Pushing on the door, he moved out into the foyer, spidery sensations biting his nerve endings, telling him someone was in trouble. He turned into a corridor and went down some steps that led to the basement. He rounded a corner when a burst of lightning illuminated the narrow passage, spotlighting a woman who, at that moment, was racing toward the basement door and out into the night. Although the hallway was dark, he hadn’t missed the look in her eyes and the fear that was etched on her face. He rushed after her, calling out to her while holding the side door of the church wide.
He lost her in the darkness.
Beyond him the ocean crashed and ebbed in an echoing, lonely song. A cold breeze blew against him, matching the chill that climbed slowly up his spine. Feeling a deep concern for the woman, he turned and hurried back into the church and up the steps.
He must pray, and pray hard, for the woman, whoever she was.
God would know.
* * * *
Sugar raced toward the mansion, trying to put as much distance as she could between the voices and her own conscience. Fear spiraled inside her while she ran, stumbling, rising and stumbling again, the single mile stretching into two, five, or was it ten? Just when she felt she couldn’t go another step, at last she saw it, the mansion, dark and sprawling with columns that reached high into the stormy night sky. She managed to drag herself past magnolias and weeping willows until she at last reached the steps of the portico. There she fell, lying exhausted at her front door. It was then that she finally realized that she would never be able to live with what she had become, with the voices and the bloody pictures in her mind.
Like her dead mother-in-law, she would go insane.
With a plan in mind, she managed to get up and make her way to the dark and misty graveyard that lay in the back of the mansion some distance away. She could smell the moisture from the gathering storm that bowed and shook in the wind as she knelt between the graves of her two sons, Cristo and Marcus. Clutched in her hand was the antique dagger that had killed Cristo. It had to be that one, the one that killed him would be the one to kill her. She lifted it slowly, laid the sharp edge of the blade across her wrist, and allowed the glittering edge to sink in deep.
Pain, sharp and raw, made her whimper.
At that moment the skies rumbled and roared while she watched the blood gush deep and red. In spite of the agony she felt, she brought the trembling knife to her lips and sipped at her own essence and then reached out and allowed the blood to drip over each of her son’s graves. Her heart thrashed wildly in her chest, but still she continued.
“My blood pours over these graves,” she coughed and gasped for breath, “soaking into the soil like life-giving rain. Soon the end will come, my loves. My blood will reach your bones, and your spirits will rise, and we will walk together once again.” With that, she fell across the graves, and waited.
But death would not come.
Sugar lay motionless. Seconds, minutes, hours passed, but still the breath of life heaved in her lungs. She shivered with the piercing cold, felt the hard ground press against her body, heard the wind’s eerie voice as it moaned through the trees.
“Let me die!” she finally shouted up at the horned moon, but no answer came, just a winking of the slice of silver that peeked at her from behind ragged clouds. Finally, when the sky opened up and battered her with wind and rain, she dragged herself up from the graves and trudged toward the mansion. Climbing the steps of the portico, a swirl of blackness overcame her and she collapsed.
Chapter 3
On a bloody battlefield between Hell and Neraka…
“Judas! Judas! Judas!”
In response to these shouts, a daring man of courage, covered with blood and filled with the arrogance of victory, stood on a small rise overlooking a sea of warriors. He had been given the honor of being called the Prince of War. He had hurled his sword valiantly, plunging it into the hearts of kings and princes, and now that same weapon was held high over his head and dripping with blood as his cry of triumph rang out through the smoky skies.
His beautiful blond hair, which was his pride, was full, curled, and equal to a lion’s mane as it hung gloriously down his back. To his men he wasn’t merely a man, but a god, a god that had led them to victory in a war with the Black Knights of Neraka. With boisterous praise, the militia climbed the rise and surrounded their leader, hoisting him high on their shoulders while hailing him as the greatest leader since Satan himself.
