told me long ago, while you were getting to know the Cherokee nation here in America, around 1470. When I mentioned the tortures you and I endured in Spain being the reason for my delayed return to the land that would eventually become Bolivia, Tampara told me about the diminutive white haired European he would see now and then in the plane that contains the realm of Paititi. Or did, until the war Cedric told us about.”
“What did he tell you about Krontos?” I asked. Surely everyone else was just as curious.
Roderick didn’t answer right away, and seemed to be listening to a sound or voice undetectable to the rest of us.
“I know why Krontos has changed his mind,” he said finally, in a hushed voice. “And, it makes sense why he would want to jam the circuits in my head that brought forth the memory of Tampara. My ancient friend said something about three bands of light that followed the little old man, and Tampara could tell the energy rivaled the purity of the power source enabling Paititi to float above Lake Titicaca, as it did until Cedric watched it collapse in flames into the lake….”
Roderick started to fall asleep, as if whatever force attacking him absorbed his consciousness.
“Rod… Rod! Snap out of it!” I shouted.
“Huh?”
His eyes opened, barely. He raised his hands, using his fingers to draw an imaginary line around his head. Then Roderick’s eyes opened fully, as his layman’s sorcery worked. The swirl of gold flecks glowed eerily within his bright blue irises.
“Are you okay now?” I persisted, hovering above him.
“Yes,” he said, looking up at me. “Krontos does not want to deal with the tainted remnants of Vlad Tepes’ energy that is forever part of the Dragon Coin. Instead, he is attracted to the purity of the ‘Holocaust Coin’. That’s the name he has for it.”
“What in the hell?”
Alistair whispered this as he and Amy came over to us, followed by Beatrice. Cedric remained seated, looking even more ready for one of his cherished slim cigars.
“It’s tied to what you sensed and have not told us, William,” said Roderick, trying to rise to his feet. He fell back down, and I motioned for him to rest until the spell had fully passed. “Krontos is not interested in revenge for Dracul, as we originally surmised, after finding our plundered fortress in Abingdon. He sees us—especially you—as a threat to getting what he wants.”
Everyone’s focus shifted to me, and frankly, I was at a loss for words. My druid pal had managed to define what I could not. The relentless stream of images, thoughts, and words bombarding my mind these past few months—and that had reached a fevered pitch during the past week—suddenly became clear. Or, the coded message had done so.
“Tell us, Pops... and this time no bullshit.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Krontos doesn’t want to watch the world burn after all. He simply wants to own it. Completely.”
Chapter Five
For three days we sat on pins and needles—largely because Roderick suggested we wait to see if Krontos would contact us. Never mind the fact our discussions continued to revolve around reasons not to wait. Not everything that comes to a gifted psychic—even one as old as Roderick—is a true premonition. Sometimes, fear gets in the way. Unless impressions are defined in a calm and peaceful moment, they can easily be misunderstood and ignored. It becomes direly critical to make sure one’s panic doesn’t obscure or twist a solution into an option that gets avoided.
“The longer we sit around here debating whether or not the coin’s price is going to increase or not, the worse our chances become of securing it,” I said, wearily. We had turned the dining room into a data center, each of us with laptops, tablets, notepads and pens. Take-out cartons and pizza boxes were piled as several unstable towers in the table’s middle. “Jeffrey and Benevento have now confirmed the dealer
Learning to Kill: Stories