The summer solstice arriving a little over a week later, Jesus and his consort continued to take various stragglers, wandering about Jerusalem in the middle of the night. Striking from the shadows, they took soldiers who had gambled for his garments beneath his cross, and other people he recognized, they having mocked him while he walked to his crucifixion. Still intent on taking Caiaphas and another soldier that had kicked him while Decius was nailing him to the cross, they were lurking in the sparse brush outside the garrison one evening when Jesus heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, come over here,” called a voice in Latin from behind a shed near an olive grove, about thirty feet from them.
Seeing the reddish hue of the warm body standing behind the structure, Jesus whispered, “Who is it?” he and Mary moving cautiously toward the voice.
“Get your ass over here; I have to talk to you!”
“Decius!” Jesus exclaimed, recognizing the face.
“Greetings Jesus,” said Decius, nodding to the Magdalene, “Look, I have to warn you, you’d best be careful, they’re on the lookout for you.”
“Who?”
Decius looked about for a moment and replied, “Flavius Maximus and the legionary guards that’s who, and they’ve got a Greek doctor with them – he knows all about vampires.”
“Really,” said Jesus, “So, what do they intend to do?”
“Hunt you down during the day, if I were you I’d make myself scarce.”
“What do they know?” asked Mary in fair Latin.
“Not much, except there are bloodless bodies strewn everywhere, and they’re also aware of the danger oak stakes and the sun present for you.”
“I knew leaving those corpses lying about was stupid!” Mary spat, looking to Jesus.
“Never mind that woman,” said Jesus, putting up a hand in protest, “So Decius, do they have any idea where we sleep during the day?”
“No, but the doctor’s been put in as an advisor to my contubernia. We’ve been ordered to check the graveyards; I’d be on the watch for them.”
“I thank you friend Decius,” said Jesus, “Why are you doing this for us?”
“You did me a favor once friend, now I’m doing you one.”
Jesus, feeling obliged, offered his hand to the Roman soldier that had nailed him to the cross.
Firmly shaking his hand, Decius advised, “You’d best leave Jerusalem as soon as you can. As commander of the contubernia conducting the search, I can cover for you if you tell me where you’re hiding during the day.”
“You will?” asked Jesus, surprised that Decius would disobey his superiors in such a fashion.
“I’ll order them to look elsewhere, but I can't cover for long, perhaps a week at most. I swear on my honor that I will not betray you.”
“It’s the same cemetery where I was originally buried,” said Jesus, knowing in his heart the centurion was telling the truth.
“Good, we won’t look there.”
“Thank you again, friend Decius.”
“Don’t mention it, I’ve got to go now, good luck,” Decius replied, leaving the couple and heading to the garrison.
Jesus, sitting in his tomb after sunup, having heard from Decius of the pronouncements of Dr. Thucydides, spent much of the morning discussing this problem with his consort.
“We’ll have to take off,” said the Magdalene.
“Why?”
“They’re on to us, Jerusalem’s littered with bloodless bodies, and according to Decius they want to hunt us down.”
“So?”
“So what if they drag us out in the sunlight you stupid bastard!”
“Watch it woman.”
“Watch it my ass, it’s time to leave and you know it, there’s an entire world we can retreat to, why should we hang around Jerusalem tempting fate?”
“Because I haven't killed Caiaphas yet.”
“Who cares?” asked Mary, her hands in the air, “You killed most of them, who gives a damn if you missed one?”
“I do.”
“What are you, obsessed?”
“Obsessed?”
“Yes,” said Mary, “That you’d risk our destruction to get one stupid Sadducee, a mortal who wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground! Forget it, he’ll die within thirty years, time will get him and we’ll have an eternity to be together!”
Jesus stood silent, troubled, knowing in his heart that she was correct. “You’re right,” he conceded, “What would I do without you?”
“Talk funny, and get burned up by the sun,” said the Magdalene, putting a hand on his arm, “Look Jesus, you’ve got to ease up and take it easy, why risk destruction to get one Sadducee?” I care about you, and have since I met you, do you really want to risk our destruction over one hypocritical, deluded man?”
