He clasped Mark’s hand with his own, the thick, stretched skin of the scar on his wrist shining in the sun.
Mark could feel a peace around Yeshua that he’d never experienced before, and never would again, and he wanted some of it, just a taste, to carry him through his journey. But that peace was not meant for him.
When he dressed, he padded across the hall to his room where he was startled to find Yehuda waiting for him. The other man had showered as well, the clothes from Alex fitting him a bit better than they fit Mark, and he looked far better than he had earlier that evening.
“How was it, reliving all of those moments?” Yehuda asked as Mark fell back on the soft, comfortable bed.
Mark’s eyes fell closed as he felt Yehuda shift slightly. “It was hard. Painful. Moments I didn’t want to relive, and moments I didn’t want to leave. I can still see everything so clearly, like it happened only yesterday. Two thousand years passed on earth, but only moments for me in my memory.”
A warm hand closed over his and squeezed, and Mark took the small comfort, still not opening his eyes. “I miss them so much it hurts,” Yehuda said. “I miss that dry, aching wind, the rough sand. I miss working with my hands, sanding tables with our father as the sun baked our skin. The smell of the sea, and the gentle waves on that rough shore. When I die, Makabi, that’s where I want to go.”
Mark sat up and looked at his companion for a long time, feeling the desire and the anguish in those words. He gave a slow nod and then lowered himself back down to the pillows. “So do I, Yehuda, and perhaps we will.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Still irritated, Ben hadn’t really meant to go to bed with Stella, but when the time came to turn in, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her. She shut the door tightly, turning the lock gently as Ben stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers. In all honesty, he could use a shower, or a good long soak in a tub, but the bed was far more inviting after the last twenty-four hours.
She didn’t seem to mind if he smelled a little rough as she dressed down to a light t-shirt and climbed beneath the covers next to him. Her skin was cool against his; he felt feverish and ached from head to toe.
She shifted, her body pressed against his side, and she twisted her fingers into his as they lay there in the dark, their breathing matched, her breath hot against the side of his face. Her free hand ran up and down his arm, a light, soothing gesture, and he found himself leaning into it, wanting her suddenly, like he never had before.
He wasn’t sure if it was to escape the events that had happened, or if maybe it was just the desire to feel something after everything that happened, but she was there, and she wanted him too, and he
couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.
It wasn’t how he imagined their first time together would be, but Ben was used to that. First times of anything were never what people imagined them, and though he felt almost frantic, tugging at her clothes, his burning arms wrapping around her as he shoved her legs apart and slipped inside of her, it felt right. He felt close to her, and it was that almost feral need to connect with another human being that drove him hard and fast.
She reached her climax fast, clenching around him, and it was her soft cry that sent him over his own edge. His vision went white, the orgasm rocking through his body and he cried out into the pillow as he spilled inside of her. He was sweating, his breathing hitched as he tried to regain his composure, and though he worried when he realized that in the height of passion they hadn’t used protection, her soothing hands were running up and down his back, calming him.
“We didn’t…” he breathed as he fell to the side.
“It’s fine,” she whispered to him, her hands running into his hair. “I’m protected.”
Part of Ben wanted to know if it was the god, and part of him didn’t want to spoil the moment. He wanted to feel her close, feel her hand in his, feel her soft legs twinned with his as their breathing softened and sleep tugged at them.
He reached over, pressing a kiss to the side of her face and she gave a satisfied hum, shifting more into him as they settled in for the night. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder.
Ben smiled in the dark, giving her hand a squeeze. He didn’t regret it, he realized as he felt her drift off into sleep. He was afraid that maybe he would, after everything he’d learned about her, but he didn’t. He was happy, he could love this woman, and that thought pulled him out of any fear he had.
~*~
He was up with the sun, and when Ben rolled over, he realized the bed was empty. As he sat up, he could smell coffee wafting up from the kitchen and despite how tired he still was, the smell was enticing enough to propel him downstairs after haphazardly throwing on his shirt and jeans.
2 The Judas Kiss Page 29
