“During one of my numerous tries at suicide, I fed my mutilated body to the wolves. Passersby witnessed my endeavor and fought off the beasts, killing them in an attempt to save me — but not before the wolves had tasted of my flesh and eaten of my blood. Three days after their deaths, the Risen animals found me. But they weren’t just ordinary wolves. They were my Wolves. It was at that point I understood why the Teacher allowed me to drink the cup of Jesus, why He had left me behind. The Christ wanted me to stop the Apostles, using sired Followers of my own. He wanted me to undo what Magdalena had done.
“My beloved Wolves and I tracked a group of Apostles to Caina, where I revealed to them what the Christ had told me. I pleaded with them to join my cause, but they would not listen. They were too preoccupied by their greed.”
“Their greed?” I eye Lucy suspiciously.
“To Magdalena’s credit, she played no part in this specific plan.” Judas retrieves a coin from his pocket and tosses it in my direction. “Tell me what you see.”
I catch the medallion and hold it up to the light. The figure etched in gold is unmistakable. “It’s Jesus.”
“Precisely. Since the dawn of commerce, emperors and kings have spread their rule through money, inscribing their likeness on coins, coins that would pass from settlement to settlement, country to country. Caesar, Nero, Napoleon, Washington, the list goes on and on — leaders who have established their sovereignty with the help of money. Jesus the Nazarene, the man, was no different.”
I toss the coin back to him, and he rubs it between his thumb and index finger. “The people of Caina supplied the Roman Empire with a fair number of weapons and currencies. And they took much pride in their work, especially in the purity of their metals. Where else do you think Moon Silver comes from? Caina. So the Apostles bargained their mistruths of salvation in exchange for control of the Cainites’ money production — the nerve! — and when the Cainites refused, the Apostles resorted to force. This was something I could not allow.
“The Cainites fought valiantly alongside my Wolves and me, but were it not for their Moon Silver weapons, I daresay they wouldn’t have been able to drive the Apostles back to Jerusalem as well as they did. They had an excellent leader, too, a noble warrior boy named Elyas. So courageous was his spirit that not even after a fortuitous bite from one of my Beasts did his strength in battle waver. Which is why they celebrated the next Full Moon in Elyas’ honor, deservedly so.
“But their celebration was short-lived. As the moon rose, it began to change color, growing darker and bloodier as the night progressed. Then, when it reached its highest point, Elyas turned.
“It was the bite, Emmanuel. The bite from my Beast had made Elyas Claimed, allowing the Spirit of my Wolves to be awakened within him. It consumed Elyas’ mind, body, and soul, and passed unto him my drive to protect the Living and expel the blood of the Christ from this world.
“Elyas readily embraced his calling and hastened to share this Spirit, this wisdom, with the rest of his people. So he claimed the Cainites and became their Demiguard: patron of knowledge and of true salvation, protector of the Spirit of the Christ.
“And so the role and power of Demiguard has been passed down generation after generation, a duty bestowed upon the sparse elite born of the Blood Moon, as Elyas was. As you were.” Judas stares at me with firm deliberation. “Refusing this honor, Emmanuel, would be refusing fate.”
“But according to the Afterliving, being with my Alma is my fate. Why should I believe you over them?”
“You’ve benefited from trusting my judgment thus far. Why stop now?”
“What do you mean?”
Judas begins: “‘So Cain harboured anger, and his temper was tested… Brother will betray brother, sending him to his death, and a father will sacrifice his child… Anyone who lives for himself — ’”
The messages from the Vulgata. “That was you?”
He smirks. “It was a long shot but well worth the try. After your conversation with Magdalena about the possibility of Isidore’s murder, I had to find another way of planting the seed of doubt in your head with regards to his death. The Vulgata was the perfect medium.”
“So none of those passages meant anything?”
“Of course they did. Didn’t Anthony harbor anger toward you? Didn’t Isidore betray James’ heart by marrying Mina? And wasn’t your father determined to sacrifice your life and sire you against your will? I could go on and on about the number of reasons you should trust me, Emmanuel, but it wouldn’t be to your advantage,” he says, looking at my watch: 27 MIN. “Your time is running out, and once the New Moon sets, the chance to decide your fate will be up.”
“For this month. I can always wait until the next.”
“The next?” Judas’ eyes light up in amazement, and he turns to Lucy. “Honestly, Magdalena, I assumed you’d told him everything by now.”
“What do you mean, everything?”
“Emmanuel, Daemons have an expiration date — didn’t you know? — a specific number of years allotted by God to test the power of Discipleship before choosing their fate amongst the Living or the Afterliving. And your time expires tonight.”
“Twenty-seven years? Daemons have twenty-seven years to decide?”
“Not twenty-seven,” he laughs. “Ninety-nine.”
“Ninety-nine? I’m not ninety-nine.”
He nods. “June sixteenth, 1916.”
“I wasn’t born in 1916.”
“You most certainly were. Six one six one six, the century’s Day of the Beast. And as fate would have it, an unexpected Blood Moon.”
My left wrist begins to tingle. “I know how old I am,” I fire back, scratching my skin.
