2 The Judas Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

only cover the streaks of blood where Mark had dragged the bodies across the floor.  He managed to clear up most of the streaks with a towel and warm water, but the biggest problem was the splatters along the wall and stairs that had already begun to dry.
                  As he stared around, Mark heard the distant sounds of sirens approaching.  He was running out of time and he was wracking his brain to come up with a reason for the blood and the loud sounds from the gun.  It had to look like an injury to his own person; it was the only way to keep the police from searching the rest of the house.  He looked around frantically until his eyes came to rest on a massive cabinet made of metal and iron that was up against the wall.  It was far too heavy for an ordinary human to move, but with Mark’s strength, it would be possible, and the police might believe it was responsible for the noise if it toppled over. 
    Taking the corner of the heavy, metal cabinet, Mark gathered his strength and pulled, toppling it over.  Several decorative vases on the top went sliding down, shattering into hunks of glass, spreading across the bloodstained floor.  The shards of glass could explain the blood, he thought as he stared at them, though he wasn’t quite sure how he would explain such a messy wound.  But it was all he could come up with at the last minute.
                  Picking up one of the shards, Mark braced himself, squeezed his eyes shut, and dragged the jagged edge along his forearm, making a deep gash.  Blood pooled out and onto the floor, and Mark watched, trying desperately to ignore the pain, as the wound spread open.  He gasped a little as he wiped his hand on the blood and smeared it over the splatters along the wall, trying to make it look less like gun spatter.
                  The sirens grew louder as the police cars pulled up in front of the house, and Mark started to grow lightheaded.  He slumped down against the toppled metal case, his arm falling to the side, and he let his eyes slip closed.  Far off, Mark heard banging on the door, and eventually a breeze as the officers broke in, storming into the room where Mark lay.
                  “Señor!” the officer cried, shaking Mark by the shoulders.
                  Mark forced his eyes open and when he spoke, his words hissed out in an exhausted whisper.  “Fell.  Hurt…”  He displayed the open wound on his arm.
                  After that it was a blur for Mark, as the officers called paramedics.  He hesitated, and only agreed to let them take him to a hospital when he was certain the officers weren’t looking further into the house. 
                  Mark was treated at the hospital with stitches and heavy medication.  He was urged to stay, the doctors wanted to make sure there was no major nerve damage, but once he was bandaged, Mark insisted on taking a cab back to his place. 
                  The flat was quiet now, the metal shelf still on its side, glass still spread across the floor.  Mark shook off the effects of the pain medication as best he could, taking the stairs two at a time to the bathroom door.  Peering inside, Mark saw Jude still lying there, his eyes closed now, chest rising and falling with some struggle.
                  At the base of the tub lay the bullet, Jude’s body having rejected it, and the wound was closing, albeit slowly.  Mark knew it would be hours before Jude was conscious and coherent enough to move, so he left him there, turning out the light and closing the door.  He went back to his bedroom and glanced at his book which lay abandoned on the floor just under the window.
    Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mark picked at the bandage on his arm, pulling the gauze off the skin and stared down at the ugly black stitching digging into his skin.  He’d heal by morning, most likely, and the stitches would be