The Judas Line

by Mark Everett Stone

  God used His wrath to smite the wicked, the evil ones, with a cold clean precision like a scalpel made of ice. That’s how I felt-icy and calm but consumed with an anger I’d never known. I had no cross, no rosary to focus my ire, but I didn’t care.

  As I turned to face the Beast, Cain flew past, hurled with contemptuous ease by the Julian-thing. He landed forty feet away and rolled bonelessly, coming to rest broken and bleeding.

  “Back!” I screamed, holding out a hand, palm forward, at the thing. It flinched. “In God’s name I cast thee out!” Once again it flinched but didn’t move from where it stood. It was taller and more massive than before; Julian’s suit jacket was torn at the shoulders. Bullets spat from Maggie’s Tec-9, riddling the creature, but it shrugged them off as if they were bothersome flies.

  “Little priest,” the thing drooled, dark spit hissing on the carpet. “You are only human. I AM MEPHISTOPHELES!”

  All my anger evaporated in an instant, blown out by the force of the fiend’s presence. Mephistopheles, Arch-Devil of Hell, one of the original fallen angels of Lucifer’s cadre.

  I bit down on my fear and persevered, absently noting a faint shimmer of heat encircling my hand. “The power of Christ compels you!” I continued in Latin:

  May the holy cross be my light. May the dragon never be my guide. Begone, Satan! Never tempt me with your vanities. What you offer me is evil. Drink the poison of yourself.

  Each word caused the monstrosity to flinch, each syllable was a knife in its flesh, but that didn’t stop Mephistopheles from stepping forward, his burst patent leather shoes with their exposed taloned feet gouging the carpet. Another step, then another against the hail of bullets from Maggie’s weapon. It shrugged off both her bullets and my words. Slowly we backed away, keeping out of the thing’s reach as it staggered forward against the force of God’s power flowing from my hand, the heat-shimmer becoming larger, distorting my view.

  Julian’s tailored shirt and jacket were reduced to ribbon-like shreds, the flesh beneath bluish gray and heavily muscled. Its face had become long and mottled, the color of half-healed bruises.

  From behind me came a shout, a Word that slammed into the monster. Unlike earlier, when it had been hurled back, it staggered momentarily and then kept coming. “Banishing won’t work on me anymore, ape,” it hissed in a voice full of blood and razor blades. “I have become too invested in this body, in this world. I am part of it now.” Its eyes focused on me as Cain shouted another Word to no effect. “And you, little monkey, cannot channel the energy to dispel me!”

  A sound like liquid thunder came from behind the monster, resolving into a contemptuous voice. “You’ve got nothing on me, dickhead.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Morgan

  Sixty percent of an adult human male is comprised of water. That means my body, at 175 pounds, contained 105 pounds of water. Water in the blood, in the cells, in the eyes, in the brain and in bone. Not pure water, for sure, but water nonetheless.

  Imagine that water becoming sentient.

  Every nerve, every cell in my body vibrated like a tuning fork, impelling me into some otherworldly realm of darkness inhabited only by brief flashes of light that seared into my mind with the force of a hurricane and the roaring of waves. There came a peculiar shift, like someone was rifling through the garbage can of my memories.

  SO THIS IS LANGUAGE. INTERESTING.

  What? Where did that voice come from? It came to me suddenly that I wasn’t in my body anymore. I’d been evicted like a bum tenant and that pissed me off more than a little.

  YOU WERE ALREADY DYING.

  Not so loud; you’re killing me. Who are you?

  Once again that shifting sensation, accompanied by another flash of light.

  [Better now?]

  The voice was much like mine had been, but deeper and with a liquid gurgle running through the words. Sort of like gargling and talking at the same time.

  Much, thank you. Who are you, again?

  [I am Water, what you referred to as Primal Water.]

  What?!

  [You drank me. Rather a foolish thing to do, but I know now you really had nothing to lose. Still, from my perspective it was a bit disgusting.]

  How … what …?

  [Primals have no language; I had to take it from your mind, as well as your memories. I believe that now I am the only Primal that can communicate with humans, which puts me in an interesting situation, Olivier Deschamps. Or should I say, Morgan Heart.]

