The Awakening (The Judas Curse Book 1)

by Angella Graff

  “San Diego County?” Ben repeated. “Wonder why?”

  “Doesn't say, just that Baker allowed the transfer and he's at Edgington. This was that bleeding hands guy, right? The one in the paper?”

  Ben rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh. “That's the one.”

  “The paper said when the paramedics picked him up the wounds were healed,” Brian breathed. “Did you see that happen? I mean, man, that's crazy shit right there.”

  “I didn't see anything like that,” Ben lied. “It was more likely blood from the man he attacked. Either way, he didn't say much to me, but if this guy I ran into actually knows this John Doe, we might be able to get some answers.”

  “Well good luck with that,” Brian said.

  Ben laughed, “Thanks. Feel better man,” and with that, he hung up. Feeling a little confused, Ben sat back and stared at his computer screen. His email icon was blinking, so he went over and saw he had over two-hundred new emails.

  He rubbed his face hard with his hands and decided that he wasn't quite ready to take all of that on just yet. Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the little card with the name Mark Roman printed at the top, and what he assumed was his personal number on the bottom.

  Ben glanced at the clock on his computer and saw it was just past nine. Nine AM on a Monday meant more than likely Mark was teaching his first class, so even if Ben did call, he wouldn't get through to him. Then, Ben realized, this might be the best course of action anyway, and thought maybe leaving a voicemail would be a little easier.

  He picked up the phone and dialed, holding his breath, until Mark's simple voicemail message picked up. “I will return your call promptly, thank you.”

  Ben waited impatiently for the beep. “Mark hi, it's Ben. I'm at my office and I have some information on this person you're looking for. I'm happy to help, however the case is still open, so I need a guarantee that you can positively identify this guy before we go further. Call me when you get this and we can meet.” As an afterthought, Ben left his personal cell number just in case Mark didn't have it, and then he hung up.

  Without even thinking about it, Ben reached down, turned the volume on his phone all the way up, and then opened his email to begin what looked to be an extremely long, and tedious day.

  It was lunchtime when Ben got the call from Mark. He was sitting at his favorite sandwich shop near Pier 39, a steaming bread bowl of fresh clam chowder resting on a tray as he sat outside, enjoying the sun which had come out briefly before the fog was set to roll in later that day.

  Ben usually kept the ringer to his personal cell off and had forgotten he'd turned it on, so when it began to chime, he jumped, spilling a spoonful of the hot soup onto his thigh. It burned right through his trousers, and he stood up, nearly spilling the rest as he fought to wipe it off.

  “Hello,” he gasped, managing to grab the call on the last ring. “Shit,” he swore, not able to help himself against the heat of the creamy soup.

  “Are you alright?” It was Mark, and he sounded half-concerned and half-amused.

  “Just spilled hot soup on my lap, so I've been better,” Ben said, a little snappy. “Do you have some free time to talk?”

  “I do, I am on lunch right now, so I have an hour,” Mark said.

  “Is my sister with you?” Ben asked, not sure he really wanted to bring Abby in on this or not.

  “She's supervising the primary lunch hour,” Mark said. “Would you prefer to wait for her?”

  “No, I'd prefer to discuss with you in private before I decide whether or not to let Abby know what’s going on.”

  “Sounds fair. To answer your question on the message, I believe I can identify this man, if he is who I believe he is.”

  “And who is that?” Ben asked.

  Mark hesitated before answering. “I would prefer to see him first, if it's all the same to you.”

  “How are you going to see him if you're blind?” Ben blurted, a little meanly, but mainly out of confusion. He was already apprehensive about relying on Mark to positively ID the man at all.

  “It's complicated,” Mark said. “Though I would like you to take care in remembering that just because people cannot use their eyes to see doesn’t mean they can’t identify the world around them.”

  Ben was frustrated at his own insensitivity and naivety towards Mark's impairment. “I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have assumed you didn't have a way of knowing who he was because you're blind.”

