Destiny of Coins

by Aiden James

  “It’s okay. Really it is,” I told him, offering a warm smile that he regarded suspiciously. “Ir en paz.”

  Petra’s face lit up as I urged him to go in peace. Although we hadn’t had time to change my US currency to Boliviano, he smiled at the twenty-dollar bill I handed to him.

  “Gracias, Senor!”

  I watched him run toward the stairs at the other end of the open hallway, and then I peeked down below at everyone still gathered downstairs. I heard my son’s and Cedric’s laughter, which brought me comfort. No one missed my presence.

  According to my watch, it was nearing nine o’clock Bolivian time. After I closed the door behind me—marveling again at the sheer enormity of it, I opened the much smaller windowed door to my room’s balcony and stepped out into the crisp night air. The glacier’s chill no longer competed with the sun’s warmth, which only afforded me a few minutes to enjoy my first cigar.

  The brandy’s presence was just strong enough to add a slight kick, and I enjoyed my moonlit solitude as I looked out into the Andean wilderness before me. I thought about my previous trips to Bolivia, which weren’t many in comparison to the majority of locales I’ve frequented these past two thousand years. And, I thought about Beatrice—my soul’s one true love. How I missed her, and pined for her presence… especially when the image of a very angry Viktor Kaslow pushed her aside in my mind’s eye.

  My archenemy was on his way here. The castle’s cloaking device, which Roderick had mentioned and Francisco later confirmed to me as we left the relic room, sounded promising. But I doubted very seriously that our modern devotees to Elohom had ever encountered anything, or anyone, like Kaslow.

  “But they will understand what you’re all about soon, won’t they?” I whispered, wearily. “A storm from hell was coming.... May Elohim be with us.”

  * * *

  I didn’t expect to sleep much at all after I laid down to rest. I’m not even sure when it was I drifted off that night, as most nights if I do sleep a few hours, my mind completely shuts down. At least my awareness does. Although, the slightest creak of a floor will awaken me immediately—an occupational hazard, fed by many years of covert work for a litany of empires and governments.

  But no such creaking floors have ever existed in this ancient castle of granite. And, whereas I normally don’t recall my dreams lucidly, that night proved to be a double exception.

  In my first dream, I was walking along the veranda toward the stairs. Unlike earlier that evening, the castle lay dormant. All my companions, including our Essene hosts, had retired for the night. The reception area below lay empty, and was dimly lit by security lamps.

  But where the stairs had been earlier was an immense hole in the castle wall, and on the other side of this gaping wound was a brilliant light. The light’s rays poured into the castle, and I couldn’t stop myself from picking up my pace as I moved toward this light.

  I should’ve known better. I should’ve tried to wake myself…at least that was the thought trying to catch up with my spirit as I ran into the garden. A garden I was quite familiar with in life, memory, and previous nocturnal visits.

  Olive blossoms drifted down from ancient trees in full bloom, and the fragrance of lilies, poppies, crown daisies, and geraniums filled the air around me. Certainly other flowers were present as well, but the ones I mentioned are those overwhelming my senses.

  I was in Gethsemane once more.

  In Gethsemane and irresistibly drawn to a familiar stone bench from long ago. A robed figure sat there, enveloped in the amazing light emanating in every direction. Not an angel, but once a man…it was Him.

  Jesus smiled as I approached, calling me by name and motioning for me to join him. I felt such joy at our reunion, though I remained fully aware of my heavy burden of guilt, hanging like a dark storm cloud above the ethereal glow of His presence.

  “Judas…come near,” He said, lightly patting the other side of the bench for me to sit down. His azure eyes were nearly on fire in their unearthly splendor, more captivating than any I had ever seen—angel or man, mortal or cursed to walk the earth for eternity. It was as if the very energy force that created the entire universe resided in those eyes…and the way He studied me was beyond unsettling. Yet, I couldn’t look away. I sat down, held in this gaze while He gently touched my shoulder. “Do you know why I have come?”

