Judas Silver Read online

  JUDAS SILVER

  An Adventure Novel

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  and

  ELIZABETH BASQUE

  Acclaim for the Stories of J.R. Rain:

  “Be prepared to lose sleep!”

  —James Rollins, international bestselling author of The Doomsday Key on J.R. Rain’s The Lost Ark

  “I love this!”

  —Piers Anthony, bestselling author of Xanth on J.R. Rain’s Moon Dance

  “Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”

  —Gemma Halliday, award-winning author of Spying in High Heels

  “Moon Dance is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J.R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.”

  —Eve Paludan, bestselling co-author of Witchy Business

  “Impossible to put down. J.R. Rain’s Moon Dance is a fabulous urban fantasy replete with multifarious and unusual characters, a perfectly synchronized plot, vibrant dialogue and sterling witticism all wrapped in a voice that is as beautiful as it is rich and vividly intense as it is relaxed.”

  —April Vine, author of Unbound

  “Is it possible to redefine two genres in one book? I don’t know, but J.R. Rain has left a lasting impression for the vampire and mystery genres.”

  —P.J. Day, author of The Sunset Prophecy

  Other Books by J.R. Rain

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  The Lost Ark

  Elvis Has Not Left the Building

  The Grail Quest

  The Body Departed

  Silent Echo

  Winter Wind

  VAMPIRE FOR HIRE

  Moon Dance

  Vampire Moon

  American Vampire

  Moon Child

  Christmas Moon (novella)

  Vampire Dawn

  Vampire Games

  Moon Island

  Moon River

  Vampire Sun

  Moon Dragon

  Moon Shadow

  SAMANTHA MOON

  SHORT STORIES

  Teeth

  Vampire Nights

  Vampires Blues

  Vampire Dreams

  Halloween Moon

  Vampire Gold

  Blue Moon

  Dark Side of the Moon

  Vampire Requiem

  JIM KNIGHTHORSE

  Dark Horse

  The Mummy Case

  Hail Mary

  Clean Slate

  Easy Rider (short story)

  Night Run

  THE WITCHES SERIES

  The Witch and the Gentleman

  The Witch and the Englishman

  The Witch and the Huntsman (with Rod Kierkegaard)

  The Witch and the Wolfman (with Rod Kierkegaard)

  THE SPINOZA TRILOGY

  The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo

  The Vampire Who Played Dead

  The Vampire in the Iron Mask

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

  Bound By Blood

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  The Bleeder and Other Stories

  Vampire Rain and Other Stories

  The Santa Call and Other Stories

  Black Rain: 15 Dark Tales

  Blood Rain: 15 Dark Tales

  Red Rain: Over 40 Short Stories

  SHORT STORY SINGLES

  The Bleeder

  Co-Authored Books

  COLLABORATIONS

  Cursed (with Scott Nicholson)

  Ghost College (with Scott Nicholson)

  The Vampire Club (with Scott Nicholson)

  Dragon Assassin (with Piers Anthony)

  Dolfin Tayle (with Piers Anthony)

  Jack and the Giants (with Piers Anthony)

  Judas Silver (with Elizabeth Basque)

  Lost Eden (with Elizabeth Basque)

  Glimmer (with Eve Paludan)

  The Black Fang Betrayal (with Multiple Authors)

  The Indestructibles (with Rod Kierkegaard)

  SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES

  with Rod Kierkegaard

  Moon Bayou

  THE OPEN HEART SERIES

  with Rod Kierkegaard

  The Dead Detective

  Ghosts of Christmas Present (short story)

  THE PSI SERIES

  with A.K. Alexander

  Hear No Evil

  See No Evil

  Speak No Evil

  Flight 12 (novella)

  NICK CAINE ADVENTURES

  with Aiden James

  Temple of the Jaguar

  Treasure of the Deep

  Pyramid of the Gods

  THE ALADDIN TRILOGY

  with Piers Anthony

  Aladdin Relighted

  Aladdin Sins Bad

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  THE WALKING PLAGUE TRILOGY

  with Elizabeth Basque

  Zombie Patrol

  Zombie Rage

  Zombie Mountain

  THE SPIDER TRILOGY

  with Scott Nicholson and H.T. Night

  Bad Blood

  Spider Web

  Spider Bite

  Judas Silver

  Published by J.R. Rain

  Copyright © 2013 by J.R. Rain and Elizabeth Basque

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To John Hogue. A great writer and a great friend.

  Author’s Note:

  Judas Silver: An Adventure Novel was, in a previous incarnation, a screenplay. Screenplays are, admittedly, a challenge to read. They’re formatted so that actors can quickly find their lines, sound guys can quickly find the explosions, CGI guys can quickly find the special effects, and those with A.D.D. can quickly read the story (which just might be everyone in Hollywood, at least those I encountered).