  “Is he nearby, Ben?” Mark asked. “I thought I might be able to tell if he was, but...”

  “He's in a hospital in San Diego County,” Ben said.

  “How far is that? I've never been outside of San Francisco, I'm afraid.”

  “Several hours south,” Ben said. “About seven, if you drive really fast.”

  Mark was silent a moment. Ben could hear a strange scratching noise on the other end of the line and then Mark said, “I've checked my schedule, and I believe I can get someone to cover my classes if you're free to go down there on Friday afternoon.”

  Ben felt stupid having not considered that he would be the one to take Mark down to the hospital. It didn't make sense for anyone else to do it, but he was still massively apprehensive about getting involved in this. Mark wasn't exactly forthcoming about his information, and the idea of taking a road trip with him, as harmless as he seemed, made Ben nervous.

  “I'm not sure I can, but I'll see what I can do,” Ben said slowly.

  “I understand your hesitation,” Mark said, speaking Ben's thoughts aloud. “If it were me, I would hesitate as well.”

  Ben really wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. Something was compelling him to agree to this crazy little trip, and he let out a long, cleansing breath before he spoke again. “I'll clear the time with my captain later today and let you know as soon as I can.”

  “I can't make a promise on whether or not you will regret this. I have faith, though, that this will help you understand what happened to you.”

  “Okay,” was all Ben could think of to say. Mark was strange and off-putting and all Ben really wanted to do was hang up the phone. “My lunch is almost over, so I'll be in touch soon.” He didn't give Mark an opportunity to say anything else, and he switched his phone off.

  It wasn't that Mark seemed like a bad guy, because he didn't. There was just something odd about him, and even though he repeatedly claimed not to believe in all of what Ben considered to be hokey religious nonsense, he wasn't sure Mark was telling the truth.

  He cleared the hours with the captain as soon as he was back in his office, and hoped for the rest of the week he would be able to concentrate on his cases and not think about the crazy homeless person, the mysterious blind priest, and the fact that he may have been, against his will, healed by the bleeding hands of a religious miracle.

  Eleven

  Ben couldn't get a straight answer out of Abby, who was furiously brushing and braiding her hair in his bathroom mirror. It was impossibly early Friday morning, and she showed up just as Ben was turning on his coffee maker.

  “I realize you think you know him,” Ben was saying as he leaned in the bathroom doorway, his eyes narrow and disapproving, arms crossed over his chest, “but you really don't. You don't know if he's some crazed killer or total nut-job. You're not coming with us.”

  “I do know him, he's my friend, he's not crazy, and I am coming,” she said. The finality of her words made Ben realize there wasn't much he would be able to do to change her mind. He knew if he refused to let her in his car, she'd simply follow with her own.

  “Did he invite you?” Ben asked for the fifth time since she'd gotten there.

  “No,” she said with a huff, applying some light green eye shadow to her eyelids. “Just like I said the other dozen times you asked me, Mark didn’t invite me along.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. Abby was not the type of girl who typically wore make up. Most mornings she washed her face and put her hair back in a
simple tie. This morning she was wearing slim jeans, a tight sweater, and her hair was braided and twisted neatly at the nape of her neck. The eye shadow was what threw Ben over the edge and he put up his hands. “Do you realize you're painting your face for a man who can't actually see what it look like?”

  Abby froze, her hand in midair clutching the make-up brush. Under the face concealer, her cheeks went pink and she gave him an embarrassed smile. “It's stupid, I know, but I like him and it makes me feel a little more confident to look good.”

  “Even though it doesn't matter to him?” Ben pressed.

  “Yeah.”

  Ben hesitated, tempted to tell Abby Mark had declared himself not interested in her, but he didn't want to get involved. Instead, he sighed and backed out of the bathroom doorway. “Don't get your hopes up, okay. Guys like Mark, the mysterious, weird past, secretive dudes, they're never all they're cracked up to be.”

  “I'll be the judge of that,” Abby said.

