It is Risen Read online

  It is Risen

  Jessica Christ, Book 5

  H. Claire Taylor

  Copyright © 2017 by H. Claire Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For the man upstairs

  * * *

  whose bedsprings I hear when I’m trying to sleep.

  * * *

  Bravo, sir.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Excerpt from Railed to the Cross

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Excerpt from Railed to the Cross

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Excerpt from Railed to the Cross

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Excerpt from Railed to the Cross

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgments

  Okay, I did this thing …

  About the Author

  Also by H. Claire Taylor

  Chapter One

  Chris scooted closer to Jessica on their Tempur-Pedic sex pallet afloat in the middle of the Pacific. Earlier that day, she’d watched a documentary on the vanishing wildlife of Samoa, but now didn’t seem like the time to tell her boyfriend about that.

  He brushed a hand up and down the exposed flesh of her waist between the thin fabric of her bikini bottom and the tie holding on her top. “I love it when we do it in your mind,” he whispered. “Always so exotic.”

  “It’s not entirely in my mind. Clearly you contribute to it.”

  He stared hungrily into her eyes. “No, babe, this is all you.”

  She shook her head, “Ehh … no, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t invite the Avengers to watch.”

  Chris’s eyes darted over to another mattress raft bobbing gently up and down fifty yards away. He waved enthusiastically to the passengers aboard it then turned back to Jessica. “First, that’s the Justice League. Second, can’t you see how jealous they are of you? I mean, me?”

  She decided to ignore it. It wasn’t real anyway, so who cared? She pressed a finger to his lips. “Let’s stop talking about it.”

  He nodded emphatically then put on his game face. “You’re right. Less talking, more doing.”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep from smiling as he pressed himself up against her and they kissed, the mattress rocking gently on the placid ocean waves, the Justice League looking on disinterestedly. He made quick work of untying her suit in the back, but before he could detach himself from her mouth long enough to free her from the top completely, the sound of a throat clearing stole her attention away from the sexy task at hand.

  She held the cups of her bathing suit in place, knowing instinctually who she would find hovering over the mattress oh-so judgmentally. She didn’t know much about the Justice League, but she was certain this guy wasn’t part of it.

  Jesus’s hair and robe billowed slightly in the ocean breeze as the waves lapped around his sandals.

  “Oh hey, bro,” Chris said casually.

  “Heavenly Father’s blessings to you, Christopher,” Jesus replied, beaming.

  “You catch the Roma-Juventus match the other day?” Chris said.

  Jessica’s head whipped around to him. Wait a second. They were talking sports. But it wasn’t football, as far as she could tell.

  “Oh yes.” Jesus nodded enthusiastically. “What a game. Dear old Dad even spoiled it for me, and I still enjoyed it.”

  “Fernando was on fire. That hat trick?”

  Jesus chuckled. “We call those holy trinities up there.” His eyes darted skyward, and Jessica was officially confused; was Heaven physically above them? She thought that was just a metaphor or a simplistic crutch for the human mind. “Just a little angelic humor.” Jesus’s laugh sent giddy chills through Jessica’s body.

  She shook them off. “As much as I love that my boyfriend and family get along, I’d love it even more if you’d get to the point of why you’re here, Jesus, so we can get back to what we were doing.”

  Jesus’s smile faded. “You mean sex outside of marriage?”

  “Sex outside of reality,” Jessica corrected, not appreciating his tone one bit, “and it’s got God’s stamp of approval, so save the lecture.”

  “I’ll save that lecture,” he said sassily, bracing his hands on his hips and kicking one foot out to the side, sending a spray of salt water onto the corner of their mattress. “But obviously I’m here with a specific purpose, otherwise I would not make the effort to crash your sin fest.”

  Jessica groaned. “It’s not— Okay, fine. Change is hard; I know. Now get to the point.”

  “You’re dragging your feet again, sis.”

  “I’m not dragging my feet. I can’t start a business with a snap of my fingers”—she squinted at him, arching her brows—“can I?” Jesus shook his head quickly. “Damn. Then I need time. I haven’t even perfected my recipes yet. No point in building a bakery if no one wants to eat what I have.”

  Jesus sighed and gestured down at the mattress. “Do you mind if I sit?” Jessica and Chris scooted over and Jesus made himself comfortable. “You’re stalling, dear sister. You can improve your recipes while you go through the process of opening the bakery. And besides, that’s not the only thing you’re avoiding.”

  Jessica looked to Chris for backup, but he simply nodded along with whatever Jesus said.

  “He’s right, you know,” Chris added.

  Chris was no help. Noted. “I don’t even know what you’re talking—”

  “The book,” said Jesus. “You haven’t even cracked the cover. Don’t you want to know what propaganda and egomaniacal lies are being spread to the masses?”

  Of course she wanted to know that. “But God said I shouldn’t read the Bible until the second edition came out.”