“No. You know how old you appear. My guess would be certain someones fed you sheep blood without your knowledge to keep you looking younger. While you were still living in Devil’s Dyke, perhaps?” he comments.
The look of panic in Lucy’s eyes reveals the truth behind Judas’ suggestion.
I do the math: If today is my ninety-ninth birthday, and I left here twenty years ago, that would have put me between the ages of a newborn and seven for…seventy-nine years? How many of those years were with Miss Maggie? How many were with Lucy? Most importantly, if I don’t remember any of it… how many times has my memory been altered?
“So if my time is up, what’s the worst that can happen? I join the Living and become a full human?”
“It’s not that simple. Your ability to seem this young is only linked to your Daemon heritage, which will be immaterial in” — he glances at my watch — “twenty-four minutes.”
“Then what? I’m just going to get old, from one minute to the next?”
“Yes. That is, unless you reconsider Wolfgang’s offer and commit your life to its higher calling.”
“So you want me to choose Lycainship or die of old age?”
“I never said you would die of old age. You’ll most likely be mauled by the Wolves surrounding the estate. They were outraged by your attempt on their Demiguard earlier tonight.” Judas gestures to the window overlooking Lake Myrrh. “See for yourself.”
An army of Beasts has surrounded Stockton Estate, four times larger than the pack that attacked us at St. Nicholas. Hundreds of pairs of metallic eyes stare up at me, their numbers growing as the sun and moon continue to set. It would be suicide for any Disciple to try and intervene.
I continue scratching my agitated wrist. “You want me to let them claim me? Is that it?”
“No. I want you to want to be Claimed. The Demiguard isn’t mere Lycainship. It’s a title that must be embraced.”
“Wolfgang is a monster. Why would I embrace him?”
“You had no problem with Magdalena.”
“She’s not a monster.”
“I think Henry would beg to differ.”
Judas�
� eyes switch back to brown, and Lucy’s mouth unfreezes. “That was different,” she exclaims. “Henry was under your Impulsion. And he had the Fever. He had to be stopped.”
It’s hard to believe the incident with Henry happened just this morning — and now that I think about it — “You were never in danger.”
“But he was out of his senses, my love.”
“Still. You’re an Apostle. You could have handled him. You didn’t need me to help you. Why did you pretend?”
She doesn’t want to answer.
“Because after Henry fulfilled his role in her sadistic little puppet show, he became disposable. And we all know Hemocide against your Saved may be justified in the name of the Afterliving’s preservation, which, in this case, was your preservation,” Judas says. “Isn’t that right, Magdalena?”
“You were Henry’s Sire, too?”
“Yes,” she confesses.
“That’s why he wanted your blood after he was bitten. He wanted you to heal his Fever. You could have helped him.”
“And miss the chance to play the victim?” Judas sneers. “I think not.”
“Enough,” James roars, emerging from the shadowy entrance of the wing. His Lycain wounds from before are fully healed, and his face glows with a heat as powerful as the flames behind me. “These confessions are serving no purpose.”
“On the contrary,” Judas replies, “these confessions are providing Emmanuel with a better analysis of the company he could have the misfortune of keeping over the next several lifetimes.”
“If Magdalena has anything to confess, Manny, it’s that her love for you has made her blind to reason. And I should know. I experienced this firsthand with Mina. Do not judge her, my son, because she could not control her capacity to love you. Consider it a blessing.”
“James is right,” Judas says. “The love of an Alma is a powerful force. It can drive one to commit the most unimaginable atrocities. The question is, are you willing to forgive her?”
Forgive. That’s been the theme of my entire Devil’s Dyke experience. Mom wanted my forgiveness for keeping Isidore’s money hidden, and James, for allowing my parents to be together when it went against fate; even Micah urged my forgiveness on behalf of Isidore’s killer — and in all instances, I have refused to give it.
Looking back now, I wish that wasn’t the case. They were doing what was best for the people they loved, just as I did what I thought was best by sending my mother away — and God knows I’d give anything to know Mom forgives me for that mistake.
I look into my Alma’s eyes and answer without hesitation. “Of course I forgive her. I would do anything for her.”
“Oh? Would you also kill for her?”
“Judas, stop,” Lucy pleads.
“Your games have gone too far,” James growls.
“Let him answer the question.” Judas hyper-phasms to my side. “Emmanuel, would you kill for her? Because she’s certainly killed for you.”
“She had to. Henry would have choked me to death.”
He laughs. “I’m not talking about Henry. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”
“Figured what out?”
“About your father.” His gaze bounces between Lucy and me.
My jaw drops. “It was you?”
James is also taken aback. “Sire, is that true?”
Lucy closes her eyes, and heavy tears form on the tips of her eyelashes. She nods. “Yes.”
Lucy’s confession releases her from Impulsion, and her body collapses to the floor. She covers her face with her shaking hands.
Judas takes a triumphant breath. “And the truth shall set you free.”
Why?” is the only word I can think of.
“For you, my love. For us. For all of us.” She picks herself up off the ground. “For James, for Anthony, your mum — ”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s the truth. Don’t you realize everything that has ever gone wrong in this house has happened because of your father?” Lucy syncs.
