Judas: The Relic (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 2)

by Roy Bright

  As Raguel double jabs his spear into the last of the smaller stone soldier’s heads, Michael walks over to Charlotte and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She opens her eyes wide and breathes out hard. “Yeah. Just, I think.” She nods. “We need to find my dad.” She jerks into action and sets off toward the staircase.

  Michael grabs her left arm. “We will, we will. But let’s just take a moment to assess and understand our foe.”

  “Take a moment?” She says, shaking off his hand. “You saw what that bloody thing did to Zadkiel. He might not have a moment. We need to go now.”

  Michael holds up his hands. “Just… take a moment, Charlotte. Judas is the most capable fighter I know and Barachiel took him for a reason.”

  She stares into space for a moment and then looking up the stone staircase she blurts out “Azazel.”

  “Yes. Azazel. Whatever Barachiel is planning, it involves that sword and I think he needs Judas alive to bring his plan to fruition. So let us take a moment to discuss, understand, and for us to mourn a brother lost.”

  She looks back at him and sees great sadness in his eyes. She glances around at the rest of Hellwatch who all display the same looks upon their faces and so she returns her swords to their scabbards on her back. “I’m sorry. I guess we never imagine that angels can die.”

  Michael appreciates her sentiment. “If he had died in the way he was supposed to, he would’ve returned to the Alfather to be reborn anew. Sure, he would not have been Zadkiel anymore, but his essence would have lived on in another. But this… The way he was taken. He has not returned, that we can all feel, and I fear his energy, his… spirit is now forever trapped within Barachiel’s weapon.”

  She looks at the ground as cogs in her mind start to turn. She starts to run through the information absorbed within the last ten minutes, making sense of it, creating deductions – a skill she gleaned from Gary, watching him work things out, situations and scenarios as they had traversed from New York to Detroit. He had told her that it was his greatest gift and the single reason he had been such a good detective. His ability to see and understand things from the perspective of those he was tasked to catch. The machine within her mind stops, and she knows. She understands. “It’s a Sword of Power,” she says, her attention snapping back to Michael. “Barachiel’s weapon, it’s a Sword of Power. I mean, I know it’s a spear, but it is one of the Swords of Power – one of three. I know this.” She looks at Michael with confusion. “How do I know this? It was never discussed when my dad and Gabe told me about Azazel. So how do I know this? How do I know there are three Swords of Power?” She feels lightheaded and unsteady on her feet.

  Michael reaches out and supports her. “It’s okay, you’re fine. You’re just developing the knowledge at a rapid rate. Take a moment, it’ll be fine.”

  “What do you mean, developing?” she says, as she bends over with her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths.

  “You are absorbing information from us. Remember, you are destined to be the greatest of angelic beings and one of your abilities will be to know all that we know. It appears that it has begun and you are gleaning knowledge from us. That particular piece of knowledge regarding the three swords has come from me, as no one else here knows about them. It is information passed to the leader of Hellwatch from his predecessor.” He half-smiles. “I guess Generals must have their secrets.”

  Uriel steps forward. “So what does this mean, Michael? I think we are beyond the ‘need to know’ rule now.”

  Michael nods. “Indeed, brother.” He takes a step back so that he may address them all. “Within every realm three Swords of Power exist, brothers. Here, in our realm, they are named Azazel, Leviathan, and Beelzebub. Their purpose is to maintain The Balance and in most realms, they uphold their duties admirably. Only here, it would seem that ours were… defective.”

  Charlotte glances at Samael and tuts. “Typical.”

  He smiles.

  “Well, yes – quite,” Michael says. “One is supposed to sit in light as the overseer of fresh life, one in dark as the herald of death, and one straight down the center, impartial. But, for reasons that we simply cannot fathom, they just could not get along. They constantly sought to usurp one another and this inability to co-exist caused great and far-reaching implications when one of them found their way into the hands of a particular ambitious individual.”

  “Lucifer,” Charlotte says.

  He nods. “Yes, my dear, Lucifer. You see, prior to him, the swords had bickered and fought but The Balance had been maintained, marginally I might add, but the realm moved along as it should. But Lucifer’s involvement sent things into chaos. He entered The Nether, defeated and named the sword, then challenged the throne and of course lost, and anyone who had allied themselves with him was cast down, forever banished from the presence of the Divine. Up until then, we had all existed on the same plane but The Fall created a split, and so the kingdoms of Heaven and Hell came to be.”

  “What happened to the swords?” she says.

  “Well, I am sure you can guess which sword Lucifer has.”

  “Beelzebub!”

  “Correct. He and Beelzebub crawled off into the underworld. Azazel and Leviathan were imprisoned within The Nether and they were to remain there for the rest of time. And this is why there were the gravest of concerns for Judas when he requested that he take Azazel and use it to stop the impending war.”

  “He’s in danger while he has it?”

  “When controlled, the swords are expected to do their master’s bidding. But make no mistake, these weapons always have their own agendas and that is why I have been keeping a careful watch over Judas. For now, it seems that he has a great deal of control over Azazel, something that even I am surprised at, but that sword has a purpose, one that only it knows, and I am starting to think that us being here has been a part of its plan all along because—”

  “Because Barachiel has somehow managed to take control of Leviathan,” Charlotte says, finishing his sentence.

