Ben stared at Mark for some time, and then said, “He’ll have what I’m having,” to the bartender as he came back into the room.
A second glass of scotch hit the top of the bar, and Mark gave Ben a polite nod. “Seems appropriate.”
“Your English has gotten better in the last few days,” Ben said, wavering a finger at Mark. “You lie about that, too?”
Mark swallowed some of the harsh liquor and grimaced as it went down. “Ah, no. Living as long as I have, it doesn’t take me much time to master a language. When keeping up appearances of being a normal, run of the mill, thirty-something year old Russian man, I laid the accent on a bit thick.”
“Hmm,” Ben hummed and took a small sip of his drink. “This whole thing is killing me, you realize. It’s going to see me right into my damn grave.”
“Not if I can help it,” Mark said in a very serious tone. “This whole thing with that doctor, it’s beyond my level of comprehension. I don’t pretend to know everything, Ben, but I can assure you I have no idea what he’s part of, or what he’s planning on doing.”
“You trust him?”
Mark let out a small sigh and bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I want to. Something tells me he’s not lying, but that doesn’t mean he’s worth trusting.”
“You ever see any of this gods business he’s talking about?”
“I think so,” Mark confessed. “In the room, a little while ago, something in him shifted. Suddenly he wasn’t himself, and I don’t know if that was a “god” thing,” Mark said using the finger quotes, “or if it was something else, but whatever it was, it was something I’ve never experienced.”
“Do you really think Abby could be in danger?” Ben’s voice was thick with worry, the alcohol preventing him from hiding his emotions as he normally could.
“I don’t know,” Mark said with a shrug. “Greg seems to think so, and I’d rather err on the side of caution. I’m not sure how well I’d bear Abby getting hurt.”
“You realize she’s in love with you, right?” Ben pointed out sloppily. He stopped talking a moment as the bartender plopped a large plate of fried mushrooms and zucchini in front of him. He shoved a few, scalding hot pieces into his mouth, paying no mind to layers of skin burning off of his tongue. “She’s in love with you, and God help her for it.”
Mark’s face went a bit pink and he looked down. “I know. I wish there was something I could do about it.”
Ben looked at Mark sideways, his vision going a bit double from the scotch, but the food helping a little. “You ever been married, Mark? Or are you like… neutered?” His voice went a bit high and he waved a piece of zucchini at Mark. “Do your parts work?”
Mark, surprised by the answer, choked on his swallow of scotch. He used the cocktail napkin to wipe his mouth and he cleared his throat. “Er… yes. Yes my parts, as you put it, do work. I have been married, many times.”
“So the celibate priest thing is a choice?”
Mark gave a shrug. “I’m old, but not so inhuman that I can’t fall in love. I am also not so inhuman that I’m not crushed every time my spouse and my children grow up, age, and die while I sit from afar and watch them, unable to let them know that I’m still here, because it would reveal a secret that would destroy them.”
“You’ve never told a spouse about your little ability?” Ben asked. “You’re okay with telling a detective and a teacher that you barely know, but you wouldn’t tell the woman you loved?”
“I have told a spouse before,” Mark said, his voice raw and tense. “They believed me, stood by me, and we lived many years together. Eventually, while they aged, and their body began to fall apart, they couldn’t stand watching me continue on, apart from the mortal coil. It drove them mad, and they left me.”
The raw pain in Mark’s voice was enough to sober Ben just a bit, and he shivered at the thought of what that might be like, to live forever, and watch the ones he loved age and die while he stood apart from them, trapped.
“Sorry,” Ben eventually muttered. Though he still didn’t really believe Mark, he was clearly suffering, and Ben knew all too well what that felt like.
“Long story short, I don’t want to hurt your sister, or myself for that matter, any more than I already have to,” Mark said, waving away Ben’s sympathetic apology.
Ben polished off the plate of fried bar food, the last of his drink and declined a fourth refill on his glass. “Can I ask you a question, Mark? One that you’ll answer honestly?”
“I’ll answer it as honestly as I can,” Mark replied.
“The God from the Bible, you know, the fire and brimstone, ten commandments, burning bush guy. He real?”
Mark let out a sigh, pinching his eyes closed with his thumb and forefinger. “I think so.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know. I think he was long gone before I was born, and I don’t think he left Yeshua in charge of things.”
“Yeshua?”
“Jesus,” Mark amended. “Yeshua is his Hebrew name, the name I called him when I knew him. Jesus was a Buddhist.”
Ben barked out a laugh. “A Buddhist? You’re joking, right?”
Mark shook his head. “It’s a really long story, and telling it is nearly as dangerous for me as writing it all down, but truthfully, he spent most of his life in India studying with the monks. I knew him when he was a kid, we were children together, living in Alexandria. One day they came for him, the monks, and they took him to study. He came back when we were in our thirties, he was married, had a couple of kids with him. Yehuda was so angry at him for leaving. We were living in Galilee again, and it was getting ugly. The Hebrews were so angry at the Romans, and the Romans were getting more oppressive, terrified of an uprising. Then Yeshua came back and started telling everyone about the way of peace and inner oneness and…” Mark trailed off, waving his hand. “Anyway, it all just sort of snowballed from there, and the next thing I knew, Yehuda and I were stuck with this curse, and Yeshua was gone, and people were preaching nonsense in Yeshua’s name.”
