Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) (29 page)

“You hope finding your coins will redeem you in the eyes of Jesus, our Savior and the Lord God. Perhaps you’ll even be forgiven for your terrible sin against him. I, on the other hand,
cannot
forgive you!”

I ignored her, wishing Juan would hurry. I amused myself by watching the fishing boats come in, one after the other, bringing their catch to eager buyers. The dock was busy with passengers embarking, and locals arriving to buy something to go in the pot. Depending on the catch, in a few hours the sea air would be tinged with fragrances of the region. Oil and garlic, grown in the rich soil, would complement fish frying in the pan. Judging by the amount of shellfish on offer, I anticipated the smell of Cantabria’s sherry to invade my nostrils, enticing me to stay just a little longer.

I searched endless faces for Juan, his beard a trademark. Our last encounter, on the shores of Lake Como, was one of frivolity. He arrived drunk and provided non-stop entertainment for all of the Count’s guests, including myself. Later on in the midst of my travels, Juan urged me to follow him here at my earliest opportunity. There had been one or two delays while he searched for the precise whereabouts of the Shepherd, while I waited patiently.

We’d met seventy-five years earlier, by pure chance on my travels through Cataluña. I was delighted to find a fellow immortal who lost his right to mortality in 1492 by betraying his fellow soldiers in a battle against the Moors. His fatal mistake? Giving vital information to the enemy in return for payment and getting caught. The Moors were evicted and Juan was hung. Convinced his punishment was to put things right in the world, no matter how long it took, he wandered the earth in a saint like fashion spreading goodness. Apart from one weakness, left over from his mortality, alcohol, he would surely be perfect. The more wine he drank on our first meeting, the more he told me how much he dreamed of redemption. I suspected he had a long wait but did nothing to burst his bubble. The mortal he had been was changed, and he loathed any form of betrayal he came across, while clinging each century to his beard and optimism. I worried what his thoughts would be if I confessed the truth about Isabella?

While considering this, out of the masses he emerged, heading in our direction. I caught his attention while Isabella deliberately sighed with impatience and stamped a foot.

“Finally, he’s here and I hope he’s secured my carriage. I have a long journey ahead and need to be on my way,” Isabella demanded, coldly. I dismissed her, more focused on making sure the night would be spent in peace and quiet.

“My good man.” Juan came to me, his arms outstretched. “You’ve arrived safely having battled the winter sea. It’s so good to see you!”

“We’re in one piece, although the journey was not without peril. I take it you’ve arranged a carriage for Isabella?”

He smiled, glancing at her only briefly. She turned her head defiantly. Fortunately, I had written to Juan explaining some of my predicament with Isabella. Now I depended on his good nature to make the best and safest arrangements possible for her return home. Regardless that she deserved worse, I am not a man to abandon a helpless female to an unknown fate.

A dock boy transported my trunks to an inn close by and willingly returned for Isabella’s, who coldly refused to pay him for his trouble. “I have to take care of myself first,” so said the woman whose family had amassed a fortune.

Finally, the moment came when I could help her into the carriage paid for by me, without argument. Juan gave her some food for the journey. There was no gratitude.

“I wish you a safe journey,” I said. “Our time together is over, but I want you to know I’m sorry for what went wrong on my part, I hope you see the problems from your side also.”

“I was a victim of your selfish evil ways. Such evil I have never experienced, I hope you rot in hell because Jesus will reject you in Heaven. Now I must go home to confess my sins and never touch another man. I will become a nun.”

“Farewell Isabella,” I replied, ignoring her dramatic nonsense. “I will send your father the bill of expense for the carriage, and explain how you single handedly managed to bed the entire crew whilst I slept.” Knowing she would scream wildly and bang her fists on the window as the carriage took off, I dismissed her with a slight of my hand. I had no intention of communicating with her father, and only needed to have the last word.

Finally free, I followed Juan to a warm and inviting Inn. It was a good feeling to be back on dry land and not rocking to and fro. As I sat warming myself before the fire, I sent lingering thoughts of Isabella deep into the embers, distracted by the innkeeper who served us two spiced red wines, so hot it burned my tongue. The familiar feeling of tissues regenerating soon followed.

