2 The Judas Kiss (6 page)

             
Mark gave a short nod.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, and locked the door behind her.  With a heavy sigh, Mark went to the cabinet and poured himself a brandy.  Jude was still in the room, and Mark hoped that he’d spend the rest of the night locked away.  He desperately needed some space from the apathetic immortal, and this was the most he was going to get, in reality.  He plopped down on the sofa and tried not to remember what life had been like just a year before.

             
Sure, he’d been living a lie, locked in a school, in a job he hated, but things were quiet.  He’d wondered about Jude, but he wasn’t this terrified, and part of him always thought that he’d run into his companion, set him right, and they’d be off again.  Just like they had done in the centuries before, no matter what had come their way.

             
Mark took a long drink and sighed.  “I guess I’ll call Greg tomorrow,” he said aloud to no one.  “What can it hurt?”

             
As he grinned to himself, he heard the noise.  He felt the crackling of electricity, but he didn’t have time to react as a boom sounded, heat rushed through the room, and the entire apartment went up in flames.

Chapter Three

              Ben woke sometime the next morning with the panicked feeling like he was missing something.  Rolling over, he saw it was nearly eight in the morning and for a moment thought he was late to work.  It took him a while through his post-alcohol daze to remember that his boss, Albert Ole, had insisted he take a four day weekend to recuperate from the stress of the funeral.

             
Rubbing his eyes, Ben attempted to ignore the pounding in his head as he stumbled out of his bed and into the bathroom.  He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, and let the water run over him until his skin was bright red and raw.

             
As he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his unshaven face, eyes surrounded by dark circles, he wondered if he was actually going to get better.  He wasn’t so sure that this was something he could bounce back from.  Learning that, after four months of mourning and anguish, his sister had survived the blast, and disappeared without any trace of evidence, was likely to drive him insane.

             
Ben splashed cold water on his face and then dressed in sweats, heading into the kitchen to find something greasy to fry and to start a pot of strong coffee.  He popped a couple of pain killers and fried a couple of eggs, trying not to gag at the smell filling up the apartment.

             
It was starting to warm up, as the months raced toward summer, and Ben decided to take his breakfast out onto his small balcony.  It felt odd, being home on a Thursday, but without the pressure to race to the office and bury himself in cases, he felt a little bit of relief.  He pushed the thoughts of his sister away as best he could, and forced all of his breakfast down.  A desperate, feeble attempt to chase away the heavy hangover that, in all honesty, he completely deserved.

             
The eggs seemed willing to stay put and for a moment he had a strong urge to pick up a cigarette, but the moment he’d stepped foot in his apartment after Abby died, he’d vowed not to touch another.  Smoking was something she’d always hated, and quitting was something she’d always been on him about.  Four months now, and he hadn’t slipped.  He set the plate down near the railing and watched as a brave bird came to peck at the leftover toast crumbs.

             
Ben kicked his feet up on the empty second chair and closed his eyes.  The pain in his head was starting to recede slightly and the sun on his face felt good.  It was going to be a particularly foggy day, but he was in the mood for it.  He sat there quietly, thinking of everything and anything besides his sister, the funeral, and the fallen priest, until the buzzer from the door downstairs startled him.

             
Ben hurried inside, confused as to who would bother to visit him unannounced and pushed the intercom.  “Yes?” he asked, a sinking feeling in his gut when he realized it might be Mark.

             
“Ben, it’s Stella,” came the quiet, husky voice of the woman who should be his girlfriend. 

             
“Uh come on up,” he said.  He was almost violently surprised that she, of all people, would be at his door, especially without calling first.  He pressed the button to release the door and paced a little as she climbed the stairs.  When he heard her footfalls on the landing, Ben opened the door and stood aside as she walked in.  He hadn’t seen her much, and frankly had assumed he wouldn’t see her again.  But here she was, standing in front of him, staring back at him with her heavy, brown eyes.

             
She was dressed casually, in jeans and a light sweater.  She wasn’t armed, which meant she was off duty, but her face bore the expression of someone holding on to bad news.  She gave him a tense smile as he shut the door and they walked into his living room.

             
“Sorry to just drop in,” she said, giving a short shrug.

             
“Not a problem,” he said and gestured for her to sit.  He kept a few paces away from her out of respect.  They’d shared a kiss, and some heavy innuendo, but nothing had gone further than that.  But being physical wasn’t the first thing on Ben’s mind.  Frankly he just wanted to know why she’d popped by out of the blue.  That was unlike her, and something Ben didn’t exactly appreciate.

             
“I went by the station, but your captain told me you had the weekend off,” she started, sounding awkward.

             
“Funeral was yesterday,” he said gruffly.  “He figured I could use some space from works stress.”

             
“He’s probably right, though I know that’s the last thing I would want,” she said.  She smiled and looked really pretty right then.

             
Ben gave her a half-smile and sat back against the sofa cushions.  “Part of me wants to bury myself in work so I don’t have to think about Abby.  The other part of me wants to just let myself feel all of this crap and get it over with.”

             
Stella stared at him for a long time, her wide brown eyes watery and sad.  “Yeah, I get what you mean,” she finally answered him.  “I was in town yesterday, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to go to the service.”

             
Ben frowned.  He had no idea she even knew about the service; inviting her just hadn’t crossed his mind.  “You could have come,” he eventually said.