Only, it’s not Lucy — and it’s not Miss Maggie, either. This is Magdalena.
“James,” she barks, a wild look in her eyes, “Isidore made you sacrifice everything for him, didn’t he?”
“He never made me do anything. I did it because I loved him” — James can barely speak through the knot in his throat — “and because he loved me.”
“If he loved you so much, then why didn’t you end up with Wilhelmina?” she asserts.
James is speechless, but the grief in his hazel eyes speaks volumes.
“Isidore took your Alma, James. Took your life.”
“That was no reason to take his,” he fires back.
Magdalena turns to me. “And do you know how much your mum despised him?” she hisses. “So much so she would have rather moved halfway around the world than spend another day in his company. And as for Isidore, he couldn’t have cared less — not for you, nor for her, nor for James — not as long as there were humans to be Saved and power to be attained.”
Flecks of Dolorouge red surface in her golden eyes. “For years, your mum begged him, Emmanuel, pleaded with him to put his duties as a father before those of a Devangelist, but all Isidore returned were empty promises. And his stubbornness, his refusal to give her the one thing she asked for, that’s the reason your mum resorted to Bloodlust when her Sire Bond was lifted, and why she’s been damned ever since.”
I don’t want to believe her — but on the other hand, James hasn’t denied anything she’s said. And all this time, I thought “Lucy” was one of my father’s closest friends. Now I see that couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, she despised him the most.
“Yes, what Judas said was true,” she continues. “Mina fed you sheep blood as an infant to suspend your age, but she did it because her head was filled with the foolish notion Isidore would one day recognize his selfishness and become the father you deserved. And the reason I had to alter your memories was because after weeks and months and decades of waiting, Isidore’s day of realization never came. You were held prisoner as a child, Emmanuel, frozen in time and confined to these grounds, all on account of your Godforsaken father.”
The more Magdalena reveals, the more I understand my mother’s mixed emotions about my “father.” She was happy with James but miserable with Isidore — madly in love, but equally frustrated. Then there was me, the reminder of why she remained caught in the middle. Mom’s always made me feel like her greatest blessing, but in this moment, I feel like her heaviest burden.
My eyes begin to tear.
Magdalena takes notice, and her tone changes, growing softer. She begins to sound like Lucy again. “It broke my heart to watch Mina suffer, too, my love, and to see you so sheltered from the world, especially when you should have been growing into your power, growing in your knowledge of God’s plan. But it wasn’t your fault. It was Isidore’s.
“You needed help, an escape, and I could only do so much as Miss Maggie. You needed an equal, my love. A companion. A stepping stone into the Afterliving. So I sired the family at Weston Acres and became Lucy — for you — to make you happy. To make Mina happy.” Her voice grows cold again. “And do you know what Isidore did? He interpreted your and your mum’s appeasement as permission to sire more, consuming so much Living blood that he eventually became younger than you, his own son. That’s what pushed Mina over the edge, and why she took you away.”
My father grew younger than me? That has to be why Penny at the card shop mentioned how she thought my father and I were brothers. You two could be twins were it not for a few years, Penny said.
“Isidore was diabolical,” Magdalena continues. “He spit upon the sacrifices every one of us had made, and he’d have continued to do so whether or not you would’ve agreed to be baptized. Killing him was the most merciful thing I could
have done, for him and for you.”
“Don’t use me to justify his death, Magdalena,” I exclaim. “You took away Isidore’s chance to be forgiven, the chance for all of us to make amends. How dare you judge him on my behalf and punish him for something he did ages ago.”
She shakes her head, hysterical. “I didn’t punish him for what he did. I punished him for what he was going to do if you refused to be Saved, for what I saw him do.” As she says this, the red in Magdalena’s eyes is washed away by a wave of turquoise, the eyes of a Divineer.
“But I didn’t refuse. I chose to be Saved.”
“Because I gave you that choice, my love. We gave you that choice.” She reaches for James, but he pulls away. “We’ve allowed you to embrace the Afterliving on your own terms. Because we have faith in you.”
“And my father didn’t?”
“He did,” Judas interjects. I almost forgot he was in the room. “‘The Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise,’” he says, repeating the quote he recited to me during our first meeting in the library. “I’ve been trying to tell you from the start. Your father’s greatest threat was never James or Magdalena or Wolfgang. It was you. You had the potential to erase your father’s reputation with that of your own, and for this, Isidore’s pride would have never let you flourish. But once you accept your role as Demiguard, you’ll realize how shortsighted Isidore’s assumptions were.”
“Why would I want anything to do with any of this now? Your side, their side — I don’t care who’s right. You’re both messed up.”
“Emmanuel,” Magdalena exclaims.
“No. What’s the point in choosing if I’ll never be at peace?”
“But you can, Emmanuel. You can find peace,” Judas says, “and not just for yourself but for the entire world. You’re not just any Daemon, my child. You’re the Daemon, the intermediary of our worlds. The one who can giveth and taketh away, undo the power that keeps us at odds. You’re the one we’ve been waiting for — whom I’ve been waiting for — the Redeemer of the Christ.”
The Afterliving (His Blood & Silver Series Book 1) Page 32