Tyranny of Coins (The Judas Chronicles) (Volume 5) Paperback (15 page)

Talk about a mood crusher. A hush settled upon the table, and my wife sent me a worried look. She subtly shook her head, alerting me that her misgivings about everything were alive and well. The dulled light in her usually bright green eyes revealed her defeated heart. I was beginning to lose her.

“None of us know where to begin, Krontos,” I said. “Surely you have some idea of where to begin our search?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have much to give you. I’ll gladly share the scant information I have, since this mysterious person showed up in Berlin and disappeared without leaving anything beyond a vapor trail. The rest will be up to you and your instincts. Instincts that have aided your success in finding twenty-five of your thirty blood coins,” he said, still smiling. “But, I must warn you, my friend. If you try to escape back to America, the consequences will be severe, and without mercy.”

Roderick bristled next to me, and I shared the same aversion to being manipulated. But, without a clear plan in place, this was not the time to protest. Both of us nodded in response, saying nothing.

Despite the solemn mood among us—other than Krontos, of course—we fed our hunger with mostly Hungarian cuisine. After finishing, we had several hours to roam the castle and grounds before lunch would be served. Krontos advised that I’d be given the keys to our ride from last night, with the initial stop being Auschwitz once more.

“Perhaps you can follow the coin’s energy trail better with your loved ones’ fate on the line,” said Krontos, before taking his leave from us. “In the meantime, you are free to utilize the library upstairs for additional research. Many of the works I’ve collected over the years deal with subjects that would interest you and Roderick. It will be up to you to utilize all you can before it’s time to leave.”

Having learned the day’s agenda, I spent the first few hours with Beatrice, trying to allay her fears that none of us would survive this latest adventure with our host. She seemed much more terrified of Krontos after meeting him in person, and I found myself leaning more toward her intuitions about him than my own. Especially, in light of how different he seemed from when Roderick and I dealt with him in centuries past.

“No leopard changes its spots beyond the surface,” she told me, when I sought to sell the positive aspects of her and Amy staying behind while the guys in our group went looking for the mysterious coin thief. “There is something about him that is worse than what you shared about Viktor Kaslow.”

At the time, I didn’t agree. But knowing a rebuttal would do little to change her thoughts and feelings, I smiled and confidently assured her that I’d get things sorted out to her liking before all was said and done. She smiled weakly, trying to warm up to my assurances. Afterward, we said little, but explored the first two floors of the revitalized home of our absent host, hand in hand. If things did go badly, we at least had this time together to reflect upon.

It was nearing noon when we arrived at the library, and I openly wondered then what became of our three Budva escorts from the night before. For all we knew, Krontos had zapped them from our reality, and perhaps the reason why we were being given their smartly outfitted Mercedes for our trip north.

Meanwhile, Roderick had his nose buried in ancient German texts, while Cedric reviewed a large English translation of the works of Guido Von List, noted for being the famous mystic who inspired the Nazis’ use of rune symbols and other aspects of German occultism. As for my son and his gal, they were huddled around a computer playing the latest version of Grand Theft Auto.

“I don’t believe this shit!” I hissed to Beatrice when we came up behind them. “Everyone else seems to be taking this seriously, while these two—”

“Stop, William!” Beatrice squeezed my fingers and pulled me back from berating the pair, presently caught up in their private revelry. Both wore soundproof headsets and were unaware a very angry ‘Dad’ stood behind them. “Let them be. This is how your son as a young man blows off stress. You’ll see. When you need him to be on point, he’ll come through for you. And, surely, there will be something useful he can draw upon from the decades he spent as a decorated academic.”

She had a point… well, sort of. But I needed to step away from the nonsense and clear my head. Perhaps wisely, my wife encouraged me to finish our tour of the upstairs areas without her. Since she and Amy would likely have time to look later, she wanted a moment with Alistair before he set out on Krontos’ assigned quest with me in a couple of hours. Lunch was supposed to be served around one o’clock, and I told her I’d come back for her. We shared a short, passionate kiss before I set out on my own.