  Michael nods.

  She looks up to the staircase once more then back at him. “We have to find my dad.”

  Forty-Two

  “So what’s your story?” Nathan says, forced to raise his voice over the growling engine and glancing back at Gary as their vehicle rumbles along the derelict Detroit streets.

  “How do you mean?” he replies, forced to raise his voice over the growling engine.

  “How did you get into this predicament? Are you a family man? That sort of thing.”

  “I was,” he says, looking out of the window at the decaying ruins of the city.

  It has been a couple of years since the Day Zero event, but seeing the world in the terrible state it now is you would be forgiven for thinking it had been decades, such is the speed in which the demonic rot set in. Following Lucifer’s push to take over the planet and his subsequent deportation back to Hell, a sickness spread over the world that not only continued to affect people by turning them into mindless drones intent on devouring the unaffected but also the plant life, animals, even the buildings. Everything succumbed to the Hell plague and fell to pieces; crumbling the largest of superstructures to nothing more than rubble.

  Having taken the brunt of the devastation, the roads are proving to be a time consuming exercise for the motorcade as it plods along, winding its way through obstructions and at various points forcing many of the strongest among them to get out and clear blockades along the route. A journey that should have taken them around 90 minutes when the world was normal has so far taken them seven hours.

  “You know, at the rate we’re progressing it’s gonna be dark before we know it,” Gary says, his attention still on the world outside. “We should probably make plans to camp out for the night. Not sure we should be roaming around in the dark when we cannot see whatever God-forsaken horrors the night holds.” He winces, forgetting that a young child is sat next to him. “I mean, we’ll be fine b
ut I reckon people will need rest soon.” He smiles at Abigail and she smiles back uncertainly.

  Nathan glances out of the window. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, then turns back around and leans into his seat. “But you kinda skirted my question there.”

  Gary smiles and turns his attention to him and away from the window. “I had a son, but he died long before all of this. Thank God. Had a wife too, well, ex-wife when it all kicked off. I’d like to think she made it, that she and her new husband found somewhere safe to hole up, maybe with people like you but… ah, y’know.” He shakes his head and goes back to looking out of the window for a moment, then turns back to Nathan. “And you? You got family?”

  He stares at him for a moment, scratches his chin, and sighs. “No. No family. Had a couple of beautiful nieces that I adored but no – no children of my own.” He snorts through his nose. “I am a very difficult man to get along with in that way, Gary, and it was far too late for me to realize that you cannot treat your future wife the same way you treat your troops.”

  “What? She didn’t like all the inspections and parades?” Gary says, attempting to lighten the mood.

  This time Nathan offers up a proper laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.” He turns back around to face the road ahead.

  Gary studies him for a moment and comes to understand the sort of man he is, or at least was. His skill at deciphering the code that makes up each individual person had meant that he had always been able to get the measure of people – well, most of the time at least – and as he looks at Nathan he understands him. A bright and intelligent man, but also the sort to find trouble as easily as breathing, no doubt having joined the military at the very earliest opportunity in his life and certain to have come from a military family background himself, with an overbearing father that had always demanded excellence. His grit and determination must have seen him climb the ranks quickly but by the time he had come to know love, he was much too devoted to his career to understand that one was more important than the other and he had not been able to adjust. No doubt she had left him while he was oblivious to the fact that she was unhappy, his focus having been on the job. And now, in the years reserved for musing over past mistakes, it’s evident that he knows what he had and what he lost. He nods to himself, pleased with his quick summation and he almost responds out loud when Nathan confirms it.

  “I know what you’re thinking, former detective, and I’m guessing you are 100 percent correct. I was an army brat, an over-intelligent under achiever who found the greatest solace within the walls of the United States military and couldn’t react accordingly when the love of my life came along. I never saw her for what she was until it was too late.” He turns back around to face him. “That about sum it up?”

  “Jesus, Nathan,” Gary says, screwing up his face, his lips forced together. “Don’t try any of that Jedi shit on me, you creepy bastard.”

  Nathan laughs. “Solid copy, detective. A solid copy.”

  Abigail looks up at her older brother and frowns, the conversation between the two grown-ups lost on her. Isaac smiles and pats her hands resting on her lap. She turns back to the front, none the wiser.

  Nathan glances back again. “So how did you end up with Judas and Charlotte?”

  He returns to staring out of the window and snorts a laugh. “I was called to the scene of a murder, a nun who was caring for Charlotte in the convent orphanage that she had been in for a couple of years. Crazy really when I think back on it, but basically a couple of really badass demons murdered the sister and tried to kill her. Judas, of course, saved the day, but then one insane coincidence after the other led me straight to them. Gabriel says it was Divine intervention. Maybe. I don’t know, but find them I did. Almost got killed in the process when the demons discovered all of us at the same motel.” He turns back, facing Nathan once again. “Let me tell you, Nathan, the moment something like that happens to you everything changes. I could no longer dismiss the presence of God, no longer swear with utter confidence that such a being could not exist if He were able to take my child from me in such a cruel manner. But there I was. A converted non-believer, asked to protect His daughter. He really does work in mysterious ways, Nathan.”

