Revelations(65)

The good part about what I’ve arranged, though, is that I’ll take the boys with me, in the two group vehicles we have, and I’ll give Judas my Humvee to use.

Personally, I consider that pretty damn generous of me. He better appreciate it.





Chapter Thirty-Three: Jesus


Once Lucifer has removed his touchy-feely self from my presence—for which I’m nothing but grateful—I decide sleeping is the most sensible course of action I can take, rather than worrying, which seems rather counter-productive. I tell myself that torturing myself over sending Judas away would accomplish nothing, whereas if I go to sleep, the morning will arrive that much sooner. As will Judas. I close my eyes, falling into a troubled sleep. And then I begin to dream.

I dream that I’m in my Father’s house. It’s the place I always return to between incarnations, into his loving hands, to wait for the next time. Until such time as he chooses for me to return to the world of men once more, another unannounced coming. I’ve long since lost track of how many of these there’ve been.

Homecoming is a bittersweet time for me, because I invariably feel as if I’ve failed at what I was sent to do, even though my father assures me such is not the case.

But right now all I can think about is finding Judas. I’m feeling rather anxious; why, I don’t know. Judas should have arrived before me, and all I know is I need to find him. To see him. To hold him.

I open the door to the room he normally occupies, which is near to my own, but I can see it’s empty. Perhaps he’s waiting for me in my room, I think, but when I open that door as well, I find there’s no one there either. Frantic with worry, I call out his name as I begin to search through the many rooms in my father’s mansion.

“Judas! Judas!” I’m met with only silence. Frantic now, I wander the silent corridors; they stretch endlessly before me, twisting and turning in ways that, if I were awake, I would realize are physically impossible. But in dreams, everything can be, and often is. And nothing is what it seems to be. This last hallway dead ends before me. I find myself facing a pair of strange double doors, and I know I’ve never seen them before, and I also know I must go through them; something important awaits me on the other side. I burst through the doors, my heart racing inexplicably, hopeful and yet fearful of what I shall find.

A horrible tableau meets my eyes. In the center of this room, which I swear is unknown to me, is a large round bed, covered in the most vulgar red sheets imaginable. And manacled spread-eagle across the bed is my poor, sweet Jude.

Naked to the world he lies there, helpless. When he sees me, he cries out. “No, no, no, run…run, Jesus, run, before he gets you, it’s a trap.” But I refuse to do so, flying to his side at once, my heart breaking even more as I see the lash marks that stripe his arms and legs, crisscrossing his torso.

“Who’s done this to you?” I cry out in agony as I try to free him from these terrible chains, but to no avail. Nothing I can do will loosen them even a little. His own struggles have simply served to rub the skin about the irons raw, and his wounds are bleeding most piteously. Tears flow from my eyes. I am the son of God, and yet I’m useless to do anything to help Judas, my dearest love. And still he’s urging me to go. But I won’t. I can’t.

And then I hear it, a voice that sends shivers of disgust running through me.

“Another fly for my web, I see?” I don’t have to look to know whose voice that is.

I’ve heard it far too many times, unfortunately. Whereas normally I feel nothing but compassion and love for my fellow man, for this one I hold nothing but contempt. He is foul and loathsome, and what he’s done to my poor Judas is beyond horrendous.

I force my voice to remain calm, for I only know my anger will fuel his amusement. “Release him,” I demand. “Release him now, and then begone. You aren’t wanted here.”

“Jesus, go,” Judas urges me, as he continues to struggle against the chains that bind him. “Leave here, now, it’s a trap, please, love, go…” I won’t leave him, I’ll never leave him. I turn a defiant face to Lucifer, who stands on the other side of the bed, completely naked as well, evil intentions written all over his face, as well as other areas. “You cannot have him,” I insist defiantly, interposing my body between them, protectively. If he wants Judas, he has to go through me first. If I were thinking more clearly, I’d wonder what he’s even doing in my father’s house, but I’m not. I’m too intent on protecting my lover.

He hovers over us now, his wings outspread, although I never saw him move, but that is the nature of dreams. There is no true logic involved. I can feel Judas becoming more and more frantic beneath me, pulling at the chains futilely. “Get away,” he urges me, “get away, now,” but I refuse to move. Lucifer reaches out with one well-muscled arm and, as if I’m of no consequence in the scheme of things, sweeps me aside, flinging me across the room effortlessly. I fall to the floor, and for a moment, I’m stunned, but then I recover myself and I rise to my feet, attempting to return to Judas’ side. Suddenly my feet refuse to cooperate, I cannot move them, no matter how I try, and I’m forced to watch helplessly as Lucifer touches my Judas in the most excruciatingly inappropriate ways.