“No, but - ”
“No buts,” she interrupted in a firmer tone of voice, “You’ve always been this way, obsessed, never leaving well enough alone. That’s what got you killed! We’ve been given a second chance to start a new life together, and you’ve got to complicate it with your crazy revenge, who cares about them?”
“I do,” said Jesus, in macabre imitation of his former self.
“Let it go, you got most of them.”
“Yes,” Jesus agreed, “But it’s a shame Caiaphas will get away.”
“Maybe, but you once said revenge can cloud one’s thinking. What advice would you have given someone bent on revenge when you were alive?” she asked, trying once more to get him to see reason.
“I understand, let’s get some sleep,” said an exhausted Jesus, recalling the words he had preached to a crowd in Galilee on a summer day nearly two years earlier. She’s right and using my own words against me, he thought, lying down on a slab.
* * *
The next evening, a resigned Jesus listened to reason, the couple leaving the cemetery and making their way from the city, heading north on a Roman highway leading to Nazareth. At his side, he was carrying a leather satchel acquired from Pharisee Annas’ house. Originally used for Torah scrolls, it now held their change of clothing, and money they had come across, so to speak, in recent times.
“Where are we going?” Mary asked, walking the dark road.
“I figured I’d stop by Nazareth before pressing on further. See mother and dad; kill a few enemies, things like that.”
“You are a vengeful bastard aren’t you?”
“Let’s say I’m not the man I once was.”
“That’s the truth, so, what happened to that idea you told us about called karma, when we were sitting at the shore of Lake Galilee?”
“I imagine the concept of karma applies only to those who are alive,” a bitter Jesus declared, recalling his journeys through India and his ill-fated ministry in southern Galilee.
“Don’t you still believe in karma?”
“I don’t know what to believe in anymore; I tried to spread good karma during my days as a preacher and all it brought me was death.”
“In other words, karma’s bullshit?” Mary asked, hoping he would deny her words.
“More than likely,” said Jesus, at times wishing he had never bothered with his ministry, his father’s prophetic words of doom constantly repeating in his mind.
As they continued along, a thought crossed the Magdalene’s mind. Her friend, Jesus the vampire, was slaughtering his enemies at an alarming rate, and with his peculiar method of selecting them, she wondered what they would do for sustenance after he finished killing them all.
She thought about this for a while, and asked, “What are we going to do for food when you run out of enemies to devour?”
“We’ll find more. People like Judas and the Pharisees are all over the place.”
Mary, reflecting as they walked the dark and lonely road, found to her chagrin that she agreed with him.
The first few hours of their trip were uneventful, the couple strolling in the darkness until they came upon a wooded area near the Jordan River. Out of nowhere appeared a pair of highwaymen, bent on robbery. Jesus eyed the pair warily and asked, “What brings you across our path strangers?”
“You,” answered one, a Samaritan, eyeing the attractive Mary.
“Really,” said Jesus, knowing exactly what they were after, having dealt with robbers before. “What do you want with us?”
“Keep your mouth shut and give us your valuables, Jew,” a Syrian confederate snarled, Jesus rolling his eyes at the ignorance of the thieves, unable to recognize a Levite when they saw one.
“Why don’t you take them from us?” the Magdalene asked, Jesus smiling and allowing Mary to play her game.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“She’s a smart one isn’t she?” the Samaritan observed, lust in his eyes, walking over and taking her by the waist as Jesus stood looking to the sky.
“This cowardly Jew won’t even defend her,” said the Syrian.
“I’m a Levite actually, and I’m certain she can defend herself,” Jesus retorted with narrowed eyes, paralyzing the Syrian with a cold stare.
“You’re a good looking bitch,” said the Samaritan, not realizing that for all practical purposes, he was alone, the thought of rape crossing his mind.
“Really,” replied the Magdalene as the Samaritan started kissing her neck. She looked to Jesus over the thief’s shoulder, bared fangs and plunged them deep in the neck of her assailant, draining him in seconds as the terrified Syrian looked on in horror. She dropped the body to the pavement and said, “That was delicious, now it’s your turn.”
“Yes,” said a smiling Jesus, looking to the Syrian. “You love to play games with them don’t you?”
