Tyranny of Coins (The Judas Chronicles) (Volume 5) Paperback (3 page)

I hoped to rejoin my wife soon, with the intent of trying again to lift the worry from her heart, so she could rest her weary mind. Meanwhile, Roderick and I debated whether or not our nemesis truly wanted the Dragon Coin, or would Krontos demand something else instead? There was enough uncertainty to where I found myself playing the devil’s advocate, looking for logical objections as to why he wouldn’t want the coin—despite his longstanding familiarity with this particular shekel.

“What good could it possibly do him?” I asked quietly, in hopes Beatrice would either not hear our conversation or choose to ignore us altogether. “Suppose his magic has developed to where he no longer needs any coin to keep it going?”

“What… and that he’s been playing us all along?” Roderick’s expression revealed the idea was a novel one, and something he hadn’t previously considered.

“Well, you must admit it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for someone like him. Someone who can sway dimensional reality to fit his whims. Right?”

The volatile swirl of tiny golden flakes within his sky blue irises sped up. That, more than his deepening frown, told me this latest idea could threaten any chance of my rejoining Beatrice in our bed. Since neither Roderick nor I require steady sleep, and we often go days on end without such rest during times of crisis, adding any more fuel to our debate seemed unwise. And I had just done that.

“Not necessarily—and, I’m addressing your latest thought,” he said. My turn to frown, since I had let down my mental guard while worrying about the effect of my words. “I had considered Krontos no longer needed anything from anyone to fulfill his wicked schemes. If it’s true, then all of us—including the rest of mankind—are completely screwed!”

“Ah, so it would seem,” I agreed. “But, the fact he is worried about little ole you and me hiding out in this quaint Arizona town tells me he’s not godlike just yet.”

Roderick shook his head disgustedly and started to say something, but caught himself.

“What is it, Rod? You’ve been acting like you want to tell me something important for days—long before this latest incident.”

True. Actually, I noticed the silent burden he carried nearly a week ago. I had hoped he would reveal his secret naturally, and decided to wait it out. If not for the dreaded token from Lazarevic, I had already planned to broach the matter by this coming weekend.

“I know if pressed to do so, you would relinquish Dracul’s coin to his master,” he said, shifting in his seat to better regard me. “It may come to that, old friend. I pray it does not, but there are no guarantees of success in protecting all of us from harm, as you know. What are you planning to do if Krontos demands this coin?”

“To save you, my beloved family, and Cedric? I would give him what he wants,” I said. “But, what would such a move cost me personally? Since I’ve never been in a situation like this before, that answer is unknown. You and I will be traveling through uncharted territory. Yet, having said that, reintroducing my cured coins into the world would certainly spell untold disaster. My gut tells me the consequences and curses would be much more severe the next go round.”

“So, you’d rather not give your coins in exchange for others. Correct?”

“Yes… but why does any of this matter right now? My brother, I know you so well. Tell me what’s up.”

I could have, and perhaps should have, made him blurt out the piece he was hiding from me days ago. I prayed my perturbed expression would be enough to get him to come clean.

“I heard from Jeffrey the other day. Jeffrey Holmes? You remember him, don’t you?”

“The kid from Buffalo, New York?”

“Yes. But he’s not a kid anymore, having recently celebrated his forty-first birthday,” Roderick advised. “Though it was unfortunate he learned your identity from Michael some years back, he has proven to be a good ‘silent’ fan of yours, Judas. Remember, he’s the one who tracked down the Damascus coin before it suddenly disappeared again.”

“What a surprise,” I deadpanned.

“I’m serious, man!”

We had been sitting at a small dinette near the fireplace, and Roderick stood to tend to the dying flames.

“What if I were to tell you that Jeffrey has found links to a black market deal coming up soon for another coin of yours both of us assumed might never see the light of day for centuries?”

“I’d say better get the damned thing before you blink, or ‘poof’ it’ll be gone!”