Ben was listening with rapt attention, his eyes wide. The funny thing was, there was a piece of him, a fragment left over from his childhood, of the little boy who sat in church and stared up at the crucifix and honestly believed that there was something out there that could save him, that wanted to believe Mark.
“I listen to Greg,” Mark continued, drawing Ben out of his thoughts, “and the things he’s saying about these ancient gods, and how once they could touch the earth and now they’re just fragments of themselves, and I think that the old Hebrew God probably did exist, and he probably did lead the Hebrews. If he’s still around, he’s probably just as powerless and pointless as the old Greek ones toying with the human bodies.”
Ben clenched his jaw and tried to push out that fragment of himself that wanted to believe. “It’s all insane.”
“Yes, I know,” Mark said with a sad smile.
“And somehow Greg thinks he’s going to prove it to me,” Ben said.
“I think he’s going to show it to you,” Mark corrected. “Proof is all relative, based on the belief of the person. Say you’re ill, and you’re given an injection of medicine, but at the exact same time, you’re touched by a religious healer. Five days later, your illness is gone. Which one is proof?”
“The medicine, obviously,” Ben said with a shrug.
“Now imagine that it was your sister, and not you. Which one is proof then?”
Ben let out a breath. “I see.”
“I believe that Greg isn’t trying to get you to believe, but simply to understand so you’ll help us. I don’t understand what’s going on, exactly, but I do believe that there is a danger lurking, and we need to act quickly.”
Ben stood up from the bar, brushed the crumbs from the front of his suit and stretched. He was just drunk enough to handle going back upstairs where Greg and Abby were. Abby was still not talking to him, but for the moment, Ben
preferred it that way.
“Do you think those detectives are on to us, yet?” Mark called as Ben started to walk away.
Ben paused and looked back at Mark. “God, I hope not.”
~*~
It was nearing dusk when Greg announced it was time to leave. “Ben, we won’t be gone long, but if we’re going to do this, we need to go now.”
Ben looked down at his watch. “Is there some sort of ancient gods witching hour, or something?”
Greg gave a small chuckle as he shrugged on his coat. “Not precisely, but it’s best we do this after my office is closed.”
Ben grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. “Alright, well, everyone…”
“Just you,” Greg said sharply as Abby, who was sitting on a chair in front of the TV, rose. “It’s not safe for Abby, and someone needs to stay with her.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “I’m tired of these veiled threats towards my sister.”
“They are not threats, Ben, and the warnings are not veiled. Your sister is at risk, and the further away we can keep her from a god portal, the better.”
“God portal,” Ben muttered with a snort. “I can’t even believe I’m doing this.”
But Greg wasn’t to be swayed, and before long, Ben and Greg were riding the elevator down to the lobby. The hotel, though it was the off-season, was bustling with people there to enjoy a nice dinner by the little seaside resort, and the lobby was starting to fill up with people.
The pair pushed their way through a particularly large crowd of elderly women in large, red hats and purple coats. Just before they reached the door, a woman walked in, and gave Ben pause. She was tall and lanky, carrying herself with an obvious confidence. Her hair was long, very thick and very black. Her olive skin tone and dark eyes gave her a middle-eastern look, and the crisp, pressed suit she wore gave her away as either a business professional or a cop.
It was when Ben saw the bulge on the side of her jacket, and the briefcase in her hand, that he knew she was a cop. Even with the very bright, lavender silk top she wore under her deep black jacket, she didn’t blend in with the civilians well.
Ben felt a little bit of fear creep into his stomach as her eyes locked onto his and she made her way over, her heels clicking on the floor loudly, despite the chatter of the crowd. Ben stopped Greg, and waited until she approached.
“Detective Stanford?” she asked. Her voice was deep and rich, and definitely west-coast.
Ben reached into his pocket and brought out his badge. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Detective Horvath, Stella Horvath. I was told I could find you here,” she said, extending her hand.
Ben took her hand, feeling the subtle callous on her palm, telling him that she wasn’t just a desk detective. He wasn’t sure if that made her more dangerous or less, but he was prepared to do whatever he needed to, to avoid getting brought in.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said as cordially as he could.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” she asked, eyeing Greg who was watching her with a strange look on his face.
Ben sighed and looked around at the crowd. “Mind telling me what this is about, detective? We’re sort of in a hurry.”
The woman stared at Greg for longer than seemed appropriate, and then she gave a small shrug. “There’s been some… stuff, if you will… going on in my department, and I’ve decided to take over Burgess and Ross’ case involving the missing John Doe.”
“What do you mean stuff?” Ben asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “What kind of stuff?”
“Like I said, if there’s somewhere we can talk, I’d be happy to explain.” Her voice was clipped, short and to the point, which Ben immediately liked. She wasn’t giving off any indication that she found Ben suspect, quite the opposite, in fact.
“I have a room, but unfortunately my sister and her friend are upstairs,” Ben said. “I suppose we could find a quiet table in the bar?”
