Authors: Angella Graff
Mark watched as Greg took one last glance over at Yehuda, and then he was gone. He could hear the clanging of the stairs as Greg hurried away from the hotel, away from any more danger, and Mark found himself somewhat envious that he couldn’t do the same right then.
Turning back to Yehuda, he watched as his companion began to gain more color, more strength. Yehuda moved slightly, his hand reaching out slowly, pushing himself up on his elbow. He was weak, that much was obvious, but he was getting stronger.
Mark stopped himself from moving to help Yehuda as he reached out for the water, and took down a few more swallows, grimacing as the liquid went down his throat. “Do you want some food?”
Yehuda shook his head. “No. They fed me through that needle.”
Mark gave a little nod. “Right. Okay. Um…”
“Let me be, please,” Yehuda said and fell back against the pillow again. “I need sleep, true sleep. Then we can talk.”
Mark nodded and switched out the lights in the room. The sun was still up, but the heavy curtains blocked out most of the light, and before long, Yehuda’s breathing was even again as he rested. Mark was terrified, but for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel completely alone.
Chapter
Forty-Three
Mark woke hours later to the sound of his phone vibrating against the cheap wood nightstand beside the bed. With a groan, he reached over and answered without looking at the number on the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mark,” said a female voice Mark didn’t immediately recognize. There was a pause and then she said, “It’s Stella.”
Mark sat up, keeping his voice hushed so as not to wake his companion. “Hello. Are you looking for Ben?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think Ben wants to talk to anyone right now.”
Mark let out a sigh, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’d say you’re right. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since we left the scene. I expect you know what happened.”
“I provided some information on the cult for the officers on scene,” she said. “A small attempt to keep Ben out of trouble since I helped put him in this situation. I had no idea his sister would…” Stella trailed off and Mark heard her clear her throat softly. “It didn’t turn out as I’d hoped.”
“None of us thought it would end this way,” Mark said.
“Did you find your companion?” Stella asked.
“Yes. He’s conscious, though right now sleeping. I think they had him drugged, though that wasn’t really necessary since he wasn’t going to wake until I was nearby.” Mark hesitated and then asked, “Stella, are you one of them?”
There was a long silence on the other end. “What do you think?”
“I’m not as adept as Greg at seeing it, but I can see when people have been affected by these gods before. I never knew exactly what I was seeing until I met Greg, but I’d say you’ve at least been touched by them.”
Stella let out a soft laugh. “Touched. That’s a good word for it.” She let out a small sigh and then said, “I’m not aligned with them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Does Ben have any idea?”
“I think so,” Stella said. “He’s gotten a taste of my other half, who isn’t really keen on men. It was by accident, I was just a little weary that day and I slipped. He doesn’t want to believe, though, and really, that’s okay.”
Mark sat back against the headboard and looked over. He could see the silhouette of Yehuda’s chest rising and falling with his slumber. He closed his eyes and smiled a little. “True. It’s all about perception, and if not believing makes him feel safe and happy, let him not believe.”
“I’m concerned he’s going to blame me, should he ever find out I was behind any of this,” Stella said, and she sounded genuinely concerned.
“I don’t think anyone intends on spilling that secret, and Abby’s taken that to her grave, hasn’t she?” Mark said, his voice still a little raw with her memory.
Stella gave a sad sigh. “I suppose so. If you see Ben, tell him to call me when he’s ready to talk.”
“I will,” Mark said. He glanced over at Yehuda again and let the feeling of relief, comfort and safety wash over him, just for a moment. “And Stella… thank you. I couldn’t have gotten him out without your help.”
“Knowing what I know, I did what I felt was right,” Stella said. “Take care, Mark, and keep him safe.”
The line went dead, and Mark set his phone on the desk. Yehuda moved then, shifting to his side, and in the dim light from under the curtain, Mark saw Yehuda’s eyes open. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Mark said.
“You didn’t,” he replied, his voice still hoarse, but stronger than before. “I was dreaming about Jerusalem.”
Mark sat up and wrapped his arms around his crooked knees. “I haven’t thought about that in so many years.”
“I don’t make an effort to remember any of that,” Yehuda said. He sat up and Mark heard several bones give small pops as his companion stretched his arms up. “It just comes to me, against my will.”
“It wasn’t all bad, Yehuda,” Mark said.