I hadn’t thought about the pair of coins in Krontos’ possession since leaving Germany, and hardly anything about his Silver Trinity of Death. However, once I left the second floor and took the long flight of marble stairs to the third floor, a familiar tingling commenced. Only, it was stronger than what I was used to experiencing. Abrupt and very odd. Normally, the sensation begins to hit me when I’m within fifty miles of a blood coin.

The coins… they’re near!

The castle had five floors, and the rumor had always been that Krontos’ bedchamber was on the fourth floor—one floor below torture chambers of legend, though nothing had ever been verified to Roderick’s and my knowledge.

But what lay hidden behind the doors on the third floor, I wondered?

The floor’s condition wasn’t near as lavish as the rest of the castle we visited thus far. With Krontos’ access to unlimited funds, both as an ancient immortal and moving through dimensions to confiscate whatever appealed to him, there likely was another reason for the neglect. This wasn’t a floor to be shown off to guests, and it seemed unlikely anyone slept in the half dozen rooms to either side of the gallery overlooking the grand foyer.

Fearful Krontos might suddenly interrupt this unforeseen opportunity to locate my coins, I quieted my breathing and focused my spirit on finding the room. Drawn stronger to the right wing as opposed to the left, I crept along the dusty carpet runner. It seemed almost too obvious that the door pulling me was the middle one, where the carpet’s embroidered imagery was slightly less defined due to heavier foot traffic. But, the tingling along my left arm to the point of pain was unmistakable.

Getting inside the room could be a problem. The other areas we had explored featured areas open for viewing. All doors on this floor were closed, and presumably locked. Tall and heavy, the oak door didn’t give at first, despite the latch clicking open. I almost walked away from what could be a bigger problem than it was worth. But I couldn’t leave without giving it one good shove.

The door groaned tiredly as it opened. I stepped into a room immersed in darkness. No windows. Two large cobalt halos glowed within the pitch-black environment. The same color as my coins, the size of each was a hundred times too big. It meant something else caused them to glow like this, harkening back to my experience with Genghis Khan’s mantle of death.

“There are pictures of those symbols in the book I was reading.”

I whirled around in the darkness, pulling out my cell phone to use as a flashlight. Cedric beat me to the punch, shining his Galaxy in my face.

“This is an incredible achievement,” he said.

“We can’t see much of anything in here,” I said, knowing he couldn’t see the glow… or could he? Things had changed for the former Agent Tomlinson since his Bolivian experience.

“I’m not talking about what’s in here, man. It’s awesome that I snuck up on you without you having any idea I’ve been watching you.” He laughed.

“Well, enjoy it while you can, my friend. It’ll likely never happen again, I assure you!”

Footsteps from several more people approached, followed by another running to catch up.

“William? Cedric?” Roderick called from outside the door. The rest of our gang was with him

“We’re in here, man!” Cedric pointed his cell phone light at the doorway.

Roderick’s lanky figure stepped inside followed by Beatrice’s wisps of strawberry blonde hair caught in the light’s glow. A much smaller figure swept into the room behind them and turned on an overhead light as Amy and Alistair stepped inside.

“Wow,” said Roderick, in a hushed, almost reverent tone followed by similar responses from everyone else.

In an instant, a row of crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light upon rows of artifacts. Artifacts from many eras of history. The most obvious were from Constantine, the Inquisition, and Nazi Germany. The bluish objects glowing hotly in the darkness remained, and flanked a swastika banner hanging from a large wooden podium.

“The full ‘
sun cross’ on one side and the broken version on the other. How fitting for a man wanting to make sure he has everything covered,” Roderick whispered to me, shortly before Krontos approached. Our host looked both annoyed and amused, and I had a good idea what events corresponded to his bipolar expression. “I wish you luck in getting out of this one without a tongue lashing.”