  Like Lost Eden (also originally a screenplay) I quite enjoyed the story of Judas Silver—it’s a true rip-snorter, in the tradition of The Mummy and Tomb Raider—but I knew many readers would never get a chance to read it because of the quirky formatting.

  That is, until it occurred to me that I could adapt the screenplay into a novel. The proverbial light bulb went on, and I immediately recruited the extremely talented, Elizabeth Basque to help me out. The following novel is the result.

  So if you’ve read the original screenplay (it’s available here), then you know the story about the hunt for the lost thirty coins paid to betray Christ (although you might get a kick out of this novelized version). And for those of you coming across Judas Silver for the first time, I do hope you enjoy the ride...it’s a wild one! —J.R. Rain

  Judas Silver: An Adventure Novel

  “Thirty pieces of silver Burns on the traitor’s brain; Thirty pieces of silver! Oh! it is hellish gain!” —William Blane

  Chapter One

  A soft breeze swayed in the olive trees in the peaceful desert garden, but it did little to ease the man who stood in silent prayer. He was young, in his early thirties, and he knew the fate that was about to befall him. He embraced it with faith, but still, he was sad to have to leave this world so soon. He’d wanted to stay longer.

  So, he waited, prayed and meditated. He glanced up at the heavens with a never-ending wonder. The stars shone brightly, a billion of them, even more, he knew.

  This man, dressed in a simple white robe, stood a short distance away from the others. He knew many things that they did not. He’d done his best to teach them. Teach them...though there was so much more.

  He took a deep breath. It couldn’t be helped; this was hi
s destiny. He prayed for courage and strength.

  Sooner than he’d expected, another man approached. He had called himself a friend. Soldiers waited in the shadows, thinking the man in white did not notice them.

  The one who called himself a friend came up to him and kissed him on the cheek in greeting. The man in the white robe returned the gesture with all the understanding he could muster.

  Immediately, armed guards stepped out of the shadows and seized the man in the white robe.

  * * *

  Two crosses had been erected, with two men nailed to them. The man in white had been stripped of his robes. Now wearing only a loincloth to cover him, he was laid upon a third cross. He tried not to resist. He tried to think of his Loving Father. He tried to remember that this would soon all be over with....

  Still, he cried out in pain as one hand was nailed to the cross, then the other. The nails drove painfully through the bones of his hands.

  Next, his feet were positioned, one on top of the other. He braced himself for the third nail, but the pain was excruciating.

  Before they raised him to hang upright, the men cruelly set a crown of thorny wire atop his head as a sort of joke. The man kept silent.

  From far away, hidden from the watching crowd, the betrayer watched, too. He was the one who had called himself a friend. He was the one who had told the soldiers to seize the one he’d kissed in greeting the night before. He was the one who had been paid thirty silver coins: the mere price of a slave. He had been greedy.

  Now, he saw this courageous man erected upon the cross, and he was utterly grief-stricken. What had he done? But there was no going back now, and he knew it. He knew he was a betrayer, and watching the man who had always been kind to him tortured in such a fashion drove him mad. He pulled at his own hair, ripping some out, and stumbled away in his own selfish grief.

  * * *

  Wild-eyed, he who had been paid thirty silver coins threw the gilded doors wide open, entering the temple with unrivaled guilt. He boldly walked up to the priests, ripped a leather pouch from his hip, opened it and threw the silver coins down on the marble floor. “I do not want this blood money!” he screamed, and fell to the floor, sobbing. The silver coins scattered in every direction.

  The man knew he could not live with himself for the great evil he had done, so, in his insanity, he decided to commit another unforgivable crime.

  It was night again. He fastened a rope around the branch of a tree. The branch hung out over a rocky cliff, which dropped straight down into a churning black sea, alive with glowing whitecaps.

  He tried not to think now, tried not to think of the horrible, unforgivable betrayal he had committed. But he couldn’t get the image of the man on the erected cross out of his head. Indeed, these were his last thoughts as he tightened the noose around his own neck. He paused only a moment, looking down to the sea below. Then he leaped off the cliff, and out into space...

  * * *

  One of the Silver Coins rose and began to rotate slowly in mid-air. The others, one by one, hovered as well. They darted back and forth, swirling around and around. The Coins finally converged and spun in a silver vortex of energy. The vortex pulsated with a malevolent force, as if somehow, they were alive.

  Chapter Two

  Limerick, Ireland

  Present Day

  Trey Jordan moved quickly but silently through the old, dark hotel corridors, searching for the stairwell. He paused at an intersection, unwilling at this point to consult the blueprints of the ancient place. Instead, he searched his mind to recall which way.

  Left. Trey briefly glanced behind him. “She’s gonna miss out,” he mumbled, irritated. He turned the corner. The antique stained glass at the end of this hall gave view to a thick door. It was obvious this section of the place was barely used. As he clicked on his flashlight, two mice scurried under the door before him.

  Trey reached for the handle and brushed a spider web from his face. A fat, black spider scrambled away into a dark nook. Trey shuddered.

