by K. T. Tomb
Julie smiled slyly.
“That’s what I’m getting at. I think the coins play a much bigger role than what we’ve been led to believe. From what I’ve found, I’ve come to the conclusion that the coins have been cursed.”
She leaned back in her chair to let her words sink in. She knew they would need more, that her claim would be absurd to them without it, but for now, she wanted to see their faces.
“Cursed? Really? I mean, what happened to Bobby is crazy, and I am sure that there is more, but cursed?” Julie had expected the others to protest, but not Piers.
His lack of belief hurt. He knew how she felt about these things, how strongly she believed that there was arcane knowledge hidden from their everyday world. He had always been accepting, but now that she may have evidence of a true application of otherworldly magic, he denounced her in front of their friends.
He saw the hurt and placed a hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry, but what you’re saying is crazy. Cursed? By whom? And why?”
She brushed his hand away and looked over her notes again.
“You don’t have to believe it, but I do. Okay?” She pushed the notebook across the table to Sheila and Gerald. “Look, I was able to trace the coins roughly throughout the years. It’s not precise, but there is a pattern here that makes me believe that these are truly the coins.”
Sheila flipped through the sheets, skimming the penciled scribbles. “How many victims have there been?” she mumbled softly.
“Countless. Like I said, the records aren’t complete, but if you’ll notice, not all of those who possessed the coins died. And somehow, the coins have always remained together, as if the energy draws them together.” Sheila nodded knowingly but both Gerald and Piers listened in confusion. “So why did Judas accept the bargain?” She waited for an answer, but none came. “Greed. Thirty shekels didn’t amount to much in those days; in fact, it was the price of a slave, so I don’t think it was greed for money, but it was greed nonetheless. Greed for power, for recognition. If you look at my notes,” Sheila was still skimming through them, “you’ll see that there are numerous documented cases of similar circumstances. So, is it so hard to believe that God would have cursed those coins? That because of Judas’ actions, even if they were foreseen, he would condemn any man who held greed in his heart, greed such as what was in Judas’ heart, to death? Is that so hard to believe?”
Piers leaned back in the stool, his hands stretched out behind his head. “I see what you’re trying to say, but random deaths do not indicate a curse.”
“Actually,” Sheila jumped to Julie’s rescue, “based on these notes, it makes a lot of sense. I mean, it’s still a crazy idea, but it’s not so far-fetched.”
She handed the notebook over to Gerald, who thumbed through the pages with thick, clumsy fingers.
“Do you see it?”
He puffed out a wisp of air as he closed the notes.
“Far-fetched, but reasonable to have come to the conclusion; still, we’re talking about curses here.” He paused, giving out an involuntary, unbelieving grunt. “Curses. We are talking about an object having magical properties, to some extent. To bring death to the greedy, right? That’s what we’re talking about here?”
“I know it sounds a bit insane. But look at what happened with Professor Grindlay. And then what happened with Robert. Grindlay we already know was a freak accident, but,” she glanced at Piers, “Robert’s may have been the same. If the guy who stabbed him was just as confused as Piers remembers him, maybe he didn’t have control over the situation. Maybe there was a higher power at work there. Maybe it was divine intervention.”
Piers spoke up, only barely masking his sudden anger at her explanation of Robert’s death.
“You want me to believe that my best friend died because of a curse? What the hell did he do to deserve that! Why in the hell would God single out Robert?”
He slammed a fist onto the table. Julie tried to grab his hand to calm him, but he pulled away.
“I’m not saying he deserved it, but what I’m saying is that I believe it’s the curse. The curse took him.” She huffed in frustration. “Look, you remember how he was acting that night, don’t you? You remember how he was always acting. He was selfish. He was greedy. I miss him too, and it doesn’t really matter why he died, because it doesn’t change the fact that he did. But if there is a curse here, then don’t you think we should pay it a little bit of attention?”
Piers wanted nothing more to do with the conversation. He shoved away from the table and stormed out of the café, grabbing the attention of half of the coffee sippers. Her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, Julie sighed.
“Don’t let him get to you, baby,” Sheila said, as she reached a thick freckled arm across and wrapped her fingers around Julie’s hand, prying it from her head. “He’s just upset, is all. He’ll get over it, but he needs a bit of time. I just don’t think he’s ready to hear all of this just yet.” Julie nodded as Sheila pushed away from the table. “I need to get going too, but let me leave you two with what I found out.”
“What’s that?” Gerald inquired.
Sheila gave him a sly smile.
“I went to speak with a numismatist.”
Julie looked up, her eyes wide.
Sheila continued. “I was just curious is all. Don’t go giving me that look.”
She slipped one single sheet from the envelope and unfolded the paper before her friends.
“Millions, you guys. Look at all those zero’s. And we have thirty of them. Sold to the right buyer, and we could all be set for life. Just think.”
She gave a small, drunk giggle as she pushed a bright red curl from her eyes.
“Didn’t you hear any of what I said?” It took all Julie had to keep her voice below a shrill scream. “Did you read my notes even? Greed! Sheila, greed is the trigger!”