  Olivier Deschamps died a long time ago. I never really liked him.

  I felt a little sad. I’d wasted twenty years being someone I didn’t like much. So much time tossed in the garbage bin.

  How did Julian manage to capture you?

  A pause, then [Better I should show you.]

  The darkness around me receded, replaced by the bright light of the sun and the sound of the waves lapping the shore. My mind rang with the Word of God, that sound that brought me to consciousness. I felt Earth beneath me, surrounding me, sleepy and somber. Above Air laughed and capered. The light of the sun was part of Fire, warming me. All these, my brothers, my opposites, in conflict and balance.

  Time passed and I ate at the Earth that thrust up through me, creating fjords and sculpting shorelines. On Earth I dug vast ravines, while animals drank of me. Soon Mankind came along, created by another Word more beautiful than the last. Its note echoed for ages. More time passed and I flooded an impossibly large valley, impelled by the will of God. My waters drowned cities, civilizations, and covered them completely. This later become known as the Mediterranean Sea.

  The world changed, became colder. I froze, covering the land in ice, killing and killing with my frozen self. It was then I grew tired. My children were there to maintain the balance, and I felt so … unnecessary.

  I pulled myself, my awareness into a small, cold, spot and floated away to where the ice never melted and it was there I slept. Until recently. Then I was awoken by Man, trapped in a container too dense to see or feel through. It was dark, and I grew angry.

  Sudden warmth as an animal drank my essence, but it wasn’t an animal, it was a man, a dying one at that. I called to the water in his body (I sensed it was a male) and was answered.

  Suddenly, I was wrenched back into darkness, aware of my own self again.

  Whoa! Are you telling me Julian found you in the North Polar ice cap? How the hell did he do that?

  [I do not know. Perhaps he was led there by the one you call the Voice.]

  Gunfire. What? Mike! It had to be Mike, Cain and Maggie. They were fighting the Julian demon.

  [Mephistopholes. Or should I say the Angel Formerly Known As Maphriel.]

  Whatever, you have to help Mike!

  [I’m really not-]

  I wasn’t in any mood to take backtalk from fluid.

  Without me you would still be in a plastic bottle! Now are you going to help me, or what?

  [You seem to think that I suffer from the same motivations as humans.]

  Christ! Indifference was the last thing I needed.

  Do you understand revenge?

  [No.] A note of finality.

  How about gratitude? A sincere ‘please’ with a cherry on top?

  A babble of humor swept over and through me. It took me a moment to realize that the Primal was laughing.

  [The imagery that produced is most amusing.]

  I thought of one argument that might work.

  Does it amuse you enough for you to help restore balance to the world?

  [?]

  Isn’t Mephistopheles’ presence here an imbalance?”

  [Clever human. If I agree to do this, your life will be forfeit. I can either take the time to heal you or I can give you the power to save your friend.]

  No real choice at all. Let’s go.

  [I can even heal you of Backlash. You will not lose any Words.]

  We’re wasting time.

  [Why sacrifice yourself for that man?]


  He’s my friend.

  [That is important?]

  He’s my friend.

  [Very well.] The gurgly voice sounded sad but resolute.

  I waited in the dark, enduring the flashes of brilliant white light, waiting for the Primal to do something, anything. It grew worrisome, this waiting. I was sure Mike was in danger and the Primal was taking too damn long!

  [What’s the phrase? Oh yes … Hold your damn horses. We are experiencing time differently. Only a few seconds have passed while I have made … adjustments that will allow you to do this …]

  Roaring became my world.

  And power. Oh, such power, like I had inhaled the sun. My body dissolved into liquid, its solid matter left behind on top of the elevator. Looking down, I saw legs as well as a torso, arms and hands composed of rippling water. Memories of flesh sculpted in liquid, liquid I could bend to my will. Inside my “chest” was a cold spot, so cold, in fact, that it was well below zero, but it remained liquid. The Primal, now quiescent, its power mine.

  All around me I felt water, a connection to something that was part and parcel of my being. Water through the plumbing, traveling up and down the entire building … It was like feeling the hot rush of blood travel through your veins. I called to the water … and it responded.

