Judas: The Relic (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 2)

by Roy Bright

  Gabriel smiles at her. “Almost, Charlotte, almost.” He reaches over, cupping the side of her face with one of his hands. “You always have been a bright one, my dear.”

  She smiles.

  Gabriel looks at Judas. “It is a sword, Judas. It is in fact a sword that at this time is un-programmed and without alignment and is therefore more dangerous than any demon you could possibly imagine. To answer your question, this particular sword can also adopt physical forms and converse with anyone who owns it – or should I say possess it – because believe me Judas, this particular sword, this particular entity, is very skilled at making one believe that they are in control of it, rather than it being in control of them. It is very much the tail that wags the dog.”

  Judas stares at him, confused. “How the hell can a sword that can also be a person win the war and end the Apocalypse?”

  “I don’t know, truly I don’t, but listen to me – you do not want to follow this path and attempt to find out. That sword is not, and will never be, the answer. Its very existence is an abomination and it cannot be controlled. It wants what it wants, and it gets what it wants and no amount of control the wielder imagines he has over it will ever come to fruition. Please, Judas, for all our sakes, put this madness of controlling Azazel behind you.”

  “Azazel?” he says, “So that’s its name. I have heard of Azazel, but I thought he was a demon?”

  “Demon, angel,” Gabriel replies, “It matters not to that thing. All that it cares about is its own end, its own agenda, whatever that may be at any given time. Judas, please, Azazel is beyond the control of anyone and he… it… is not the answer, it is too powerful a weapon to control.”

  All three sit in silence for a few moments, each pondering the information presented by the Archangel.

  Charlotte is the first to speak. “So, the Council basically want to speak with my dad, to give him the same speech that you have just given him, more or less?”

  Gabriel sighs. “More or less. Yes.”

  She stares down at the table for a second, tapping her fingers against it and chewing her bottom lip. She lifts her head up and looks at Gabriel once again. “Hypothetically speaking, Gabriel, do you think if anyone could control this sword that they would have the power to end the madness plaguing the world right now?”

  He stares at her, taking his time with his answer. He moves his head from side to side, struggling within his mind to pick the right words. “Maybe. Probably.” He sighs once again.

  Judas stares at him for a moment. “There’s a bloody prophecy about this, isn’t there?” he says, his tone ripe with sarcasm.

  Gabriel says nothing but rolls his eyes.

  “A prophecy?” Charlotte asks, annoyed, “You mean there’s a damn prophecy on this matter and yet you’re wasting valuable time trying to convince my dad that he shouldn’t try? A man… no, sorry, I mean an angel who’s the strongest person I know and ever will know, an angel I believe in so whole heartedly that I’m surprised he doesn’t just go out there and end this himself right now.”

  “It’s not that simple, Charlotte,” Gabriel replies sitting forward once more. “Trust me, I have nothing but the best interests for you, Judas, and indeed humanity, but we should explore other avenues to sort out the mess that has been created. You are the one we should be turning to, not some demon sword.”

  She shakes her head and then turns to Judas. “Dad, you go meet the Council, state your case, and convince them to back you on this because I believe in you. I believe that you are the only one that could control this Azazel and bring the world back to where it should be. I believe in you, dad,” she says, taking his hand in hers and smiling, “I believe in you.” She turns back toward Gabriel. “Being the ranking officer here I declare that my dad will go with you to see the Council, which I am sure is what you were going to suggest anyway,” she smiles at him, “and I will return to my time and await further instruction on how we are gonna proceed.” She stands up with the official air of a monarch and asks, “Any questions?”

  Neither of the two men speak, and she walks away from the table. “Good, then it’s settled.”

  Gabriel looks at Judas, “You brought her up on your own?”

  He grins.

  “Maybe I was wrong Judas, maybe you controlling Azazel will be a piece of piss after all.”

  Both men smile at each other.

  “Gentlemen,” Charlotte says with the sternness of a school principal dressing down her students, “it’s time to go. Now.”

  Nine

  Lewis Porter pushes his glasses back up his nose as he scuttles along Griswold Street in downtown Detroit, moving from doorway to doorway and ensuring his presence remains undetected. He isn’t sure if anyone or anything has noticed him, or if the area is indeed as Gary says, ‘possibly under surveillance’, but he moves as though he were a secret agent, imagining himself to be James Bond on a mission of the highest importance, and not just a simple groceries run. Lewis is, or at least was, the Branch Manager of the US Bank at 535 Griswold Street and he feels very fortunate indeed to have run into the Holy Trio – as he calls them – almost a year ago.

