Judas (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 1)

by Roy Bright

  She had travelled to New York City, as many do, with diamonds in her eyes, dreaming of a life on Broadway, imagining one filled with film premiers and cocktail parties, determined that her beauty alone would see her through to her dreams. However, she soon discovered that the reality is quite the opposite, crushing. That the sting of rejection coupled with spiraling costs of living, low-income waitressing job after maid job after strip job after lap dancing job, can lead a girl down a rabbit hole that few ever escape from. Once in, they find ways to shut out the harshness of reality with drugs, booze and sex with the latter providing what can be vast sums of money yet in time, taxed beyond hope by the greed of narcotics. This is how Abi found herself wanting and succumbing in full to a life of prostitution, each day filled with a cavalcade of fat hairy balding businessmen like Herb, desperate for a taste of something they could never get from their own endeavors. Stuck with unattractive wives and ungrateful kids; forever running on the hamster wheel of life. Possessions and worthless knick-knacks owning them, demanding more and more blood until their drained bodies fail; more victims to the stress-wheel of heart disease.

  She grabs her final piece of decoration from the table at the side of the bed; two long beaded bracelets that rattle and chink as she pulls them over her wrists.

  Herb notices something that had escaped his attention on previous encounters: two vertical scars running down each wrist about two inches long. He averts his gaze, embarrassed to be caught studying them.

  She pauses as she draws the bracelets over them. “Hey, what can I say, Herb! Some guys are so bad at it they just bore me to death. But not you, honey.” She winks.

  He offers her a nervous smile, changing the subject. “So, am I gonna be able to see you again next week, Candy?”

  She uses a false name, all of the girls do.

  “Well, that depends, Herbie.” Seduction returns. She picks up her purse, opens it and motions inside with her right index finger, then crawls over the bed; sultry, she is a temptress. “Depends on how much money you are gonna go out and earn for little ole’ me?” She twists her fingers in his chest hair. This had always grossed her out but, she is ‘working the crowd’ here and Herb was always a good payer if he had put in enough hours that week.

  He beams at her. “I’ll volunteer for extra hours in the office next week. I promise.”

  She pouts and backs off the bed smiling.

  “That’s my good little Herbie.”

  Standing, she once again readjusts her skirt, only this time, she wiggles her bum and hips even slower, her eyes transfixed on him.

  “Well, I gotta go, Herbie, your time’s up, sweetie.”

  She blows him a kiss just as there is an almighty crash from the room above. They both jump.

  “What the hell is going on up there?” he cries, his attention snapping to the ceiling, the light attached to it swinging back and forth from the disturbance.

  “I dunno, Herbie, sounds like they are having one hell of a Saturday morning party.” She offers him a sexy look and then laughs.

  Another large thud.

  She studies the ceiling, perplexed. Without doubt, it sounds like a fight above but whoever it is, they sound huge.

  The scuffling continues for a few moments and then another crash, this time followed by a significant smash. The ceiling suffers a heavy thump and bows under the force.

  Herb throws himself out of the bed, fearing the whole ceiling is about to come crashing down on them and she catches sight of his naked body in all its 5ft 4in fat and hairy glory. His balding perspiring head glistening in the same light that had illuminated hers. She cringes. She hates her job. She looks back to the ceiling, but this time the seductress in her is gone. “Scratch that, Herb,” she says, backing away, “that sounds like a fight to me. I think I had best be leaving now.” She moves over to the door, her right arm outstretched, fumbling to find the handle, her eyes never wandering from the pounding ceiling as the sound of limbs smashing against the floor has both of their attention. She imagines the sound to be like that of a four-legged animal attempting to right itself off its back. She shifts her focus from the ceiling to find her aim for the door is off to the left and she readjusts her approach. Grabbing the doorknob, she twists it and yanks the door open as the ceiling shakes with another thunderous boom. She runs outside into the sunlight.

  Standing in front of her is a suited man with a gun. He casts a brief look at her and screams, “Get back inside.”

  She shakes her head. “What the hell is going on up there?”

  Ignoring her question, he commands, “West Babylon P.D. Please, just get back inside your room.”

  Three gunfire shots interrupt his order and he raises his gun to the balcony above.

  Silence.

  The door to Room 13 smashes under a massive force, exploding the doorframe as wood splinters out in all directions. A bulky mass of bodies crashes through the balcony frame splitting it in two.

  Bits drop around their heads and he ceases to cover the room with his gun, instead shielding his own head from the wooden rain. He dashes towards her to prevent himself being bowled over by the sprawling mass spilling over the balcony. She looks up from shielding her own face and cannot believe what she is seeing. The man does the same as he turns around to see the bodies split off into three. One, a man, who rolls off and comes to a perfect halt, left knee bent, his right leg outstretched and planted on the ground; left hand steadying him, his right holding a gun raised to that of the other two forms. The other massive bodies land with much less control, sprawling out at angles to each other, skidding along the dusty road, throwing up grey clouds of dirt. Coming to a halt, they scramble onto all fours and Abi and the man look on in horror, as two huge, grotesque and roaring beasts stare the man down. Her attention and that of the man’s in front of her, snaps to the balcony above as a young girl peers over and screams, “Judas!”

