2 The Judas Kiss (17 page)

             
I ordered him to be given some wine and food, which was brought on a tray, and though reluctant, he accepted the offer and sat up.  He nibbled on bread, some sort of Greek recipe my mother insisted on having made constantly.  It was thick and chewy, and often she stuffed it with tart fruits and honey.  Yeshua was taking it plain, chewing a little awkwardly, as he stared at me.

             
“How long ago did my brother leave?” he asked after a few moments.

             
“He should be back soon,” I said, having lost track of how long Yehuda had been gone.  “We spent most of the afternoon looking for you, you know.”

             
“How does my brother know you?” he asked, his face drawn.  It was clear the idea that his brother had befriended a Roman boy without him knowing seemed impossible.

             
“We met today,” I said with a wave of my hand, “while he was looking for you.  Good thing we found you when we did.  Has that ever happened to you before?”  I was curious about this boy, almost as curious as I was about Yehuda.  I squinted at him, trying to see something more special in him than his twin, to see what, exactly, men from the East would want him for.

             
“Um, once or twice,” he muttered into his piece of bread.

             
I cocked my head to the side.  He didn’t seem any different than his brother.  He was braver; less terrified to be sitting in the house of a Roman, but I didn’t get the sense that he was more important than any other man on the street.

             
“Are you feeling better?”

             
He gave a short nod and took a last sip of the wine.  “Thank you.  My parents are going to be furious with me for accepting the food and drink, but it helped.”

             
I waved the tray away with a servant and shrugged.  “No need to tell them.”

             
“I don’t lie to my parents,” he said firmly.

             
I blinked with surprise.  I lied to my mother all the time.  Every time she asked me what I did that day, my answers were usually studies, music, tutors.  She had no idea how many times I’d been forced away from the library, or how often I spent her coins at the docks on food and trinkets from other lands.  I saw no sense in worrying her, and telling her what she wanted to hear seemed simpler than trying to make her understand that what I was doing was good for me.

             
“Oh my,” came the rough voice of a woman from the doorway.   I stood as the tall woman breezed past me, falling to her knees beside her son.  Her face was streaked with tears and dirt as she examined him, holding his face in her hands.

             
The man who had to be their father stepped in slowly after his wife.  He was impossibly tall, with a commanding presence, his eyes nearly black, framed by thick brows.  He looked stern, but his gaze was soft as his eyes roamed the room, eventually landing on me.

             
He gave me a low bow, which I returned politely, and smiled.  “He’s fine,” I said.

             
“Please except our most humble apologies for intruding on your home,” his father said, his voice so deep it rumbled through my chest.

             
I peered around the giant of a man to see Yehuda standing there, his gaze on the floor, trembling with fear.  I gave a little sigh and looked up at the man.  “My name is Markus, and it was no intrusion.  I insisted your son be brought here, I was afraid for his safety.”

             
“What happened?” his mother asked, her voice still tight.

             
“He blacked out,” I answered when it became clear that neither twin wanted to answer.  “He doesn’t know what happened.  He seems to be feeling better now.”

             
“Markus was gracious enough to offer me some bread and wine,” Yeshua said quietly.  “I’m feeling well now.”

             
When the mother looked at me, her face was drawn and pale.  “We have little to offer as our thanks.”

             
“I don’t want for anything, your words are enough,” I said.  It was something I’d overheard my grandfather say once, to a servant who had saved him from falling down a flight of stairs.  The servant nearly cried at the words and the phrase always stuck with me. 

             
“My name is Yosef,” the father said, “and should you ever need anything, we are in your debt.”

             
I shuffled my feet a moment, staring around him again at Yehuda, and then bravely, I met his eyes.  “There is one thing,” I said softly.

             
“Anything,” he said, his brow creased with curiosity.

             
Yehuda’s head snapped up now, and I glanced over to see Yeshua staring at me as well, both twins’ eyes wide.  I smiled a little, feeling small and sheepish, and I asked, “Can I visit with your sons again?  Can they teach me to work with my hands, too?”

Chapter Eight

              It was the simple thought, Abby is alive, that allowed Ben the freedom to accept one of Asclepius’ cigars from the wooden box; and he lit it up near the open window.  He could hear muffled sounds coming from beyond the hidden room, the timber similar to people talking into a tin can, and the voices were raised. 

             
It had been over an hour since Ben and Andrew had entered the doctor’s office, and Ben was starting to feel nervous.  Asclepius was still locked to the chair, though he’d managed to free his hands enough to propel himself around on the wheeled seat, refilling his drink and helping himself to a hidden candy drawer which he claimed even Greg didn’t know about.

             
Ben declined the sweets, but took up the offered cigar, though what he really wanted was an entire pack of cigarettes.  He rested his knee up on the low-placed wall heater and stared out at the grounds.  It was darker now, the California sun was dipping below the water, and all that remained was a quiet pinkish haze in the distance.

             
Ben was tired, he was hungry, and he didn’t know what he was going to do.  He was allowing himself to process Abby being alive slowly, refusing to give in to his sense of urgency to track her down.  Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone, and getting to her would probably kill him.  It was by miracle alone that they had escaped the first time, and Ben doubted they’d be so lucky a second.

             
“Did you know?” Ben asked Asclepius after several long minutes of total silence.

