Page 48 of Judas

Yep, that’s me. Ungrateful when all I need is understanding and support.

The moment I look away, trying to soothe the overwhelming energy pulsing inside of me, I feel an abrupt yank on my left ankle. Before I can turn to see what the hell has a hold of me, it happens again and drags me halfway out of my seat. My eyes snap over to see Father’s arm reaching back into my area, his hand moving quickly until it winds in my shirt and pulls me closer to him and Mother. With a shout of pain, my seatbelt abrades my skin, blood roars in my ears and the demons scream to be let out. So, the ancient one does the only thing she can do to protect me and breaks the chains.

In hasty movements, I reach back and unbuckle the belt, relieving the pressure on my chest and torso. Father jerks me forcefully again and I fall between their seats across the center console, crowding the front of the Yukon. Instead of catching myself, Sadie fades and the furious one takes over. Without much thought process, Kate reaches for the wheel and violently yanks. The last thing I remember are the deafening sounds of crunching metal, shattering glass, nefarious cackling, and Mother’s screams.

Chapter eighteen

Beast

Naamah

Today

Kill him!

“Samael, Samael, Samael!”

It is I, your ancient Captain speaking. Sadie is temporarily out of commission and has been sent to get some much needed rest. Kate keeps her more than occupied with her antics, so while I play with my dear husband’s soul, I thought I’d give her a sabbatical. He’s been a very bad boy and needs to be taught a lesson. We don’t play with mortal bodies, only their eternal spirits.

The Lord has let him run rampant long enough. Samael should be charioting Yahweh’s precious creations into the afterlife,yet he has chosen to become more troublesome over the past millennia. Picking people out of the holy book to cut their mortal binds before their predetermined time has come. He has reached beyond what isright and justwell into areas of violence. Planes which should be left for a battlefield. He is tilting the balance, therefore, God has sent me to reel him in.

Sadie was little when I first came to her. Dragging with me the two other imprisoned souls. Kate, a witch from the early days of Colonial America. An angry woman with no qualms about dishing out torment to people by slowly increasing the madness over time. In the end, she shreds her victims—the perfect being to give Sadie a fighting chance.

Liz, as Sadie likes to call her, is actually Elizabeth and is of noble blood. Youthful, fierce, calculated, brilliant beyond her years. The perfect one to guide the young girl well into her adulthood. Elizabeth’s victims may argue that she was ruthless and irredeemable but her methods are healing. The day Sadie amputates her spiritual limbs, those wounds may require a delicate hand that simple medicine men cannot provide.

Until then, I won’t release her, just like Samael refuses to let go of Lucien. We may be primordial beings but that doesn’t abscond us in the slightest. He has violated the natural process of life, perverted his duty, and he will be severely punished.

Sadie

What the fuck happened?

Kate cackles—crazy bitch.

Last thing I remember was walking around in the cabin, looking at a fireplace and feeling warmth filling my cold fingers and limbs. My clothing isn’t quite adequate for Canada, nor the oncoming fall, therefore everything feels ice cold. In my movement out of the trunk, then the ride through the park, I saw the snow building on top of the mountains and the color change. I am still alive; I can feel it in my chest and an odd heat across my face. My pounding heart isn’t making things any better. In fact, I can feel the pulse in my lips. But when I stick my tongue out to feel them, there’s something pressing against my skin. Foreign and smooth, slightly unforgiving when my tongue probes at it. Sucking in a breath to quell the fire that seems to keep building in my lungs, I can’t help but nearly gag when plastic fills my mouth and prevents the full breath.

Wh—what?!

Instinctively, my hands lift to my face and claw at whatever is filling blocking my airway. The raw tips of my fingers dig through the thin barrier and rip it away, cool oxygen finally meeting my lips. My breath had condensed on the inside of the material while I was out cold. Building up on the plastic which is now smeared across my face. The waft of cold air encourages me to gasp as hard as my body will allow me to. Filling my acid-burning lungs to max capacity only to replace the heat with a frosty singe instead.

Finally, consciousness kicks in and realization dawns—he suffocated me! There’s a bag over my head, that’s what I’m tugging at. I can’t stop yanking and pulling, feeling my body writhe against the surface I’m prone on. The crazed lunatic screeching with glee in the depths of my head, I can only imagine what she did between my last memory and now. The sort of disorder she took part in that ended with ME being asphyxiated.

Once I get the bag far enough off my face, I go for where it’s rubbed and squeezed my throat raw. It hurts so damn bad.Shoving my fingers behind the bunched plastic—noticing how frigid they are—there’s a give and it opens easily. Allowing me to pull it off and throw it to the floor. Rolling over on to my side in the recovery position, my lungs expand with even more large and desperate gasps of life. Surely I didn’t do this to myself, neither did the others—they need me to survive. That leaves one other culprit. What did Naamah call him? Samael? I’m going to kill him, and if I don’t, we all will.

Pulling myself together, I sit up, bleary eyes looking around at the surroundings and trying to remember where the hell I am at. This is definitely the cabin still, must be a different room since there’s no couches in sight and the floor plan is much smaller. I remember when we got inside, there was a kitchen to the opposite side of the large open space, with a huge fireplace dominating the room. Though I didn’t give it enough attention, the details stuck out.

Pushing up from the hardwood beneath me, my legs and arms ache—I must have struggled with him again; Samael, that is. Now that there’s enough distance between us, I’m going to guess a single door and maybe a few pieces of furniture, the others are no longer chattering in my head and leaving me overwhelmed and confused. Must have been out for a while, too, Kate wouldn’t let anyone near me in a comatose state like that. Which tells me I’ve been confined to this room I’m in.

Stretching the pain from my limbs and joints, I look around. There’s not a whole lot of light in here, just some spilling in through a haphazardly covered window off to my left, and it’s dwindling. Darkness must be coming. Looking to my right, I can see boxes that have fallen apart over the years, the contents scattered across the floor, some chewed on by rodents, it seems.

Great, rats. Something for that snake to eat.

Right as the words cross my mind, my stomach growls so ferociously, it cramps. Slipping my hand down over the flatexpanse, I press against the outside and try to quell the angry organ—willing the pain away. That reminds me, when was the last time I ate? Why is my head so clear right now? Hearing a sound behind me, I whip around and see nothing but a darkened doorway and can’t stop myself from beelining towards it. Once I'm close enough, I step inside. It’s darker here, but the flooring switched over from wood to something much cooler—tile.

This has got to be a bathroom, fucking A, I’ll take it.

Rummaging around, my hands find and slide over the handles of vanity drawers. Pulling them open in hopes to find something I can use as a weapon, because I doubt the devil is going to let me get within twenty feet of the kitchen where knives may be. If I’m lucky, there might be a pair of scissors in here, or hell… a curling iron wouldn’t be so bad. Suffocation works; could also pull the tong away from it and sharpen it on the grout in this bathroom—make a shank of sorts. It would take me a while to accomplish that, but I seem to have all the time in the world right now.

The irony in that brings a smile across my face. Likely a delirious looking one, but a smile nonetheless. A shank makes me think of both of my parents. All of these years I thought both of them abandoned me, that they didn’t want anything to do with some fucked up little girl. At least, that’s what my father made me think. Can still hear his voice ringing in my ears, saying that if my mom wanted to speak to me, then she would.

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