Chapter Nineteen

She should have been starting dinner, or at the very least sipping tea while Cody and Stephen caught up on the latest developments. She should have been tucked, cozy and warm, into the small cottage, feeling reasonably safe with the two men. Her thoughts should have been on the night ahead.

Instead, she was wolfing down a sandwich Cody had bought her at the airport. It was hot – she was pretty sure it was a burger – but she could barely taste it. Gulping down coffee, her eyes darted from person to person. In her mind's eye she saw the droplets of blood trailing out of the cottage. When the general chatter of others in the small eating area died down she heard the screaming kettle.

"Let's go." Cody scraped his chair back.

Annette stood, too, gathering their empty cups and wrappers. They'd been at the aiport for nearly two hours. A private plane was on its way to deliver them…somewhere. Cody had told her but she had merely nodded, too busy packing her few things at the time and too scared to hold onto very much information.

Each step was torture, taking her further and further away from the place she'd last seen Stephen. Was he still in the country? Was he even alive?

"Annette."

Cody's hand was gentle on her shoulder, turning her towards him as they walked by a security desk. She lost track of the turns they'd made since leaving the table and was surprised when she looked up to see a guard at a door.

He gave Cody a nod, stepping aside so they could go through. Now they were outside, Cody urging her to walk faster in the light rain. The sudden noise of a running engine was a shock to her, as was the sight of the plane waiting in the hangar they approached. Used to seeing several people flitting around when she traveled with this group, she was perplexed to see no one. Cody guided her to the steps.

It was a small plane but as she entered she saw Del Rio's influence on the interior. Comfort was clearly a concern. A man stood just inside, slightly familiar, and took the heavy bags from her. She stared at his massive frame as he stowed the luggage beneath the seats."

"Fueled up, ready to go," he told Cody. "We already have clearance."

"Let's fucking go, then," Cody said.

Annette dropped into the first available seat. The man – he introduced himself as Ryan – closed the door and pointed out where the drinks, snacks, and blankets were. Telling them to buckle up for takeoff, he disappeared into the cockpit.

"Where are we going?" she asked when Cody unbuckled his belt.

He didn't answer immediately, instead pulling out one of the bags and rifling through its contents. When he began spreading papers out on the small table, she unbuckled her belt and moved to his side. With hurried movements he spread out the maps he'd printed the day before.

"Israel," she whispered.

"Tel-Aviv," he corrected. "We'll be landing in about five hours."

"We're going to look for the coins?"

"Stu's going to kill me for doing this, but yes. And Ste's going to bring me back to life so he can kill me again." Cody sighed. "I know they've got Ste. Don't ask how, it's just a hunch. And if we can find the coins—"

"We can use them as a bargaining chip," she finished. Forcing her mind away from the thought that Stephen may already be dead, she leaned over to look at the maps.

"You'll have a gun. For God's sake don't do anything stupid with it. We're going to look here first," he said, pointing to an area of the map.

She nodded, recognizing the spot near the Palestine border. Images of turmoil flashed in her mind; the Israelis and the Palestinians had been warring for as long as she could remember. "Is it safe?"

"It's no worse than what we've dealt with already this week."

Startled, she stared at the map, mentally counting the days since Stu had shoved her into a car. Six days. She swallowed anxiously, mouth suddenly dry. "I've got four days."

"Stop putting it like that." Cody braced his hands on the table, his eyes meeting hers. "You make it sound like there's some time bomb ticking down in your heart."

"Is Stu going to meet us there?"

"Stu doesn't know." Cody reached for another bag.

"He really is going to kill you. Especially if we don't find the coins."

Cody gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Then we'd better find them."

She was nude, her skin glowing with perspiration. In the corner, flames licked at the stone walls, the fire in the pit unchecked. Overhead, a heavy layer of smoke from the torches and the fire hung. When the gag had been removed earlier she had whispered a futile request for fresh air. The thick cloud of cigarette smoke her captor had exhaled caused her to cough and choke. As a reward for making so much noise, he'd used her left palm as an ashtray. Mingled with the odors of the fire and her own sweat, the smell of her burnt flesh had made her gag.

The gag was replaced, the ropes binding her wrists and ankles to the bench tightened. She didn't cry out, merely groaning as the ropes bit into her skin.

"I expected more of a fight," Jericho sighed.

Leaning over the table at the wall, Phil looked up from polishing his master's tools. They already gleamed from earlier polishings, glinting brightly against the red velvet inlay of the case. "More of a fight?" he repeated. "She fought plenty."

"Don't worry." Jericho began unbuttoning his shirt. "The service gives ample time for bodily rewards, remember."