“I could use a glass of wine after my day today,” she said after a moment, and with that, she took the lead and brought both Greg and Ben into the bar.
It wasn’t too busy yet, though it was starting to get a little noisy, but the new detective managed to find a small, round half-booth near the back, where the room led to the kitchen, and the three of them sat down.
A server immediately took orders, and before long, each had a drink, and Stella was pulling out a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Now, normally I wouldn’t be entirely comfortable about sharing our little meeting with your friend, but I recognized him from the paperwork,” she said, pulling out an identification sheet with Greg’s staff photo on it.
“Right,” Ben said, taking a long drink of his scotch. He wondered why this new detective didn’t seem even remotely concerned that the doctor was with Ben in San Diego, and that Ben had not been officially signed on to the John Doe case.
“I’ve gone over the case reports from Burgess and Ross, and though I’m not exactly thrilled with their tactics, some of the information has been helpful,” she said. She shoved a stack of papers at Ben. “I suspect they never bothered to discuss the case with you?”
“Only the information they used to question me,” Ben replied, flipping through the pages.
Stella gave a little groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course they did. Those two idiots…” she trailed off and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak about my detectives that way, but I’ve had trouble with those two since they day they were promoted, and this just speaks to that.”
It was hearing that, that caused Ben to suddenly remember hearing her name before. Stella Horvath, she was the head detective for San Diego County, and she’d been in the position for nearly a decade now. In fact, Ben’s boss rather liked her and had been courting her professionally, hoping she’d transfer, for years.
Ben frowned, wondering why she’d take on a simple missing person’s case, but he decided to let her speak first.
“I called your office today, and spoke with a Joshua Rogers. He told me you were heading out to investigate a lead on your latest homicide case,” she continued. “I take it you’ve been given the case of those hospital patients?”
“Yes,” Ben said slowly. “It’s eerily similar to the John Doe.”
“Right, and I happen to agree, which is why I had to take Burgess and Ross off the case. I do appreciate them following every potential lead, but interrogating the head detective of another county without even considering what he might be working on isn’t exactly top notch detective work,” she said sharply.
“It was understandable,” Ben acquiesced. “I was connected to the John Doe long before he disappeared.”
“Do you believe in destiny, Ben? Being placed somewhere by the universe for a specific event?” Stella asked suddenly.
Ben glanced over at Greg who had choked a little on his drink. “Er, I don’t really buy into all of that nonsense,” Ben replied.
“Are you alright, doctor?” Stella asked, momentarily ignoring Ben’s answer.
“Fine, yes,” Greg said, blotting his mouth with the napkin. “Swallowed wrong. I do apologize.”
Stella stared at him for a moment before she continued. “Neither do I. However, I do believe that sometimes people just happen to be at the right place at the right time. Had you not met this John Doe prior to your case, you might not have him as a potential lead.”
“Potential lead?” Ben asked.
“Meaning he’s a missing person right now, not a murder victim, and if we can find him before he becomes a murder victim, you’ll have a better chance at solving your case.”
For the first time since Ben had met Mark and Greg, he was hearing someone make sense, his kind of sense. Someone was speaking with reason to the strange series of events he’d gone through, and he felt, just for a moment, like he might shed a few tears of relief.
“Does that mean Mark Roman and my sister are off the suspect list?”
“They a
re. Burgess and Ross couldn’t come up with any conclusive evidence linking the disappearance of John Doe to either Roman or your sister, and I’m not surprised. This isn’t the first time a priest of a Catholic parish has attempted to gain custody over an unidentified patient, especially one displaying alleged religious wounds.”
“You’re referring to the stigmata?” Ben asked.
“Correct, that was in John Doe’s initial report with your confirmation that you did, in fact, see the wounds.”
Ben blushed. “Well I saw blood but…”
“Listen, I’ve seen stranger things. In fact, I read a study where they were able to document religious fanatics displaying wounds of stigmata, weeping blood, and things like that. They say it’s something to do with the brain and something that the religious fervor triggers. It’s crazy, but it’s science.”
Ben looked over at Greg, who was staring down at his drink, saying nothing. “If you ever get the chance, you’ll have to send me the information on that study.”
Stella cast him a tense smile. “Anyhow, I am glad I ran into you detective, you’re a hard man to track down. I know you said you were on your way out, so I’ll just leave you my card and we can be in touch.” She reached into her pocket and slid her small business card across the table towards him.
“Thank you,” Ben said, picking it up and putting it immediately into his wallet.
“Doctor,” Stella said, reaching out her hand. “I suppose we’ll talk more soon. Thank you for waiting patiently.”
Greg’s eyes were narrow as he shook her hand, and he said nothing as she took her leave, her heels clicking ever so slightly on the rough tile of the restaurant floor. She eventually disappeared into the crowd, and Ben finally turned his attention back to Greg.
“I knew it.”
“Ben, please,” Greg begged.
Ben threw up his hand. “No. You know what, I knew from the bottom of my little, black heart this religious bullshit was… well, bullshit. I knew there was an explanation for all of this!”
“She’s lying,” Greg blurted out, and then sighed, hanging his head. “She’s one of them.”
The Awakening (The Judas Curse Book 1) Page 20