  Jesus waved that off and blew a raspberry. “No, not that book. Jimmy’s book. Come on now. How have you not even started it? I just— I don’t understand. I mean, I read the New Testament as soon as it was released, and let me tell you, there were some major inconsistencies despite it being well-intentioned. One might have an easier time connecting plot points between Michael Keaton’s Batman to the Dark Knight trilogy.” He chuckled.

  “I knew Jesus was a DC guy!” Chris held his hand in the air, and Jesus flinched.

  “No,” Chris mumbled from the corner of his mouth. “I’m not gonna strike you. You just hit my hand with your hand.”

  Jesus stared at Christopher’s palm. “Oh! Ha! Like they do in sports!”

  “Yeah!”

  They high-fived, but Jesus’s boyish elation faded from his face quickly as soon as he returned his attention to his sister. “I encourage you to at least know what Jimmy claims you’ve said. You might also learn a little about him that could help you.” Jesus stood. “Also, maybe read the Bible a little, too. Sheesh, I can’t believe you’re not even curious about it. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I sort of hand it to the Pharisees … a bunch of times. Well, except for that last bit.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Can’t win them all, I guess …

  “Aaanyway, I’ll let you two resume getting to know each other in an unhol
y way. And I definitely don’t want to be here for that.”

  “We don’t want you here for that either,” Jessica said. “That should go without saying.”

  Jesus tilted his head, squinting dubiously at her. “Should it? It seems you two like an audience.” He hitched a thumb at the nearby raft, where Wonder Woman and Batman were trying to snatch fish out of the water.

  “Okay,” Jessica said, “first of all, it wasn’t my idea to invite the entire Justice League to—”

  “Please,” Chris said, “that’s not the entire Justice League. Aquaman isn’t even there and”—a splash a few yards away pulled Chris’s attention—“Oh, there he is. Well. Even still, that’s not the entire Justice League.”

  “You know, Jesus,” Jessica said, “if you don’t approve of our admittedly weird sex life, you could just stop showing up.”

  Jesus groaned exasperatedly. “No, because then how would I make sure you kept on with your journey?”

  Jessica threw her arms into the air. “How should I know? Listen, you have a little sway up in Heaven, right?”

  Jesus bent slightly at the waist, his interest piqued.

  “Then why don’t you ask for the rules to be changed? If I can convince our Father to make some tweaks, so can you. I mean, really, Jesus, do something for yourself for once. If you’re not going to look out for you, who will?”

  Nodding slowly at first, then more enthusiastically, Jesus said, “Yeah … Good point! Thanks, sis.” Then turned on his heels, causing ocean spray to fly out around him, and stomped off across the water.

  She turned back to her boyfriend. “Where were we?”

  And as Superman flew in lazy, idle circles overhead, Chris reminded her just where they’d left off …

  Chapter Two

  Jess rolled to her side on the massive, luxurious mattress, and her eyes immediately fell on the boxes she hadn’t yet unpacked since her move from San Marcos to Austin. She decided to cut herself some slack, considering she’d only been in this condo for a week. Add that to the shock of living alone and the exhaustion of daily life in a big city, and she had a fairly strong excuse for the lack of progress.

  But on the other hand, she hadn’t really done anything else all week, except watch TV on the leather sofa, stare out of the picture windows that overlooked downtown, and try not to think too much about how all of this was likely one huge mistake.

  Forcing herself to crawl out of the exquisitely comfortable bed, the lucid dream still fresh in her mind, Jessica knew Jesus was right. She needed to get to work. As it was, she was living on borrowed time, borrowed money, and in a borrowed condo.

  The latter was a bit of a mystery, but it was one that her subconscious could further chip away at after a few cups of coffee.

  She padded across the chilly floor, cursing whoever thought concrete was better than carpet, and flipped on the pendant lighting over the kitchen island to avoid tripping over her own feet or a yet-to-be-unpacked box.

  Wendy Peterman was to thank for this sophisticated dwelling, which Jessica still didn’t feel like she deserved. The publicist claimed it belonged to a client who was wealthier than was useful for any human being and who preferred not to bother with renting it out, opting instead to house Jessica for free, on the off chance that it could amount to a tax write-off down the road—as if Jessica were a walking 501(c)(3).

  Jessica’s instincts told her not to accept such a generous gift. However, with Wendy as a liaison, Jessica decided to override her gut and go with her head because Wendy was also a terrifyingly dogged vetter; if Jessica’s messy public life did eventually ruin Wendy’s career, the woman could probably make a good living as a private investigator. And besides, Wendy proved time and again that she possessed better judgment in matters like this than Jessica. If this setup could later hurt Jessica’s image in any way, Wendy wouldn’t let her touch it with a twenty-foot pole.

  And it was a sweet condo. While Jess wouldn’t admit it aloud, that factor played in heavily to the decision to accept the offer. Outside of an identical situation to this one, it was unlikely Jessica would ever be able to afford somewhere this nice. Especially when she was without a job and virtually broke.