* * * *
Judas and his men returned to the Black Heavens, riding into the city on hellish creatures with horns and protruding, scissor-sharp teeth. These animals were Satan’s own creations, tamed and broken for their use. Upon entering, they expected the usual greeting of praises from the gods. Instead they found the city in chaos. Frightened minions scrambled around on quaking streets. Judas knew whatever it was that held the city in its murderous grip was unlike any enemy he had ever faced. In his hurried attempts to find out what had happened, the ravagers of war and chaos could only shriek out their incoherent answers in dread.
The city sat paralyzed.
The torture wheels creaked to a stop.
Whips that disciplined underlings fell limp and powerless.
Cracks appeared in every cave-like structure, on every rock-hewn path, in every corner of the city.
Judas carefully led his ugly, misshapen creature through the crowds to get to his own lair, where he turned it over to a minion who corralled the creature for him. He found the Royal House still intact and rushed inside to find out what had happened.
“Ander!” Judas shouted the moment he stepped into his royal apartment.
The warrior turned, a look of worry on his face. “Yes, sire,” he said, bringing a fist in greeting up to his chest.
“Why is the city in chaos? What has happened?”
“Something on Earth, sire. A catastrophe so bad it has shaken our very foundation. I am on my way to the Demon Lord for orders. I suggest you go and rest from your battle. I will do all that is necessary to bring this confusion to an end.”
“Yes, I am tired. Thank you. Please keep me informed.”
The warrior lowered his head and backed away.
* * * *
The moment he saw Ander rushing in, the red-skinned, double-horned creature lunged forward from his flaming throne, his black eyes flashing with anger. “It’s about time you got here, you lazy imbecile. Tell me who has done this thing. What army? I demand to know the name of this band of mercenaries who are stupid enough to declare war upon us.”
“It is no army, sire. It seems a woman of Earth—”
“A woman?” the Demon Lord questioned, “A mere woman? How can this be?”
“She has performed a very powerful ritual, sire. If you will allow me, I will show it to you on the Wall of Moving Images.”
The two of them walked swiftly to an area where a giant screen stood. Stepping up to the controls, Ander flipped a switch, and a cluster of planets appeared. With a few twists and turns of the knobs, he zeroed in on Earth and zoomed in until they saw Sugar lying on the portico steps of the mansion, awaiting death.
“This woman has seen much misery,” the warrior said in hushed tones. “Everyone she has ever loved has died, leaving her lost and alone. The man she loved as well as her two sons were the product of Lupercus. It seems while in his altered state, the last son broke loose from his chains, threatened the woman, and she had to kill him to save her own life. In her grief, she has dared to challenge the source of all her troubles to come forth, but Lupercus, instead of using the wisdom of a god, lashed out in anger and struck her with the terrible curse. When she could stand the guilt and the shedding of blood no longer, she sought to destroy herself, but so far death has eluded her. Having no hope left, she has lost the will to live. If she is to continue in her present state of mind, she will surely die.”
“Lupercus!” the Demon Lord growled. “I should have known. Is it her time?”
�
�No, sire. Not for years yet, and a premature death would mean—”
“Silence, you idiot! I know what it would mean!” He paced a moment, his long fingers anxiously combing through his wild, dark hair. “No doubt she will try again. We must stop her before she succeeds.”
“But how? There is no one, sire.”
“There is one. Judas.”
“Your son?” the warrior said with shocked disbelief. “But sire, he has never ventured to the surface. He is Satan’s prized warrior. His world is here, his battles are here. Besides, you know how the mortal world is. We have lost countless of his kind to its many enticements. We can’t take the chance with someone of his worth. If we were to lose him, Satan would—”
“Don’t you think I know that?” the Demon Lord spat. “But we face an even worse catastrophe if she dies. What you see happening on our streets will be nothing. An untimely death will throw the entire Earth into chaos. Oceans will overflow their shores, mountains will come tumbling down, winter will turn to summer…” His words faded as a fearful expression etched his face. “The worst part is, the deity of the Dark Heavens will be blamed.”
