Tyranny of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #5)

by James, Aiden

  On foot, and unarmed. Pure insanity—especially if the bad guys carrying the latest weaponry cut us down from hidden vantage points. Foolhardy determination to rescue a pair of damsels in serious distress was the only thing in our favor… or destined to be our doom, depending on how one looked at the situation.

  Almost 2:00 a.m. when we reached the incline point, the eerie feeling suddenly dissipated. I assumed Alistair and Cedric would notice and say something about it. But neither one did. Instead, they prepared to exit the Mercedes. The look on Roderick’s face told me that he felt the shift… sort of like how the sensation started, back in Poland.

  “Everyone clear on what to do?” I asked. Alistair and Cedric nodded in the backseat’s dimness while Roderick parked the vehicle between a pair of thick evergreens. Slightly more moonlight than the night before, the car was impossible to hide, unless we wanted to run the risk of it rolling off the mountainside. Unfortunately, our best camouflage came when we coasted in silence. It would have to be enough, given everything we were up against. “Follow my lead and keep up.”

  Moving through snow past our ankles, I led the way to the gates with Cedric right behind me. I could hear Roderick prodding Alistair to stay ahead of him, and expected gunfire in response. But there was nothing… and seemingly no one outside, as I scanned the moonlit landscape around us.

  The castle turrets came into view, where the rooftops glowed eerily. But to my surprise, the place was dark.

  “What in the hell?” whispered Roderick, in disbelief. Cedric and Alistair murmured similarly.

  So lonely in appearance, the place looked deserted. Not a damned light or sign of life anywhere.

  “This can’t be happening,” murmured Alistair, while all of us moved in a protective circle.

  Sitting ducks for a sniper, the glowering presence of something else drew our attention. From inside the castle? Hard to say. An unfamiliar presence, it carried a scent I recognized.

  “The place looks like it’s falling apart, man.” Cedric pointed to the castle’s main entrance, where large pieces of brick and mortar had fallen from the balcony above it, smashing a gas lantern near the front steps. “Is this Krontos’ doing, or someone else?”

  “Hard to say. I think we should have a look inside,” I said. “Your thoughts, Rod?”

  “I think Krontos is still here… somewhere. So, yes, we should take a look,” he concurred. “Just be aware that what we see right now might not be part of our reality. It could be another dimensional shift... but why?”

  “Maybe we pissed him off a lot worse than we thought,” said Alistair, running to the entrance after taking one last precautionary look toward the roof and windows. “I’ve got to go find Amy, and Pops, you need to look for Mom!”

  “Wait, Ali—don’t go in there yet!”

  But it was too late. The front door ajar, he easily pushed it open and stepped inside. Cedric followed, using the penlight on his phone to illuminate the foyer’s darkness while my boy searched for a light switch… then a floor lamp… and finally settling on a torch lying near the foot of the grand staircase. Cedric was helping him light the damned thing with a cigarette lighter when Roderick and I stepped inside the entrance.

  “It’s freezing in here, Pops, and the furniture is broken. And….” Alistair held the torch in front of him as he whirled around. Everywhere the light touched revealed a dank and dirty environment. “Everyone’s gone! Where in the hell did they go?!”

  “Ali,” I said, gently, moving to restrain him from running up the stairs. “It’s not what it seems. This isn’t the right reality. Krontos has done something, and we have to figure out—”

  “Oh, shut the hell up, Pops!” he said angrily, ripping at my fingers to release the grasp I had on his coat sleeve. Roderick joined me in restraining him when he fought to remove his coat. “Damn it let me go! Fuck Krontos and his schemes! Amy! Mom!”

  Alistair’s voice echoed hollowly throughout the foyer and into the darkened rooms and halls beyond the torch glow’s reach. The echoes seemed to take on a life of their own… until I realized it was laughter in a similar pitch to Alistair’s voice. Derisive in tone, it approached us from the dimness beyond the stairs.

  “Fuck who?”

