The Awakening (The Judas Curse Book 1)

by Angella Graff

  “Best news I could have gotten when facing cancer,” Ben said.

  “Hey I'm gonna go grab some coffee. Mark, you want anything?” Abby piped up suddenly.

  “No, thank you,” he said with a smile in her direction.

  “Okay, well you boys be good, be back in a bit,” she said, and before Ben could argue with his sister, she was bounding out the door.

  He heard Ben shift on the bed, trying to sit up a little more, and suddenly he said, “Abby wants you to convince me my tumor disappearing was a religious miracle, doesn't she?” Ben had clearly figured out the reason why Mark was there.

  Mark chuckled and gave a little shrug. Ben was no idiot, Mark could tell that right away. He would have to tread carefully if he was going to get any real information from the detective. “She wants something of the sort. I, however, have no desire to convince you this was a religious miracle, because I do not believe it was one.”

  Ben let out a short breath, clear he was trying to determine whether or not Mark was telling the truth. “So... why are you here?”

  “Because your sister asked, and because I think I may know this homeless man you ran in to and I wanted to ask you a few questions about the incident,” Mark replied simply. That was not a lie, but he wanted to reveal as little as possible about his true intentions.

  “Okay,” Ben said slowly, “what kind of questions?”

  “As I said before, I have no intention of convincing you that you suffered at the hands of religion,” Mark began with a slight smile, leaning forward slightly in the chair. “It is, however, quite important that you describe to me the sensations you experienced when touching this man.”

  “Well honestly” Ben started slowly, “it was kind of like being electrocuted, in a way. I remember a weird humming in my ears. It was loud, I couldn't hear anything else, but no one else seemed to notice it. There was this huge flash of light, and when I tried to pull my hand away from him, I couldn't, like I was locked there. I came to right before I was about to hit the floor, and when I looked around, no one noticed anything had happened.”

  “And after?” Mark asked, his face unreadable. “Did you feel as though you could sleep and sleep, and perhaps never wake?”

  “Yes!” Ben said, wincing when he leaned forward too far. “I was so damn tired, but when I woke up...” Ben trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence.

  “Your vision was clear?” Mark asked, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral, despite his desire to jump up and scream, demanding more answers. “No need for your corrective lenses any longer?”

  “Did this happen to you or something?” Ben asked in a low tone.

  Mark shook his head. “Your sister explained to me about your eyesight, but the rest I am familiar with.” He took a deep breath, trying to decide how to proceed. It was Yehuda, there was no other possible explanation for it. He didn’t want to appear too eager, however, because Ben was already suspicious by nature. That was in his job description. Mark knew he needed a fool-proof plan, and he knew then his position with the Church might come in handy. “Do you know what might have happened to this homeless man once he was taken by the ambulance?”

  “No idea, really. I think he was probably arrested and admitted to a hospital. He clearly wasn't in his right mind.”

  “No, he wouldn't be, would he?” Mark said, almost to himself. He realized he'd said that aloud, and shook his head. “Forgive this question but, would you be able to find out where he was taken?”

  Ben frowned over at Mark, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why would you want to know that?”

  Mark hesitated a moment. “The church has a certain stake in people who display qualities of sainthood. Miracles, healings, and as your sister was excited about, instances of stigmata. It would benefit us greatly if we could keep tabs on him.”

  Ben let out a sigh and then said, “I’m sure I could find out if you really need me to. I mean, it sounds a little weird, but I get it.”

  “Perhaps I could have your sister give you my information?”

  There was a long silence, Ben obviously contemplating Mark’s request. It was a strange one, even Mark couldn’t deny that, but it was valid enough. Even if Ben checked into the church, he’d be given the answer that yes, the local parish did like to keep tabs on these events. The detective eventually sighed loudly and shifted in his bed. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

  “I appreciate it, Ben, I really do. And I’m glad you seem to be out of the woods.”

  Ben hummed in agreement, and after a few moments of silence said, “Look, I’m starting to hurt pretty badly, do you mind if I doze off?”

  “Not at all,” Mark said swiftly. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this right after a surgery.”

  “No it’s fine. Just tell Abby I’ll talk to her later.” Ben gave a weak cough and after a few moments, his breathing evened out and he slept. Abby returned a short while later, pressing a cup of warm coffee into Mark’s hands, and together they crept into the hallway.

  “Well? Do you think he was healed?” Abby all-but begged.

  Mark hesitated before answering her. The truth was, he did believe Ben was healed, and though it wasn’t a miracle from God, it was still something outside her understanding. Mark knew, however, for his own safety and for the safety of his companion, he couldn’t tell her the whole truth.

  “I believe the storm for your brother has passed,” Mark said eventually. “He’ll rise from this strong and healthy, and you can definitely stop worrying so much.”

  Abby let out a huge breath of relief, and without warning, threw her arms around Mark. She buried her face in his neck and let out a small sob. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by his sweater, “I was so damn scared.”

  Mark pat her back awkwardly, but smiled at the affection. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Eventually Abby released him and let him take her arm. “I’ll drive you back now. I figure he’s going to sleep a while and he probably wants to be alone anyway.”