“Why do you insist on calling me that,
Makabi
,” he spat a little bitterly. “I ceased to be Yehuda eons ago. It was a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore, a life perverted by legend and pain.”
Mark winced and reached for the light. The room was instantly flooded in a sickly, yellow glow, making his companion look sicker than he should have. “What do you go by now, then?”
“I wasn’t as fortunate to have a name Romanized into something so common. Judas is a curse now, or so I’ve heard.” He gave a rough laugh and shook his head, his long curls falling around his face. He looked young again, for a moment. Yes, he was trapped in the form of a man in his early thirties, but unlike Mark, he carried the weight of his centuries in his face, in his eyes. He had always looked ancient. “Jude,” he finally said. “I tell people it was after a famous song.”
Mark laughed. “Jude. And you like this?”
The man called Jude gave a shrug. He tugged at the hospital gown he was still wearing and glanced around the room. “So this is it? My grand rescue?”
“You didn’t make it easy for me this time,” Mark said.
“Your police officer friend took a lot out of me. He took the rest of it,” Jude said, standing up and walking to the little mini fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water, barely chilled from the poorly working appliance, and he drank half the bottle in one go. “For a moment I thought I was finally going to be allowed to die. I went back there, back to Galilee for a while. I thought maybe I was dead, in purgatory. But then they came.”
“Greg calls them the ancient ones. Greek gods from the old myths, he says,” Mark replied, moving to the edge of the bed. He studied his friend and fought back old, angry, bitter memories of their centuries together, trapped, cursed and full of hatred and confusion.
“They’re something powerful, and they’re not of this world,” Jude said. He tossed the now-empty water bottle into the small bin and dropped into the chair near the window. “Where did your doctor friend go?”
“He’s afraid of learning what you know. He doesn’t want to die,” Mark said honestly.
“He’s one of them,” Jude said with a shrug, pushing back the curtain and looking down at the street below. Beyond Jude’s head, Mark could see it had started to rain. The pavement was black and glowing with the yellow of the parking lot lamps. Jude turned back around and dropped his hands into his lap. “They want both of us. This isn’t over.”
“I know,” Mark said. “We have to run.”
Jude gave a little laugh and shook his head. “They’re everywhere, you realize. They’re like him, like Yahweh, a being from the beyond, gods. They’re not as strong, but they’ve got something with power just waiting to step into this world.”
Mark frowned and leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t really know,” Jude said and let out a peal of laughter. “I’m still a little crazy, you see, and honestly I was so drugged that the few times I reached consciousness I could barely understand what was going on. I do know they need us, or they think they do. They need our power, and they’re not going to stop until they get it.”
Mark let out a breath and rubbed his face with both hands. “So what? We fight them?”
“You’ve always been a bit of a fool, haven’t you?” Jude said a little meanly. “Fairy tales and legends dance around your head, like you’re a warrior. These are gods, Makabi. These aren’t humans with swords or guns. Do you think you could defeat Jehovah if he decided to rain down fiery wrath upon you?”
“Jehovah is long gone, if he was ever here,” Mark said bitterly. “What do you suggest we do, oh powerful Judas Iscariot?”
Jude let a small laugh escape and he said simply, “We run.”
Epilogue
Consciousness teased her, cruelly, reminding her that beyond her dreams lay pain and anguish. Her entire body felt burned, torn to pieces, aching and screaming. She begged for death during those times, for simple relief, but death wouldn’t come.
They wouldn’t allow it. She was caressed, whispers floating through her head. She was special, she would be healed. She was theirs, and she was important. She needed to let go, because they had big plans. Something was coming, something big, and it was up to her to bring it.
She cried, every now and again. Cried for her friend, her brother, sometimes even her drunk, useless mother who probably didn’t remember her name anymore. But no one was coming, no one, because they had her, and she was theirs now.
About the author
Angella
Graff resides in Tucson with her husband Joshua, three children, Christian, Isabella and Adia, and their two cats, Archive (Ivy) and Lasciel. She prefers to spend her days writing, gardening, and reading non-fiction theology theory books.
Book cover design by David Ehlen. Website can be found at http://www.davidehlen.com/
About the author
Angella
Graff resides in Tucson with her husband Joshua, three children, Christian, Isabella and Adia, and their two cats, Archive (Ivy) and Lasciel. She prefers to spend her days writing, gardening, and reading non-fiction theology theory books.
Book cover design by David Ehlen. Website can be found at http://www.davidehlen.com/