Destiny of Coins (24 page)

Whatever tomorrow might bring, I could deal with it now. I had the devotion of the woman I cherish above all others, and the love and presence of my beloved son. And, I had friends looking out for my best interests—both here, and in the higher realms unseen.

Everything, it seemed, was going to be all right.

That’s good enough for me…at least for now.

The End

To be continued in:

The Dragon Coin

The Judas Chronicles, Book Four

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Getting out of Podgorica proved easy enough, and we were on the main highway by four-thirty that Monday afternoon.  Traveling by train would’ve been quicker, but having a car as a possible getaway source seemed to be the wiser choice. Besides, if Roderick wasn’t correct about Dracul’s residence being in or near Budva, a car gave us more immediate options to rectify that potential problem.

That was my opinion, anyway.

We checked into the Hotel Astoria shortly after six o’clock, and after a quick dinner overlooking the beach we headed downtown. Standard logic wouldn’t necessarily help in determining the layered illusion supposedly waiting for us from Dracul. But we went with a version of common sense anyway, visiting the oldest part of the city first. A place that preceded my existence by more than five hundred years.

The locals refer to this area as ‘Old Town’. In truth, it has always been Budva’s trademark, and is a sandy peninsula that once was an island. Legendary even when Roderick and I first visited this area of the Adriatic coast eighteen hundred years earlier, it remains the biggest tourist attraction in the area.

The ancient walls of this section are a huge draw, and have survived at least two major earthquakes, in 1667 and again in 1979. The walls form the cornerstone for the labyrinth feel of the place, because of the braided streets, squares, bulwarks and towers. No wonder Dracul chose to be close, since this certainly fit his taste.

“Do you think he would be so obvious as to set whatever trap he has in mind for us in the citadel?” I asked, as we approached the city’s oldest standing structure. It appeared deserted and locked up. “I see it’s a theater now, one that’s apparently closed on Mondays.”

“Hard to say,” said Roderick, looking around warily. I felt a cold chill traverse along my spine. “He’s watching us.”

“He feels close.”

“Yes, he does,” he agreed, turning away from the citadel/theater. He began walking back to where the car was parked. “We’re wasting our time here. I could almost feel him laughing at us.”

He was right, that’s exactly how it felt.

“Then where is he? Or, better yet, where does he want us to go?” I said, getting increasingly irritated. Yeah, I know...like I should be in such a hurry to die, right? “Is this part of the game?”

“What, like foreplay?” Roderick chuckled and picked up his pace. “I just received an image of an immense dark castle, somewhere near water. No, that’s not quite right…the place is
surrounded
by water, lots of water.”

“Could be another dead end,” I said. “Especially if he knows you are getting mental images, this might be nothing more than another session of ‘fuck with the druid’.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he continued to move back to the parking garage where we left our rental.

“I’m serious!”

“I know, “ he called over his shoulder. “You might be right, Judas. But one thing is for certain. He isn’t here.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because the images of the castle are getting stronger…as much as I would like to not follow them, I feel it will be worse for us if we don’t hurry to try and find this place. Somewhere on the coast, and if we go now, we’ll still have plenty of daylight.”

Roderick’s sense of urgency won the battle over my desire to stay longer and have a better look around in ‘Old Town’. Unlike our casual pace from Pedgorica to Budva, and from the hotel to the older section of the city, he drove the Camry we rented with near abandon, and almost ran down a pair of bicyclists on the main road back to the beach. Following his inner voice, he took us further south and let up on the gas as he became calmer. Then, without warning, he pulled the car over and parked in front of one of the many scenic beaches the area is known for. At the moment, it appeared to be crowded with tourists and local sun-worshipers alike.

“So, are you looking for some cryptic clue beneath a sunbather’s umbrella that will lead us further on this wild goose chase?” I asked, smiling wryly.

“Shhh! Let me listen for a moment.” He stared out the windshield as if expecting such a clue to suddenly appear among the beach tenants, or the rising tide sending deeper swells toward the shore. Only a handful of surfers braved the bigger waves, and other than a few sailboats in the distance, the sea sat empty. The shoreline, on the other hand, was teeming with swimmers in the shallow depths while couples walked close to the water. “Come on, let’s go have a look.”

