Best New Vampire Tales: Vol 1 Part 10

She wanted to break free, to run, but she was his to command, and she could not.

He stood, arms wide, waiting, and he beckoned her forth. She came, haltingly at first, then rus.h.i.+ngaablowing across the sand like a dark wind, and they embraced.

"I will take from you your hunger," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands and staring into her eyes in love, "and you shall have a part of what is mine, that you may be saved."

"You cannot know what he will do! Your father will not be pleased!" She pleaded with him, even as he directed her, placing her lips to his throat and caressing her teeth with his skin.

"My father's will be done," he said, eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with trapped emotion, "I will not allow any to suffer. Drink, Mary, for the hour is late, and my days here are now few."

And the hunger swept aside her objections as he spoke. She plunged her fangs deep, drank richly of his lifeblood, weeping as she fed, and he moaned from the pain, yet caressed her hair softly, eyes closed in prayer.

Watching from nearby, Judas shrank away in horror. Rus.h.i.+ng to the camp, he looked about wildly for his weapons, waking the others in his frantic haste.

"What is it?" Peter asked, grabbing his arm. "Where is our Lord?"

"He is in the desert!" Judas cried, "beset by a demon! We must go to him!"

And they all rushed out then, some only partially clothed, bearing swords and spears. Judas led them quickly through the shadows to where he had seen Jesus and Mary. When they arrived, however, they found only their Lord, seated, head bowed in prayer.

"Master," Peter cried, "Judas said that you were beset by a demon, so we have come to you!"

Looking up, eyes very tired and voice weak, Jesus answered. "There is no demon here, but I am weary. Lead me to the camp, for I must rest."

Eyes full of wonder, for they had never seen their Lord in such a state, they raised him between them and carried him to his bed, where he fell asleep immediately. In the shadows behind them, weeping, yet marveling at her near-human skin and the peace in her heart, Mary watched them go. Turning, she ran back to the village. The night swallowed her quickly, and the desert was once more still.

Judas 21:1 When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron valley. On the other side was an olive grove, and Jesus and his disciples entered it.

Judas, sent to the village for food, met with the woman, Mary of Magdalene, and was delayed in coming to the grove. As he neared the place, he saw Peter in conference with several armed men. The soldiers, accompanied by officials from the Priests and Pharisees, entered the grove just after Judas, who bore a message from Mary. Kissing his master on the cheek, he whispered the words he had been given. Then the soldiers stepped forward and the disciples grew silent.

"Who is it you seek?" Jesus asked, knowing all that would come to pa.s.s.

"Jesus of Nazareth," they replied.

"I am he," Jesus said.

Peter, attempting to hide his betrayal, drew his sword and struck the High Priest's servant, severing his ear (The servant's name was Malchus).

Jesus said, "Put that sword away. Shall I deny the cup my father pours me?" Turning to the Pharisees and soldiers, Jesus said, "Am I leading a rebellion, then, that you need come upon me by stealth, with swords and clubs? I sat teaching in your courtyards every day, yet you did not arrest me. This has come about that the prophecies may be fulfilled."

Then all his disciples deserted him and fled.

In great anger, Judas followed Peter in his flight. When they reached a point far enough away from the soldiers for safety, he grabbed his fellow disciple's shoulder, spinning him roughly. "What have you done, Peter?" he demanded. Peter's eyes were haunted, distant, and Judas recoiled from them in horror.

"He looked well in chains, do you not think so?" The voice was cold, like brittle ice, cracking through the air. It was not Peter's voice, nor was it any human expression that rode the familiar features.

"Who are you?" Judas asked, backing away, "You are not Peter!"

"I am more than your mind can grasp, fool," the demon voice chuckled, "more than even your master imagines. Perhaps he is coming to some knowledge of this, even now!"

Lowering his gaze to avoid the eyes, which glittered with unnatural light and gripped at his heart, Judas began to pray. The demon, jeering and dark, ranted at him, giving no reprise. Steeling himself, Judas ignored the voice, falling to his knees in the sand.

"Our father, who art in heaven," he began, "be with your servant in his hour of need. Free my brother from this evil, return to us Simon, called Peter, for our Lord needs us now, your son, unworthy as we are, and I have not the strength alone."

As his courage grew, he rose, raising his eyes to those of his tormentor, searching for his brother.