“You are fortunate, Emmanuel,” observed Juan. “If only my weak stomach could respond so graciously.” He laughed. The sorcerer’s spell that could not relieve a host of physical maladies did enable second sight. Juan could sense conditions in others as well as events to come. Eternal life on earth was the prize, to which we commiserated often.

“I will sip it slowly my friend,” I said. “Now tell me everything you know about the shepherd.”

Juan leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly so it rocked. “As you know, my close confidant, Dario, a man of great knowledge and an intrepid explorer, is certain he’s seen the coins,” he began. “Two of them with his own eyes. The shepherd wanted to know their worth, curious of their age and value. His daughter, a young girl apparently wild like an animal, tried to convince Dario the coins glowed when she stared at them. He disbelieved her, but was sure the pieces were extremely old. He recently made another climbing trip to the Pyrenees where he met with the shepherd again. Dario believes the coins belong to you, he only asks for a small finder’s fee.”

“If your friend is correct, this will be an easy task of recovery. Two coins in one swoop—an attractive reason to take a risk.” I chuckled. “I’m no great mountaineer, but I’m willing to learn, and more than willing to compensate the man.”

“Then we’ll have a wonderful evening of fine food and good wine. Tomorrow morning the carriage will be here to take us across the border to France. Dario will be waiting at an agreed location. He’s a trusted mountain guide.”

It sounded too good to be true, coins falling into my lap. The trick would be either to steal back what is rightfully mine, or barter a price. The idea of a purchase reeked of self-punishment, seeing as it was payment I was given for the ultimate betrayal.

“I will remain optimistic.” I smiled, relishing Isabella’s departure.

The evening was pleasant, indeed. A wonderful shellfish platter, fried sardines, freshly picked tomatoes and olives soon arrived. Juan was delightful company, and I could not think of a better person to accompany me on such an intriguing journey. Somewhere high up in the Pyrenees lay two coins, necessary to redeem my soul. But to retrieve them meant an encounter with a shepherd and his seemingly deranged daughter. I couldn’t wait to meet them.

Purchase
The Judas Reflections: Curse of Stigmata, by Aiden James & Michelle Wright
wherever books are sold.

“M-m-u-u-r-r-der-r-r-er-r-r!”

David opened his eyes, awakened by the whisper that passed over his face. The room was completely dark, and not even the parking lot lamps’ glow penetrated the murkiness. He noticed the curtains’ unusual thickness when he turned up the heater before retiring, assuming it was the motel’s way of compensating its guests for the sparse insulation. At least one couldn’t be bothered by any car or truck lights coming in late, as most of the motel’s patrons seemed to be in the long-haul transportation business.

The television was blank and silent, and David couldn’t make out its outline. The heater’s comforting hum was also absent. It left the room in a hostile stillness. Suddenly, the sound of a deep sigh filled the air above the space between the two beds. Something floated there.

He raised himself, fully aware of his distinct disadvantage against whoever was here with him. Peering into the darkness where the sigh came from, he reached for the lamp switch next to his bed.

“Don’t do it!”

The feminine voice surreal, the accent and the fact it sounded both near and far was familiar.

“Allie Mae?”

The air around him was already chilled from the lack of heat, but it now grew even colder. The presence was drawing near to him. A brilliant blue eye appeared, aglow in the darkness less than a foot away. The eye was especially beautiful, and it squinted. Perhaps it scrutinized him, or more likely, its owner was seriously pissed.

“What do you want from me?” David tried to remain calm despite his terror, but found it impossible to control the unsteadiness in his voice.

The eye moved closer, and as it did he became aware of a soft gurgling sound. It reminded him of the tiny streams he used to find in the mountain valleys of Colorado. Cold drafts of air brushed against his face, and the eye came within a few inches of his own eyes, as if the head shrouded by darkness positioned itself to kiss him. The smell of raw meat filled his nostrils. He pushed himself back against the bed’s headboard.