He exited the car, and without waiting for me, hurried toward what looked like an abandoned pier from long ago. The structure was missing most of its planks, and only the rusted steel supports remained. An ancient dingy was tied to the end of the pier, roughly two hundred feet from the shore.

Roderick jogged through the sand, dodging several volleyball players as he moved past their net. I ran after him, concerned by his careless behavior, as so unlike him. He stopped when he reached the steps leading up to the pier.

“What in the hell is this about?”

He ignored my question, removing his glasses and squinting his eyes as he gazed toward the deeper depths far beyond the pier. I followed his eyes but saw nothing, and in fact noted nothing unusual—not even a hint of the creepiness we had experienced in ‘Old Town’. However, a slight mist drifted toward us from the sea, just beyond the pier, and spread out along the shoreline in either direction.

Hardly detectable at first, only a few people around us seemed to take notice until the mist thickened.

“It’s here,” he said, finally. “Or, the road to it is here.”

“What do you mean?” I honestly had no idea what he babbled about. “What’s
here?”

“Dracul’s palace.”

“In the middle of the sea?”

“No, it sits on an island.” He turned to study me, and seemed surprised we were surrounded by other people. People, I should say, whose stares were drawn to Roderick’s face. He quickly put his glasses back on. “I’m beginning to think this is much worse than either of us could’ve anticipated. The island is out there right now…and yet, it’s not.”

“What?! Like we’re dealing with multi-dimensional shit again? Please say I’m wrong.”

I followed his gaze as it returned to the deeper waters beyond the pier. Roderick shook his head incredulously, while I awaited more details on what his perception picked up.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he said, finally. “Maybe this is part of the maze…the illusion in the game that might reach other levels beyond the physical, and beyond normal acuity….”

His voice trailed off as he looked to the right of us, where the mist had thickened to a fog above the waves that crashed against the shore. A couple with a dog became briefly invisible, and seemed oblivious to the mist, until a dozen adolescents kicking a soccer ball hurried past the startled pair.

The youths, all boys and apparently local, chased the ball as it careened toward where we stood. Instinctively, I reached out to catch it when one of the boys kicked the ball toward Roderick and me. The kid, a striking blue-eyed blonde with dimples, smiled sheepishly and ran over to where we stood.

“You should be more careful, “ I said to him, using the Serbian dialect I remembered from long ago, and prepared for him not to understand, since modern Montenegrin is the official tongue taught in Budvan schools.

He nodded shyly and took the ball from me, bowing before taking a step to rejoin his buddies, who wore similar awkward smiles. I assumed he had merely read my tone and facial expression, but then he stopped and looked back at us, this time knowingly.

“Dracul looks forward to your attendance tonight at his palace,” he said, in English delivered with a strong Slavic accent, surprising us. “Return here at midnight. His coachmen will be waiting.”

The lad ran to rejoin his mates.

“Hey, wait!” Roderick called after him. “What’s your name?”

He took a step back toward us and stopped, and the knowing smile turned mischievous.

“Mortis is my name,” he said.

“And your family name?” Not sure why it mattered to me, but I suddenly thought this youth might be blood related to our nemesis. “Do you live around here?”

He laughed as if my question inspired hilarity, and his buddies joined in. Roderick and I glanced at each other, warily.

“Do you have such a name, Judas?” he retorted, and I scarcely recognized the boy who humbly approached us just a minute ago. “At least my name is genuine, and not a name intended to deceive. Same for you, Mr. Cooley.”

What the fuck?!

“Just make sure you’re both here at midnight,” he advised, again, when all either Roderick or I could do was stare at him as mutes, dumbfounded. “My master is most cruel when people disappoint him.”

He turned away and this time the entire group ran back from whence they came. I would certainly understand the expectation of these kids suddenly disappearing into thin air as they moved further down the beach. But we were able to watch their progress until their images grew too faint to track. We missed most of a gorgeous sunset settling in the west as a result. All the while, the foreboding feeling from earlier worsened.

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