“It’s fun, and better than revenge, don’t you think?”
“Not really, but I’ll take your word for it,” said Jesus, baring fangs, going for the jugular and sucking the Syrian’s blood. “That was good,” he added in his vampiric monotone, the body collapsing in a heap on the road.
“We’d best hide these guys so no one can find them,” Mary advised. “Remember, Decius told us leaving bodies all over the place is what tipped them off.”
“He came in handy didn’t he?” Jesus asked in his Dracula voice.
“You sound funny again.”
“Oh,” said an embarrassed Jesus, disguising his voice, “Yes, let’s dump them in the woods,” jerking a thumb in the direction of the trees.
Grabbing the Syrian by his foot and the Samaritan by his hair, Jesus dragged the corpses from the road, dumping them in a wooded ravine after checking for valuables.
He had taken to robbing the bodies during the past few weeks, and had already acquired 750 Roman denarii in various currencies from his victims, most notably Pharisee Annas; this was not a small sum of money in those days. A group of jackals prowled in the distance, Jesus noting they would also have a good meal that evening. Returning to the road, he told Mary that he had found shekels, drachmae and jewelry, along with Roman gold aureus and silver denarius coins on the bodies.
“Ironic,” he observed with a sinister chuckle, “They meant to rob us and we robbed them instead.”
“We robbed them of more than money, we robbed them of their lives,” she replied, “Incidentally, isn’t our stealing supposed to be a sin according to the Torah?”
“Who knows and who cares, they’re dead, so I don’t think they’ll have any use for it.”
“True, I’ve always liked jewelry, can I have it?”
“Sure,” said Jesus, handing her the baubles.
Thus were the humble beginnings of their monetary fortune, Jesus usually handling the cash, his lovely consort controlling the jewelry. After a few weeks of night travel by foot and wing, along with the killing and robbing of several highwaymen for pleasure, nourishment and profit, they arrived in Nazareth, his home before he had begun his short-lived ministry.
Stopping at an inn late in the night, as no tombs or caves were readily available, Jesus purchased lodging from the innkeeper with some of his stolen funds. He also informed him they liked to sleep late in the day, and not to disturb them during their slumber.
The sleepy innkeeper nodded, the couple heading to their room.
“Why didn’t you stop at your parent’s house instead of this inn?” Mary asked as he closed the door.
“It’s very late, and I don’t know what mother may say, showing up like we are now. She was in Jerusalem at the time of my crucifixion, and probably heard the rumors of my resurrection,” said Jesus, sitting down in a dilapidated chair.
“So what, you said you’d resurrect, why should it bother her?”
“I don’t think she imagined I’d return as a vampire,” answered Jesus, “If we come early tomorrow evening it may be easier for me to inform her of that, and not risk harm to ourselves if she and dad find it unacceptable.”
“If they don’t, why not kill them and be done with it?”
“Because they are my parents Mary, you will not harm them,” ordered Jesus. She again felt her master’s power, remembering that she must obey him. “Besides,” he added, “There’s plenty of food around here, as most people in this town hated me when I was alive.”
“So that’s why you went to Capernaum,” said Mary, as if finally solving a puzzle that had eluded her, lying down and relaxing on the bed.
“That’s right, they wanted to stone me because the town rabbi said I was a blasphemer,” said Jesus, joining her in the bed.
“Just like the Pharisees, I suppose you want to make them pay for that by killing them all,” said an exasperated Mary.
“Correct,” Jesus replied, settling into bed for a good day’s sleep.
* * *
After sundown, they checked out, almost immediately finding a pair of his enemies, sating their hunger pangs. After robbing and disposing of the remains, they made their way to his parent’s home. Walking along the street, they observed people going about their businesses, none recognizing the risen Son of Man. Arriving at the house, Jesus knocked on the door. His mother answered, recognized him and collapsed in his arms in a dead faint. Joseph saw him and while shaken, simply sat down in a padded chair while they entered, Jesus placing his unconscious mother on a couch and his satchel on the floor.
After a few moments, his mother regained consciousness and exclaimed, “You have risen!”
“In a way,” said Jesus.