  More laughter, and then Krontos appeared before us. Disheveled and snarling, his eyes were completely black. Like an Estonian vampire, he leered at each of us, lingering longest on my son, and sending a surge of angst through my heart.

  “Please don’t direct your anger at him,” I said, pleadingly, angry at myself for not muzzling my kid. “If you must exact punishment for what has happened, then let it be on me. Let them go… along with Amy and Beatrice.”

  He turned his livid cold gaze to me, regarding me with contempt. But then he smiled, revealing a mouth filled with decay—likely the very same set of teeth he had two hundred years ago. His smile grew brighter, surely in response to my mortified reaction to his presence.

  “Hmmm…. You are repulsed, Judas. No?”

  “None of this matters. You can do with me as you wish.”

  He laughed, and if not for his obnoxious presence, I would say merrily. Then the laughter stopped abruptly and he approached where I stood, until his presence became too painful to endure.

  “This is your fault, and you shall pay!” he said, menacingly, leaning up against me. “You are responsible for all of this! Because of what you did to him, I have suffered! Now, you must be punished!”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “You must be punished!”

  The room seemed to shake with this last condemnation, and it chilled my bones and very soul like nothing I had ever experienced before. I reached out to where Roderick had stood only a moment before, but he was gone. Same for Alistair and Cedric. They had all disappeared!

  “You must be punished!” Krontos shrieked. The walls around us were changing, seemingly on fire.

  Stuck in this hell, with the diminutive monster getting more agitated by the moment, hope of salvation faded fast. I had no answers.

  Only a shared destiny with the devil himself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Even without an unfamiliar environment superimposed over the one I was barely familiar with, Krontos had me at a distinct disadvantage. If this meant merely dealing with an immortal with the standard regenerative traits existing in varying degrees within us all, it would be one thing. But trying to anticipate the mischief coming from a master of sorcery on levels that far exceeded any alchemist I had ever known? It would be easier to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded.

  “You and your brood should have stayed in Poland!” Krontos sneered. “You led him right to us—how much of a fool do you take me for?”

  “What in the hell are you talking about? Whom do you mean by him?”

  Krontos didn’t reply with an answer, other than a roar reminiscent of a hyena howling in distress. Much more disturbing than I can describe, it was merely the vocal portion of his response. What followed was worse. Much worse.

  I had forgotten the source for his superhuman strength came from his mastery of physics, or the displacement of atoms or some shit. But a quick refresher was on the way. Before I could set my defensive stance in anticipation of a medieval form of hand-to-hand combat, he sent a blast of crimson light from his palms opened outward. The quickness alone surprised me, and before I could react I was airborne, on my way to crashing against an unforgiving marble wall across the foyer from where our battle embarked.

  The blow would’ve permanently paralyzed or killed a mere mortal. But by the time my fractured body crumpled to the ground, my broken back and lacerated internal organs were seized by the warm tingle of healing. The injuries’ searing pain abated as I struggled to my feet.

  “Words will get you a helluva lot further with me than violence, Krontos,” I said, forcing a smile. All I wanted to do was tear his frigging head off. But that would surely spell the end for my family and friends. Outfoxing this psychopath might be an i
mpossible feat, but I had to try. “I might be able to heal fast and figure out most things quickly…. But unless you tell me the name of this mysterious person, I doubt I’ll figure out who it is.”

  “Oh. So, you think an identity will absolve your guilt?” He laughed, throwing off the robe before moving stealthily toward me, like an albino monkey in his crouched nakedness. Not since a battle with a Pixie during Rome’s brief occupation of Great Britain had I dealt with a gonad-swinging elf like this madman. And, perhaps it was the intent. His smile returned, more maniacal than before. “Suppose it would be much more fun to torture your body beyond its regenerative abilities, by beating you senseless and giving scant clues to the riddle, while you also worry about the fate of your loved ones? Such an exercise would be especially rewarding, and harkens back to my favorite Nazi pupils, like Josef Mengele. You’ve heard of his exploits recently, no doubt, and perhaps you are as big a fan of his deadly efficiency as I am. No?”