“But, sire, it is Lupercus—”
“It doesn’t matter. He is one of us. It was our responsibility to control his madness as we always do, and we failed. The curse on the Gypsy brothers was supposed to end on December thirty-first, Earth time, but Lupercus, in his demented state, dared to stretch it to the next generation, then to the woman. We must stop him before he turns the whole mortal world into beasts. Our mistake was trusting that stupid, bloodthirsty deity. In any case, the Lords of Darkness will be held accountable. Surely you know what that means. It means that the God of Light and Love will deal with us unkindly to say the least. Need I remind you that He could destroy us with a simple flick of His wrist? If that happened, our world would be crushed.”
“But to send your son, sire—”
“My son,” the Demon Lord whispered thoughtfully. “How I rue the day the war in heaven ever started. Satan, who was then the Angel of the Morning, refused to bow down to humans, among other things, and with his usual forked tongue, he convinced us he was right. We were all so fucking stupid. We looked on in awe as he gathered up a third of the angels and called it an army.”
He turned and looked at the warrior. “Some army. We weren’t warriors; we were nothing but prissy know-it-alls. Anyway, with Satan as our leader, we went on a rampage that ended with all of us being cast out of heaven.”
His brow furrowed with memories. “We had nowhere else to go and walked the earth with the mortals we were supposed to be serving. Our leader tried to create his own paradise, but by that time his wickedness had become so much a part of him it reflected on everything he made. It seems he could create nothing but monsters and beastly creatures.”
He looked up at the warrior. “Finally, God had his fill. I’ll never forget it. He came swooping down and swept the earth clean of the mess Satan had made, and ultimately we all wound up here. Buried in the center of Earth’s core, a hell He created in the blink of an eye.
“Because of Satan’s contamination, Earth is a melting pot of both good and evil. We all expected God to destroy it, but instead he created a garden and called it Eden. It was so beautiful it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. The new world grew from the two lovers he magically created, giving them, and every human being that came after them, a free will to choose who they would follow, be it Satan or be it God.”
“I know the story well. It’s part of the training of underlings.”
With a thoughtful look on his face, the Demon Lord went on. “Did I ever tell you about the women of Earth? They were beautiful, and many of us mated with them. I found Judas’s mother down by a river. She was a bold, brassy little beauty, the daughter of a formidable old night merchant who sold his stolen wares by the light of the moon. After he died, she continued to sell by the roadside, using a band of outlaws to steal for her. Her name was Kira, and she was blonde like Judas.”
A small smile played at his lips. “She was dirty-faced, but so very stunning. I knew she was mortal and off-limits, but I didn’t care. I wanted revenge against the Most High God, so I took her that day. She struggled, fought, making my triumph that much sweeter. It didn’t matter that it was against her will, that she was frightened and begged me not to touch her. She was His, symbolic of who I was supposed to bow down to. Hah! Once it was over, I threw my victory in His face.” The smirking smile that played along his lips slowly fell. “Later, of course, He got His revenge. He couldn’t have played a worse trick on me. I certainly didn’t count on having a son by a mortal.”
“It was never told to us how you learned about Judas.”
“When his mother died, murdered by one of her own men, Judas was literally thrown in my face with a command that I take care of my seed. Having no choice, I took him in. After that, hundreds were thrust into our midst until the Black Heavens fairly bulged with the snotty little half-breeds. Since then, of course, we’ve lost many to the world above us. They grow up and move on. But not Judas. At least not yet.”
“Judas turned out to be a wonderful warrior. A fitting revenge.”
“Oh, yes,” the Demon Lord said while cutting his deceitful eyes toward the warrior, “but it didn’t end there. The best revenge came later when I named him.”
“Judas? Why was that name so special?”
“It was the name of a beloved disciple who betrayed Christ, God’s own Son. Can you see it? My son is a constant reminder of His Son’s downfall. Hah!” A wicked gleam glittered in his eyes. “Yes, Judas’s mere presence taunts Him. Every battle Judas wins, every triumph on the battlefield, every shout of praise he receives matches each and every stripe, every cut, every torment His Son had to endure that dark day on the cross. Yes, every breath Judas takes is a thorn in His side.”
