Judas was stumbling up the portico steps when he saw someone lying on the beach. He felt a chill dance up his spine when he recognized Father Jon. He turned quickly and ran toward him, stumbling in the deep sand. As he ran, his silhouette resembled that of a giant bird, the wind fluttering through his ragged wings and the tangled strands of his hair.
He crouched down beside Father Jon, checking his vital signs while the midnight fog softly brushed his naked cheek, coiled around his sandaled feet, and kissed the muscled hardness of his legs.
Father Jon opened his eyes to a huge disarray of hair that billowed out like a lion’s mane. “My God, what—”
“It’s me, Judas. Are you all right?”
“What the hell is that you’re wearing?” Father Jon asked as he lifted himself up.
“It’s what’s left of
