by Roy Bright
Judas:
The Relic
by Roy Bright
© Roy Bright 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Cover Art by Barry Renshaw with thanks to
Null Entity (Kyle Ross).
Copy Editing by Ben Way.
Line Editing by Mike Harris.
I’m So Sick
Words and Music by Sameer Bhattacharya, Jared Hartmann, Kirkpatrick Seals, James Culpepper and Lacey Mosley.
Copyright © 2006 by Universal Music - Z Songs, Vulture Rock, Coked Up Werewolf Music, Yossarian Music,
C.L. Culpepper Music, Kelton Chase Publishing and Bok Music.
All Rights for Vulture Rock, Coked Up Werewolf Music, Yossarian Music, C.L. Culpepper Music and Kelton Chase.
Publishing Administered by Universal Music - Z Songs.
International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved.
Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard LLC.
Roy Bright has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.
This book is a work of fantasy fiction. Historical names, characters, events, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Non-historical names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
For Reece, Tyler and Lily.
Who continue to be my reason for everything.
Special thanks to:
Judge Meister for the ‘longer-than-anticipated’ lend of your sword, Lindsay Rickwood, for being Charlotte’s body model for the cover & Victoria Charters, for your invaluable insight into the American High School system.
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Below
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.
Revelation 6:8
One
Charlotte Hope sings at the top of her voice from the backseat of the red Jeep, screeching along to the pounding music blaring out of the speakers as it races down the road to Marshall, Michigan. Three young and attractive girls accompany her, laughing and smiling as they whip their heads back and forth and side-to-side to the beat, carried along by the infectious, catchy song. Wind flicks hair from eyes to mouth, dancing across their flawless skin, tickling and tormenting and forcing them to paw at it to try to move it aside. But they care not, as they shout out the songs chorus together.
I’m so sick, infected with where I live, let me live without this, empty bliss, selfishness, I’m so sick, I’m so sick.
They raise their arms high into the slipstream, slamming the sign of the horns with their fingers, back and forth, their laughter intensifying as Charlotte takes the lead in the second verse and leans in close to the driver, Chanelle Patterson, whispering the lyrics into her ear. So you’ll shut up (shut up), and stay sleeping, with my screaming in your itching ear.
Chanelle giggles and screams, shrugging her shoulders as the chorus kicks in again and they head bang, enjoying every minute of the heavy rock music and the beautiful, warm June morning as they make their way to Marshall High School for what is to be their final week as seniors.
Amy Sabinowitz, Amber Polly and Chanelle Patterson have been best friends since third grade, having grown up together in the same Marshall neighborhood. When Charlotte joined the school from out of town, they were quick to draw her into their ranks as it was clear from the get-go she was as pretty and smart as they were, which, as all students know, is an important raison d’être in the American High School system. As the years passed, Charlotte had taken her place as the leader of the group, not just through her strong character and incredible athletic ability (which had quickly seen her instated as head of the gymnastics team), but also her notable compassion for all the school’s social sects. She had a knack for understanding people, their ways, their reasons for slotting into the social hierarchy that exists within the walls of every school throughout the world, and it was that compassion that made her loved and admired by pretty much all the students and staff of Marshall High. Her ability to sit and listen, without prejudice, had earned her ‘The Hope Effect’ award from those who had flocked to her side for advice and guidance. She truly had a way of making people feel better about themselves and their problems. The so-called Hope Effect had not been without its critics, however, and a handful of outspoken students had denounced her behavior as dangerous and driven by her own needs. These doubters tended to be of extreme Christian faith, citing her as a Machiavellian egomaniac, a notion that had sometimes produced violent reactions from Charlotte’s friends. This in turn had incensed Charlotte, causing her to try to calm and mediate these tense situations. Such an interjection on her part had once backfired, leading to some of the more extreme of those students and their families staging a protest at her home, practically denouncing her as a witch and cursing her family name. The protest had been short-lived, however, when her father, Jude Hope, had taken to the front porch. His muscular frame, piercing eyes, and powerful aura had driven off most of the protesters. A few of the braver members had tried to engage him in meaningless argument but he had just stood there, silent and motionless, his powerful tattooed arms crossed and a look of disgust upon his face. It had not been long before the idiotic group had become fearful for their safety and had retreated to their vehicles.
