Victory of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #7) by Aiden James Page A

a hidden message my heart told me was there... encoded in the words Kaslow had given us....
    The lot of a soldier... Driven by pride and love of home.
    Tit For Tat....
    Yet fate does fool and underscore... The lies where truth once was known.
    Tit For TAT!
    “Christ, I could be sitting here all night!” I mumbled disgustedly, tossing both items into the air. “And, for what?”
    Of course, no answer came to me as I watched the linen reach the painted porch floorboards long before the letter landed nearby. But maybe an answer did arrive.... As I watched the piece of fabric alight softly next to the parchment page containing the poem, I was struck by the cloth’s identity, or lack thereof. Without its prior contents it was indefinable, as if it now lacked purpose.
    “Purpose? That’s so frigging absurd.”
    Perhaps Roderick was right and I should give up what had turned into a pointless debate. A rare desire for sleep began to beckon me to return to Beatrice’s side, though my body wasn’t tired. Then an idea hit me, and despite my initial reluctance to consider it, I felt compelled from the depths of my soul to do so anyway....
    Careful to not awaken anyone, I crept back upstairs, pausing to make sure that Beatrice, Amy, and Jeremy were asleep in their rooms. Gentle snores from my wife and the soft rumble from Amy and Jeremy’s floor fan made it an easier decision to move down the hall to Roderick’s room.
    I expected my druid pal to pick up on my presence, or at least stir from the intrusion of someone stepping into his room uninvited. Not since I had roused him from sleep inside a buckskin tent, while he was recovering from an errant musket shot during the early days of the French-American War, had I invaded his space like this.
    To my surprise, Roderick was sound asleep. No snores, as some might expect from a giant of a man—and an ornery Celt at that. Just a steady rise and fall in his chest from the smooth pace that either indicated the deepest level of restfulness or one damned enjoyable dream was going on at that very moment.
    Meanwhile, my heart raced from nervousness of being caught, and the worry worsened once I located the likely location for the Stutthof-Auschwitz Coin. A slight blue glow emanated from the middle drawer of an antique dresser. Frankly, this surprised me, and I was half tempted to upbraid my sleeping buddy for not finding a more protected location to leave the coin. Then again, my indignation would melt into profound embarrassment if he were to awaken with me creeping about the room like an amateur burglar.
    I set out to quietly pull on the drawer and remove my blood coin, hissing under my breath when the ancient drawer squeaked slightly upon opening. The shekel’s brilliant blue sheen was deeper than for most of my coins, and I wondered if it was a byproduct of the terrible violence that had followed this one. Holding my breath while keeping a watchful eye on Roderick’s bed, I used the same linen piece we found the coin in to pick it up now.
    Lord...please don’t let me drop it!
    Careful to make sure the coin didn’t touch my skin, I wrapped the fabric tightly around it, and then painstakingly retraced my steps out of Roderick’s room. Once back in the hallway, I tiptoed past the bedrooms and didn’t ease up until I returned downstairs and was outside on the porch.
    It was a strange feeling to be holding a coin that I stole from my truest friend other than Beatrice. Albeit, the coin was mine and would always be associated with my ancient crime. But that knowledge did little for the immediate guilt... I intended to confess my intrusion to Roderick at daybreak. In the meantime, I braced myself for the experience that had become more and more excruciating over the years. Hearing or reading about Jesus of Nazareth’s intense suffering after being sentenced to execution by crucifixion has never done justice to witnessing the actual event. And, being pulled back in time to re-experience