  “The Angel of Death was one of the most despicable cowards the world has ever known. An evil man who tortured and stole the lives of thousands during his lifetime,” I replied, keeping enough distance to prevent the creepy old man from lunging at my legs. “What’s there to be proud of? If he were someone you influenced, I’d say you scraped the very bottom of the shithead barrel with that one. Even lower than reanimating the corpse of Vlad Tepes.”

  “Revived!” Krontos responded, testily. “I revived Dracul, and could do so again if it served my ambitions.”

  He lunged, grasping in desperation at my legs. I leaped over him, barely escaping his bony fingers that suddenly lengthened with fingernails curled inward. The Gollum-esque illusion was short lived, and he returned to his naturally despicable state.

  “You act like you saved his life, and that it was a good thing, “ I said, putting more distance between us. “All you did was enhance his wickedness as a mortal and ensure his permanent residence in hell.”

  We had in effect switched places, and I carefully stepped back toward the stairs. The immense oak doors that marked the castle’s entrance stood to my left—the only possible exit to freedom from this soulless villain. But the salvation of those I cherished meant either searching the darkened halls on the main level or taking my chances upstairs. It seemed most unwise to try and scurry past the shape-shifting ogre bearing down on me, leaving upstairs as my only valid option.

  “What do you know about permanent residences in hell, Judas?” He quickly cut the distance between us to where his foul breath filled my nostrils. “Do you still believe your God will allow the redemption of your pitiful soul in exchange for your blood money?”

  Words on their own should never hurt, since ideas in themselves are not physical things, like rocks, knives, and bullets. But an accusation mirroring my own guilt—the burden I have carried for centuries—took the wind out of me. My legs began to shake, and I feared I might collapse.

  “Better to make deals with the various powers that arise in this world!” Krontos crowed when I didn’t respond. He puffed out his chest, surely sensing I would soon be at his complete mercy. “But you are too weak for that, Judas! That is how you and I are different, and always will be. If it had been me betraying Jesus, instead of you, I wouldn’t have mourned the decision or the consequences. I would’ve watched his agony and thought little of it—nothing beyond the fact another Jewish Messiah had failed to lead his people—the Jews. Forever vermin and the scourge of this earth! Jews like you and your pathetic, spineless boy, Alistair. He is just like you!”

  My strength wilted, and my legs and arms felt increasingly heavy. My fading life force matched his approach, and he crept into my personal space. I had to get away from him… somehow… get away, or die. But I couldn’t move. Not until I glimpsed something large and dark fluttering above the ornate newel post at the top of the stairs. When I turned to see what it was, it moved away… more like flew away.

  What in the hell was that?

  Krontos’ menacing dark gaze followed mine, and the leering smile faded slightly.

  He’s worried? Something about whatever’s up there scares him…. Yes, I see it in his eyes.

  The brooding presence above did seem threatening, and yet, also familiar. I had encountered it before—I felt certain of this fact. And, I was just as certain Krontos had little or no experience dealing with anything like it. In all the dimensional journeys he had taken during his extended lifetime, he acted like this was a first encounter, and it threw him out of his comfort zone.

  He looked warily toward the top of the stairs, largely unaware I had stepped away from him. Whether it would mean greater danger, or not, I decided to let fate take its course.

  “Do you really believe the demons will spare you?” asked Krontos, after I put a few more stairs between us and neared the second floor. Energy began to return to me, and the faint call of my coins grew stronger. I said nothing in response and picked up my pace. “An old friend will be so delighted to see you!”

  Krontos’ latest taunt sent a powerful chill across my spine, and I paused to look above. The second floor sat empty… but part of the banister was missing from earlier, and the break looked unnatural. A fallen torch burned on the floor nearby, revealing the railing’s exposed layers of gold, wrought iron, and marble—the stratification much cleaner than if something had blasted or burned its way through these layers.