“Uh, how are you son?” asked Joseph, not believing his eyes.
“I’m fine; a lot has happened since I last saw you.”
“You sure have developed a talent for understatements,” his consort observed.
“Really,” agreed Joseph.
“You’ve returned from the dead,” said his mother, regaining her composure and sitting up on the couch. “We should worship you, you said you would rise, and must truly be the Son of God.”
“I don’t know about that anymore,” said Jesus. “If I were you I’d forget about the stuff I told you and stick with Hebraic monotheism, or something like that.”
“Why?” asked Joseph, staring at his undead son with his head to one side, narrowing his blue-gray eyes, his eye color the same as his firstborn.
“Um, because, I uh, well, things have changed, and not necessarily for the better, at least with regard to most people I’ve encountered recently.”
“What do you mean?” his mother asked, sensing that her son was having trouble relating what he had to tell them.
The room fell silent, Jesus Christ at a rare loss for words.
“Well, Jesus?” asked the Magdalene, giggling.
“I don’t think I’m God anymore,” said Jesus.
“Or any less,” the Magdalene retorted, bursting into laughter.
“That’s great, really great,” Joseph spat, rising from his chair and folding arms over his chest. “After all the shit your mother and I have been through in the past few months, not to mention your precocious childhood and that ministry of yours, you come back here and tell us this? Get on with it, if you’re not God and you rose from the dead, what the hell are you?”
“I am a vampire.”
His mother’s jaw dropped. Joseph stared at his eldest in disgust and said, “That figures, I knew it was too damn good to be true!”
“Oh Jesus,” said his mother, “You’re a vampire? My God, what will I tell your brothers and sisters?”
“I don’t know,” said Jesus, “Perhaps you shouldn’t tell them anything.”
“That’s the truth,” said a frowning Joseph, “That’s all we’d need, we’ve had enough problems already from the Pharisees and the stupid Romans. I don’t believe this, you’ve become a vampire? Shit, that really tears it!”
Jesus, realizing he hadn’t introduced the Magdalene, offered politely, “This is my friend, Mary the Magdalene, she was a follower of mine hailing from Magdala.”
“I suppose she’s a vampire too?” asked Joseph.
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
Joseph threw his hands up and cried, “I should have known, why did I even ask?”
“At least they haven’t tried to destroy us yet,” the Magdalene observed between stifled giggles.
After they had absorbed the incredible news, Joseph and Mary invited their son and his consort to spend the evening with them. Jesus’ mother headed to the kitchen to serve supper, as Joseph, Jesus and the Magdalene followed to the dining area.
“I’d offer you dinner, but we don’t have blood!” Joseph spat, sitting down at the table.
“Don’t worry father, we had someone to eat before we came here,” said Jesus, taking a seat.
“Someone!” exclaimed Joseph, staring at him in astonishment, “I swear, you’ve always been weird, but this takes the cake!”
Jesus’ mother entered, placing an earthenware serving bowl and two smaller ones on the table.
“Guess what Mary, I told them we had no blood in our larder, and your son said they had already had someone to eat before they arrived,” said Joseph, Mary handing him a wooden spoon and sitting down.
“We both had someone father.”
“Whatever,” retorted Joseph, eating a simple dinner of bread and a pottage of lentils cooked in meat broth, seasoned with onions and garlic.
The conversation continued for a time, Joseph making sarcastic remarks, as the thought of his eldest son being a vampire was rather unsettling. His mother seemed to accept this fact after the initial shock and quietly conversed with them.
“So, your friend Mary is also a vampire, that’s very interesting,” said his mother.
“Yes mother, she came to my grave one evening and I made her a vampire outside the tomb.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” exclaimed Joseph, slamming his spoon down and rising from the table. “This is ridiculous, I need air!”
“What’s wrong father?” asked an oblivious Jesus.
“A lot is wrong; I’m heading to the courtyard. After you’re finished talking with your mother I’d like to speak with you privately,” answered Joseph, leaning on the table with both hands.
“Velly vell father,” said Jesus in his vampiric accent, troubled by his father’s remarks.
“Velly vell – what the hell’s wrong with your voice?”