“But sire, I’ve heard that this disciple was simply playing into God’s hands, that it was planned, that it had to happen that way to redeem—”
“It’s a lie! A bloody redemption from a God who loathes violence? It can’t be true. I refuse to believe it.”
“But sire, they say it took the power of divine bloo—”
“No!” the Demon Lord yelled. “I don’t care what they say. It’s not possible!”
“But how could you have possibly known about all this since it hadn’t happened yet?”
“Very simple. God made no secret of it. We all knew there would be a traitor, we just didn’t know who. Later, after the fall, the scene played out right here on this Wall of Moving Images. When I saw Him hanging from that cross, I plucked his name from that dark-skinned, dark-eyed traitor who put Him there, Judas Iscariot. It was a delicious idea, a strike of the final blow.” His smirk fell. “But it seems He has trumped me again.”
“And how is that, sire?”
“Being a half-breed, only half Judas’ soul is black, and he has a free will. That makes him a candidate for this so-called bloody redemption that I don’t believe in. Not for a minute.” He was silent for a moment and then turned to the warrior. “But what if it’s true? Can you see Judas turning…decent?”
“But he seems happy here, sire, among sin and corruption.”
“Happy?” The Demon Lord shrugged. “Well, maybe so, but I’ve seen him dole out compassion many times on his underlings, and it gives me chills. Believe me, I know what kind of chance I’m taking in sending him to a place where compassion is a way of life. Right now, he knows only the worst kind of sin, sees it every day, even participates in it. I only hope it has taken root deep enough and has such a hold on him that he will be anxious to return home.”
A glimmer of pride danced in his eyes as he glanced at the warrior. “Are you aware that his beauty is becoming legendary among all in the Black Heavens? No maiden has ever refused his invitation. He spends his days and nights on beds of lust with countless goddesses, has orgies by the hundreds, has planted his seed in everything from queens to underlings. He must ha
ve at least a dozen sons running around.” He stroked his chin as if in thought. “Yes, I’m sure he thinks he’s happy, but for how long? Once he sees what’s there on earth, the bright lights, man’s wickedness, the multitude of fleshly delights…” He looked at the warrior in amazement. “Ander, sometimes I think Earth is hell, and we are a mere imitation.”
“Sire, if you’re worried, what about Tyrannus—?”
“Tyrannus wouldn’t last a day.”
“Then put it in Lucifer’s lap.”
“No!” he cried out. “Our leader is not to know of this. I thank all that is evil he is not here to see what has happened. When he returns we must keep it quiet. If he learns of it, we will all be shoveling coals by nightfall. As much as I hate to send Judas, there is no other.” After only seconds, a look of determination etched his face. “Yes,” he said emphatically, “I have made my decision. It must be Judas.”
A silence hung heavy in the high-ceilinged chamber.
Hearing nothing from his warrior, the Demon Lord whirled around. “Why do you not move? What is wrong?”
“Sire, I simply…well…Why not let me send word to pull someone off a mission of less importance and send them? This task is for one of lower rank. Besides, as you said, Judas is…well, he likes women, and they like him. You can certainly see that this one is very beautiful. What if he decides to lay with her? If he leaves a seed on Earth, he might be tempted to stay and nurture it. If Hell were to lose a warrior of his stature—”
A dark cloud of anger covered the Demon Lord’s face, and his eyes shifted to the warrior. “As long as Judas thinks he is immortal, I doubt the problem will arise. I warn you now. Keep your mouth shut, because if he finds out he is mortal, I will blame you. If you want to protect your position, make sure he understands that he must not lay with her.” He glared at the warrior, his voice low and raspy. “He will not make the same mistake I did.”
“It seems a little soon to—” His words faded when he saw the Demon Lord quickly lean forward and grab his whip. With one swift movement, he cracked it over the warrior’s head, causing him to fall to his knees.
Sugar and Spice Page 3