  Pipes burst. PVC, copper, it didn’t matter, water exploded through as if they were constructed of tissue paper. I continued to call, the invisible tether of my will pulling water to me. Within seconds I was bathed in crystalline sprays, which I absorbed, becoming greater and greater, sucking in more and more.

  By force of will I kept the water from running down the sides of the shaft; instead I absorbed it all and began to rise, a liquid giant, a fluid behemoth. Above, the rectangle of light came closer and I could sense the monster above, its evil pulsing against my … self, my consciousness. I extended my senses and the fiend became a black star shining above. I could feel its anger, its endless capacity for hatred. Three souls glowed near the fallen. Each had a unique signature, an essence I could discern. Cain shone with vitality and magic, while Maggie gleamed with the fires of her passion.

  Mike eclipsed them both with the Power of God made manifest; however, the dark star surged and flared with ravenous hunger, a spiritual black hole. It came to me that Mike couldn’t channel any more energy without burning to ash on the spot.

  No way was I going to let that happen.

  I rose high enough and looked into the hallway, every molecule of water adhering to my form, totally under my control.

  “And you, little monkey, cannot channel the energy to dispel me!” The fiend roared.

  I felt horrendous anger and contempt. “You’ve got nothing on me, dickhead!”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Mike

  Dickhead? Whoever, whatever had said that had certainly captured the monster’s attention. It spun, facing the speaker, its bulk preventing us from seeing who had insulted it.

  “Begone!” I yelled, my hand flaring with the heat shimmer of power that sent burning pain through my fingertips. At that same moment Cain shouted another Word. This time Mephistopheles wasn’t prepared and was hurled twenty feet down the hallway, tearing furrows into the drywall with its three-inch black nails. It landed with a floor-rattling thud that felt like a mini-quake.

  There in the shaft was a turbulent column of water, and emerging from that column was the figure of a giant sculpted entirely out of translucent pale blue liquid, a water-man whose subtly shifting features were hauntingly familiar.

  With a feeling of dread I recognized him. Morgan. My friend was … water? Beside me, I heard Maggie gasp as she recognized him as well.

  “That is not something you see every day,” breathed Cain in wonder.

  Maggie’s voice was full of tears. “You got that right, boss.”

  Bellowing, Mephistopheles bounded to its horned feet, tearing even more clothing from its bluish-gray flesh. “I am the right hand of the Morning Star!” raged the demon. “I am an Arch-Fiend of Hell, monkey. You can’t possibly hope to stand against me!” One great claw flashed and passed harmlessly through my friend, who frowned at the demon.

  “You were the Arc Angel Maphriel,” burbled Morgan calmly, his voice like water rushing over rock, “one of the Powers who chose to side with Lucifer. That makes you pretty much an asshole.”

  The demon bellowed in defiance, slashing again and again, even chomping at Morgan with its needle-like teeth, to no effect.

  “You are a Duke of Hell,” Morgan said, sounding almost bored. “But you are my world now.” His smile was a gash of disgust. “Here I rule water, like the water in your body.” He made a small gesture.

  The demon began to scream, then screamed louder, the noise piercing and vibrating in my skull. All three of us clapped our hands to our ears as Mephistopheles sank to its knees, pain racking its body. Its skin grew glassy with fluid as it threw its head back, bellowing in agony, more and more liquid building up. Its skin, defying gravity, became a watery shell.

  It shrank, but only a little at first. As the fluid shell grew, the demon continued to … collapse, shrink in upon itself, the bruised-looking skin becoming wrinkled and shriveled.

  One drop flew from the demon’s shell, then another and another until it rained toward Morgan, who absorbed the liquid into … himself, I guess. As Mephistopheles shrank, my friend grew until he had to lean over or pierce the ceiling.

  As its body shrank the Julian demon’s voice grew softer, diminishing to a low keening, then a pathetic whine and finally a whimper. When the last drop of moisture pattered into Morgan’s substance, all that was left of the demon was a husk that flopped lifeless to the floor and began to quickly decompose. Its smell was sulfurous, nauseating, the stench of a rotting corpses and vomit, only a thousand times worse.

