The Dragon Coin (3 page)

Chapter Three

Roderick and I boarded our flight to Rome from Dulles at 8:45 a.m. United Airlines was the only carrier with a nonstop flight that Sunday, with an expected arrival in Rome by 12:30 Monday morning, six hours ahead of our usual D.C. dinner hour. Good thing neither of us suffer from blood sugar issues.

Of course, being that this trip was more of a journey to a ruthless tribunal than a vacation excursion, the flight’s duration meant little to either one of us. Luxury first class was essential, and we agreed to split the cost for purchasing two such seats apiece. More for practicality of conversation than comfort, we had much to discuss in anticipation of our planned meeting with Dracul on Tuesday.

“Since we have not been given a time or place for our meeting, are you sure Budva is the correct destination?” I asked, once we had cleared the east coast by more than one hundred miles, and only the Atlantic’s seemingly endless expanse lay before us.

“Yes. It is the strongest location impressed upon my mind when I first read the note,” he advised. “Nothing sentient has challenged that notion since then.”

I nodded, politely, unconvinced we would forego additional ire from Dracul should we find that Roderick’s assumption was flawed.

“Have you got a better idea?” He lowered his glasses to glower at me, and it seemed prudent to keep my cynicism in check until we ironed out the details of how we’d handle our business the next few days.

“Not yet, but give me time and I might,” I teased. “Seriously, my brother, I’ll keep Budva as the primary choice unless we come to a consensus on an alternate locale.”

“I don’t think debating between Budva and other cities like Niksic and Podgorica will decide the issue, Judas,” he said, pulling up the blinds on the window closest to him. Despite his pale, deathlike complexion hidden behind layers of MAC products, and the fact he tans horribly, Roderick loves sunshine. I followed his lead with my window’s blinds until the morning sunlight bathed our area. “What I believe is this…. There is a landmark involved not far from Budva that will bring us to him. Do you recall his proficiency in cloaking himself and his mercenaries, when he succeeded in ambushing us?”

“Yes, but I don’t follow you.”

“You will in a moment,” he said. “Just keep your mind open to the possibility we may encounter doorways and monuments that look like one thing, but in fact lead to hidden passageways. Especially in a city as old as this one, as you’ll likely recall downtown areas we’ve ventured through before. I expect for him to draw on that familiarity, as well.”

“If that’s the case, then he has adopted subtler strategies than he employed in the sixteenth century,” I quipped, finding it hard to picture the refinement Roderick alluded to. Vlad Tepes was hardly a gentleman in life, and based on what we knew of his exploits as a young vampire during his masquerade as a Cardinal and later Madrid Archbishop of the Holy See, this wasn’t someone I’d expect to read Chaucer or master the lute. The only sophisticated pastimes I ever pictured for Dracul were battle strategies and efficient ways to create impaling poles, since he’d go through hundreds every week. “Are you saying he has learned a few sorcerer tricks from Lazarevic?”

“Perhaps he has, since the old wizard is said to remain loyal to him, as he was to Vlad’s father, Vlad II,” said Roderick, pausing to order a drink from a passing flight attendant. I decided to join him when he ordered my favorite, scotch on the rocks. Yes, it was much earlier in the day than I usually like to imbibe, but desperate times dictate desperate measures. “I spoke to Comte early this morning, and he believes our enemy has enlisted Lazarevic to rebuild his brood of vampires from when Van Helsing nearly wiped them out, while you and I were hobnobbing in England in 1888.”

“I would say that trying to stop Ratibor from killing more prostitutes was an endeavor far more noble than hobnobbing!”

“That’s not what I meant, Judas.” He regarded me coolly, before going on. “But we did ignore Van Helsing’s plea to come get your coin. Remember? He took it from Dracul and had it on his person for nearly three months. But instead of traveling to Geneva to pick it up from his deposit box, you insisted on returning to America.”

“I had no choice—Scotland Yard had alerted the other agencies throughout Europe by telegraph that I was to be detained and held for their arrival. You know this—you were there, for Christ’s sake!”

We had been through this before—several times, in fact, after returning to New York from London in 1889. I must admit I get agitated when having to explain things again, even when considering Roderick and I had been mostly strangers for much of the past one hundred and seven years.