  Mark didn’t say anything until they got in the car and Abby had pulled out onto the busy street. “Your brother was willing to talk a bit about the incident, and seemed willing to tell me where I could find this man. Would you be able to remind him for me, once he’s feeling better?”

  “Uh sure,” Abby said, her voice dripping with curiosity. “Why do you want to know where the homeless guy is?”

  “I want to talk to him, if he’s able, make sure that this man isn’t afflicted with anything the church should know about,” Mark lied. “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

  “Okay, but if you need my help, let me know.”

  “I will,” Mark said, though he had no intention of ever involving her. Having an ally wasn’t a bad thing, but Mark knew he was better off alone. Humans only ever hindered him in his search, and right now he needed to get Yehuda and go as quickly as possible. They arrived back at Sacred Heart within a few minutes, and though Abby offered to go inside, Mark declined, and told her he would talk to her later.

  He waited until he heard her car pull away before he went inside and sat down on his sofa. He knew it was Yehuda, he was certain. Abby’s brother carried the markings all over him, the tiny specks of healing light that shone from people once they’d been touched by powers no human ever truly understood. Mark knew it was him, and he would do whatever it took to get what he needed from the detective.

  Ten

  Ben appreciated the weather getting colder, though in San Francisco it never really got hot. The space where his head had been cut open weeks before was itching, almost unbearably so, but he was doing his best to ignore it.

  Sitting back on the park bench, he had his legs stretched in front of him, his hot coffee nearly burning through his gloves, and he was people watching. There was a couple across the way, sitting on a second bench arguing. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but the woman looked bored, and the man was enraged.


  “Testosterone problem,” Ben muttered to himself as he watched the man's face grow redder, his expressions more exaggerated, his arm motions wider and sharper.

  The woman reached into her bag, pulled out a cigarette, and with what appeared to be deliberate action, blew her first puff of smoke into the man's face. The man now angrier, slapped the cigarette out of her hand and stomped on it. Here's where it gets ugly, Ben thought, but instead of getting angry, she pulled out another cigarette and lit it. The cycle continued until the woman had one left in her pack. This one she lit slowly and moved along the bench, just out of arm's reach.

  Ben chuckled to himself and shook his head. “Better than a movie.”

  “I do miss people watching,” came a quiet voice from behind Ben's right shoulder.

  Startled, Ben sat up and whipped around to see Mark standing there. He was wrapped up in a thick, black wool coat, his short curls blowing in the breeze, a pair of thick, dark glasses covering his eyes.

  “It passes the time,” Ben said once his heart stopped thumping in his chest. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Friendly stranger pointed you out after your sister said I might find you here,” Mark replied with a shrug. “Mind if I have a seat?”

  “Be my guest,” Ben said and moved over a space to allow Mark room to sit. Ben watched in fascination as Mark navigated around the bench with his cane, used his hand to examine the empty space, and then sat, turning to face Ben.

  “I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but you've been avoiding my phone calls,” Mark said. His words were accusatory, but his tone was neutral, if not quite friendly.

  “Right,” Ben said, clearing his throat. “Look, I mean you're really nice, and I appreciate your religious investigative work, but I really don't want to be involved with things like this.”

  “Does the idea of possibly being healed by a religious-based miracle make you uneasy?”

  Ben shook his head, remembered Mark couldn't see him, and said, “No. It isn't anything like that. Whatever happened to me, happened to me. Whether it was religious or a transfer of energy, or some ridiculous coincidence, it happened. My biggest concern, truthfully, is Abby. She's already terrified of losing me. I'm her only real living family left, and the thing is, there's a good chance my tumor will come back, and this time around I might not have some Jesus-like homeless man to lay hands on me or whatever. Abby will upend her entire life, dragging me to bleeding icon after crying statue to get me healed, and when it doesn't work and I die, she'll crack.”

  Mark listened to this, his face stoic but understanding. “If it helps, Ben, I don’t believe in religious miracles.”

  “You don't?” Ben asked, his voice skeptical. “Abby seems to think you're a religious miracle expert.”

  “I am,” Mark affirmed. “Not by belief, but by study. I'm also not a particularly religious man, which I realize might be confusing considering my position in the school, as well as my past.”

  “Abby said you came from Russia where you were a priest.”

  “Siberia, and priest can be a rather loose term in the Church,” Mark said. “I never took my vows and I didn’t hold Mass, but rather spent my days working and studying. None of this is particularly important, though. What matters is you have someone who understands what you went through.”

  “What do you mean by that? What does that even matter?” Ben demanded, crossing his arms against the cold.

  Mark leaned forward, taking off his glasses, his milky-white eyes fixed on Ben's face. “Because it's the only way you're going to help me, and the only way you're going to believe me when I tell you I know exactly why your tumor disappeared.”

  Ben was stunned into silence, not because of the words, but because of the finality and surety behind them. Ben, by nature, was a skeptical person, but in this moment he believed Mark. Somehow, without even knowing this man, he knew Mark was telling the truth.

  It took him some time to answer, but eventually he muttered out, “Okay.”

