Free Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set by F. Paul Wilson, Blake Crouch, Scott Nicholson, Jeff Strand, Jack Kilborn, J. A. Konrath, Iain Rob Wright, Jordan Crouch Page A

been.  But I thought I’d like New York.  Don’t they get to you?”  Dan shrugged.  “Those folks are like most of the people I hang out with every day, but considerably more functional.”
    “How do you do it?  You all but live with them.  And you don’t have to.”
    “Jesus hung with the down and outs.  Why shouldn’t I?”
    He noticed Hal looking at him closely.  “You don’t think you’re Jesus, do you?”
    Dan laughed.  “Hardly.  But that’s what being a priest is all about—modeling your life on the J-man, as he’s known around here.  Truth is, we don’t know much about His life.”
    “Well, we do know that he rubbed the higher-ups the wrong way.”
    “I’ve done my share of that.”
    Dan thought of his long-running battle with Father Brenner, St. Joseph’s pastor, over his soup kitchen in the basement.
    “It got him killed.”
    Dan laughed again.  “Not to worry.  I’m not looking to get my palms and soles ventilated.”
    “You can’t be too careful, Fitz.” Hal glanced back toward the plaza.  “A lot of these folks are more than a few bricks shy of a full load.”
    Dan nodded.  “I’m aware of that.”  He thought of the couple of occasions when some of Loaves and Fishes’ “guests” got violent, mostly screaming and shouting and pushing, but one had gone so far as to pull a knife during an argument over who would sit by a window.  “And I’m careful.” 
    “Good.  I’m sure there’s a place in heaven for you, but I don’t want you taking it just yet.”
    “Heaven’s not guaranteed for anybody, Hal.  Sometimes I wonder if there is such a place.”
    Hal was looking at him strangely.  “You?”
    He didn’t want to get into anything heavy so he grinned.  “Just kidding.  But how about lunch?  It’s the least I can do.”  He pointed to Nino’s on the corner of St. Mark’s Place.  “Slice of Sicilian?”
    “I’ll take a rain check.” Hal extended his hand.  “Got to run.  But I want to get together with you again after you’ve read the translation.  See if you can make any sense of it.”
    “I’ll do my best.  And thanks again.  Thanks a million.  Nice to own something this old—and know it’s one of a kind.”
    Hal frowned.”Not one of a kind, I’m afraid.  Shortly before I left, an Israeli collector came in with another scroll identical to this one.  The parchment and the writing carbon dated the same as yours—about two thousand years apart.”
    Dan shrugged.  “Okay.  So it’s not one of a kind.  It’s still a great gift, and I’ll treasure it.  But right now I’ve got to get back to the shelter for the lunch line.”
    Hal waved and started down the sidewalk.  “See you next week, okay?  For lunch.  I should have my appetite back by then.”
    Dan waved and headed back to St. Joe’s, wondering how many these weird scrolls were floating around the Middle East.
     

 
     
    She had been dead for two years and more, yet her body showed no trace of corruption.  The brother had kept her death a secret.  He and the others feared that Ananus or Herod Agrippa or even the Hellenists might make use of her remains to further their various ends. 
     
    --from the Glass scroll
    Rockefeller Museum translation
     
     
    FIVE
     
    Ramat Gan, Israel
    Chaim Kesev stared westward from the picture window in the living room of Tulla Szobel’s sprawling hilltop home.  He could see the lights of Tel Aviv—the IBM tower, the waterfront hotels—and the darkness of the Mediterranean beyond.  The glass reflected the room behind him.  A pale room, a small pale world—beige rug, beige walls, beige drapes, pale abstract paintings, low beige furniture that seemed designed for something other than human comfort, chrome and glass tables and lamps.
    Kesev wrinkled his nose.  With all the money lavished on this room, he thought, the least you’d think she could do was find a way to remove the cigarette stink.  The place smelled like a