“Very funny, smartass,” he said, scowling at me as he laid a medium sized log on top of the hearth. A bed of fiery coals from the previous log ignited the new offering. Roderick brushed off his hands and returned to me. “The coin is quite unique and is said to have more mystical properties than your Dragon Coin. It remained for centuries in the possession of a wealthy Jewish family in Poland. No one has seen it since World War II.”

“Wait a moment… you can’t be serious?” I couldn’t believe my ears, and felt like an idiot for playing him as I had. Then again, he didn’t need to be so coy. “The Stutthof-Auschwitz coin?”

“Yes, the very one that began the legend of healing among the condemned Jews in the Stutthof concentration camp. It later caused much more excitement—enough to where the coin was eventually discovered in Auschwitz, and then confiscated by the Nazis,” Roderick confirmed. He smiled, obviously pleased by my response. “If you’ll recall our previous conversation on the subject—and granted it’s been some years, now—unlike the other coins, this coin came to Stutthof from a Polish Jewish clan. The Nazis somehow missed it. The coin kept this family safe from harm’s way for nearly three months, until the evil of Hitler’s Final Solution was too much to defeat.

“The family was separated, and the parents were sent with the oldest brother to Auschwitz. The son, named Simon Lieberman, carried the coin. Legend has it the Nazis missed it again—despite thorough searches and nary a place to hide a coin. Perhaps it was stored in an orifice… in the mouth or anus seems most likely. Anyway, the coin carried mysterious healing powers, as you know. A handful of survivors from these horrific death camps spoke of a magical coin that could heal, somehow feed, and protect dozens from the beatings, random shootings, fateful trips to the gas chambers, etc. They all say it glowed with a blue sheen—the same thing you and I can see in the other coins.”

I clearly pictured the excitement I felt about this coin, back when the Second World War ravished Europe and raged through the Pacific islands. Not much reached the United States from our European brothers and sisters until we were fully engaged in war as a nation. Secrets withheld from the general populace, along with whispers of atrocities that scarcely seemed real to those who had never seen such events firsthand, began seeping into America’s awareness. Of course, for me it was maddening, as I had known what was happening since September 1939. I desperately wanted to return to Europe in hopes I could save as many of my Jewish brethren as possible. I knew it would be a small amount in comparison to the eventual hundreds of thousands being put to death each month in 1943 and beyond. But it wasn’t until I feared the extinction of the bloodlines rooted in Israel that I took matters into my own hands.

This resolve initially hit me full force in the spring of 1944. The other thing to sway me was the rumor of a blood coin in its active state—a true rarity in the twentieth century, since most often I found them in moments of dormancy. Not to mention, the coin that had circulated through two Polish concentration camps was creating hope for the Jewish nation, instead of the usual calamities my coins bring.

Getting an officer commission wasn’t as easy for me as some might think. This was before the formation of the CIA, which didn’t become active until 1947. I was working in the higher circles of the FBI at the time, and was viewed as a curious dinosaur who somehow looked much younger than I was. After all, the BOI had been absorbed by the newly formed FBI in 1933.

I won’t bore everyone with the details. Suffice it to say it took me calling in a favor with Virginia Senator W. Chapman Revercomb to obtain a European field commission. I was stationed in France as a US Army captain by the fall of 1944, and had hoped to slip away to Poland long enough to find my coin and save as many prisoners as possible. But getting away from France proved arduous at best, once the fortunes of the war swung in favor of the allied forces. As the intelligence photographs from the death camps began to reach my contacts in Washington the following January, I realized it was too late for me to do anything.

The greatest atrocity known to modern man was nearing its conclusion and would soon be revealed for the diabolical horror it was. And the coin? The Nazis had recovered it by then. My same contacts in Washington talked about some excitement over a recently discovered small item that was hailed as “the greatest occult relic in possession of the Third Reich.” I clearly recall how my heart froze upon hearing this news. It was never The Almighty’s plan for the Germans to possess this coin.

