The Judas Line

Wiping my eyes? My arms … they moved! I could feel. Sure, I felt so cold that I’d bleed ice cubes, but I felt! Shakily I stood, swaying for a moment with pins and needles pricking my feet. I looked up to thank the angel (an angel-one of the good guys!) and was stopped cold by the look of compassion in his eyes.

“You have the choice, Olivier Deschamps.” The angel smiled and it was the most glorious thing I had ever seen. “Thou mayest choose between good and evil.” That said, it vanished, as if it had never been, no sign, just a lingering tinkle, like fairy bells. Not even footprints in the snow.

For a long time I wondered at the archaic verbiage, but it was not until I met Mike that I realized those words were the equivalent of a smack to the back of the head.

Sighing, I headed deeper into the forest. I had some planning to do.

Thou mayest.

?

Wow. I could hardly believe what I had just read. Morgan/Jude met an angel! The concept stunned me, almost left me breathless. Silently I praised the Lord for showing Morgan the truth and letting him decide for himself.

Carefully I tucked the pages of the manuscript into the back pocket of my uniform and drank the cup of tepid tea that had been left for me. Once again I pondered the lonely roads we find ourselves on.

Back in the church, I had looked down a barrel of a gun and felt God’s power fill and sustain me. I knew that Morgan had to escape, that a sacrifice for his safety had to be made and that it would be me. No problem … trust in the Lord, right?

Not just a saying anymore, not for me.

Bullets missed, guns jammed and my friend made tracks. Once he left, the power slowly drained away, leaving me with a curious sense of calm and a cool detachment. Nothing could bother me.

Unfortunately, the lady (who turned out to be the infamous Annabeth) decked me a good one on the jaw and I dropped like a rock to the floor of the nave. Oddly enough, it didn’t hurt all. I smiled at her redly, blood dripping from a split lip.

“Take the Liar’s trash to the chopper,” she sneered. I had to hand it to Morgan; she definitely was a knockout.

Strong hands zip-tied my hands behind my back and hauled me to my feet. “So this is a priest?” said a deep voice from beneath a beige helmet. “Looks like a dumbass hick instead of one of the Liar’s butt-boys.”

A few choice words came to mind, but I made do with my serene smile and soon found myself airborne. After a few seconds a needle pinched into my flesh and the world went away for a while.

I came to in a little ten-by-ten room, empty save for a cot and a bedpan. My captors had done a poor job of searching me because the manila envelope was still tucked into my jacket pocket. A little light reading during my time in happyville.

No worries though; the Lord was on my side. But I sure could have used a gun right about then.

Chapter Twenty-One

Morgan

Rock flowed around me, pliable and thick as liquid cement. The bubble of air I rode in was only slightly bigger than my body, but the air remained sweet, pure. Light, dim and diffuse, lit the bubble as it floated through liquefied bedrock. Farther and farther I traveled until even the sight of rock stretching like taffy became … tiresome.

It wasn’t like flying, more like slowly body surfing on a wave of cool caramel, but without the sugary smell.

Bump. My nose smacked against stone that didn’t flow resulting in a wash of pain that exploded behind my eyes. Before I could cry out, I oozed into the rock, birthing through to the other side.

Ow! Shards of something sliced into my hand right down to the bone and sharp points stabbed at me moments before they melted into a hard, smooth surface. Stale air clogged my nose, but I managed to whisper a quick Healing. Blood slicked my hands as the gashes covering my fingers and palms slowly closed, flesh knitting together until not a seam of damage remained. Only my chest still bled from a half dozen slices and punctures. Whatever had cut me sliced my shirt and jacket to ribbons. Another Healing and the fetid air was replaced by cinnamon, a vast improvement.

Shuddering as the pain subsided, I sat cross-legged on whatever hard surface I found myself on, forearms on knees, forehead on arms.

“You are safe here,” rumbled Earth. “Although you have lost water.”

I answered back, trying not to cough as the Language clogged my throat. “I … I am well. I have healed myself, although the air is bad.”

Almost immediately the atmosphere sweetened. “Son of the Sicarii, you may rest here before you have to go. No magics can sense you in this place. Earth will keep you safe here.”

Here? Where was here, except in the belly of the planet? I looked around.

Holy shit! A cave … I sat in a cave made of crystal daggers a foot long, deep purple and perilously sharp. All around, ceiling, floors, walls, that hundred-foot sphere pointed violet death at where I sat and I was amazed. It was a geode, a damn geode the size of a large house with amethyst daggers cropping up everywhere except for the smooth purple floor I sat on. Earth had melted the crystal down to a flat pane some five feet on a side.

“Wow.”

“You will pay the price agreed upon, yes, Son of the Sicarii?”

Apparently my time to marvel at nature’s wonder was up. I thought back to what Earth had asked of me. “Take back the First Water from your sire, Sicarii,” Earth had demanded. “And you will be saved.”

I had racked my brains while the chopper circled overhead, readying for a landing. First Water? It hit me like a tsunami … Earth wanted the Primal Water in Julian’s possession.

Awww, hell.

Of course I’d agreed. Rather die on an impossible mission later than be taken captive by Annabeth sooner. At the thought of my once-lover I remembered Mike. Mike! In my time surfing through stone, I’d almost forgotten him. My best friend was in the clutches of my Family. I had to save him from whatever unimaginable fate Julian had planned. Well, not unimaginable to the Voice.

“I will pay the price.” What choice did I have? Didn’t want to piss off, oh … the whole planet … literally. I hoped I could kill two birds with one stone: find the Primal, find my friend.

“Why do you want the Prim-ah … First Water? Earth, Water, Fire and Air always seem to be in conflict.”

“Not so. What you see as conflict, we see as the eternal dance, an expression of the Song.”

“Song?”

“What you humans call the Word. The Word the Creator used to bring all things into being. Fire hungers, Water talks, Earth abides and Air flows. All struggle with the others, but without them, life cannot be. So, in our eternal conflict, we help maintain the balance and the Song.”

Perhaps the idea of the Primal in Julian’s hands made Earth chatty because this was the longest conversation with Earth I’d ever had. Whatever, I was all ears. “What does this have to do with First Water?”

For the first time since I learned the Language, Earth sounded irritated. “The Power in First Water is great. If your sire were to somehow harness that power, he could upset the balance, add a discordant note to the Song and thus destroy it.”

“And if he destroys Song?”

“He destroys the Word and everything will cease to be.”

That didn’t sound promising. Who needed the Silver when Primal Water had so much more potential for devastation? Pictures of vast tidal waves and floods strobed in my imagination and a headache started to burn behind my eyeballs.

“Julian will have the First Water with him at all times, then. I just have to find him. This may take a while.” I