             
Asclepius gave a couple of wet pulls on the cigar, staring at Ben with a quirked eyebrow.  “I’m not telepathic,” he said when it became clear Ben wasn’t going to elaborate.  “I know a great many things, Benjamin, so you’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”

             
Ben slid down into the nearest chair and sighed.  “About Abby?”

             
Asclepius rolled his eyes.  “Again, a little more narrow would be great.”

             
Ben hesitated, staring at Asclepius’ face.  The god looked absolutely clueless, his face tight as though trying to figure out what Ben was talking about, and after a moment, Ben was satisfied that the god had no idea.  “My sister is alive.”

             
Asclepius’ eyebrows rose almost to his hairline and he sat back in the chair.  “Are you joking?”

             
“Why the hell would I joke about that?” Ben demanded.  He put his face in his hands, careful to keep the red cherry of the smoking cigar tip away from his hair.  “That thing in there, whatever he is, told me that Abby’s still alive.  I can only assume she’s still functioning as Nike’s puppet.  I figured you knew, since you didn’t seem very surprised to see us.”

             
“I knew about Mark and Judas,” Asclepius said, his voice high with wonder at the revelation that Abby lived.  “I figured you two were here about that.  I tried to warn you, but Greg wouldn’t let me through.  I left a note, but the ass didn’t bother to check it until well after the bomb had gone off.”

             
“Who tipped you off?” Ben asked.

             
Asclepius gave him a knowing look and took a long drink from his scotch.  “Look, things are complicated right now, and my position is pretty precarious.  All of us who are sort of neutral, if you will, are toeing a fine line.  You know that old Christian myth, about the war in heaven and the angels who fought with Lucifer were cast out?”

             
Ben gave a shrug.  “Vaguely.”

             
“I suppose this is probably something similar,” he replied with a sigh.  “Nike is one of the oldest out of our kind, and if she succeeds in her plan, we’re all screwed.”

             
“From what Andrew says, if Nike succeeds in her plans, our existence is screwed,” Ben said darkly.  “I can’t say I fully believe him, or really understand what he’s talking about, but after the shit I saw last year…” Ben trailed off and shook his head.  Asclepius quickly poured a second drink, which Ben took with a grateful smile.  He tipped half the contents back and let his shoulders relax a little.  “I don’t know, but at this point, I’m not taking any chances.  Part of me was ready to let the world go to hell, and I think he knew that.  I think that’s why he told me that my sister was alive.”

             
Asclepius glanced over at the cracked opening in the wall and then stared back at Ben.  “Does Stella know?”

             
Ben’s cheeks went slightly pink at the mention of her name and he let out a breath.  “That’s complicated.”

             
“So you found out,” Asclepius said and smiled a little.  He crushed out his cigar and pulled another from the box.  Drawing it to his nose, he took a long whiff, but didn’t move to light it.  “You shouldn’t be so angry with her.”

             
“You knew the entire time and I completely ignored you,” Ben said and then shook his head.  “Well Greg knew, I mean.  Same difference.”

             
“We are absolutely not the ‘same difference’,” he said, using air-quotes.  “But yes, we both knew.  We can always spot one of our own kind.”

             
“It was my fault for not listening,” Ben said softly.

             
“But you blame her?”

             
“She could have said something,” Ben said sharply, and he took a deep puff from the cigar.  “She had so much time to just say something.  Anything.”

             
Asclepius laughed, shaking his head, and he gave Ben a look of pity.  “Idiot.  You wouldn’t have believed her and you would have written her off like one of us and she wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help you.”

             
“She didn’t end up doing anything at all,” Ben said a little meanly.  “She gave me false confidence in my own personal, ignorant beliefs which led to my sister…”

             
“Surviving?” Asclepius offered, and he held up his hands in surrender at Ben’s withering glare.  “Look, if you had believed us, if we’d converted you just like we converted poor little Abby, you’d probably be walking around like some god’s personal sock puppet right now, and we’d be more fucked than we already are.  Stella did you a favor, okay.  And you said so yourself, Abby is alive.  No sense in losing all hope just yet.”

             
Ben opened his mouth to argue, his nerves still raw and frayed from the recent events, but before he could say a word, the entire building shook.  A violent roar sounded through the office, tossing Ben to the floor, the cigar rolling away, his glass on its side, contents pouring into the carpet.

             
Ben’s head spun, his ears ringing, and he lost his balance as he tried to stand.  Squinting through one open eye, he could see Asclepius standing against the back wall, his face a mask of terror.  Ben felt for his gun, but found it missing.

             
It only took a moment for him to regain his bearings and Ben stood, looking around in a near panic.  His ears were still ringing so loud he could hear nothing else, his heart pounding, and adrenaline coursing through him.  He was certain it was an attack, and he felt naked without his weapon.

             
A moment passed before Andrew walked out of the open portal room, and his face was drawn.  He was speaking, but Ben couldn’t hear a word he was saying.  Ben shook his head, pointing to his ears which the thought might have been bleeding.  They felt wet inside, but Ben’s fingers came out clean when he reached up to inspect them.

             
Andrew gave a visible sigh and approached Ben.  Touching the side of his head, Ben felt his vision give a lurch, and as suddenly as it started, the ringing cleared and everything in the room sounded too loud.  “What happened?” Ben asked, keeping his voice deliberately low.

             
“Just a…” Andrew hesitated, casting a short glare at the opening to the portal.  “A slight disagreement, if you will.”