             
“I know, but I thought it was best that I didn’t,” she replied.  She was hiding something, but Ben wasn’t sure what.  “I heard about the priest though.”

             
“Heard what about the priest?” Ben asked suspiciously.  Mark and Greg hadn’t ever let go of the idea that Stella was one of the Greek gods, and after a while, Ben wondered just how much she knew. 

             
“He died,” Stella said limply.  “I checked in with the hospital this morning and they said that he passed sometime in the middle of the night.”

             
That hit Ben harder than he thought it would, especially having not known the man, and he bowed his head, all thoughts of the priest’s possession gone.  “Oh.  I thought he was going to make it,” he said.

             
Stella gave a sort of nervous laugh and then threw her hands up.  “This is ridiculous,” she said, her voice going hard.  “Ben, are you okay?”

             
Ben blinked in surprise.   “No, I’m not okay,” he said.  “My sister was kidnapped and murdered, and due to the circumstances I had to bury an empty coffin.  On top of that, the priest…” Ben trailed off and shook his head.

             
Stella stared at him, her face devoid of expression.  After a minute, she reached out and touched his knee.  “I know,” she said.

             
“No, it’s not that,” Ben said, waving her off.  “I mean yeah, I’m a little freaked out that the man keeled over at my sister’s funeral but-”

             
Stella cleared her throat and squeezed his knee to cut him off.  “No, I mean I
know
,” she repeated, her eyes meeting his.

             
Ben’s face went immediately hot and tingly.  Pulling away from her slightly, he broke their gaze.  “What do you mean you
know
.”

             
Stella laughed and shook her head.  “Look, I didn’t say anything before because you’re obviously dealing with a lot, but it’s been four months, and there’s something going on that’s going to require us to be on the same page here.”

             
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at her from behind his hand.  “What do you mean?”

             
Stella gave a frustrated sigh and spread her hands out.  “Look I
know
, okay.  I know about Mark and his little friend.  I knew about Greg the moment I saw him, and I know what actually happened at that compound.  I showed up at the funeral yesterday, but when I saw that priest…” Stella trailed off and shrugged.  “I’m trying not to get too involved here, but I think you should help Mark.”

             
Ben blinked rapidly, nodding a few times, his face a mask of confusion.  He cleared his throat, but it still took him a few attempts to form words.  “So when Mark said you were one of them, those… those things…”

             
“Look, we’re toeing a line that’s obviously about to send you over the edge, and I don’t want to do that,” Stella said plainly, “but it’s obvious I can’t help you unless I tell you what I know.  I can’t pretend that I’m not aware of this anymore.”

             
“Why didn’t you just say so before?” Ben asked, his voice tense and hurt.  She had lied to him, and he felt betrayed.  He was trying to keep his anger rational and in check as he stared at her face.

             
“Because I think at that point you probably would have cracked,” Stella said.  “You needed someone rational, someone to help give you that balance your world and theirs, because you were suddenly bombarded by a bunch of information that went against your very nature.  What would you have done if I had told you the truth?”

             
“What is the truth?” Ben asked, his voice taking on a slightly high-pitched quality.  “Are you one of them?”

             
Stella pursed her lips for a moment, studying him with her big, dark eyes.  “Do you even know what they are?” she finally asked.  “You don’t believe they’re gods.”

             
“Of course I don’t believe they’re effing gods,” he snapped before he could stop himself.  He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath before looking up at her face.  “I’m sorry.”

             
“It’s fine,” she said patiently.

             
Ben took one large, shaking breath and shook his head.  “I don’t believe they’re gods.  Frankly, I don’t know what they are.  Part of me thinks that I cracked somewhere, that the tumor took over my brain and now I’m living this delusion in my mind while my body is strapped down to a bed somewhere in a hospital.”

             
Stella let out a small chuckle.  “Interesting theory.”

             
“Maybe I’m dead, and this is my version of hell,” Ben said with a tired shrug.  “Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t really want to know.  If this is reality and those things are out there, I don’t want anything to do with them.”

             
Stella rose from the couch and went into the kitchen to help herself to coffee.  She returned a few minutes later with two mugs, Ben’s prepared exactly the way he preferred it.  “If those things get their hands on Mark and Judas, we’re all in a lot of trouble.  We’ll all be in some very serious, very real danger if they accomplish what they’ve set out to.”

             
“And you know what that is?” Ben demanded.

             
Stella shook her head as she took a drink.  “No.  I do know they’re planning on using Mark’s gift to start a new religion, or to modify an old one and giving the world’s faith a good shake.  I know that they have a secondary plan to go along with it, and it isn’t going to be good for anyone.”

             
Ben sighed and rubbed his face, ignoring the coffee that was steadily cooling in the mug.  “I’m not really sure what to say.”

             
“I know,” Stella said.  She moved even closer to Ben, who grew tense at the close contact.  “I like you, Ben.  I think we established that well enough a few months ago.”

             
“Yeah,” Ben said uneasily.

             
“I don’t want to lose what we had, and that was the driving force behind me not saying anything to you for all this time.”

             
Ben swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet her eyes.  He flinched, afraid he was going to see that glowing light, but the only thing he saw was a rich, mahogany brown.  “I don’t like the feeling of being lied to.”