Today, however, there was to be
no thoughts of haters or in fact anything other than planning their graduation, final prom, and the much-anticipated vacation at Silver Lake on the banks of Lake Michigan. Today was all about the start of the best week of school they were ever going to have.
Chanelle reaches over and turns the music down. She tries to tuck her loose curled, Afro-Caribbean hair behind her right ear, but the strength of the wind locks her in a stalemate and she gives up, allowing it to flap against her radiant brown skin. “So, you guys had your final dress fittings for the prom next week yet or what?”
Amy leans forward from the back seat, opposite to Charlotte, “Hell yeah! You wanna see me in my shit girl, I got it all going on!”
The girls laugh in unison. Amy is without doubt the prettiest of the group. Her appearance always exemplary, her beautiful long blonde hair never out of place save for journeys such as this. The girls know that when Amy says she looks good ‘in my shit’, then she will look good, better than good in fact – dynamite.
She adopts an upper class, Deep South drawl, an accent she has perfected over the years. “I have this gorgeous little strapless chiffon Grecian number with matching diamante effect shoes and the most amazing teardrop diamond earrings that are simply to die for, they cost darling daddy a small fortune.” She giggles and the girls glance at her, eyebrows raised.
As with Chanelle and Amber, Amy’s family are wealthy – very wealthy – but even her father would not splash out on diamond earrings on a whim. He owned the largest lumber mill in the state, and had grafted every day of his adult life and, indeed, much of his childhood to make the business what it was today. He was not the sort of man to throw his cash around in an attempt to impress or even mollify his daughter. No – Carl Sabinowitz was a ‘salt of the Earth’ type, a true self-made millionaire living the American Dream. A man who had never forgotten where he came from, his humble beginnings as part of a Jewish lumber family where every day meant harsh, relentless toil for him, his parents, his brothers and sister as they struggled to keep up with the rigorous demands of the business. No, Mr Sabinowitz would have never just given Amy the money to buy expensive earrings, but he would want her to feel like a million dollars on the day. Her friends knew that, which is why they stared at her, waiting for her to come clean.
“Oh hell,” she snorts, rolling her eyes, “He hired the damn things… but he paid for the dress.” She smirks at them.
Amber smiles, her demeanor nonchalant. “Well, I have my eye on a very revealing short and sassy number that will greatly compliment my utterly gorgeous flame-red hair, but I guess I will have to decide for sure some day soon.”
The girls express their concern, but Charlotte’s voce rises above them all to scorn her. “Amber! The prom is next Friday. That gives you only eight days to sort shit out because you can’t count the weekend – Mrs Donaldson won’t accept alterations on a weekend. What if it doesn’t fit? What if it needs some serious work – did you even think of that?”
Amber slumps forward in the front passenger seat, her right arm dangling out of the Jeep, her fingers flexing and surfing through the air, “Relax Hopey-Popey baby, I have one of those bodies that everything is made for. It will fit, and I will be divine.”
“Amber!” Charlotte replies, leaning forward with her eyes wide.
She giggles, “I’m joking Charley. You think I would leave my prom dress till the last minute or, indeed, chance?”
Charlotte sits back in her seat and huffs, annoyed with herself for allowing Amber to sucker her into one of her little jokes again.
“Trust me Charley,” she continues, smiling, “I will be the belle of the ball and Josh will out and out Lose. His. Shit when he sees me. He will, without doubt, want to ravage me on the spot. Hard.” She laughs and they join in with her.
Amber fiddles with the volume and the music blares out once more.
Hear it, I’m screaming it, you’re heeding to it now. Hear it, I’m screaming it, you tremble at this sound.
Amy looks at Charlotte, “What about you Charley? You ready for the big night?”
She smiles, “Of course I am, I’ve had everything picked out weeks ago.”
“That’s not what I meant girl,” Amy smiles, a mischievous look on her face.
“I know what you meant,” Charlotte smiles and turns away, “and I don’t know…”
“Oh my God,” Chanelle says, “What’s not to know? You are 18 years old girl – you gotta be ready for it sometime.”
“Yeah I guess, but Danny and I are okay with taking it slow. Besides, I have my training and my final exam and everything else to go through with my dad, you know – my dad.” She mocks her father, imitating him in a deep male baritone. “And you know he is not a man whom one would want to piss off.”
Amber interjects, her tone sultry, “I wouldn’t mind having a final exam with your dad.” She runs her hands over her body in a sensual and provocative manner.