"You are too weak." The demon's voice seemed to waver. "I leave of my own will, not that of your accursed father, or his six-mothered b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And I leave you a gift. Your brethren will believe you the cause of your master's death. Your kiss will become the symbol of his betrayal!"

"Get thee hence!" Judas staggered forward, as if his physical presence alone could intimidate the evil confronting him. Peter's features contorted, rippled between despairing, imploring humanity, and gripping, snarling darkness. As Judas's fingers touched Peter's shoulders, there was a sound like the rus.h.i.+ng of a great wind, and they were both struck to the ground. When the demon had pa.s.sed, leaving swirling pillars of sand in its wake, they rose slowly, blinking their eyes and checking their bones.

"We must follow our Lord, for they have taken him," Judas said, turning away. Peter watched him, a glare in his eye. His expression, accusing and dark, was more painful than even the demon's gaze had been, for it shone through the disciple's own features, and rose from his own mind. Judas trembled, remembering the words, "Your kiss will become the symbol of his betrayal."

Peter followed, but did not speak. The ominous weight of his silence bore down upon Judas like a smothering fog, but still he walked on. It was a small price, he told himself, for his brother's soul. Tears burned with the swirling sand down his cheeks, and dried instantly, wisping into the eye of the sun.

Judas 25:17 The soldiers took Jesus into their charge. Carrying upon his shoulder his own cross, he went out to Golgotha (called the place of the skull). Here they crucified him, along with two othersaaone to each side, with Jesus in the middle. Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH,.

THE KING OF THE JEWS.

It was lettered in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek, and many Jews read the sign, for the place of the crucifixion was near the city. The Chief Priests of the Jews protested, saying, "Do not write, 'King of the Jews,' but instead write that this man claimed to be King of the Jews."

Pilate answered, "I have written what I have written." When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes, dividing them into four equal shares, one for each of them, with the undergarment remaining. This remaining garment was without seams, woven in one piece. "Let's not tear it," they said to one another. "Let's decide by lot who will get it."

This happened that the Scripture might be fulfilled which said, 'They divided my garments among them, and cast lots for my clothing.' So this is what the soldiers did.

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother's sister, Mary, wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved, (Peter), and she for whom he wept, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." To Mary Magdalene he said, "You are one with my heart. Though my father calls, I will be with you. Do not forget."

From that time on, the disciple took Jesus' mother into his home.

Mary Magdalene, hearing the Lord's words, wept bitterly, unable to stand his pain.

Darkness fell upon the threefold wooden frames, trailing shadowy tendrils among the rivulets of blood that clotted and grew sticky on his skin. Jesus regarded those below in the weaving, half-coalesced vision of his pain. Tears dried, unwilling to remoisten his cheeks. He remained conscious only through continuous, jumbled prayer, chasing the tumbling words and thoughts through his heart and pressing them outward to his father with all the strength of his will. None answered. It was done. He'd dared to presume himself above his father's disfavor, reached out to one beyond his power, and he'd given of the greatest gift he'd received to one beyond redemption, desecrating himself in the eyes of his own father.

He could feel his strength ebbing. The pain was beyond anything he'd experienced before, beyond even the pain of his father's disapproval. The human body he wore neared death, and it spoke of this eloquently. So hard, he thought, such a weight to bear. How do they retain faith? And what have I done, taking my gift of salvation and flinging it aside as if it were mine alone?

"I ... I am thirsty," he croaked at last, beseeching those below.

A plant stem was raised, topped by a sponge, and he greedily sucked on the moistness, feeling the bitter sting as the wine-vinegar trickled down his parched throat.

Pulling his face from the sponge weakly, he raised his eyes to the sky and cried out, hurling the words from deep inside his breast, calling out loudly.

"My father, why have you forsaken me?"

And life slipped from his body at that moment, leaving him limp and unmoving on the skeletal framework of the cross.

Mary, seeing that it was truly death that was upon him, screamed a terrible scream, an impotent, nerve-grinding wail to a G.o.d she could not reach. Those around her fled from her fury, crying out in fear and racing for homes and fires. She paid them no heed.