“It’s a long story dad,” said Jesus, disguising his voice while stroking his beard.
Joseph left the kitchen as his mother said, “Please don’t worry Jesus, even though you’re a vampire, your father and I still love you.”
“Yeah, thanks ma,” said a weakly smiling Jesus.
After his mother finished supper, Jesus left her and the Magdalene. He walked to the courtyard, his sandals making a scuffing sound on the flagstones, where Joseph was relaxing by oil lamp in a chair, enjoying the cool night. He was drinking fruit juice instead of his usual evening wine, feeling the need to be clear headed for the conversation he was going to have with his undead firstborn son.
“Please sit down,” said Joseph, waving to a chair next to him. Jesus took a seat, his father continuing, “We need to talk about this new situation of yours.”
“We do?” asked Jesus, wondering if his father had finally had enough and was going to ask him to leave the family forever.
“Yes,” said Joseph, eyeing Jesus in exasperation, “I don’t believe this, first, you agitate so many people in this town that you end up having to leave, then you piss off so many people in Jerusalem that you manage to get yourself killed. That was bad enough, now you return, as a vampire! What the hell happened, and don’t tell me it was some sort of miracle, I’m not going to buy that at all.”
“I don’t know, when I awoke in the sepulchre I had become a vampire.”
“How? There’s nothing in any scriptural prophecy I’ve ever read stating that you, or anyone else for that matter, would become a vampire. Not that I’ve ever given much credence to those writings, but –”
“I really don’t know father, perhaps people should forget about what I preached. I mean, since I was crucified, I’ve honestly wondered if there even is a God.”
“I agree with you there,” said Joseph, taking a sip of juice, “Especially with society the way it is today. Who knows, maybe God’s disgusted and has finally given up on us.”
“I wouldn’t be a damn bit surprised,” Jesus replied, turning from his father and looking to small herb garden his mother had planted.
A frowning Joseph finished his juice and thought, Perhaps I should have had something stronger, watching his undead offspring look to the heavens. Both were quiet for a while, Joseph breaking the silence by asking, “You and the girl, you kill people and suck their blood, right?”
“Yes father, we have to, and I try to take only those who have crossed me, or lately, have tried to rob us.”
“Really, I suppose that’s somewhat commendable; you came back here to take revenge upon your enemies, correct?”
“Yes, but I also came to visit you and mother,” said Jesus, turning to his father.
“That’s nice,” Joseph retorted, gripping his cup, “I imagine you intend to kill half this town during your visit?”
“It has crossed my mind, probably more than half actually.”
“I don’t blame you, the people here are a bunch of bastards,” said a frowning Joseph, looking to his empty cup. “Frankly, I’ve never liked them; most are deadbeats who owe me money for carpentry work. I don’t even care if you kill them all, just leave your mother and I out of it.”
“You don’t care?” asked Jesus, surprised at his father’s literal endorsement of death for the entire town.
“Hell no, I’m well over fifty and too damn old to care, but your mother, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to understand such things. So, if you decide to hang around, at least be discrete in your killings, after all, a lack of discretion is what got you killed in the first place.”
“I intend to, a friend named Decius Publius told us leaving bodies all over the place is the reason we had to leave Jerusalem.”
“So, who’s Decius, another vampire, or a Roman werewolf?” asked a smirking Joseph, closing eyes as if in pain.
“He’s the centurion who nailed me to the cross.”
“A friend crucified you? What did you do to him to make him do that?” asked Joseph, opening his eyes and sitting up straight in his chair, his back making an audible crack.
“He wasn’t a friend at the time, we befriended him after I became a vampire.”
“Oh,” Joseph replied, leaning back in his chair.
“Thank you for understanding father,” said a polite Jesus, as if he were still a boy.
“Don’t mention it, and it’s not that I truly understand you son, or anything else for that matter.”
“Really?” asked Jesus, needing clarification.
“Really,” said Joseph, “Incidentally, I think after all you’ve been through, you’ve found out there’s a lot we don’t understand about almost everything.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jesus, interested in his father’s philosophy.