  “That he does, my friend. That he does.”

  Gary smiles. Again, the world outside draws his gaze. “Were you Special Forces?”

  Nathan looks at him, surprised by his frank question. “And what would make you ask that, Gary?”

  “Oh, I dunno, the way you carry yourself, the way you are. I had a good friend who was a Navy Seal and you kinda remind me of him.”

  Nathan laughs and faces his front. “Well, it doesn’t matter now I guess, but yeah, I was.”

  “A Ranger?” Gary asks.

  Nathan turns back around, his mouth open, and his eyebrows raised. “You really must have been something in your day, Gary. I bet not many cases slipped your net.” He laughs and looks ahead again.

  “More of a curse than a blessing, buddy. Believe me.”

  “Well, perhaps, but yeah, you are quite correct, I was a Ranger. Four tours of Bosnia, three tours of Iraq, and five tours of Afghanistan under my belt. And like you, Gary, I had given up on God until the one he had cast down showed us all that this shit was real. Goddamn was it real.” He glances back at Gary. “And I don’t mind admitting that since that time, I have been worried for my soul. I had to do some bad things in my time. Some very bad things.”

  “Is that why you were so happy to run into us? Into Charlotte?”

  Nathan smiles and pauses for a moment, choosing his words. “It can’t hurt to try to balance your ledger a little, yeah?”

  Gary laughs. “Hey, we’ve all done bad things in our time so I guess not, but I am told from a very reliable source that everyone gets an interview first, y’know, before a decision is made. So try not to sweat it and just live righteous from now on, man.”

  “Right on, brother.” Nathan says, smiling and offering up a fist that Gary bumps with his own.

  A call from the lead vehicle brings their attention back to the task at hand.

  “Charlie Two, this is Charlie One, over,” the vehicles radio squelches.

  Nathan grabs hold of the mic. “Charlie One, go ahead over.”

  “Ahh, yeah, Sir. We have a large blockage on the road ahead and I don’t think we are gonna be able to clear this before it gets dark. I certainly don’t see us hitting the Detroit–Windsor Tunnel before real late in the day, sir. How do you wanna proceed? Over.”

  Before Nathan has a chance to respond, Gary leans forward between the drivers and passenger seats. “No tunnels!”

  Nathan looks at him, the radio still in his hand. “It’s the quickest way into Windsor, Gary.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going through another damn tunnel. No way. No tunnels.”

  He stares at him for a moment, pondering his response to the lead vehicle that is still awaiting an answer.

  “Sir, you copy? Over,” an agitated voice says, and the radio squelches once more.

  “Yeah, Charlie One. Wait one. Over.” He stares at Gary for a moment longer before bringing the handset back up to his mouth. “Change of plan, Charlie One. We are gonna have to head for Ambassador Bridge. Do we need to clear the blockage to do so? Over.”

  A squelch, but no answer.

  Nathan brings the handset up again and is about to speak when the lead vehicle replies.

  “Negative sir, we can circumvent. But we are gonna spend a lot longer in the city and there’s no telling how bad the bridge will be blocked. Over.”

  “The same can be said for the tunnel, son, and we were willing to take that risk. Broadcast to the other vehicles and change your route. Charlie Two out.”

  “Copy that, sir. Charlie One out.”

  Nathan replaces the handset into the radio’s holder and sighs, glancing at Gary once more.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, sitting back in his seat, “but I just can’t face another tunn
el.”

  “Which one hit you hard?” Nathan says.

  “Holland. From New York to Jersey.”

  “Bad shit?”

  “Bad shit.” Gary replies, returning his gaze to the outside world. Up until now, he had managed to keep at bay the image of the young boy that he found dead in the car when escaping the blast back at the Holland Tunnel, but now the memory floods back. He closes his eyes trying to shut it out, to bury it back down deep within the vault where his worst memories now lay.

  Nathan turns around once again, his arm resting on the top of the seat. “I understand, man. Had a bad experience over in—”

  A blinding white light ahead forces them all to shield their eyes and the lead vehicle takes a direct hit from some sort of energy weapon.

  “Fuck me!” Conrad shouts, wrestling the steering wheel around to the right to avoid running into the back of the destroyed Humvee.

  “What the fuck?” Gary says, as he whips his head around to observe the destruction. It isn’t on fire, which is what his first thought was, but rather it was melting from a corrosive, glowing material that has drenched it. “What the fuck is that?”

  Nathan grabs the handset once again. “All vehicles, all vehicles, we are under attack. Form up tight on us, and stay close. We are evacuating the area at high speed.” Something ahead of them causes him to pause while still holding the handset up to his mouth. “What the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Conrad says, pushing down onto the accelerator with more force, “but it is getting itself dead.”

  Standing in the middle of the road around 200 yards ahead is a huge spider-like creature with a bloated body and three worm-like protrusions atop its legs that are also covered in thick spikes, the ends of which glow. It sniffs at the air.