Read Online The Judas Line by Mark Everett Stone - Free Book Online Page A

but the mattresses must have come from the same supplier because they were similarly hard as rocks.
    While Jude took the first turn in the shower, I grabbed the manila envelope and crushed my backside on the bed’s hard surface. Printer paper slid into my palms and I began to read.
    The Happy Voice
     
    It took weeks for me to adjust to the Words rattling around my cranium, the feeling of power they gave me. Meanwhile, my half-brothers and Burke contented themselves with verbal torment, but the assassination attempts had stopped, at least for a while. For the first time in years I found no taint of poison in my food or drink, no tripwires at the head of stairs and no weakened balcony railings. I had become irrelevant in their eyes, but that didn’t stop me from exercising caution. There was no telling when they would grow tired of my presence and try erase me from the world.
    Professor von Andor trained us in the uses of the Words. I do not know who had taught him because he was Wordless, yet he knew all about their uses—how intonation, inflection, volume and intent shape the power of the Words, shape their efficacy.
    Of course the only Word I admitted to was Healing, the only one I could practice in front of the others lest they realize my deceit. Being the simplest of all Words to master, it required only volume to increase or decrease its potency. Strangely enough, despite the ease of use, it was the most practical Word of all. Nothing like breaking your arm and Healing it to convince oneself of that fact. Despite its usefulness, however, the one thing it could not do was regenerate lost tissue. You lose an arm; you’ve lost an arm, no take-backs.
    I practiced the other Words on my own, within the confines of my room—in the walk-in closet with clothes taped to the walls to muffle any noise. I needn’t have worried; the others were practicing in their own rooms and I doubted they would have heard a stampede of elephants considering the racket they made.
    So, in the darkness of my closet, I rolled those Words around in my mouth like marbles, spitting them out with different inflections at different volumes, noting their effects and committing those effects to memory. Some Words, such as The Walls (which protects the magus’ mind from tampering) could not be practiced alone; I needed others to hone my facility with them. Others like Aspect, Vigor, Strength and Clarity had effects that were readily apparent. Thankfully the others masked the smell of my magic as they exercised their own Words.
    The Professor often chose me as a guinea pig so Burke could practice Forgetting. Depending on the volume and inflection, Forgetting had the potential to erase a full day’s worth of memories. An Adept could fine-tune the Word to make the target Forget as little as the last five seconds.
    “What?” I asked when I noticed everybody staring at me, wrinkling my nose at the smell of black licorice.
    “Very good, Burke, you are down to ten seconds.” The Professor’s normally dry, avuncular voice contained a measure of satisfaction.
    Had our Family been what passes for normal, Henri and the twins would have cheered Burke’s accomplishment, but instead they glowered and looked uncomfortable.
    “It worked then?” I asked.
    “Indeed,” the Professor stated. “He is progressing nicely.”
    A phone rang upstairs and the Professor slowly ascended the stairs to answer, leaving me in the basement with my half-brothers and Burke.
    “Well, Olivier,” Henri began, advancing slowly toward me in a half shamble. “You’re pretty good at Healing, but what is Julian going to with you now that you’ve got just one Word?” Dull malice filled his cow eyes.
    Moving slowly so as not to spook the relatives, I reached into the front pocket of my black Levi’s and pulled out a piece of wax paper folded many times. The twins and Burke moved in close to see what I had.
    “Well, Henri, it’s a good thing I’ve excelled at Botanical