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Dark Resurrection

Page 51

by Frederick Preston


  * * *

  Later, Jesus met Ganymede for his fencing lesson, on this evening showing him the fundamentals of fancy sword fighting. Icarus and Brutus joined as spectators, drinking strong wine with Joseph, watching from the porch. The slave learning the moves quickly, while relaxing on the porch Jesus told his father he wouldn’t be surprised if Ganymede became as skilled as he was within three months.

  “He’ll never be as good as you are,” said Joseph, having watched him play with the slave like a cat with a mouse.

  Near midnight, Jesus and Mary walked into the cool night and transformed, heading south in search of dinner. Finding their quarry near Daphinos, they sated their hunger with warm human blood, filled their pockets with cold silver denarii and flew back to Tibernum near three, alighting and transforming on the cliffs overlooking the farm. Jesus sat down, dangling legs over the cliff, leaned back, and stared at the clear night sky.

  “Have you enjoyed the evening, my woman?” asked Jesus.

  “Why do you ask?” she inquired with a satisfied yawn, laying her head on his chest.

  “I was just wondering, and have interesting news to tell you,” said Jesus, staring at the belt of Orion.

  “What news?”

  “Well, Cyril knows we’re vampires,” Jesus replied, figuring the direct approach would be the best.

  “What?”

  “The teacher Cyril knows that we are vampires.”

  “How?” asked Mary, sitting up.

  “He can’t be entranced, he’s known about us all along.”

  “We’ll have to kill him then, I’ll do it,” said Mary, rising.

  “There’s no need, why do you think killing will solve problems?” asked Jesus, holding her arm.

  “Because killing does solve problems.”

  “Sometimes yes, but Cyril’s no threat to us – you will not harm him,” Jesus intoned, his accent returning as he finished the sentence.

  The Magdalene sighed and nodded. Looking to him, she smirked in disgust. “So, why can’t I kill Cyril?” she asked, lying down and resting her head on an arm.

  “Because he’s an honest man, he has no intention of betraying us and will be the teacher of my brother.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The same way that I knew Decius would not betray us in Jerusalem.”

  “So, what else does he know?”

  “He knows that we’re not Romans, and that you are a Jew-Benjaminite and I am a Levite.”

  “Terrific,” said Mary, “Why did he tell you all this?”

  “I suppose he wanted to get it out in the open. It must have been bothering him, he also has a scroll of Herodotus, the treatise on legends.”

  “So?”

  “So Herodotus wrote of vampires over four hundred years ago, and what he has to say may be of use to us.”

  “True, do the other slaves know?”

  “No, and I’d like you to join me one evening when I converse with Cyril.”

  “Why?”

  “So you can see for yourself that he’s no threat and perhaps learn something from him.”

  “Okay,” said the Magdalene, still not convinced that Cyril was trustworthy, but having to defer to Jesus, her master. Transforming near dawn and flying down the cliff, they alighted and returned to human form on the porch. As it was late, they walked into the darkened house, retiring to their room for the day.

 

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