Phil nodded, eyes darting to the wriggling body on the bench. Just thinking of her writhing, crying out, as he rid his body of unclean desires made his pulse jump. He'd beg for the opportunity to untie her legs. He knew from past experiences that partaking in sins of the flesh weren't rewarding if his sacrifice was tied down too completely. He liked being able to manipulate their bodies, to make them assume many positions. He wondered if his master would allow a complete experience. It had been ages since he'd breached the forbidden entrance. He wouldn't ask. To ask for that carnal pleasure would result in castigation, followed by a beating. Still, he sent up a silent prayer, reminding himself that he'd been an excellent servant. Jericho had no reason to deny him his desires.

A muffled cry brought his attention to the bench. His master was testing her. Phil almost scoffed – she was trying to squirm away from his fingers.

"Her legs need to be further apart." Jericho stepped away to place his shirt on the table. "Take care of that while I change into my robes. And the gag can come off now. There's no one to hear her scream."

Phil knelt next to the bench. Her eyes were open, all but spitting fire at him as he untied the strap that held the rag in her mouth. When he tossed it aside she spit in his face. Enraged, he slapped her cheek. "Bitch!"

"Put her mouth to good use, Phil." Jericho didn't even look over.

Smirking, Phil wiped his face clean with her hair. With a bruising grip, he held her head in place as his other hand worked on the zipper of his jeans.

Jericho barely heard the grunts of approval from Phil. Mind on the words he would incant during the true service, he dipped his hands into the basin of cool water, leaning over to splash his face. Tonight he would not speak the words; they were meant only for the yearly sacrifice, nothing more. The used-up whore that was giving in and responding to Phil's dick – he glanced over to be sure and saw her tenderly licking the glistening tip – was not worth the ancient scripts. Neither was that little bitch Jacobs, he thought with a frown, but there was nothing he could do. The written word was law and he would abide by them for the rest of his life.

She was moaning now. Growing bored, Jericho plucked up his cell phone to check his messages and remembered they were beyond the reach of the towers. Turning off the device, he stepped into the next room to dress in his robes. The crimson silk felt decadent against his bare skin and he closed his eyes, imagining Jojo's lithe body beneath his. She was proving to be a good girl, and he made a mental note to buy her a present before returning home.

When he returned Phil was still rutting against the whore's mouth, one hand on the wall for support. She truly was enjoying the act. Her legs and arms were relaxed, toes actually curling while she worked her head back and forth as best she could. Approaching the bench, he noted that her nipples were hard.

Her low moan, punctuated by Phil's sigh of pleasure, filled the room as Jericho tested her willingness. The wood beneath her was damp from her arousal, and the bench creaked as she attempted to reach more of his fingers.

"Phil," he said, voice and tone gentle. It was enough. Phil backed away, chest heaving. "Spread her legs, then light a cigarette for me."

He approached the fire pit, smirking as she began to whisper to Phil. He couldn't hear the exact words, but knew she was bargaining for her escape. Carnal pleasures. Her mouth on his dick night and day. Anything he wanted, as long as he managed to get her free. Phil spoke not a word, which pleased Jericho.

Grasping the handle of the poker, he stirred the flaming logs. When he had Annette Jacobs on the stone bench in the temple he would perform this ceremony with the brand of their Savior. The congregation would cheer as the heated iron imprinted her flesh; they would drown out her screams of pain. Then he would light the ceremonial candle, which now lay untouched in the case. Aside from that lone flame, the temple would be darkened. The hooded figures would crowd closer to the sacrificial slab, man and woman alike silently begging to begin defiling her body.

He would go first. Stabbing the glowing logs with the poker now, he pictured the scene in his mind. Those on the list of faithful servants would hold her still if need be as he entered her. He would spill his seed on the floor, because she was not worth the honor of his first orgasm of the day. Then the others, each taking turns with her, releasing their sinful lusting on her useless body. When the candle had burned out, he would take her in complete darkness. He would remind her why she was there, why she was to die. He would order the torches lit before he finished, letting the others see him force his way into her body in every way possible.

Only when his seed dripped from her body, would he use the first blade. He may fuck her at the same time, for he loved the way a woman's body clenched around him when a sharp point drove into her flesh the first time. He would carve out the patterns he had branded, and Phil and the others would dispose of the removed flesh in the fire.

Then the cleansing water, he thought as he withdrew the poker. The end was red-hot and glowing. He would order the basins emptied over her body, and she would feel some relief. Once the evidence of sex was rinsed from her body she would be ready for the second blade.

The ancient words echoed in his mind as he stood over the petite brunette. She was no longer whispering to Phil. He held the poker over her, close enough for her to feel the heat. Slowly, he waved it down the length of her body and then up again, hovering over her chest.

He felt a rush as her scream pierced the silence of the room. Her body tense beneath the poker, she continued to scream, drowning out the sound of hissing flesh. He lifted the poker to examine his handiwork and nodded, moving to repeat the movement on her other breast. Another piercing scream.