  Sixteen

  “Wake up! Wake up!”

  He finds himself pulled out of sleep in a manner that is alien to him. He wonders just what in the hell is going on as he feels something poking at his chest.

  “Wake up, Judas! Wake up!”

  After four attempts, he manages to open his eyes to find Charlotte sitting on the bed next to him, poking him in the chest. “Hey, quit it will ya, kid? I’m up.” He sits up leaning on his right elbow, and rubs his eyes and coughs, “What time is it?”

  “Ummm zero… nine… three… seven.” She reads the numbers on the clock. She’s not quite sure what the actual time of day is, she just knows it’s in the morning.

  “Nine thirty-seven?” He lets out a little moan and flops back down onto the covers. “And I was having such a nice lie in too.”

  “Something’s coming, we have to go.”

  He sits up. “What is it? What’s coming?”

  “I don’t know but I just feel something is coming. We should leave now.”

  He stares at her for a moment. “How do you know? What sort of feeling?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that something is coming and we have to go.”

  He stares at her for a few more seconds then leaps out of bed. “My boots, where the hell are my boots?”

  “Under the bed.” She points.

  He drops to his knees, looks under the bed, locates his boots and grabs them. He sits back on the bed. It springs up and down a couple of times and Charlotte has to steady herself.

  She climbs off.

  He slips into his boots and laces them up in a hurry. Standing, he rubs his face once again. A knock at the door whips his attention towards it and he pauses, listening, waiting for someone to call out ‘housekeeping’ or some other sentence maids say, before barging into a room. There is only silence. He turns to Charlotte, stood on the other side of the bed, gripping Mr. Tumble. He mouths to her to go into the bathroom and close the door, then raises his right index finger to his mouth motioning for her to be very quiet. “Who is it?” he calls out.

 
No answer.

  “We don’t need housekeeping, thanks, we’re set.” He stretches over to the pillow on his side of the bed and reaches in for his gun.

  Another knock.

  Shit! This is bad. The kid knew it was coming and whatever’s outside that fucking door ain’t friendly.

  He tries to formulate a plan.

  They are on the first floor; he can’t ask the kid to jump out of the bathroom window, hell, he can’t even fit out of the bathroom window. Nothing for it then, it’s a fight. He needs to deal with whoever or whatever it is fast, then grab Charlotte, get into the car and head for Jersey.

  Another knock.

  Fuck! Right then, here we go.

  He moves to the left-hand side of the door and tries to peek out of a small gap in the curtains, but there isn’t space sufficient enough for him to get a good look, and whoever was at the door must be stacked on the other side. He was sure that as soon as he turned the doorknob, they would open fire. He would use that to burst out of the door and kill them. He hated getting shot. He had learned to dull pain a long time ago but it was only dulled. Getting shot hurt like hell still and he hated it.

  Okay, on three.

  He reaches out for the door handle with his left hand, grabs and turns it then lets it go. He waits for the sound of gunfire, but nothing comes. He rattles the doorknob again, still nothing.

  Either he was losing his touch or it was housekeeping after all. Hell, no doubt she couldn’t speak any English and had just left.

  However, Judas is a very cautious man. Almost two thousand years of walking the earth has made him so. He grabs the doorknob a final time and turns it all the way; it clicks. He opens the door a little then pulls his hand back to keep his body shape correct. He coaxes the door open with his right foot peering through the gap, then with a little more force pushes it open further, his raised gun never leaving the direction he is facing. He listens, controlling his breathing, searching out any possible sound, but hears nothing. He sticks his head out a tiny amount, checking each side. There is no one there. He opens the door in full and steps outside looking left and right. The balcony is empty. He frowns, it must have been housekeeping after all. He turns around and sees Charlotte peering out of a small crack in the bathroom door. He shrugs.

  Judas flies across the room, his grip on his gun releasing, falling out of his hands and onto the floor. He has received a powerful blow to his back that has sent him sprawling almost all the way across to the bathroom door. He feels winded but forces himself into action, twisting and facing the doorway. Within it, stands a huge Jackal Demon. It grins while salivating and yellow eyes burn into him. It speaks.

  “Hello, Iscariot, it’s been a long time.”

  Behind it, he sees a second demon lower itself from the eaves of the roof and he curses himself for his stupidity. He studies the creature, feeling a hint of recognition, then asks, “That you, Masakai? Thought I’d killed you centuries ago?”

  He has annoyed it.

  “Fuck you, Iscariot. Do you know how long I had to wait until I could come back, you fucking prick?”

  He smiles. “Seems it was a long time, dog, you seem pretty pissed. You miss me?”

  The demon lunges at him, covering the distance in the blink of an eye and grabs him by his left leg. Lifting him up, he slams him into the floor and it shakes.

  It hurt, a lot. The demon has left a three-inch gash down his leg that is almost as deep and blood pours out of it and through his jeans. The bleeding stops almost at once as he feels the familiar tingling of the healing kicking in however, this time the process had happened with much more speed than ever before. It surprised him and it surprised Masakai too as he pauses. Judas reacts and kicks out with a vicious right leg, connecting square with the demon’s jaw. The kick launches it, sending it crashing backwards into the wall to the left of the door and under the curtains. This also surprises him. Never has he connected with a demon with such force before.