  He heard Karen approach. She slid up next to him, planted a big wet kiss on his lips. He shrugged her off. “You’re late.”

  “Don’t be such a stickler, Trey,” the blond responded, contemplating the spider. “I’ve always had a fascination with black widows, myself. First, they seduce their mates, and then they devour them. Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”

  Karen’s grin was distorted by the colored glass. She patted Trey’s smooth-shaven face and added, “Shall we, darling?”

  Trey stared after her as she turned the door handle quietly and entered the stairwell. “Whatever you say, you crazy bitch,” he mumbled not-too-quietly.

  He closed the door behind him. Karen switched on her own flashlight and frowned. “Really, such harsh words, after I gave you one of the best nights of my life last night?”

  Trey moved past her, guiding the way down the spiral stone stairs. “We’re working now.”

  “Men. Can’t even do two things at once.”

  “Yes, I can, if you remember.”

  Three flights down, the air was cold and damp.

  Both dressed in black from head to toe, the two thieves were nearly invisible. Neither made a sound; not even their breathing could be heard.

  Karen followed a little more closely now as Trey shone his light through the basement.

  “It’s on the left, I believe,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I know.” He ignored her playful tone. His light shone onto a sign that read Kitchen.

  “This is it.” He tried the handle. Locked.

  “I don’t suppose you have a key?” Karen asked.

  Trey grinned at her. “Always.” Trey lifted his foot and drove his boot heel hard into the lock. Something inside cracked. He kicked it again, and the door swung open.

  “I thought world-class thieves picked locks,” Karen commented.

  “Only in the movies,” he retorted. “This is how we really do it.”

  Trey took Karen’s hand and led the way into the pitch-black kitchen, scanning the room with his flashlight. A huge old stove took up one corner, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. Rats had made nests in the old fireplace beneath; Trey kicked a dropped pan to frighten them away. A thick wooden table that had once served as a chopping counter stood firmly in the center of the room. Trey retrieved his blueprints and laid them on the table.

  Karen glanced about, unimpressed. “The old kitchen, I’m hoping.”

  “Yeah, even this old hellhole has an updated one above,” he mumbled, holding the light in his mouth to better spread the old and tattered map. He glanced from the map to the huge metal icebox in the far corner. “Behind there.”

  “Of course,” Karen said wistfully. “Why wouldn’t it be behind the heaviest refrigerator in Ireland?”

  “Quit your bitching and help me.”

  Together, they eventually managed to push aside the massive metal icebox. Trey shined his light upon the wall – old brick and mortar. Karen leaned back on the table, arms folded while the master thief studied it for a moment.

  Trey shrugged, and gave the wall a side kick. Mortar crumbled and bricks fell. He gave the wall another few kicks, enlarging the hole. Then he began removing excess bricks.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” he asked over his shoulder. “Afraid you’re going to break one of those pretty nails?”

  “Oh, all right.” Karen moved beside him, pushing away the old bricks.

  Soon, they’d formed a small, dark archway. Trey stepped boldly through; Karen reluctantly followed.

  They found themselves inside a cold, dank storeroom lined with heavy stone shelves and strange, rectangular boxes. Trey stepped over to one, wiped away centuries-old dust to reveal a nameplate:

  Martin O’Connell — May He Rest in Peace

  “Caskets.” He frowned, shining his flashlight around. “God, I wonder how old these are?”

  “They’re everywhere,” Karen said as more came into their v
iew. Dozens of ancient caskets lined the heavy shelves, some stacked upon others. Some were broken open, revealing grinning skeletons in tattered clothing. Some of the caskets had simply turned to dust, leaving whole skeletons reclined in heaps of bones. Rats scuttled before the light, dashing through dark eye sockets and empty ribcages.

  Karen shivered, but Trey’s stony face revealed nothing as he walked deeper into what was obviously a long-forgotten mausoleum. Karen stayed close to him, clearly unnerved by the human remains.

  The two burglars continued down another hallway and into another room. There, the caskets were lined up more neatly, most made of stone – sarcophagi.

  “Probably one of these older ones,” Trey announced. Both of them could feel the eerie, haunted vibe of the place. Trey started with the first row on the right, brushed away dust from its nameplate. Karen took a deep breath and began working the other side, the two moving methodically down the aisles.

  “Here, take a look at this,” Trey finally said. Relieved, Karen moved to his side again.

  This casket, made of pure white alabaster, seemed to radiate a white light.

  HERE LIES SAINT PATRICK,

  WHO BROUGHT THE WORK OF GOD TO THE UNBELIEVERS

  She glanced up at him, clearly pleased. “Is this it?”

  “Only one way to know for sure,” Trey answered. With some effort and the help of his small hammer, they removed the heavy lid and leaned it on the floor.

  Chapter Three

  Trey held his flashlight over the opened casket. Inside was a skeleton wreathed in leathery skin. Lying across its chest, held in bony fingers, was a gnarled wooden staff.