He had risked it all, all that he was, for her, for her soul, and the risk had been in vainaahe was dead! He had walked the Earth as the Son of G.o.d, but, having given to her of his gift, having fed her a part of himself, he had died as a man, and all he had lived was wiped away as if it had never been. In that instant, prophecy was cast to the winds without thought. Still screaming, she ran to the desert, pulling at her almost human hair and cursing the sky with raging torrents of unchecked emotion. Deep within her, sparked by her loss of control, a dark voice reached out to her, laughing the mocking laughter of the victor.

Unable to go on, she dropped to her knees, and, fighting back the encroaching darkness in her soul, she beganaafor the first time since her feet touched the earthaato pray, loudly and blindly. He had given himself for her, for her salvation, though it cost the world. She prayed for only the chance to return his love, to replace his gift. She continued to pray, unaware of her surroundings, while a glowing figure appeared at her side. She did not notice that she was not alone until his fingers brushed her shoulder.

Stifling a cry, she backed away, half-rising to her feet. Elijah stood before her, resplendent, but with sorrow beyond comprehension on his featuresaasadness beyond measure.

"Woman, now called Mary," he spoke, "would you truly return the light?"

"I ... " she lowered her eyes, bowing in supplication, "I would release to you my soul to return himaato fulfill his prophecy. I would do anything."

"Go you then" the voice instructed, "and find Judas, who they name betrayer.

Tell him all. In his lifeblood, and in his love, you will find the strength. If you willingly replace the gift of the Son of Man with Judas' mortal blood, your curse will return. In that hour shall all be righted ... go and may we all be judged on a standard such as your love."

The light was gone, the darkness remained, and Mary rose, returning through the sifting shadows to the cross. Tears streamed steadily down her cheeks, dampening the locks of her hair, and her steps were uneven. It was too great a cost. She had been granted that which no other could give a second time, and now it was demanded of her to return it ... she clutched her arms tightly to her stomach to ease the churning and the pain. In her mind, echoing voices mocked her feeble will, laughed at her lack of courage. Already Lucifer and his minions counted the victory won. She was lost to them, but The Christ was lost to mankind. Wailing her despair, she ran on, finding Judas just before the dawning sun rose to the horizon. He knelt alone, lost in prayer of his own. He did not see her coming, and she watched him for a long moment before speaking.

Judas 28:1 And Judas Iscariot, blamed of the betrayal, prayed in the darkness. The temptress, she called Mary Magdalene, came upon him, wild of eye, and cheeks damp with tears, crying out, "Judas, beloved or our Lord, a great evil has come upon us."

"Lady," Judas replied, "in three days our Lord shall rise from his grave, redemption is at hand."

"He is dead," she told him, seating herself, "of love for me, he sacrificed all. We bear the weight, you and I, for I have spoken with Elijah, and he has sent me to you."

And she spoke to him of Lucifer, and of her curse, and of Jesus' gift of life, with its terrible price. They wept, clinging to one another, and Judas cried out, "The weight is too great on you, Mary, for he would not wish you to pay this price!"

"That," she replied, "is why I must pay it."

"Then take me," Judas lay back, baring his throat, tears in his own eyes, "for truly your love rivals even his, and his gift is too precious to lose."

Seeing the love in Judas's eyes, feeling the wrench of Satan's very claws as he leapt to prevent her, the woman, Mary, fell upon the body of Judas and fed, the curse taking her even as she swept forward. Weeping, she cast herself willingly to the darkness from which she'd been raised, feeling the icy claws of the hunger that would once again consume her.

Sated, she rose, and Judas also, now pale and alight with hunger of his own, and they fled as Lucifer hunted them, possessed of a great and futile rage. As darkness engulfed them, they shared one last glanceaaa last time they smiled. Then it was black, and they were smitten with the fire of Lucifer, losing all thought.

When Mary and Judas regained consciousness, they both awoke to hunger.

Fighting it back, screaming inwardly with the fire of their need, they walked, side by side, through twilight three days beyond Jesus' death. Silence filled the night. All those who lived nearby either slept, or were sitting home. They reached the place where Jesus' tomb lay without meeting a soul, coming to stand by the huge stone that had blocked his return to the world. A fear gnawed at the depth their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, nearly smothered, but burning still.

Standing within, gazing at them through haloed prisms, formed of the brilliance of his glory, seen through the mirrors of his tears, the Son of Man regarded them with great sadness, and endless love.