  The second demon outside of the door screams, “Masakai, get up, get the fucking girl!”

  Judas rolls over to his left and grabs his gun. He turns to find Masakai has not only gotten back to his feet but has launched himself into the air and the demon lands on him with such force, it causes a sharp exhale.

  He brings both arms up just in time to stop Masakai’s powerful jaws ripping into his face. The strength of the beast is immense and he needs to use all of his to counter it.

  Masakai snarls and snaps at his face, ferocious and unrelenting.

  Warm saliva drips and spatters onto him, and he turns his head from side to side to try and avoid it dripping into his eyes where it would cause him a brief but serious sight problem; long enough for the demon to gain the upper hand at least. He is pushing with everything he has when he looks to his right and sees Charlotte creeping out of the bathroom towards them. He tries to call out to her, to tell her to stop, but the relentless strikes of Masakai’s jaws only serve to allow him to grunt short, sharp breaths.

  She stretches out, she is almost there; reaching out with her left arm trying to touch him.

  What the hell is she doing? He looks over the muscular shoulders of Masakai, who has now reached fever pitch, adding his hind leg claws into the attack and sees the second demon advance into the room.

  It has seen Charlotte emerge from the bathroom and has now made her its priority.

  He can feel tissue and muscle rip and tear as huge claws gouge their way into his skin, but almost as soon as the damage appears, his repair system kicks in. This heightened speed of recovery continues to baffle him, but he has no time to think of that now. The second demon is no more than three yards away from her and he calls upon all of his strength to try to push Masakai off. He is still pushing with all of his might when she reaches him and lays her left hand on his right shoulder.

  Time stops.

  His pupils dilate.

  An insane rush of power floods his entire body, intoxicating and dizzying him as thoughts propel through his mind at a million miles an hour. He is unable to comprehend what is happening and unbeknownst to him, his eyelids flutter, rapid and maddening, his mouth agape, his eyes rolling backwards.

  The sensation feels like hours yet it is nothing more than a nanosecond and time returns to him, slamming him back into consciousness. He draws in a long deep breath and powers Masakai through the air and into the second demon.

  They collide with such thunderous force that it shakes the entire room and both flail, lashing out at each other, attempting to right themselves onto all fours.

  Masakai manages to turn and hammers onto the floor hard, in anger.

  Judas grabs a hold of his gun and fires three shots. They hit Masakai in the head twice and the second demon in the body once. Using his newfound strength, he scrambles to his feet and, like an express train, runs at them, picks them both up and hurls them through the door that had closed from the incessant vibration caused by the fight. The trio explode into the sunlight out onto the balcony, splitting it in two.

  All three crash down onto the car park, missing the Mustang by the narrowest of margins.

  Judas breaks off towards the left; his senses keener than ever, alert and aware. He forward rolls out of the fall and twists his body to the left, coming to a skidding halt on right bended knee, his left leg outstretched, the palm of his left hand planted onto the ground; steadying himself, his right hand holding out his weapon in front of him.

  Masakai and Kento spin off from each other coming to a much less elegant halt.

  They scramble back onto all fours as Judas raises his gun. They form a standoff, and stare at each other in silence.

  Judas’ head snaps upwards as he hears Charlotte call his name from the balcony.

  “Get the girl!” the second demon barks at the first.

  Kento, he tells himself.

  Masakai peels off and bolts towards Charlotte, his progress halted however, as repeated gun shots slam into his body.

  He stumb
les, stops, turns and focuses his attention on the origin, a suited man, firing shot after shot at him. Behind the suit is a blonde woman, a familiar look of terror on her face, but this man doesn’t look frightened, he looks… determined. The cop.

  Gary has emptied his entire magazine into the creature causing it to stumble. It comes to a skidding halt then raises its head once again. His left hand scrambles under his left jacket pleat and around his belt for a spare magazine, whilst at the same time, his right thumb pushes the eject button on the left-hand side of his gun, expelling the empty magazine. He didn’t want to know what the hell was in front of him right now; all he knew was that he needed to take it down. The man who had fallen off the balcony, also appeared to be fighting these creatures, so for the time being, he would ally himself with him until he could figure this out. Just for the time being. He quickly reloads his gun and fires four more shots into the beast. They seem to have little effect. He hears the woman’s voice behind him scream. “Are you fucking crazy, you stupid cop? Run!”

  Masakai launches himself at them.

  He stands his ground. Taking careful aim, he re-opens fire. Each round hitting the beast in the head with perfect precision and it goes down once again.

  This guy is becoming a problem, Masakai grunts.

  The bullets have only slowed its approach and Gary needs to act fast. He runs out from under the cover of the balcony and locates Charlotte.

  She looks down as a man screams up at her to jump. She stares at him, a blank expression upon her face then looks at Judas once more.

  The man below repeats his command, “Jump, Charlotte!”

  He knew her name; how did he know her name? The voice inside her head returns. The same voice that had told her what to do in the Orphanage was now telling her to jump. She jumps.