Growing hard, he lay the poker in the center of her chest. She screamed yet again, tilting her head back to avoid singing her face. Jericho thought of the words as he parted his robes.

"Turn her," he told Phil, who gave a nod and went to work. Jericho waited, immune to her sobs. He lifted the poker and threw it into the corner, looking on as Phil untied first her legs then her arms. She screamed when she was moved into a face-down position, struggling feebly as she was tied down. He placed a hand on her hip, pulling her to her knees on the wide bench. "Tie her legs down," he instructed, not about to risk being kicked. When she was immobile he nodded to the corner. "The next poker, please."

"No," she sobbed. "Please, no—"

"This from the whore that wanted someone to fuck her not five minutes ago," he muttered, kneeling behind her. Flipping one side of his robe behind him, he nudged between her thighs. "That's right," he soothed when he felt her thighs tighten. "Make it tighter for me. That will please me."

"No!" she was screaming again, fingers clawing futilely against the legs of the bench. "Don't!"

"Thank you," he murmured to Phil when the next poker was in his hand. "Silence this whore until she starts enjoying her punishment."

A car was waiting for them. Annette was keenly aware of curious eyes watching as she and Cody walked towards it. She kept her eyes on the ground ahead of her, making sure to keep her head down. The backpack she carried now was heavy and she hoped it would weigh more when they made their return trip. The gun was even heavier; she doubted she would ever get used to carrying one, even if it was in a holster beneath her jacket.

"There's an old farmhouse by the field," Cody said as the car began to move. The driver had greeted them without a word, and the man sitting next to him in the front kept looking at them over his shoulder. "The latest intel is that it's being used by drug dealers."

"This is correct." The man in the front turned to look at them in the dim glow of the interior light. His English was heavily accented. "We believe they are furnishing money to the PLO." He glanced to Annette. "The Palestinian Liberation Organization."

He turned his attention to Cody. "When Mr. Del Rio told me of your ridiculous plans, he did not say you were bringing a woman."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Cody asked.

The man pressed his lips together. "No," he said after a long moment. "It is on your head. Be advised that we will not accompany you on this fool's mission. We will remain in the car and wait for you. Once you've goten out you will have exactly thirty minutes."

The interior light went out and Annette looked to Cody. She opened her mouth but he placed a hand on her arm, giving it a squeeze.

"We know what to look for," he whispered. "It shouldn't take that long."

Remaining silent, she wanted to scream. They knew what to look for – based on a self-important man's ramblings two thousand years ago. For all they knew, he could have lied about everything. She felt uneasy, in this strange land with so many years of upheaval. And despite Del Rio trusting him, she was wary about the strange man in the front.

The area was completely dark and she grew dizzy trying to see what the car's headlights touched. Closing her eyes, she hoped again that Stephen was okay. And Stu. And her family – her mom would start worrying if she didn't find a way to contact her soon. She'd think about that later. She let her head rest against the back of the seat as the car continued to speed into the night, allowing herself a brief moment of rest.

When the car stopped the man turned to look at them again. He repeated their time limit as they climbed out. As soon as Cody closed the door behind them, the car drove away.

"He—"

"It's fine, Annette." Cody switched on a small LED flashlight and aimed it at the ground. "He's being smart. If a patrol comes by, they'll want to know why a car's sitting on the side of the road." He squinted. "The farmhouse is to our right."

Annette turned in that direction, recalling the wards of Hadar's texts. She'd alternated between the translations and the maps, wanting to have the best feel for the area as possible. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and she saw the distant shadow of the farmhouse. A dim light shone from one of the windows. "We're looking for a stone wall." She looked about her, grabbing Cody's arm to train the light. "The northeast corner. You don't have a compass packed in there do you?"

But he was already reaching into one of the outer pockets of the backpack. The compass he drew out was small and they both leaned in close to look at it's face. "The farmhouse is north, so we have to cut across and go to the far right."

They picked their way across the remnants of a barbed wire fence. The ground beneath their feet had recently been tilled and was completely dry. Each step they took sent up a cloud of dust as they hurried towards their destination. Annette was grateful she no longer carried the backpack; she had a hard enough time keeping up with Cody. He switched off the flashlight to avoid detection.

The terrain tricked her. Instead of being flat it rose and fell in gentle slopes. When they reached the eastern fence she slowed to catch her breath, glancing to the farmhouse. Another light was on. She was grateful when the land sloped downward, concealing them from view.

As they moved onward she took Cody's flashlight and turned it on, keeping her eyes on the fence. The barbed wire gave way to a rudimentary wooden fence, which ended abruptly. Gasping at the sight of crumbling stone, she rushed forward. The land to the east of the farm sloped upward, creating a cliff that overlooked the corner of the field.

"Oh my god," she breathed, coughing on dust.

"What?"

"It's there." In the very corner was a stone, larger than those used in the wall. "Help me."