  His chance meeting had come as he had ventured out of the panic room in his home situated within Farmington Hills, a city northwest of Detroit and one of the most desirable places to live back when the world was normal. Farmington had also been an area that had one of the lowest crime rates in the old United States, and it was the main reason Lewis was certain that, on the day the world ended, his family would have been safe. Unfortunately for him he was wrong. On that day, the world had learned that those capable of evil and the weak of will were in every corner of society and so, upon racing home to be with his family as the violence spread throughout the city, he had been devastated to find his wife and son lying on the front garden of their home, murdered. He had escaped death himself by the narrowest of margins, as those horrid creatures, or the Taken as Judas had called them, had been on him in seconds after his arrival and, despite his portly frame, he had just managed to flee for his life and make it to the safety of the panic room. He had spent days in that place, terrified, crying, alone, dreading the awful process of having to relieve himself with no sanitation, never daring to venture outside until the meager amounts of food he had stored ran out and the smell had become overpowering, forcing him to leave. He had crept around, a golf club in his hands, checking each room, stopping and listening for any sound. Upon reaching his fridge, he had been grateful for his home’s automatic power backup as the copious amounts of food stored within had been unspoiled. At that moment, he had behaved like a wild animal, gorging himself on the contents to the point of making himself sick, such was the sudden onslaught of food and drink to his impaired digestive system.

  From there, the next few days were the hardest for Lewis. Having managed to conjure up enough courage to venture outside, he had retrieved the bodies of his family and given them a decent burial in the back garden, the pain of which had been almost too much to bear. Next, he had cleaned up the awful mess in the panic room and set about putting as much of his life back together as was possible under the circumstances. He spent the following few days marauding through the local supermarkets, stocking up on essential items that would see him through until help arrived – it never did. Upon trip after trip to the stores, filling up his huge SUV, he had found them almost fully stocked, such had been the speed in which the End of Days had happened. During his initial visits, he had never seen another person, not a single soul. Over the next couple of months he had heard terrible noises in the night and, being unable to decide if they had been monsters or regular people, he had decided to keep himself to himself, to play the loner card and not seek out the comforts of other groups of people. Those sounds, coupled with the sights that he had witnessed at his bank on Day Zero, had given him enough incentive not to want to be around anyone, ever. But as in all things, nothing lasts forever and in time his food cache and resources had begun to run low, forci
ng him to venture out further than he liked. It was upon one such trip in Detroit, around a year after the initial event, that he had found himself pursued and eventually trapped by a pair of ungodly creatures and had almost given up hope as he was armed only with a fire ax. He had never believed in or owned a firearm, much to the amusements of his superiors within the banking sector such was his responsibility and position within the company. Gripping his ax, he had cowered behind a barricaded door as the creatures assaulted it, frantic to get at him, to end his now pitiful existence. He had almost thrown up with shock when the attack had ceased and a small knock at the door occurred followed by the voice of a young girl saying, “Is there anybody in there? It’s okay now, you can come out, it’s safe.” He had sat there in silence for almost five minutes as the girl and two men had reasoned with him from the other side of the door. After a while, the men had both agreed that it was a waste of their time and that they should leave him, but the girl was insistent. She wasn’t sure why they should help him, but she was adamant in telling the men that she wouldn’t leave without him. In the end, Lewis had found enough courage to stand up, walk over to the door, and open it. Standing there were Judas and Gary, whom he had thought at first were military types, such was their presence of character and stature, and Charlotte the sweetest little girl he had ever seen in his entire life. Her very presence had made him smile, and upon seeing her he had broken down, falling to her feet and crying. She had smiled at him, placed her hand upon his head and said “It’s okay, Lewis, you are safe now.” This had caused him to cry even more and it hadn’t even occurred to him at that time to question how she knew his name. She then explained who they were and what their purpose was, much to the dissatisfaction of Judas and Gary. Charlotte again reiterated her belief that they could trust him, and so he had joined their small group.

  Lewis often smiled when thinking about that moment. It was one of the first times in his entire life, one that in its earliest years had born the frustration of bullying and latter the constant worry of screwing up and being replaced or sacked, that he had felt safe.

  Lewis hunkers down behind an overturned car and scans the area. The 42-year-old part of him knows that he cannot be too careful, but the child inside him is enjoying every moment of being the secret agent. He smiles and shakes his head, All right Lewis, that’s enough fun for one day old bean, time to get back. He stands and adjusts the heavy backpack filled with cans of food digging into his spine. He winces as something pointed once again jabs into his kidneys. Come on Lewis, one more block and you’re done. He grits his teeth and moves off.

  Lost in his little fantasy world, he has failed to notice the two figures eyeing him from within the shadows of an alleyway across the street.

  Ten

  Gary stands, rubbing his buttocks. The all too familiar prickling and tingling has started in his feet and he doesn’t want to suffer the annoyance of pins and needles once again. He stretches and yawns, then massages the ridge between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He is tired. Very tired.

  Looking around, the former Homicide Detective asks himself, Where the hell is Lewis? He should have been back by now; he was only going a few blocks for pity’s sake.

  Over the last couple of months, Gary had warmed to Lewis. At first, the banker’s persistent need to tell stupid jokes and try to make light of every situation had gotten on his nerves, but recently, as things had gotten worse, his chirpy character and endless reserves of good spirit had been just what the group needed. Of course, Charlotte had taken to him from the get-go. Her ability to figure out a person’s alignment with nothing more than a glance had been a gift that had seen the group avoid many a nasty situation, and with Lewis her gift was proven to be yet again right on the money. Of course, Judas had been like Gary, even more so. He was wary of any new addition to the group as his priority was always Charlotte’s safety and, angel or not, that blind devotion to her and the need to keep people at arm’s length often clouded any angelic abilities he possessed, stopping him seeing what she did – but then she was the daughter of God, after all. In time, however, even he had grown fond of Lewis, something very rare indeed for the holy warrior.