Julie didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but she was. She was certain that they were facing a curse here, and Sheila was walking right into it.
“These aren’t even ours to sell!” Gerald chimed in. “They belong to the church; they should be in museums for the public to see. Not sitting in a collector’s vault. Sheila, we aren’t selling these.”
“Baby, I’m gonna be fine. It’s just an inquiry. Nothing more.”
With that, she walked out the door.
***
The last couple of days had been long and arduous ones and he was ready for nothing more than to call it a night. He’d just tossed his keys on the dresser when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He didn’t even bother to look at the caller I.D. before accepting the call.
“Hello?”
It was nearly midnight and if he’d had half the energy he typically had, he would have been a lot gruffer with his answer, but he was too tired to be irritated.
“Gerald?” He could barely make out his name, much less the voice that had muttered it through streams of tears and sobs. “Gerald,” the voice groaned again.
He pulled the phone back to see who the caller was on his phone’s display. Julie.
“Julie, what’s going on? What happened?” The girl mumbled something incoherently, but he understood nothing. “Are you at the apartment? I’m on my way now. Just sit tight.”
He didn’t bother knocking, and just pushed the door open. Julie was in a crumpled heap on the floor with Piers huddling over her, pulling her close but unable to help her control her heaving. “What happened?”
“Sheila!” Piers offered nothing else, no other clue.
Julie’s arms were wrapped around herself in an attempt to hold everything in, but now she forced herself up unsteadily.
“Sheila.” Piers tried stopping her, telling her she didn’t have to talk about it, but Julie continued. “Sheila killed herself.”
“What?” He couldn’t contain his shock and disbelief. “She would never! No, she couldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have.”
It had only been that afte
rnoon that she had been with them at the café and he had a hard time believing that the woman they’d had such gripping conversation with had wanted to end her life. “I don’t believe it.”
“We saw her,” Piers said solemnly. “Julie wanted to talk to her about the curse, to warn her to not get greedy and try to sell the coins, so I drove her over there.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, then stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. “There were cars everywhere; cop cars, ambulances, a fire truck. I couldn’t even pull into the parking lot. It’s like Julie knew, though, before we even got out of the car. She took off running to the dorms before I’d even shut off the car, and by the time I’d caught up to her, she had been cut off by yellow tape and flashing lights. They were everywhere.”
He stopped again, reliving the moment. Gerald urged him on.
“God, I just don’t know. It was like Robert’s death all over again, only worse. Sheila, my God, she jumped. Can you believe she jumped? From her dorm window. I didn’t even know those things opened far enough for something like that, but they do, and there she was. Face first on the sidewalk, her red hair lying around her like a gruesome halo, almost like she’d been aiming for it just so they could give her a perfect chalk outline.” He paused, his eyes pleading with Gerald. “There was so much blood, and it was still gushing, like she had just done it. But what could I have done? What could we have done differently? I should have known, somehow, but how could I?”
“Nothing. You couldn’t do anything else.”
Gerald wasn’t sure what else to say to that. It was the third death in a couple of weeks. They’d only buried Robert the day before, so what could he say to console someone when this was the third time they were facing it in such a short time? They hadn’t even had the time to recover from one, even a whisper of healing, before they had to bury another. So what could he say to his friends to make this all okay? Nothing. Nothing would make it okay. So he walked to the kitchen and started the coffee.
“How long ago did that happen?” Gerald asked, gesturing to Julie this time.
“Not long. I didn’t even know she had called you.”
Just then, Valery walked through the door. For the first time in days, she appeared somewhat composed, though there was a panic in her eyes.
“Val!” Piers said, surprised. “Did Julie call you too?”
“Yes, she left a voicemail. I didn’t understand what she was saying, so I’m here.”
She turned abruptly towards Julie. “Do you know what time it is? Have you not looked at a clock lately? I was in bed so this had damned well better be important. What’s this about?”
Piers told her what happened, or rather what he knew of what happened, to Sheila. While Valery listened quietly, her left hand never left her back pocket. Even as she heard the news, her face remained one of disinterest.
“Did you hear what he just said?” Gerald asked, sure that she couldn’t be so unattached to the loss of yet another friend.
“I heard, and I’m sorry, but what can I do?”
Her words were ice gliding across her tongue and through the room. She cared nothing for Sheila’s death, nothing for the hurt that her friends were currently feeling. Or weren’t they her friends any longer? Something had changed and it was beginning to feel like their friend Valery was not the same.
“Why did you come then?” Gerald demanded, angry at her casualness.
It was anger because she could show no remorse, no pain or anger, and only hold contempt for the death of Sheila.
“I came,” she started, glaring through thin glass, “because I thought someone might have more information on the coins! So Sheila died! It was bound to happen sooner or later!”
She whirled around and stepped back through the entryway. Julie, Piers and Gerald stared at the slammed door bitterly. Where was the sweet Valery they had known? What was happening to her? Julie could only surmise one thing. The coins, but she had been certain that they had to be in one’s possession to be affected by the curse. Could she have been wrong?