"If the stone's this easy to move, someone's bound to have been out here recently," Cody pointed out when the stone had been rolled out of the way. "It's probably a popular place to stash…whatever. Which means someone probably found the coins years ago."

Annette kept the flashlight trained on the small hole in the wall. "Not if they didn't know they were there." She looked to Cody. "They're buried, remember?"

"Annette—" He sighed, lowering the backpack to the ground. "We don't have time to argue."

"You're right." Kneeling, she peered into the small space as best she could. "I don't think we'll both fit."

He grunted in agreement and held out the backpack. "Go. I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank you," she whispered, slipping her arm through the strap.

"Keep talking to me."

She nodded, gripping the small flashlight in her mouth so she could use both hands. Crawling through the hole, she sensed a drop in temperature and shivered. She had crawled only several feet before the space began to widen, allowing her to relax a little.

"A portal to an earthen chamber, not unlike the tombs for the dead," she whispered from memory after taking the flashlight from her mouth. Shining it around, she saw that she would just barely be able to stand up if she wished. The roof of the cave was scarcely five feet from the ground. It was hard to decipher the shape, but she guessed there would be room for another person to be at her side.

"Annette?"

"I'm okay," she called. There was no evidence anyone else had been inside recently, if ever. Not so much as the mark of a stick on the walls.

Heart pounding, she unzipped the backpack and pawed through the contents, finding the small shovel Cody had shown her. There was also some thick protective wrapping, should the bottle be found intact, and other excavation tools. She had marveled at his forethought before realizing he must have planned for this trip. Or perhaps he had known she would make the trip sooner or later.

Starting in the center of the cave she began to dig. The gun beneath her jacket bumped her elbow repeatedly and the exertion caused her to heat up, so she paused to take off the jacket and remove the holster. Shoving both into the backpack, she resumed digging, reaching into the dirt after each shovelful to feel with her hands.

She cried out when her fingers brushed something smooth and hard just over a foot beneath the surface. Dropping the shovel, she began pawing at the hard clay with her fingers.

"Ten minutes," Cody called. "You okay?"

"I think I've…" Her voice trailed into nothingness as her fingers closed around the object. Giving it a gentle tug, she fell back against the wall, the item clutched securely in her hand.

"Annette?"

It was heavy, almost a foot tall, wider at the bottom than the top. There was a small handle just beneath the lip, which was sealed with some sort of metal. Holding it almost reverently in her lap, she gently turned it, gasping when she heard something inside rattle.

"I've got it!" she cried, scrambling for the protective wrapping.

At the moment, bargaining was far from her mind. If the rattling inside wa coins, and the coins could actually be linked to Judas… The full import of the find made her weak in the knees. Trembling fingers wrapped the covering around the bottle. She was almost afraid to tuck it into the backpack, finally doing so when Cody called to her again.

She pushed the backpack out ahead of her, wincing when her knee slammed into the large stone as she climbed out. Securing the straps over her shoulders, she froze upon hearing voices from the direction of the farmhouse.

"Run."

Cody's command was a whisper but she readily followed, thinking of the gun at the bottom of the backpack. Praying the bottle wouldn't shatter as they rushed across the field, she kept close to him, ignoring the stitch that formed in her side.

When the farmhouse came into view she saw that every light was on. It was closer than she'd orginally thought; they were in full view now. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along, running faster when an angry voice called out. It was joined by others. Above the sound of her own breathing she heard vehicles start, followed immediately by the crunch of tires against hard ground.

Tall shadows appeared before them thanks to the bright headlights behind them. Annette had forgoten about the barbed wire and cried out when she ran into it. Tugging her foot free she climbed over, barely hearing the leg of her jeans rip as it caught on a barb.

Rapid gunfire sounded from the vehicle and she sprinted forward, a scream dying on her lips when she saw the car waiting on the road. The back door opened as Cody joined her and she jumped inside, shoulder slamming against the opposite door when Cody pushed her out of his way. He slammed the door shut just before the car peeled away.

"Goddamn drug dealers," he gasped. "Take us back to the airport."

"Where are we going now?" she asked, moving the backpack to rest in her lap.

"The fuck away from here." He ran a hand over his face. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Her legs hurt and her lungs were on fire from all the dust and running, but she'd survive. "You?"

"I'm okay."

The two men in front were silent. Unlike their drive from the airport, this time the car cruised along at a reasonable speed. When the lights of the airport were visible, the man turned. "Was your mission successful?"

"No," Cody answered shortly. "All we found was dirt."

Realizing he didn't trust the man either, Annette kept her mouth shut.

A/N: Thank you Jojo, katiefabe, Blackhat, Malabrigo, BarrettsGirl, Nikki, Tfeldy26, and RKJericho for the reviews! Apologies for the lack of updates. Love you all! :)