“I do remember, my friend,” he said, lowering his voice in response to my indignation. “But the bullshit about you being betrayed by the Knights Templar was just that…. Bullshit. Scotland Yard hadn’t fully cleared either of us as suspects in the Ripper murders, since they erroneously assumed we assisted Ratibor’s escape. Remember?”

It doesn’t happen often, but I had forgotten the specifics of why the authorities wanted to speak with me. In retrospect, all I heard was ‘they discovered your true identity’, and I fled. It took Roderick two days to find me in the Highlands, and he only agreed to immediately sail to New York when I threatened to back out of a proposed project President Harrison had enlisted me specifically for, via Roderick’s recommendation. Foolishly, I trusted Van Helsing to find a better hiding place for my coin, and I never considered that Dracul’s cronies could retrieve it for him while he was chained inside the dark Romanian dungeon our esteemed colleague had trapped him into.

“Yes, I remember now.”

“It’s beyond regrettable we didn’t retrieve the damned thing, since in all likelihood Dracul would be dead, and you and I wouldn’t be faced with the possible end to my life and another deportation to purgatory for you.”

“Very funny,” I deadpanned. I was about to add something else I considered witty, but our drinks arrived. After the flight attendant left us alone, I picked up where we left off. “Yes, it is regrettable. Not to mention, if we survive this encounter with him, I must still return at a later time for this particular coin.”

“And, why is that? If you get a feel for it, then we should try to get it, if only to give us negotiating power. You know it must be buried nearby, or hidden inside his castle. Comte’s sources say he rarely ventures out for fear of losing it again. I’ve been told the slow and agonizing torture Dracul endured away from the coin while imprisoned by Van Helsing was extremely excruciating. If it had taken just a few more hours for the coin to reunite with this sick bastard, not only would we be enjoying Williamsburg today, but hundreds of other victims would have been spared his cruelty.”

A wave of searing guilt seized my heart. While I don’t have Roderick’s ability to read another’s thoughts, sometimes I catch glimpses of the horrors wrought by my coins. I suddenly saw the faces of young women, all wearing expressions of acute terror, and all kidnapped from all over Europe.

“Not very pretty is it?”

“I hate it when you do that,” I said, as one particular face stayed with me…long enough to see her journey from what looked like the Parisian suburbs in the late twentieth century to the Adriatic coast, as landmarks that had been there for centuries rekindled memories of earlier travels with Roderick and the St. Germaine brothers. The images turned dark, as the castle of Dracul loomed above her. Her screams pierced my soul as she was first bitten and nearly drained of blood, then finally restored to life as a bloodthirsty demon. “We should discuss other business instead, like the rental car you secured, and any other supplies we’ll likely need.”

“You can’t stand the vision, can you?” Roderick lowered his glasses again, eyeing me knowingly, but with compassion. “She is one of the lucky ones, believe it or not. Vlad added this one to his harem of concubines, where blood is the drug to ensure full cooperation with his sadistic sexual fantasies. But, others—both male and female captives—serve strictly for food and amusement, and not necessarily in that order.”

His tone became somber, and as the vision faded from my mind, I had the queer hunch he had taken it back.

“How in the hell did you do that?”

“It’s a new trick I’ve been practicing,” he said, grimacing. “Without the distractions of love and family, what else am I to do with my spare time?”

“I would hope you have not become a masochist, dear friend,” I said, shaking my head sadly. Despite the vision’s departure, the image of the girl’s agonizing cries for mercy and transformation into something loathsome remained before my mind’s eye. “So, do we intend to rescue any of these victims if we cross paths?”

“No, it is too late for them. In all likelihood, we shall be forced to kill them. It would be the merciful thing to do.”

“Standard stake through the heart, or can any weapon work?

“Stakes and beheading,” he replied, once again hiding his eyes behind his dark shades. “An axe or two would be nice.”

No sense in frightening our attendant or anyone else passing by our little cubbyhole on the way to the restrooms. Roderick had done a masterful job with his makeup to hide his ashen complexion. But if anyone happened to see the swirling gold flecks floating within his luminous blue eyes, the remaining nine hours of our flight might become a lot more interesting than we’d like. Fortunately, we had long since mastered the ability to converse to where we alone could discern each other’s words.