  “You know what his big mistake was?” Morgan asked in a silky voice that flowed like a mountain stream. “Once he took Julian’s form, he was subject to the rules of this world, he should’ve remembered that. Then again, the fallen aren’t that bright.”

  I stepped toward my friend, staring up at his watery, blue face. There was a certain … contentment reflected in his features. I reached out and slowly ran a hand into his chest. Cold, like arctic runoff. In the center of his torso rested a soft, glowing pulse.

  “That’s the Primal, man,” he remarked, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s quiescent right now, but when I give its power back, it’ll wake again.”

  “Morgan-”

  “It’s okay, Mike. It worked out better this way, I think.”

  Maggie stepped close, tears flying from her eyes and becoming one with his elemental body. “Aw, hell, handsome,” she sobbed.

  “Hey, Blondie, I’m sorry I won’t be able to take you out.”

  “You’re probably a lousy tipper, anyway.” Her words were brave, but her face had contorted into mask of sorrow.

  Morgan looked over my shoulder. “Cain, take care of them both, please.”

  The big man removed his glaciers and rubbed his strange eyes. “I will, my young friend. You have my oath on it.”

  “Boss,” Maggie whispered, amazed. “Your eyes!”

  I took a look and felt my legs wobble. A dark, soft brown circled the irises, a sharp border that hadn’t been there before. Those orbs were still unnerving, but the impact of their regard was lessened somehow.

  Cain reversed his glaciers, looking deep into their mirrored lenses and gasping in shock, the sound almost a sob.

  Morgan smiled. “You weren’t cursed for killing your brother, you know.”

  “Huh?” replied Cain, eyes riveted to the mirrored lens.

  “God knew you felt true regret at the murder of your brother. What really pissed Him off was the lie.”

  Cain nodded.

  “The Lord asked, ‘Where is your brother, Abel?’ and you replied-”

  “’I know not. Am I my brother’s keeper?’” finished the big man.

  “Yes. T
he first lie. You are its inventor. By telling that lie (and to God, no less!) you gave birth to an evil that warmed Lucifer’s cold and jealous heart.”

  “Does this mean I am forgiven?”

  “Not entirely, but it looks like you’ve finally made some headway. Cheer up; it only took several dozen millennia to find your answer. The rest should be cake.”

  I started to feel overwhelmed. “Morgan, how do you know all this?”

  “Easy, man,” he replied with a lighthearted, burbly laugh. “Merging with a Primal has some benefits. Did you know that the Earth’s core is Primal Earth? And that the ozone layer is Primal Air?” He laughed louder with the sound of breakers. “Guess what’s Primal Fire!”

  Maggie snapped her fingers. “The sun!”

  Morgan winked at her and then lowered his head, as if heeding an internal monologue. “Have to run, guys. Cain, call Fire, burn this place to the foundations, then go to the roof. Air will give you a lift to the nearest building. You’ll be safe.”

  “Did you arrange it?” I asked.

  He nodded. “The elements are grateful for the return of Primal Water. Balance can be restored. And this world needs a lot of balancing.” Once again that internal monologue. “I have to go, but first, Mike … take this.” He held a silvery cylinder in the palm of his watery hand.

  The molecular knife. I took the device and the metal was cold, so cold. “Morgan!” My throat tore at the lump that had formed there.

  He took me into an all-enveloping, liquid, embrace.

  [You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Mike] came his voice into my head. He sounded like his old self again. [I don’t want to go, man, but I have to.]

  I know, but I don’t want you to go!

  [I’m going to be fine. Going to miss you, man.]

  Aw, heck. I could barely think, I felt so alone, so empty. Love you.

  A sob splashed against my mind. [I love you, too, Mike.]

  And, like that, he was gone … away down the elevator shaft and out of my life. A horrible spasm tore at my chest, as tears dripped off my chin. Beside me, Maggie surrendered to her own grief, a long low keening that raised the hair on the back of my neck with its abject sorrow. I gathered her into my arms for what comfort we could share. We sagged to our knees, tears mingling.