“Well,” said Joseph, waving hands as if encompassing the world, “Like why are we even here in the first place, and why are we always bothered by weirdos who cause nothing but trouble for everyone, like the Pharisees and the Romans. Or, what exactly is this place called earth, and what is the floating disk up there we call the moon, and just what are all those lights twinkling in the sky on a clear night? Get it?”
“Yes,” Jesus answered, remembering his cynical father was also a very wise man.
“Anyway, that’s a damn good-looking girl you have at your side, you said she was one of your followers?”
“I met her walking the streets of Magdala. She used to be a whore.”
“A streetwalker, that figures,” said Joseph, wondering if his son had ever done anything not out of the ordinary.
“She’s not a whore anymore.”
“No, now she’s a vampire, thanks to you!”
“She’s very good company.”
“That’s good,” said Joseph, resting his chin in the palm of a hand, “Your mother and I had been worried about that, after all, you are thirty-three, and haven’t exactly had too many women hanging around, if you know what I mean by that.”
“Others have thought that too, in fact, a pimp at a brothel thought – ”
“What did you expect, surrounding yourself with men?”
“I see what you mean.”
All became quiet while Joseph and Jesus sat silently, lost in their own thoughts.
“It’s said that vampires are endowed with great powers,” said Joseph, breaking the silence.
“That’s true father.”
“So, they’d best not cross you now, should they?” asked Joseph, rising from his seat.
“I suppose not.”
* * *
During the next months, Jesus and Mary stayed at the home of his parents. Various townsfolk began to disappear, quietly, as Jesus and consort walked the night, preying on his enemies, or at other times taking criminals lurking outside town. This pastime had become very lucrative for the pair. After feeding, Jesus would rob bodies before he dumped them, and at times would enter his vanquished enemies’ domiciles like a catburglar, so he could steal valuables.
Adding more loot to his stash, one dark night after he murdered Samuel Bar Saklas, the town rabbi, and disposed of the body, Jesus broke into his house, looking about for items of value. Mary followed, closing the door behind them.
Seeing a pair of silver menorahs on a small family altar, he grabbed them, dumped the unlit holy candles to the floor and slipped them into his robe.
“Aren’t those rather large?” Mary whispered, looking for other valuable articles.
“They’re made of silver; we can break them up and melt them down later.”
The rabbi’s wife appeared from the bedroom, woke by the noise. Before she could utter a word, the Magdalene leapt upon her like a wildcat, sunk fangs in her neck and sucked her dry.
“Now we have another body to get rid of!” Jesus exclaimed under his breath.
“What did you want me to do, let her scream her head off?” asked Mary, dropping the corpse to the stone floor, “Besides, it’s drizzling outside, there’s no one around who will see us.”
“True, hand me those gold goblets over there,” said Jesus, returning to his thievery. “Hey, there’s a box of money here too; please find a sack.”
Mary walked to the bedroom. Finding a shelf, she grabbed a finely woven linen bedsheet imported from Egypt. Tying the corners together and making a suitable sack, she returned and handed her creation to Jesus, who dumped the booty in it as she retrieved and handed him the goblets.
“You take the sack, I’ll get the body,” said Jesus, rolling the cadaver up in a rug.
“Okay,” Mary replied, the couple slipping unnoticed from the house into the dark and rainy night. As the rug and body bounced down a steep ravine, she asked, “You didn’t mind me killing her did you?”
“Not at all, she was a mean old bitch,” the vampiric Christ replied, walking from the brink.
The Magdalene smiled and handed him the sack of loot, wondering how Jesus had been such a kind, generous man in life, especially when most people in his hometown were so arrogant and self-righteous.
Night after night, Jesus continued in his depredations, slaughtering and robbing those who had wanted to stone him for blasphemy. Unknown to the prying Roman tax collectors, he found that many residents of Nazareth were loaded, hundreds of denarii and aurei stashed in their homes, he and Mary happily filling his sacks with their money. When morning approached, they would hide the loot in a nearby cave, return to his parent’s house and settle in for a good day’s sleep in a windowless storeroom next to the kitchen.
Joseph grew used to their odd hours, and came to like Mary Magdalene, remarking one evening in the courtyard that had she and Jesus not been vampires, he would have approved of a marriage between them.