“Judas. Judas…. Hey, man are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh, shit. Sorry about that, Rod.” I must’ve looked like a total ass, staring out into space while missing nearly everything Roderick said. “I got caught up in a moment of nostalgia.”

“And you missed every damned word I said!” he chided. “Tell you what…. Let’s talk about this more when the sun comes up and we can work on a plan of attack as a group.”

“Attack? I’m not liking the sound of that word,” I said, although the prospects of me holding my wife close in the hours before dawn suddenly improved. “Why don’t we do the corporate thing and label it as a ‘call to action meeting’ instead?”

“Semantics.”

“Hey, I’m a little sensitive right now.”

I winked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sleep on it… if you can, Judas.” Roderick stood, dampened the fire, and made his way toward the lone bedroom on the main floor, which belonged to him.

I waited until he disappeared down the hall before I headed upstairs. Convinced nearly everyone else remained awake, I removed my shoes and consciously pulled my aura in, praying if anyone sensed my approach, it would only be Beatrice.

Fantasies entered my thoughts of what passion could bring if my cherished wife was game for something beyond mere comfort. But as I quietly pushed open our bedroom door, her soft snores confirmed this was neither the time nor place for lovemaking.

I smiled lovingly at Beatrice, passed out with the television remote held loosely in her fingertips. I gently removed it, turned off the TV, and carefully wrapped her body in her favorite blanket. She smiled as I climbed into bed next to her, drawing close. Then I patiently waited for dawn and its promise of warmth and light to arrive, and whatever Krontos Lazarevic had in store for us.

Chapter Three

“Why can’t Krontos just stop by and pick up the damned thing?” lamented Alistair. “And, why in the hell does he want us to meet his cronies in New York?”

Early afternoon. We had recently received the promised correspondence from Lazarevic. While his previous note was bathed in thinly veiled hostility, the latest correspondence was a sterile affair. No
rosa sericea
accompanied the delivery, and the priority mail envelope came with an actual physical address: The Ritz-Carlton in New York City. Did Krontos presently reside there? Maybe… or maybe not. Enclosed with an impersonal note were six first class airline tickets and two reserved suites at the same establishment.

“Well, Ali, at least you won’t have to wait long for answers to those questions. According to the tickets our assigned United flight leaves just after nine o’clock in the morning,” I said, looking for levity. I laid the tickets face-up in the middle of the dining room table, where everyone had gathered. “The note says a limousine will be waiting for us at LaGuardia Airport, and will bring us to the hotel. If he’s there, you’ll have your answers by mid-afternoon, I’d guess.”

“And, if this is just a wild goose chase, and we never get to meet the guy?”

“Then you get the satisfaction in knowing you were right.” I replied, shooting him a perturbed look. “But approaching a solution from a gloomy point of view will only ensure things turn out badly.”

My son has always been a stick in the mud, so to speak. But, I didn’t realize the physical aspects of growing older are what had mellowed him in his former ‘normal’ life. I am admittedly dismayed the restoration to full youth has created a petulant ass for the most part. I hold out hope someday this prevalent attitude breaks like a fever. It’s Roderick’s prophecy for my boy, and I pray it happens sooner than later.

He shrugged indifferently, and Amy went to work on comforting him, rubbing his shoulders affectionately. In all honesty, I’m more prone these days to cut him slack in most instances of surliness—especially after Krontos’ lightly veiled threats in the letter he left for us in Abingdon in June:
Your loved ones will summarily be returned to Dracul’s menu.
The vampire is dead forever, but does this mean Krontos shares his cannibalistic tendencies? Roderick and I witnessed the rampant bloodshed Dracul indulged himself in, feasting on human organs and muscle in addition to human plasma.

“We mustn’t give in to the thought patterns being fed to us,” Roderick advised. I turned my attention to him and he nodded. “Yes, I am addressing you, William.”