Their own eyes, devoid of natural light, flickered with the pain of loss, and the wonder of the intensity of his love. No word did they speak, only awaited their fate and drank in the sight of their Lord.

"Though I suffer not your curse, I will be with you," Jesus spoke. "A time will come when I walk these roads againaayou will be there, and I will remember."

Turning, Mary Magdalene and Judas Iscariot, called traitor, fled into the darkness, overcome with hunger and pain, tethered in the cutting bonds of evil. Alone once more, Jesus stood, weeping tears of glittering sadness to wet the sand at his feet.

They blurred his sight. Time was so short. He could not follow them, could do nothing but accept their sacrifice. It should have been his alone. He turned, walking forth to embrace the world.

Judas 30:1.

Running from the tomb, where Jesus stood, resurrected, Judas stole a length of rope from a nearby home. Coming upon a tall tree, he cast it upon a st.u.r.dy branch. Putting to the end of the rope a noose, he climbed to a branch high above the ground, fixed the rope to his neck, and leapt, hanging himself. Finding him thus, the people spoke against him, led by Simon, called Peter, saying, "He has taken his life from shame, for he betrayed his Lord."

Mary Magdalene, running to where the disciples were gathered, said, "I have seen the Lord, and he is risen."

And Jesus appeared other times to his disciples, speaking words of comfort and salvation, and was raised once more to his throne in Heaven. We, who hunger, remain. The rope has failed to relieve me of my burden. In the bark of the tree where we left the rope, Mary inscribed the words, Here hung one who loves beyond life.

May G.o.d forgive us.

Morning Sickness.

WILLIAM MEIKLE.

We knew it was a bad idea to isolate ourselves when it was so near her time but it had been years since our last holiday and besides, her doctors a.s.sured us that we were at least three weeks away from the birth.

It wasn't planned, not at all. We'd settled for a couple of weeks rest and I'd booked a three month sabbatical from the office, hoping to get some work done on the house. Then we won the compet.i.tionaaa week in Britain, anywhere of our choosing as long as we took the holiday within the next month. One day we were in our flat in London, surrounded by the building's half-finished workaanoise, dust and general aggravationaathe next we were all alone on the west coast of Scotland, in a cottage by the sh.o.r.e on Jura. It was just us, the seals and the view over the sea to Argyll.

I wasn't sure at first. I wanted to be near a hospital in case of emergencies, but she insisted. It would be our last holiday alone for a while; she was fit, healthy and she wanted to do it.

The nearest house was five miles southaathe nearest doctor twice that distance. To the north and west there was only the rugged hills and the deer. We didn't even have a boat. At least there was a road: a single-track lane with pa.s.sing places. It had been recently resurfaced and we had been provided with a new Range Rover for the duration. I was confident that we could reach the doctor's house in less than twenty minutes in event of an emergency, which was quicker than I could have managed in London. I had talked myself round to the idea and I wasn't worried. I should have been.

We arrived late. Jura is not the easiest place to get to. It involved a flight to Glasgow and a short hop over to Islay. The Range Rover was waiting at Islay airport, which is more a glorified field than an airstrip. After that it's a fifteen-mile trip to the Port Askaig ferry, which is small and rickety and on a calm day can take four cars across the half mile of treacherous waters towards the stunning mountains of Jura.

Once on the island, it was a single-track road all the way, twenty miles, with Craighouse, the only town, halfway along. We were going right to the far end.

We stopped at the one and only hotel for a meal, but we were too late to pick up any other provisions; that would have to wait till morning.

It was dark when we arrived and Sandra was too tired to do anything other than fall into bed and sleep. As for me, I was restless. I never believed that I would miss the bustle of London's streets, but the lack of noise here had me on edge. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks only ten yards from the cottage's front door. Occasionally there would be the forlorn cry of a gull or the croaking of a crow, apart from that it was silent and dark and strangely disquieting.

It was very late by the time I snuggled into bed, taking advantage of the radiating heat from my pregnant wife beside me. I believe I slept soundly, I don't remember any dreams and nothing disturbed me during the night.

She woke me the next morning with a whisper.

'Get up. Hurry. You've got to see this.'

I was still groggy when I raised my head to see her leaving the room. I got out of bed, wincing at the cold seeping through the floorboards, and joined her at the window in the front room.