  “Go to him, Jew Dog!” Krontos hissed from behind, I pushed away his hands as he reached for my ankles. “Go to him, and after your friend tears you from limb to limb, as he told me earlier he would, I will enjoy prosperity and peace again!”

  I stepped onto the floor, moving to the gallery. Several more dark shapes drifted toward me from the dark expanse above the torch.

  Sounds like an army of these suckers… what are they?

  “Is there ever honor among miscreants like you, Krontos?” I replied, prepared to resume our battle from below. I pointed to the damaged banister, along with several large holes in the marble walls. A doorway looked like an armored tank drove through it, save for the strange decay around the edges. “Whoever did this is your friend, not mine! Only a diabolical assbag like yourself would….”

  Then it hit me. Hard.

  The demons, the destruction that was more of a molecular shift than a hole caused by a powerful force smashing into an immovable object—It all began to gel together in my mind.

  FGR technology. Only a fusion generator/reconfiguration beam device could do this! Oh, holy shit!

  Viktor Kaslow.

  My worst nemesis ever, and one I assumed became dinner to a host of voracious entities known as Bochicha’s Emissaries, was back. He must’ve turned the tables on the Colombian deity and its angels, and then escaped to our reality.

  How lovely.

  I shuddered, recognizing Krontos’ little dig about another person being better at dimension manipulation than any of us, while also managing to confiscate the Stutthof-Auschwitz coin with relatively little effort. Now this person successfully invaded Krontos’ home and seemingly had gained the upper hand on him, too.

  Lord help us all if the two should ever be united as one.

  “So, you do know who is responsible for the destruction of my beautiful home?” The wicked smile returned to Krontos’ face, and he nodded as if reviewing the rush of random thoughts swirling in my mind. “I might consider such an alignment, if not for the destructive mayhem this Kaslow has caused in other dimensions. He is a brute, having no regard for the proper sequence of things.”

  “Isn’t that a ‘pot calling the kettle black’ kind of thing?” I said, realizing I wouldn’t have long to rescue my family and friends if my Russian enemy sought to settle our personal score in the cold wee hours after Halloween. “Insane tyrants are all the same.”

  No, really they’re not. Similar, maybe, but like anyone else, bad guys have their individual quirks that make it fairly easy to rank one above another when stacking them up. But debating the sins and merits of
Krontos and Kaslow wasn’t why I said what I did. I had just stepped toward the room with the blown out doorway, trying to hone in on my coin’s call, as well as seeking clues where my loved ones were presently held. The signal grew weaker until I headed for the stairs to the third floor.

  My left arm began to tingle, where the earlier sensation had been more of a bodily awareness. I thought about the room holding Krontos’ Nazi paraphernalia, and in particular, the cobalt glowing sun crosses. Avoiding the obvious connection any longer was foolish, even if the coins were not involved. The room was the logical choice to resume my search.

  “Where in the hell do you think you’re going?” Krontos picked up his pace.

  “I guess you’ll need to keep up if you really want to know,” I said, grasping the ice-cold banister and bolting into the dimness above while a myriad of new fears bombarded me. Igniting Krontos’ ire was the least of them, as the presence of Kaslow and the demons that craved the sweetness of human flesh were bigger concerns.

  The dimness deepened toward pitch black as I stepped onto the third floor. I tried to remember the relic room’s location, ever-fearful Krontos might move it somewhere else by reality shift or sorcery. Not to mention the possibility Kaslow had found it already. Thankfully, a soft blue glow emanated from an area to my left, and when I encountered a door that opened with little resistance, I released a huge sigh of relief.

  I stepped inside, surprised to find a warm breeze embracing me—so unlike anywhere else in the castle at present. But the glowing sun crosses were barely visible, as compared to my earlier visit.

  “The reunion of three coins was your responsibility, Judas,” said Krontos from behind me. Several wall torches ignited simultaneously, filling the room with soft luminance. “But if my assumption is correct about your friend, Viktor Kaslow, then all will be well. I will have my Trinity of Death again and Kaslow will have you. I think that works out well for everyone!”