  “No.”

  My answer felt honest—completely so. He chuckled warmly in response, subtly shaking his head.

  “Are you certain?”

  Truthfully, yes, I felt certain I had no idea—at least in the sense of my logical understanding. The guilt from the cloud casting its shadow seemed to be steadily increasing. My spirit was being crushed, or so it felt.

  “Tell me Judas…. Are you finally ready to make the ultimate sacrifice?”

  “What sacrifice is that, my Lord?”

  My mouth went dry. The dream was feeling more and more real as my physical discomfort escalated.

  “Would you lay down your life when called upon to do so?” He said, His expression turning serious. As Jesus would often do in life, He lightly stroked his bearded chin as He regarded me. “Would you protect your brothers and sisters, as I have protected you?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. Down through the centuries, my dreams featuring Jesus often contained dialogue that in truth was pure silliness. Like the dream instances where He chided me for teasing Simon as I did, or for eating the meat of cleft hoofed animals. Such conversations would leave me perplexed when I woke, wondering if there was some hidden message I had missed.

  I hadn’t experienced a nocturnal world conversation like this with Him in well over a century.

  “Your weapons will prove useless against this one, and when he destroys the home of my Father’s cherished servants, you, Judas will be the only one to keep him from carrying out his designs to destroy the entire world,” said the Lord. “I ask you again…will you lay down your life for those depending on you, and relinquish your desire for a second chance with Beatrice and Alistair?”

  Those eyes…burrowing into the core of my soul! I could feel the secrets from centuries of foolhardy pursuits fall open to His discerning gaze. My assumed merit of a second chance at love with my cherished wife and a full lifetime with both her and Alistair began to whither under such scrutiny. Obviously, I didn’t know what Jesus thought of that or any of my other pursuits during my very long stay on earth. But I suddenly felt more unworthy than ever of even a brief instant of happiness. It was the most lonely and forlorn feeling I could ever remember. Definitely not since hearing His cries of agony in Simon’s courtyard.

  “What are you saying?” My words came out hoarse, and my throat’s parchedness was as if I had been lost in the Sinai wilderness without clean water for days.

  He stood up and motioned for me to do the same.

  “Redemption for many sometimes requires the ultimate sacrifice,” He said, smiling wanly.

  He embraced me, patting my back as a cherished friend and then pulled away. Jesus then turned and stepped toward the garden’s edge. I waited for him to tell me more…to tell me what it was he specifically wanted from me—the task he expected for me to complete. To spell the damned thing out!

  But He said nothing else. I began to recall how this sort of thing really irritated me two millennia ago. But before I could run after Him, a pair of unseen powerful hands grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me back…back through the hole in the castle wall. As I sped back down the hallway, I watched the hole close up and the brilliant light give way to the early morning darkness. I continued to be pulled back, moving faster until I woke with a start in my bed.

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe and sat up, gasping for air. My heart was racing and it took a few minutes to calm down. I’m often relieved at the realization that an intense dream experience is nothing more than an incredible trip with dubious benefits beyond the surreal event itself. Perhaps it would’ve been the same that night,
and I might’ve chalked up the experience to my present obsession with Viktor Kaslow and his malevolent threats toward those I cherish.

  But as I glanced around my room, taking in the layout in the dimness, I was surprised to find the door to my room was open by a few feet. Just wide enough for someone my size to squeeze through.

  My first instinct was that a spy or an assassin had slipped inside my room while I lay sleeping. I recalled my door had not groaned like the doors downstairs upon my arrival, so it was remotely possible someone opened the door without my knowledge. Highly likely, since I’ve often joked I can hear a gnat scratching its ass as I sleep. But two glasses of perhaps the best Cabernet Sauvignon I’ve had in years would certainly dull my awareness to a significant degree.

  Someone called my name again. No, it wasn’t Jesus this time. The voice was almost melodic…an eerie blend of masculine and feminine qualities, and the sort of thing that will give most people the willies. A spasm of shivers slid down my spine.