  Though not penniless.

  She passed the jar of pennies on the way to the Keurig, dropped in a K-cup, then wandered to the fridge to see if she still had any yogurt.

  She did not.

  It’s probably better that I don’t eat anyway. My morning plans are not necessarily conducive to a full stomach.

  Once the Keurig beeped at her, and grabbed the cup and headed over to the breakfast nook, which was really just a designated corner of the open great room. She set down her mug and sighed, staring at the floor in the far corner where a book lay open but facedown, right where it’d slid to a stop when she chucked it across the room a week before. But only after Wendy had handed it to her, assigned it as her homework, and then left.

  Rising from her chair and tiptoeing over, she bent and picked up Railed to the Cross, shut it, and stared at the cover where her name was still branded across the front.

  With a foreword by Jessica Christ stared back at her like a challenge.

  Probably because it was. Jimmy had a plan, but what that plan was, God only knew.

  What kind of shit are you pulling, Jimmy?

  GREAT QUESTION. I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS, BUT IT’S STILL ANYONE’S GUESS.

  So maybe even God didn’t know.

  Can’t you just jump into his head and figure it out?

  READ THAT BOOK THEN YOU TELL ME IF YOU WOULD WANT TO JUMP INTO JIMMY’S HEAD.

  Ugh. There was no getting around it. She would have to read the book.

  But wait.

  Have you read the book?

  OF COURSE.

  Can you sum it up for me?

  THE LORD AND CREATOR OF ALL THINGS HOLY IS NOT YOUR SPARKNOTES.

  That’s not what you said when I asked you to sum up Heart of Darkness two years ago.

  THAT WAS A ONE-TIME THING BECAUSE I AM A MERCIFUL GOD.

  And summing up Jimmy’s bullshit isn’t a mercy?

  NO. IT WOULD BE A DISSERVICE.

  Whatever that means.

  Once she was seated and had adequately scalded her tongue on the unnecessarily hot cup of coffee, she cracked open the cover, flipped to the table of contents, and stopped when her eyes landed on Foreword by Jessica Christ.

  Below it were the chapter titles, but she would get to those later. One crap heap at a time.

  She flipped forward and began reading what she’d supposedly written.

  When I first received the call from Reverend Dean, or as I like to think of him, “Uncle John,” with the request to write a foreword to his life story, I didn’t know what to say.

  Truth be told, I was a little overcome by the gesture.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!”

  YEAH, IT DOES NOT GET ANY BETTER.

  “Uncle John? What the hell is that anyway? His name’s Jimmy! Why would I call him Uncle John?”

  THE ANSWERS YOU SEEK ARE ALL IN THE BOOK.

  Ugh. Fine.

  She continued reading.

  After all, who reading this right now can’t remember an instance of me publicly calling out Jimmy as a fraud? I’ve done it time and time again, often going to the heart of his ministry and trying to destroy the faith of those most loyal to him.

  In short, he and I haven’t always seen eye to eye.

  “Well, that’s true enough.”

  THOU SHALT STOP PAUSING SO OFTEN. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE FOREVER.

  You’re exaggerating, but fine.

  This has been mostly my fault.

  “Come on!”

  I was just a kid. I grew up in such close proximity to Uncle John that I saw the man and not the messenger. But I still remember with fondness the times I spent with him as a young girl. He would drive all the way to my home in Mooretown and take me out for ice cream. I could talk about anything with him, like my best friend whose name
was probably Miriam, or the boy Crispin I had a crush on. Even as those friends faded into the oblivion of time, Jimmy stood by me.

  His faith in me is breathtaking, and I’ve returned it in kind when I could. As Jesus resurrected Lazarus to show others the power of God, so did I breathe life into Jimmy in front of the White Light Church congregation and hundreds of millions of YouTube viewers. Every bit of that was real and actually happened. Anyone who tries to deny the hard facts of it denies God Himself and shall unfortunately burn in hell for all eternity. His rules, not mine.

  She shut the book. I think I need a break.

  IS THIS NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED?

  No, this is exactly what I expected. Except lazier, surprisingly. Did he really not bother to remember Chris’s and Miranda’s names? He’s had multiple encounters with them. Chris even called him last year to come down to campus and try to ruin my life.

  She pushed the memory from her mind. It had been the catalyst for their transition from taking a break to broken up. Those were dark days she didn’t care to relive (Mason who?). Besides, nobody won when her buried hatchets resurfaced. Grudges tended to appear in her shared dreams with Chris, and when they did, her subconscious could be a little vindictive with the setting. For instance, after Chris was a half-hour late picking her up for a date, their nightly rendezvous had landed them in Chris’s mother’s bedroom, and nothing either of them tried altered the location or the disturbing amount of detail that Jessica’s mind had retained from the few brief visits to Bethany Riley’s room.