Roderick chuckled as he stepped aside. Beatrice moved closer, as if to protect me. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, Judas, if nothing else, I see your ability to track energy trails is as strong as ever. That’s very good, since you’ll need that gift to find my coin,” he said, moving toward the twin steel stands supporting the slightly different sun crosses. He lovingly stroked the banner as if it belonged to a Christian saint. “Would you all like to hear a little story about Adolf Hitler?”

Not really. After all, we had recently visited two terrible sites created by the man’s depravity, and were about to revisit Auschwitz.

“Bear with me anyway,” said Krontos, a slight reddish glow tinting his irises, the wrath apparently harder to subdue. I guess I wasn’t supposed to find this sacred place of his. “Adolf Hitler was referred to me by a friend who discovered this charismatic lad in his early days. Though merely a casual acquaintance at first, I soon saw what he could be and began to groom him for the role he was perfect for. It has always been a proud moment to know I influenced the rise and fall of the Third Reich.”

“You really were friends with Hitler?”

Heat embraced my face and crept down my shoulders and back. I deeply resented the fact Krontos had aligned himself with such a devil, but to call Hitler a friend? It took a supreme effort not to lash out at him.

“Why, of course,” he said, smiling slyly. “But, you and others misjudge my friendship with him. History only sees the bad of Hitler, and largely because his reign was cut short. Very few great leaders of the world would be seen as benevolent, if their reign ended prematurely and before a purge of those who stood in the way of the new order of things was successful. The Nazis were no more evil, as you are apt to think, Judas, than Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, or Julius Caesar, to name a few. Hitler’s reign was incomplete. And, know this, as your anger begins to boil against me, old friend, your ancestors once sought to purge what they considered impure nations from the land they invaded. The ‘Land of Canaan’ was no more ordained by Almighty God to be handed to the Israelites than Europe to the Germans. Were the Canaanites allowed to coexist with the new invaders flooding into their homeland? Hmmmm? Or, even where you reside now, how many ethnic Native Americans remain, after nearly four hundred years of slaughter and discrimination, and moments like Andrew Jackson’s Trail of Tears forced upon the proud Cherokee?”

Hard to refute what happened in America after the first white settlers arrived along the eastern seaboard. If not for the rise of profitable gambling facilities, the last of America’s native peoples could be extinct by the end of the twenty-first century. More inconvenient was the dig against my Jewish brethren. As anyone familiar with Hebrew history, or the Torah and Old Testament, will tell you, the Gentile peoples living in the ‘Promised Land’ were in fact purged by my ancestors. Under the auspices of Jehovah, no less. Was it genocide on a much smaller scale? Perhaps… but many of the Canaanites were eventually absorbed into Hebrew society. That alone refuted Krontos’ skewed view.

Regardless, nothing could ever support the actions of the Nazis, whose motives were more likely rooted in removing the economic status of those who controlled the wealth of Europe in the early twentieth century. What better way to do it than to feed a propaganda campaign designed to dehumanize Jewish people? Turn them into animals and one can steal their possessions. Shamefully, this concept has long been with us as a race. Examples in my new homeland, America, include Salem, during the witch trials, and the aforementioned Trail of Tears, the removal of ‘savages’ from white civilization.

“So you see, Judas. Pushing one nation aside to make room for another has been a hallmark of mankind for thousands of years,” continued Krontos, ignoring my indignation to speak. “It certainly should give pause to those humanists who believe the human race is evolving, eh?”

“Maybe the human race hasn’t evolved to where we should be by now,” I conceded. “However, the level of cruelty demonstrated by Nazi Germany was unprecedented. Not even your protégé, Vlad Tepes, could top the barbaric and systematic removal of one’s enemies like Hitler and his cohorts set out to do. And, if the Germans had won the war, by now their unsustainable philosophy would have run its course and we would be fighting through an unfathomable anarchy—the likes the world has never seen.”

Alistair offered a proud nod, and I could almost feel Roderick’s pleasure at a response to shut down the rhetoric. But this was Krontos’ turf, and to humiliate him was dangerous.