“Piers? Baby?” Her tears were drying on her cheek, making them stiff and sore. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her stomach turned and ached, but this was important.
“Hmmm?”
“We need to put the coins up somewhere. Somewhere safe.” She turned to face him, Gerald now watching from the couch.
“What are you talking about? What’s safer than right here where we can keep an eye on them?”
“Did you not see Valery tonight? Something’s wrong with her, she isn’t herself, and I’m sure that the coins have something to do with that.”
No, she was positive. She knew that it was the coins, but she couldn’t figure out how, not yet anyway.
“What do you think she’s going to do?” Piers asked. “We’re talking about Val, here. Sweet, quiet, kind Valery. If your theory of the curse is right, she would be the last person to be corrupted. Val is the least greedy of us all.”
Julie didn’t seem convinced by his words.
“She’s going through a tough time. Give her a break.”
He hoped that his voice wasn’t cracking under his words, but he feared that it was, feared that they would see through to his thoughts. Grindlay was gone. Robert was gone. Sheila was gone, and Valery was the worst of them all. She was still here physically, but mentally, Piers suspected that she was gone too. Someone had to be the sane one, though, and he was determined that it would be him. Julie already had her beliefs, and Gerald was being reeled into them as well. Piers was trying to not believe, was trying to be the logical one, but it was getting hard.
“It’s not just that she’s upset. Did you look at her eyes when she was talking? Look at the way she was carrying herself. I don’t know what it is, what’s gotten into her, but it’s more than just grieving.” Julie said.
She was desperate to make him see, to make him understand. Valery was beyond the point of helping herself, and she, Piers and Gerald were to blame. Even Sheila. They’d let Val hole up in her room, seclude herself and dwell on Robert’s death to the point that it had changed her. She was no longer Valery.
“Let it go, babe. Give her a few days to come around. Okay?” Piers pleaded.
She wasn’t convinced, but for the sake of not upsetting Piers anymore after the outburst at the coffee shop, she dropped it. He had apologized for his explosion at the café, but she could see that her theory still bothered him. He didn’t want to think that some unnatural force had interfered with his friend’s life. He couldn’t accept that, couldn’t accept that Robert’s death had been a part of a game, a spiteful curse over two thousand years old. He was searching for another answer, something logical, something concrete, but no one could give it to him.
“Look, it doesn’t matter if there is a curse or not, or it won’t matter if we just lock up the coins somewhere. They can’t corrupt us, or I don’t think they can, if we don’t have them in our possession. And, if you don’t want to believe in the curse, then let’s just agree to keep them safe until we can figure out what to do with them. Can we at least agree on that?” asked Julie.
She had no doubts about the power that the coins held within them, had no doubts that locking them away was what was best for everyone’s sanity. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing another friend or, God forbid, Piers.
Julie looked to Gerald, begging for him to have her back on this one. Reluctantly, he had to agree. He wasn’t so sure that Valery hadn’t changed, and not just because of the recent deaths. He’d seen the look on her face when she’d come through the door this evening, had seen the cold emptiness that filled her at Robert’s funeral. It wasn’t that he was necessarily convinced of the curse on the coins, but what he was convinced of was that Valery was going through something more than just mourning.
“Okay, let’s put them in the vault first thing in the morning.” agreed Gerald.
He glanced at his watch, which now read near
ly four in the morning. Would he ever get a good night’s sleep again? He felt that these days had just been one continuous sequence and that it would never end. He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his eyelids like iron under his brow.
“Can I crash on the couch for a few hours? We can head over after we’ve gotten some sleep and be done with it.”
***
“Don’t touch anything,” Gerald warned, though he really didn’t need to say a thing. He pulled out a chair at a table that sat in the center of the room, the fluorescent lights burning their eyes as they cast stark shadows along the floor. Julie and Piers sat across from him as he poured the contents of the pouch onto the table. The light glittered off of every silvery surface acting almost as prisms, reflecting the light back around the room and amplifying their brilliance. Each coin seemed freshly polished, each crevice and crease brushed clean of the dirt and grime that should have built up over the years. The edges of each coin were smooth, rounded off with time; some of the edges even curled up and over themselves. They were beautiful.
Gerald cleared his throat, pulling both Julie and Piers from their trance, and began counting the coins. They’d agreed to count them right before leaving them to ensure they were all accounted for. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust one another, but well… hell, they didn’t trust one another. Piers followed along with Gerald and they both came to the same final count. Twenty-eight. Piers looked up angrily, accusing Gerald with his eyes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” His face had gone pale, confused. “What do you mean what am I doing?” He paused, taking in that he was being accused of thievery. “What are you doing?”
He hadn’t done it, and it was always the guilty to cast the first stone.
“Did you not think I’d notice that we would be two short?” Piers asked, sarcastically.
Gerald pushed away from the table and was looming over them, preparing to leap at Piers if given a chance. Piers hopped up to meet his match, their faces only inches apart as they slung accusations back and forth.