  Rolling his eyes, Ben went back into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. With Abby tagging along, Ben knew the extra caffeine was going to be necessary, and he waited out the half hour before Mark arrived on his chair by the window. San Francisco was raining, as usual, and foggy, but the temperature was tolerable. He was looking forward to having a day off, even if it was for some insane road trip to see a comatose man in a mental hospital.

  When Mark arrived, he was wearing a heavy coat, damp from the rain, and his hair had formed little ringlets against his forehead and ears. He was smiling, though, when Ben answered the door, and walked in after Ben stepped aside.

  “Abby's here,” Ben said as he heard his sister banging around his bedroom, putting the finishing touches on her outfit. “She insists you didn't invite her, so I'm not sure how she found out.”

  “Likely she was spying on me when I was confirming my plans to leave,” Mark said, his face bright and cheerful. “She's been rather curious about this whole situation. I can't blame her for being a little sneaky.”

  “Oh I can,” Ben said. “There's a chair directly to your left. You can have a seat until we take off, she should be done soon.”

  “Thank you,” Mark said as his hand darted out to inspect the chair.

  “Would you like coffee before we go?”

  “Thank you, no,” Mark replied.

  Ben shrugged and went back to his own hot, bitter brew, and by the time Abby was ready, Ben was fired up and a little jittery. Abby, with Mark on her arm, headed downstairs as Ben locked up, and within minutes, the three were on the road.

  Mark, for his part, seemed a little nervous. “I'm not overly fond of cars,” he said, after Ben asked him if he was alright. “I've never been entirely comfortable in motor vehicles, especially on the freeway. In Siberia we mainly walked places, if we left the monastery at all.”

  “I prefer to take the trolley or train around town, myself, but after becoming detective I've had to drive so much that it doesn't bother me anymore. We're in for a long ride though, so I hope that's okay.”

  Mark waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and fell silent for some time. They entered the freeway, and after a while, Mark seemed to calm down and eventually started talking. “Ben, how much do you know about the Church?”

  Ben pursed his lips together and gave a dissatisfied hum. “I know enough. We grew up in the Church, but by college I had figured out my own version of theology.”

  “Meaning?” Mark pressed.

  “Meaning I had discovered it’s a load of crap.”

  “But having grown up with some version of religion, you have a basic understanding of the events in the bible, yes?”

  Ben gave a little shrug and glanced back at Abby in the back seat who was giving him her version of the 'please just be polite' stare. “Yeah, I guess. What are you getting at? Because you did repeatedly tell me this wasn't some sort of religious miracle nonsense.”

  “I realize this topic makes you uncomfortable, Ben, so I do apologize, but everything surrounding this situation is rooted in religious history. It's necessary to understand a little of the past to understand a lot of the present.”

  “Go ahead,” Abby said, leaning forward and putting her hand on Mark's shoulder. “Ben and I are both listening.” She gave a scowl to Ben who deliberately looked away, but said nothing in protest.

  “I don't feel the need to explain biblical basics to you both since you seem to have a fair understanding of them. Jesus performed healing miracles. Healed the blind, the lepers, and at a few instances, raised the dead.”

  “He also drove out demons, cursed a fig tree for not being in season, and had anger management issues in the temple,” Ben said.

  Mark let out a small laugh. “So you understand a little more than the basics.”

  “Sure, I guess,” Ben replied dryly. “All a bunch of crap I learned in catechism.”

  Mark fell silent for a time, and then said, “How much do you know about Judas Iscariot?”

  “Biblical bad guy,” Ben said, his eyebrow quirked up at the odd question.

  “He was the man who betrayed Jesus,” Abby chimed in, giving her brother a little smack for being rude. “He offered the location and identification of Jesus for forty pieces of silver. Once Jesus was taken, Judas killed himself. According to the Church, he was damned.”

  Mark got a funny sort of look on his face and his smile seemed quite sad. “Damned. Yes. It's a good word for it. The Bible paints Judas as the bad guy, and I've been struggling with that one most of my years walking this Earth to understand why.”

