Read Online Plague of Coins (The Judas Chronicles #1) by Aiden James - Free Book Online
Authors: Aiden James
Ads: Link
need for daily divine revelation to guide one’s path to redemption. In other words, legends of a burning bush won’t impress anybody who’s held an Iphone in their hands. Perhaps when more technological distractions gain a stronger foothold in the eastern world, the score between Christians and Muslims will even out.
Which brings us back to Dubai, and what trillions of dollars and Euros funneled off the Arab oil fields has done for a group of people more comfortable with tents and camels less than two generations ago. And, yes, I should know. I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes.
“So, why must we accompany Ms. Golden Eagle to the Mall of the Emirates?”
Alistair was in a testy mood again when I roused him for the second time the next morning. The rising sun had already seized the lower eastern horizon, promising a scorcher for the desert city.
“Because you promised, don’t you remember?” I found the whole affair amusing. The sordid events from last night, that is, when my boy and our gorgeous cohort talked at length about a variety of academic subjects, imbibing themselves continuously until three bottles of French chardonnay and a liter of champagne disappeared. “You told Amy, and I quote, ‘I’d give anything to see someone ski inside the Mall of the Emirates!’”
“I said that?”
The look on his face was absolutely precious—more than any other I’d seen lately. A mixture of confusion, scorn, disbelief, and in the end child-like recognition that revealed all too clearly the missteps in judgment brought on by alcohol excess. A lifelong commitment to bachelorhood left Alistair at such a dire disadvantage to a beautiful and charming woman talking his ear off. After the first few drinks, the flirtation went both ways while I quietly looked on.
A few drinks will rarely leave me the slightest bit tipsy. If anything, it just helps me sleep longer than the two to three hours of rest I normally manage. In truth, whenever necessary, I can skip sleep for days on end—sometimes as much as a week and a half. My body’s regenerative powers not only keep me young and in robust health, but also make the normal necessity of rest obsolete. I doubt that anyone, other than another immortal, can imagine the discipline it takes to lay quietly night after night while other people sleep and my thoughts run rampantly.
“When will the plane continue on to Tehran?”
He sat up while reaching for his beloved day-planner that contained this information. Well, it did until I learned that our exhausted pilots would not be replaced at this juncture. Like my kid and his new gal pal, they needed their rest.
“Just after one o’clock this afternoon, once ‘Dhuhr’ is over,” I said. “That allows plenty of time for the pilots to rejuvenate, and to see how silly you look skiing down the slopes of an indoor ski resort!”
I laughed heartily at his expense—especially after he frowned fearfully.
“But I’ve never skied in my life!” he fumed.
“Precisely!” I countered, gleefully. “All the more reason to get there as soon as possible!”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds!”
That was Ms. Golden Eagle. When we both turned to look at her, my son and I both gasped slightly. Radiantly beautiful. That’s what popped into my mind, anyway. Our luxury jet included a full bath, and her flowing curls were still damp from a recent shower. She was dressed in designer jeans and a blue silk blouse. Like a high classed debutante, she looked ready to do some serious shopping...but not so much the skiing she and Alistair had previously discussed.
“We may not have as much time to do everything we talked about last night.” She moved to the seat across from Alistair and placed her tote bag underneath. “I overheard the pilots say they expected to resume our journey at twelve-thirty this afternoon.”
“Well, it’s almost eight o’clock now. So if we get a move on it, we can decide on where and what to do over
Which brings us back to Dubai, and what trillions of dollars and Euros funneled off the Arab oil fields has done for a group of people more comfortable with tents and camels less than two generations ago. And, yes, I should know. I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes.
“So, why must we accompany Ms. Golden Eagle to the Mall of the Emirates?”
Alistair was in a testy mood again when I roused him for the second time the next morning. The rising sun had already seized the lower eastern horizon, promising a scorcher for the desert city.
“Because you promised, don’t you remember?” I found the whole affair amusing. The sordid events from last night, that is, when my boy and our gorgeous cohort talked at length about a variety of academic subjects, imbibing themselves continuously until three bottles of French chardonnay and a liter of champagne disappeared. “You told Amy, and I quote, ‘I’d give anything to see someone ski inside the Mall of the Emirates!’”
“I said that?”
The look on his face was absolutely precious—more than any other I’d seen lately. A mixture of confusion, scorn, disbelief, and in the end child-like recognition that revealed all too clearly the missteps in judgment brought on by alcohol excess. A lifelong commitment to bachelorhood left Alistair at such a dire disadvantage to a beautiful and charming woman talking his ear off. After the first few drinks, the flirtation went both ways while I quietly looked on.
A few drinks will rarely leave me the slightest bit tipsy. If anything, it just helps me sleep longer than the two to three hours of rest I normally manage. In truth, whenever necessary, I can skip sleep for days on end—sometimes as much as a week and a half. My body’s regenerative powers not only keep me young and in robust health, but also make the normal necessity of rest obsolete. I doubt that anyone, other than another immortal, can imagine the discipline it takes to lay quietly night after night while other people sleep and my thoughts run rampantly.
“When will the plane continue on to Tehran?”
He sat up while reaching for his beloved day-planner that contained this information. Well, it did until I learned that our exhausted pilots would not be replaced at this juncture. Like my kid and his new gal pal, they needed their rest.
“Just after one o’clock this afternoon, once ‘Dhuhr’ is over,” I said. “That allows plenty of time for the pilots to rejuvenate, and to see how silly you look skiing down the slopes of an indoor ski resort!”
I laughed heartily at his expense—especially after he frowned fearfully.
“But I’ve never skied in my life!” he fumed.
“Precisely!” I countered, gleefully. “All the more reason to get there as soon as possible!”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds!”
That was Ms. Golden Eagle. When we both turned to look at her, my son and I both gasped slightly. Radiantly beautiful. That’s what popped into my mind, anyway. Our luxury jet included a full bath, and her flowing curls were still damp from a recent shower. She was dressed in designer jeans and a blue silk blouse. Like a high classed debutante, she looked ready to do some serious shopping...but not so much the skiing she and Alistair had previously discussed.
“We may not have as much time to do everything we talked about last night.” She moved to the seat across from Alistair and placed her tote bag underneath. “I overheard the pilots say they expected to resume our journey at twelve-thirty this afternoon.”
“Well, it’s almost eight o’clock now. So if we get a move on it, we can decide on where and what to do over
Similar Books