“Amber!” Charlotte cries again, “That’s my dad for fuck’s sake!”
“Yeah, and I wouldn’t mind fucking him too,” she replies, licking her lips salaciously.
Charlotte shrieks and slaps her shoulder, “Amber! That’s so not funny, that’s… sick!”
Amy joins in, poking fun, and winding her up. “Hell yeah, I wouldn’t mind a crack at your old man if we’re getting in line. We could totally tag team him Amber!” She drops into her Southern Belle accent once more. “Oh Mr Hope, I do declare it is, like, 100 degrees in here. Would you mind awfully if I took off my clothes?”
Charlotte snaps again, “Oh my God, you are all sick. Sick, sick, sick, sick… that’s my dad for chrissake!”
The others laugh together and, with perfect timing, join in with the final chorus of the song, adding their own version of the lyrics.
We’re so sick, we’re so sick…
Charlotte shakes her head, giggles, and looks out over the rolling fields as they speed by.
They spend the next ten minutes laughing and joking while skipping through songs, singing a verse or a chorus here and there before moving onto another tune, fighting among themselves over what they want to hear next.
Charlotte settles back in her seat once again, the road wide and straight in front of them. She closes her eyes and smiles, lifting her face to the warm summer sun, breathing in the delicious morning air as she listens to her best friends squabble over the right to be the in-car DJ. She loves the moment, this perfect moment, and she never wants it to end.
Soon enough Chanelle turns the Jeep into the parking lot of Marshall High and the girls go through their morning ritual of waving to friends as they head for their space. Chanelle has had the same spot for two years and all the students know you do not park in Chanelle’s bay.
Pulling in and parking up, Chanelle smiles as she turns to the girls, “Get outta ma goddamn car you fugly bitches.” She giggles as a barrage of curses fly back at her.
Charlotte jumps out of the back of the Jeep, “Screw you bitch! If you are gonna be like that I’m going to tell Billy you’re dumping him.” She grins and then sticks out her tongue.
“Don’t you dare you evil witch,” she replies giving Charlotte the finger, which causes Amber and Amy to chuckle.
Pairing up, they head into school with Charlotte and Chanelle side by side, and Amy and Amber bringing up the rear. In their short skirts and tight T-shirts they attract the attention of more than just the boys. Girl’s stare too, jealous of their perfect bodies, hair, skin – everything.
But it’s here where Charlotte shows her true and humble nature, how different she is to the typical teenage high school girl as she stops to chat with people from the various tribes. She shares a joke with Missy Turner, a girl who takes the goth look very seriously. She smiles and high-fives Josh Brenna, a straight A, nerdy Dungeons & Dragons-playing kid with curly hair, thick glasses, and train-track braces – not the type you would expect to associate with the likes of Charlotte Hope. At least at other schools. But this school was differe
nt, this school enjoyed ‘The Hope Effect.’
Making their way through the main entrance and toward their lockers, they weave in and out of the throng of Marshall High students as they scurry around one another, attempting to get what they need for the day’s classes before the bell goes. A few of the more juvenile and boisterous ninth graders chase one another down the hall, play fighting as they go. One bumps into Charlotte, causing her to drop her books. Chanelle starts to chastise them but Charlotte holds a hand up.
“Hey, it’s fine, no harm done,” she chuckles.
The ninth grader stops and drops to his knees in a bid to help retrieve the fallen books. “Charlotte I am so sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean to—”
She cuts him off. “It’s fine, not a problem.” She smiles at him. “It’s Gregg, Gregg Collins right?”
He looks at her and smiles in amazement, unable to believe that she knows his name. “Yeah, it is, and I, er, I’m sorry about the books.”
She smiles back and he scurries off toward his friends who are eager to question him about his brief exchange with the most popular girl in school. He receives a series of high-fives as he reaches them, his face beaming.
Amy grins as she and the rest of the girls continue their walk down the hall to their lockers. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Y’know, remember absolutely everyone’s name? Even the dorks you shouldn’t know in the first place.”
She looks at her with disapproval. “Amy, they’re not dorks. I know their names because I listen when they talk to me.” She grabs hold of Amy’s ear and gives it a gentle tweak.
“Hey, I listen! I listen to everybody,” she says, scowling, her hands raised.
Amber interjects. “Yeah, but the thirst to be the nosiest bitch in school is not the same as the thirst for knowledge as displayed by Charley here.”