  The voice called to me from the veranda, and by my guess halfway from my room to the stairs. Quietly, I slipped out of my bed and threw on my clothes, forgoing my shoes and socks when I couldn’t readily find them. Yes, I could’ve turned on the lights and found them easily…but I hoped to catch a glimpse of whoever—or whatever—had called my name, since the voice resounded again…moving farther away. Looking for my footwear would cost me precious seconds.

  I slid through the doorway and out of my room, catching a glimpse of something glowing white that appeared to be moving up to the next level. I tiptoed past the rooms next to mine fully aware most were occupied by my companions, and in all likelihood Roderick would be wide-awake. I fully expected him to bust my chops as I strode past each bedchamber. But the rooms remained dark and silent.

  By the time I reached the stairs, all evidence of the presence I had glimpsed had disappeared. For a moment, I debated between continuing my search up the stairs or returning to my room. Having already endured enough excitement that night I prepared to turn back.

  “Judas…Come upstairs. I am waiting by the fountain.”

  What in the hell?

  It sounded eerily similar to Jesus’ entreaty from my dream, and yet it was delivered by the same musical voice from just moments ago. I craned my neck and gazed warily up the stairway…. There were another four floors to navigate.

  Cautiously I ascended the stairs and soon reached the last floor. It opened up to a large outdoor patio resembling a lanai, featuring a beautifully carved marble fountain of angels beneath a tall golden canopy. A real angel dressed in a shimmering white tunic sat on the edge of the pool beneath the fountain.

  Despite sitting down, the angel’s height was at least several feet taller than our Yitari companion, Tampara, who himself has angelic qualities. But, as they say, there is nothing like the ‘real deal’. The angel’s features were the perfect mixture of male and female perfection, and its long lustrous hair flowed as a full golden mane upon its broad shoulders. Its eyes were green emeralds, soft and luminous, and the angel’s long golden lashes were as beautiful as any woman I’d ever seen—including my beloved Beatrice. The rest of the angel’s face bore masculine traits, such as a sleek prominent nose and powerful jaw line.

  As mentioned earlier, angels come in a variety of forms. Those who have read my previous accounts should remember the angel we encountered in the Garden of Eden a few years back. This angel bore some similarities to that one, whose name is Ophanim, although the present angel wasn’t translucent like the guardian of the Tree of Life. Powerful muscles flexing beneath skin that was a deeper bronze than Tampara’s defined this one’s slender body. Iridescent lavender and white feathers from a wingspan twice the angel’s height twitched as he regarded me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, tentatively stepping up to the angel.

  “I am Moroni, Chief Emissary to Elohim, and charged with protecting the lands modernly known as the Americas,” he said, his penetrating gaze nearly as unsettling as Jesus’ probe into my psyche had been in my dream. “Are you ready now to make the ultimate sacrifice?”

  What an annoying déjà vu!

  I began to wonder how much of my previous experience was a dream.

  “Dreams inspire changes to reality,” said Moroni, announcing his awareness of my thoughts. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Was it compassion, or amusement? “You have come for your coin, as has another. Consider carefully your decision to take it with you. If the demon you know as Viktor Kaslow wrests it from you, the world will be entirely at his mercy. This cannot happen without terrible consequences—consequences that will be of your making.”

  A heavy knot suddenly gripped my gut from inside.

  “Yes, I did come here to claim the coin,” I said, feeling increasingly worse about my decision to come to Bolivia. “But my original plan was for it to be the very last one, and then I intend to present them all to the Almighty and beg for his ultimate forgiveness. If I leave the coin here and return home later today, can it truly be protected? Is there a way to prevent Kaslow from coming here and taking it?”

  Moroni’s subtle smile disappeared, and his eyes dimmed.

  “Your enemy is arriving soon—we have already foreseen the event,” he said, sadly. “Perhaps if he sees you leave, he might assume you carry the coin, and abort his attack. But, unfortunately, his insatiable wickedness will allow him to hear the coin as you do. He will likely know if it is still here once you are gone.”