  “Wasn't there a recent Gnostic gospel that surfaced about Judas?” Abby asked. “Something along the lines of Judas being the only one who truly understood the message of Christ?”

  Mark smiled. “There was. While highly inaccurate, it’s still something to be considered.”

  Ben let out a sigh. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “I’m trying to give you knowledge that may come in handy in the near future,” Mark replied. “I realize you don’t agree with what I’m saying, but just trust me when I tell you this knowledge may be helpful to you some day.”

  “Right,” Ben said. “Whatever you say. Look, if we’re going to have Bible study, I’d rather have quiet until we get to the hospital.”

  “Ben, don’t be an ass!” Abby cried out in Mark’s defense.

  Mark held up a hand and spoke over Abby’s protest. “Silence is fine. I don’t want to cross any lines and I’ve said everything I need to.”

  Twelve

  Mark could feel his hands start to tremble as the car pulled to a stop in front of the hospital. He barely heard Ben explaining to Mark that Abby would take him inside while he parked the car. He grabbed the door handle and stepped onto the pavement. Abby was at his side almost instantly, and he felt a little more grounded as his hand settled on her arm.

  “This guy, this Stigmata guy, I know you're not telling us a lot, but he's... he's someone you care about, isn't he?” Abby asked quietly as the sound of the car sped off.

  His desire to keep everything secret was pressing, but it was about to come out, and he couldn't stop it. Yehuda had done this to himself, had done it by leaving Mark nearly a hundred years ago, knowing what would become of him once they were separated. History was repeating itself and Mark was feeling the first flutters of absolute terror in his gut.

  “You're shaking,” Abby added, closing her warm hand over his fingers. “You're all pale, and I've never seen you nervous before. Ever.”

  Mark forced a smile, feeling a bubble of hysterical laughter threaten to escape. Clearing his throat, he squinted, trying to see what he could of Abby through the thick white contacts marring his eyes. “Things are complicated, Abby, and I'm afraid after today nothing is going to be the same.”

  Abby was silent for a little while as they walked to the front of the hospital, coming to rest on a low, shaded concrete wall. “Something special happened to Ben, didn't it? I know he's... well he's Ben so he
's not going to listen to anything, but he was healed, wasn't he?”

  “He was,” Mark confirmed for the first time since the siblings had started pressing him for answers. “This man inside the building, he's not magic. He's not divine, but he has a gift, and because of that gift he's here. I've known him far too many years, and he always ends up somewhere like this, driven mad, alone, terrified.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Mark turned to face Abby, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently with the tips of his fingers. “I'm going to get him out. I’m going to find a way to get him out of here before something bad happens to the people around him.”

  Abby gave a little groan. “I'm so confused.”

  “I know, and I'm sorry.”

  Before Abby could respond, the heavy footsteps of Ben signaled his approach, and Mark was on his feet. He reached for Ben's arm instead of Abby's, choosing to keep his distance from the woman he knew was about to have her heart broken when she found out who he really was and why he could not let himself get any closer to her.

  Ben seemed a little hesitant about playing the guide, but Mark pressed on, his cane swishing back and forth across the tiled floors as they walked in to the hospital and to the desk. Ben detached himself from Mark's arm and said in a very stern voice, “I'm Detective Stanford from San Francisco PD. I'm here on a case involving a John Doe in room two-four-five. Please phone the floor and let them know we are on our way up.”

  The receptionist clicked repeatedly on her little keyboard and then picked up the phone. “I have a Detective Stanford here for John Doe in two-four-five.” Her voice was nasal, annoyed, likely irritated at Ben's authoritative tone with her and commanding request. “They're expecting you. Please have your identification ready.”

  Ben offered his arm again to Mark and they headed for the elevators. The dinging and swooshing always made Mark uneasy. Along with a dislike of cars, Mark wasn't overly fond of being inside small spaces, and elevators were rather unnerving.