  Gary checks his watch; it’s nearly seven in the evening. Over the last year or so he has been very grateful for the birthday present he had received from his ex-wife Emily, as the kinetic timepiece was still running with relative accuracy even though the glass had suffered a large crack across its surface a few months back. He taps the face of the watch and smiles, thinking of her. His smile wanes, forcing her from his mind. He never did get to find out if she and her new husband had survived, and it bothered him. It bothered him a great deal. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. “Where the hell is Lewis?” he says, his hands on his hips. “For God’s sakes man, get your ass back here.” He stares in the direction of the bank vault for a few seconds, in which Charlotte’s spirit form resides, protected from the outside world by a huge round metal door and concrete walls a foot thick. Walking over to it, he places his right hand on the vault door and closes his eyes. They snap open, followed by his sharp intake of breath. Damn, her Divinity feels strong now, he says to himself, smiling, I can feel it through the door much clearer today. The Divinity emanating from Charlotte’s resting form had been growing over the last 12 hours and he feels that it must be almost time for her to come back. He remembers how Judas had told them that they would only be gone a couple of days. Well, it had been three, so he was sure that they were due to return soon.

  Raising his rifle and spinning around, he sees a clumsy Lewis bounding down the corridor toward him and relieved he lowers his weapon. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been getting a little agitated here. What took you so long?”

  Struggling to catch his breath as he reaches him, Lewis bends over and places both hands on his knees.

  “Lewis?” Gary says, wide-eyed and shaking his head.

  Lewis holds up a hand, trying to speak through the puffing and panting but can only deliver short and incomprehensible words.

  Gary sighs. “Okay, take your time, that’s it – deep breaths, just calm down, man.”

  Lewis stands erect and pushes his hips forward with his hands. He grimaces as he takes one final deep breath, then indicates with his thumb to the rear of him. “We got company.”

  “What?” Gary asks, his attention snapping to the direction in which Lewis is pointing. “Demon, Taken, or human? How many?”

  “Definitely human, some sort of militia. I’m not sure of their numbers. I was just entering the building y’know, on my way back and I stumbled over a piece of furniture and almost fell. I let go of the bag of cans and one of them fell out and rolled back a little toward the door. I went back to get it and it was then that I saw a couple of guys across the street. Looked like they were dressed in combats and had face masks over their mouths, you know, like bikers used to wear.”

  “Shit!” Gary says, annoyed that this has happened before Charlotte returned. He looks at Lewis. “Hang on. How in the hell did you stumble and fall on your way in? There’s no furniture in the way by the entrance.”

  Lewis just stands there shrugging and mouthing words like a fish that had just been flopped onto land.

  “You were playing at being a damn spy again, weren’t you? They probably spotted you, dicking around in the city, and followed you here.”

  He sighs and lowers his head.

  “Y’know what, it doesn’t matter,” Gary says, holding up his hands, “did they see you come into the building? Have they followed you inside?”

  “Yeah, it looks like they may have been following me for a while, seeing where I was going. I’m sorry.” He looks down once more, sheepish.

  “Okay, look, don’t worry about it Lewis. These guys may or may not be friendlies but we can’t take the chance.” He points to his right. “You take cover over there and provide flanking fire. I’ll hole up here in front of the vault. Under no circumstances
can we allow them to open that vault and disturb Charlotte, are we clear?”

  Lewis stares at him for a second and then points to the vicinity in which Gary had indicated he take up position, “What, there? You want me to hole up over there and shoot at these guys? You know that I’m a terrible shot and useless in a fist fight, can I not jus—”

  Gary strides over and grabs him with force. “Lewis, are we clear?!”

  He nods, his eyes wide, his mouth open.

  “Okay, cool,” Gary says, then indicates with his head toward three duffel bags sat near the vault door. “Grab a rifle and some magazines and make sure you keep your head down, got it?”

  Lewis nods again, feeling familiar and unwelcome sensations flooding back to him in great measure – cowardice and fear, pure and unadulterated. From an early age he had endured bullying and as a result, had never been a fighter or possessed the will to stand his ground. So on most occasions he had put up with humiliation upon humiliation, all in the name of entertainment from those responsible for his torment. This had the effect of making him withdraw into his studies, to become an academic, a thinker, and he had become very good at it. He had excelled in every subject, shining like a beacon at university, so much so that he had been headhunted by the bank who were confident he would rise to the very top of their ranks. However, his inability to exert himself and dominate others had meant he had to settle for a lower management role and although, in time, he had risen to the position of branch manager, it was still a far cry from what he could have achieved if he had not been so timid and eager to please others.

  Lewis realizes that he is dwelling on the past once again and hates it. He hates remembering about how much of a coward he is, how little backbone he possesses when the proverbial hits the fan. He shakes his head – he will not let his fear and cowardice overcome him this time, Charlotte needs him and he intends to help her. He grabs an automatic rifle and checks it. It’s loaded. He then takes up position as instructed by Gary and grits his teeth.