  Mark smiled and his posture relaxed slightly. “I don't believe it's fair to you that you experience something like this. Having a potentially fatal tumor disappear isn't something you can just let go and stop thinking about. I want to explain it to you, but the first thing we need to do is find where this man was taken, and then we need to find a way to see him.”

  Ben licked his lips, a nervous habit, and shoved his hands into his coat pocket. He was hesitant to help, unsure why seeing his homeless man would answer any of his questions. But Mark seemed dead-set on that course of action. And really, Ben thought, what could it hurt? “I guess I could make some calls. I can check his case file tonight, see who his judge was, and if he had a public defender or if he just pleaded guilty. If that's the case, I'll try and find out where he was sentenced to. It's not likely they just let him go, not with a violent assault like that.”

  Mark reached into his pocket, pulled out a small card, and handed it over to Ben. “This is my personal number, a line no one but your sister has, and I want you to please phone me the moment you know where he is. This will be worthwhile to you, I swear it.”

  “And what about Abby? Are you going to tell her any of this?” Ben asked.

  “I will leave that decision up to you.”

  “Abby is a bright girl,” Ben said. “I think she deserves the truth.”

  “Are you sure you're not just trying to sway her from her fierce belief in God?” Mark questioned.

  Ben's face flared red, a little angry, but mostly from guilt because Mark had it right. “What's your opinion then, Father?” He used the word Father angrily, mockingly, but Mark didn't seem to notice or mind.

  “Truthfully, I believe Abby has amazing potential and it would not hurt her to know the truth, in the end. She may be hurt at first, to learn most of what she knows is a well-fabricated lie, but she'd overcome it quickly.”

  “Are you interested in her?” Ben asked suddenly, blurting the question. “It's none of my business, but... well... I'd just like to know.”

  “I'm not in the position at the moment to court anyone,” Mark said after a short pause. “Your sister is a wonderful person, and beautiful I’m sure. I’m aware of her affections towards me, but there is too much going on in my life for me to take interest in anyone.”

  Ben decided to leave it at that, satisfied with Mark’s answer. He slipped the card into his pocket and then sat forward, leaning a little towards Mark. “Give me a week, okay. One week and I should have all the information you need to find this man.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  Ben stood up, brushed his hands down his coat, and waited politely for Mark to rise. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  Mark smiled and shook his head. “It's not a long walk, and it's nice out. Thank you though. Hopefully I'll hear from you soon.” Mark extended his hand and Ben took it.

  He stood there as Mark started off in the direction he'd come in, his cane stretched in front of him, his face turned up slightly. There was an almost bounce to his step, Ben noticed, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't look up this crazy homeless man. Maybe he should wash his hands of this entire thing, be done with it.

  “That's what Pilate did, didn't he,” Ben said aloud to himself, and then laughed at the fact he even remembered that from his Biblical studies. Shaking his head, he headed to his car and decided that he would go to the office. What harm could come from taking a small look into the case, and where the man was sent?

  ~*~

  Ben eased down into his desk chair, gingerly holding his cup of scalding hot coffee between his hands. Though he didn’t suffer from a tumor anymore, the surgery still affected him enough to make coming back to work a little more difficult. He was easily tired, and using deductive reasoning on his cases didn't come as easily as it had been before.

  The doctors all assured him it was nothing to worry about, he was healing, and even an exploratory surgery in the brain would cause some temporary secondary s
ymptoms. Still, Ben was frustrated, ready to get back to normal and put the nonsense behind him.

  He was lucky enough his captain had kept the entire incident to himself. Ben didn't think he could handle well-wishing cards and good-humored jokes made about his mental state.

  Firing up his computer, Ben went straight into the database in search of the case involving the vagrant. It was easy enough to find, especially since Ben had been first on scene to respond. His notes were included with the report the officers on scene took, and the case had been assigned to a judge with whom Ben had a working relationship.

  Neither the sentencing, nor the court minutes were available in the database, though. This meant either the homeless man was still unable to be identified, or he hadn't been sent for sentencing yet.

  Picking up the phone, Ben dialed the records department manager, a man Ben knew from college. After three rings, a tired voice came on. “Brian Williams speaking.”

  “Hey Brian, it's Ben Stanford,” Ben said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. “How are you?”

  “Hung over,” Brian groaned. “My brother is getting married next weekend and his bachelor party got out of control last night.”

  Ben chuckled. “Sounds rough, man. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, I did this to myself,” Brian said. Ben could hear him pause to gulp what had to be coffee, and then Brian cleared his throat. “So what's up? I'm assuming this isn't a personal call.”

  “I need some information on a man in a case I responded to a couple of weeks ago,” Ben said. He gave the date and case number to his friend. “From what I can tell, there still hasn't been identity established, and I have a possible lead on someone who might know him.”

  All Ben could hear from Brian's end was the clicking sound of a keyboard for several moments. “Ah,” Brian said eventually, “you're right, no identity established. The case went before Judge Baker, but John Doe was incoherent and hospitalized at the time. The DA had the case transferred down to San Diego County. Looks like he was admitted to Edgington Behavioral Health Hospital for sixty days pending review of his case, and upon establishing an identity.”