“A trip to the local hardware store, huh?” I jested, realizing getting better ammunition would require access to Budva’s local black market.

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “There won’t be enough time to obtain the Baretta model you prefer, and such weapons will only work on his small army of bodyguards, who will be armed to the gills with the latest firepower, according to Comte. They number almost as many as the vampires, and are said to patrol his castle.”

“It seems like it would produce a flurry of red flags for the local citizenry. I thought Budva is fairly peaceful these days.”

“You keep forgetting about the cloaking abilities of our adversary,” chided Roderick. “According to every satellite image I checked, as well as what Comte could tell me, there isn’t a castle to be seen anywhere in Montenegro. At least not of the dark brooding kind Dracul prefers. But, a castle is certainly present. You and I have both now seen it, Judas, and it is real.”

“But it could be anywhere,” I said, feeling my irritation bubble up quickly. “It brings us right back to why Budva, and not someplace else?”

“Because that’s where he is. I’m rarely ever wrong with what comes to me…. You know this,” explained Roderick. “Not to mention, it’s the place confirmed by Comte earlier this morning. Somewhere along the coastline. ‘You’ll see it when you need to,’ is how he put it.”

“That makes no sense, none at all. You druids and alchemists are all the same in that regard.”

“No more sense than it did to postpone picking up your coin from him one hundred and twenty-six years ago.”

“Well, it’s a little late to quibble about that now, isn’t it?”

“Only if you continue to avoid the chance to procure your coin. If the opportunity comes to us, promise me you’ll do what you have to do to get it this time. Even if it means sacrificing my life.”

I didn’t hear anything else he said after that. Instead, I was brought back to the laughing face of Dracul, lips and long fangs stained with fresh blood. Before dawn that terrible night so long ago, one of us would die. I gave my life for Roderick.

If faced with the same situation, I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t do the same thing again.

Chapter Four

Our accommodations for the night were at the Gran Melia Hotel, not far from Vatican City. I hadn’t visited this particular establishment since the mid 1980s, with Alistair, and I must say the recent remodeling from a few years ago left me impressed. A five star resort once more, I looked forward to the surrounding view in daytime, since the area was once home to Roderick and me during the reign of Diocletian, from 286 to 295 A.D. It marked the beginning of two centuries of contentment and prosperity while residing in the Mediterranean nations, as I’ve touched upon earlier.

A long flight always brings a little fatigue, but neither of us requires much rest to recuperate. After settling in for the night, with the intent on revisiting our old haunts at sunrise, we retired to our rooms in our spacious suite. I’m not sure if Roderick discerned it before me, but in the quiet darkness I sensed Dracul’s presence. No, it wasn’t creaking floors or a chilled breeze crossing my bed…the tricks Hollywood uses to trigger our protective instincts. Rather, it was a general oppression, and I daresay an event the most sensitive barometers might perceive as well.

As with his previous voyeuristic invasions, it felt like a general observation that lifted after a few minutes. But, a chill crossed my heart when the feeling came back perhaps ten minutes later as I started to drift off to sleep, startling me wide awake.

I listened in the darkness, determined not to fall for phantom creaks that meant nothing. My pulse quickened for a moment, when I mistakenly took Roderick’s soft snores from across the suite as breathing by my bedside. I even sat up in my bed, and almost reached to turn on the nightstand’s lamp. But then the sensation dissipated as quickly as a childhood night terror.

Did it mean anything? Hard to say…but the mental image of a satisfied leer stayed with me, making it nearly impossible to rest peacefully. For the second straight night, and forty-five hundred miles from where I held Beatrice close to my fearful heart, I watched night give way to dawn.

* * * * *

“You really should learn to listen to my admonitions, Judas.”

Roderick waited to chide me for my needless nighttime vigilance until we were served our breakfast. Dressed in jeans and a yellow polo shirt, I marveled at how normal he looked. Other than his basketball star height and prominent cheekbones, he would draw only a cursory glance in this city filled with beautiful human beings. Of course, sunglasses can make it a coin flip as to whether the mystery of what lay hidden behind them created additional allure. Not to mention the regal hairline, snow white in color, and the slight MAC tan that hid the faint wrinkles he had accumulated as a young man before his sacrificial druid death nearly two thousand years ago.