  “I’m willing to try anything to help,” I told him. “But we have no transportation, as our car was blown up when we traveled with Tampara to get here.”

  “It was your adversary.”

  “It was Kaslow who blew it up? But, how did he do that?”

  “He hasn’t yet….”

  The knot twisting my insides intensified. But, Moroni didn’t have to spell it out for me to understand what he meant. Somehow, Kaslow will have access to the Yitari’s dimension. Did it mean he will be using a hovercraft like Tampara’s?

  “So much tragedy awaits on the doorstep…but it can be avoided if you act quickly,” said Moroni. “Ignore the call of your coin and lead him from here if you can. But regardless, you must leave the coin, Judas. You know as well as we do, that you won’t be able to protect it on your own. If it falls into this devil’s hands, the despair sweeping the world will be greater than anything mankind has ever experienced.”

  “Even bigger than—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted me. “Bigger and far worse than what happened long ago with you and the crucifixion of the Son of Man. That event was allowed by Elohim, as it fit His purposes. But the destruction of the entire earth would be in violation of His Sovereign plan.”

  “Then why doesn’t Elohim take care of it?”

  I hated the way everything sounded, like it was entirely up to me to save the world.

  “It is not His will to do so, Judas,” said Moroni. I detected a hint of anger beneath his words that he fought to restrain. “Elohim prefers that mankind work through their destructive tendencies. We can only help when ordained to do so…. I am allowed to warn you of the despair coming to the world, should you fail to protect this coin. Just as you have surmised Viktor Kaslow’s existence is linked to choices you made, so it is now. Do not fail the world, Judas! Do the right thing—even if the sacrifice to do so costs you what your heart cherishes most.”

  It was just like what the Lord had said in my dream, and I felt my heart sink at the terrible implications. I wanted to ask many more questions. However, before I could, Moroni touched my shoulder and directed me to look into his eyes…. They were aglow, burning as twin emerald fires. The angel’s brilliance suddenly grew much brighter, to the point I was forced to close my eyes. When I opened them again, I found myself back in my room, lying beneath the covers of my bed. The room was dark, and the immense door was closed tight. It had been a disconcerting second dream after all…or had it?

  A glowing opal feather re
sted inside my wristwatch band, where I had laid it upon my nightstand. I knew what I had to do, and only hoped I’d wait patiently for everyone else to awaken.

  Chapter 12

  “Well, look who’s all bright-eyed and bushytailed!”

  Standing near the dining hall’s fireplace closest to the entrance, Cedric lifted a coffee mug in salute. Everyone else was gathered at the far end, having already eaten breakfast, or just finishing up. The table was spread with everything from crepes, bunuelos and what looked like sausage links, potatoes, eggs and some sort of maize casserole.

  My appetite is often heartiest at daybreak, though rarely is it the raging hunger I felt that morning. I was out of sorts after last night’s visitation—an experience leaving me exhausted enough to sleep longer than I had in many years. In fact, I had overslept…and I couldn’t even recall the last time this had happened to me. According to my watch it was ten minutes before eight o’clock when I did awaken. A quick shower and shave put me on the veranda and on my way downstairs fifteen minutes later.

  From the look of things, everyone else had been up for the past hour. Even Alistair knew this was unusual behavior from his old man, eyeing me curiously as he and Amy greeted me and my son pulled out a chair for me to join them. Roderick and Francisco seemed engaged in an intense discussion across from them, while Tampara looked on. Rafael was absent at the moment, which meant I would have to effectively dodge Cedric if I wanted to satisfy my unusual hunger in relative peace.

  “No, you’re not gonna diss me like that!” he said, taking an effective angle to intercept my intended path toward the open seat next to Alistair. “It’s not every day we get to see the impeccably prepared William Barrow show up anywhere looking like this! Despite the fact you’ve cleaned up some, you definitely look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet by Bochicha’s emissaries last night.”