The Freedman and the Pharaoh's Staff (37 page)

“Those bastards got my girls!" Jeb growled, rage dripping from his mouth. It took all of his discipline not to charge out, swinging at whatever got in his way. He gave a gruff exhale. “Hold up, where's Narce at?” The ogre wasn't anywhere within the mountains of hay. Jeb cocked his head back to check on Fallon when the boy didn't respond. Fallon shifted in and out of consciousness, his head bobbing. Jeb scowled. He couldn't waste any more time coddling the boy.  
 

Wood creaked nearby. Jeb wheeled on the macabre scene in time for a hefty fist to land in his face. He reeled backward onto the ground, losing grip on his sword. It flew off into the night like a fleeing bird.

Narce stepped out from the barn. Draped in the black and white robe of a Nighthawk. He passed by Fallon, not noticing him propped against the wall. Dark eyes swarmed with hate-filled pestilence narrowed on Jeb. That stare hurt as much as his punch.

“I knew ya'd be here,” said Narce, shaking out his hand. He took a casual step toward Jeb.

Struggling to climb off his back, Jeb's brain jostled in his skull. He groped for his Colt pistol. Though it'd been in his hand a moment ago. It was still in his hand.

Like one of those swamp panthers Narce pounced on Jeb, seizing him by the arm. “Try an shoot me?” With another snarl, he smashed Jeb's hand on the ground. His Colt pistol flopped into the grass.

Bleeding out, slashed and clobbered, Jeb didn't have enough strength to throw the brute off him. His kicks went wild at empty air. And he had no other weapons to grab for. “Fallon!”

Narce screwed his face up. “That liddle shit still alive?” He relaxed his grip and glanced around. Then let out a hearty laugh when he spotted Fallon limp against the wall. Too weak, Jeb couldn't force his way out from underneath him. Even when his attention was somewhere else.

“Stop squirming!” Narce drove his head into Jeb's face. His skull must've cracked on some rock. Jeb couldn't move. Didn't know how. He lay there, unconscious, but aware enough to watch what happened around him.

Blood spurted from Narce's nose. He lumbered to his feet, wiping crimson mucus on his sleeve. Eyeing Jeb, his lips pulled back into a sneer. “Ya just wastin' yer time. Y'all be dead soon enough.” A hint of jealousy burned in his voice.

For what? Death?
 

He took another moment to watch Jeb. His expression twisted into one of...
envy?
Narce scowled then turned on Fallon. “Damn Yankee-lover,” said the ogre.
 

“You'll...never...” Fallon managed to lift his pistol, getting off a shot. Metal whizzed by Narce and struck a far-off tree.

A glance over his shoulder, and Narce scoffed. “Ha!” He lumbered over to the scrawny teenager, towering over him like a great shadow of death. “Ya shouldn't a left us, ya liddle shit. Now yer gonna die wit the rest of them.”  Ignoring the blood seeping from his nose, Narce raised his fist and brought it down on Fallon's pate. The boy crumbled to the ground.

Narce yawned, rubbing his nose, and blew a wad of bloody phlegm on the ground. He made a grunt, then stomped past Jeb into the darkness.

Fight. Get up, you Sunday Soldier!
But Jeb couldn't. Maybe he was unconscious, or just too weak to move. Either way, hell closed in around him. Unable to act while his family was in danger over yonder. Laying there. Aware. Waiting second by second until Narce appeared again, his saber in hand. Of course that racist scoundrel wanted it. Jeb stole it from a high-ranking Confederate cavalryman during the war. Well crafted with a fine edge, too.
 

Having secured Jeb and Fallon's weapons, Narce looked satisfied with his spoils.

“
Gwo Damballah mwen ofri ou kòk...
” the words echoed out.
 

Narce shuddered at the chanting of witchy words. He grabbed Jeb and Fallon, each by a leg, and dragged them into the cowshed.

The ritual! Verdiss is doing it! Get up and fight. Move your arm, your hand, a goddamn tooth!
Still, Jeb's body wouldn't obey. Narce kept away from the fifty-foot
veve
. Far enough that if Jeb could move he wouldn't be able to reach out and disturb the Grand Dragon's work. Verdiss shouted at the bonfire, as though engaged in a seething argument.
 

Narce dragged them across the barn to where Crispus sat in terrified awe. Nearby, surrounded by five Klansmen, rested Keturah and Bettina.

Fight, damn you! Fight!
Blood rushed through Jeb's limbs, sensation following quick behind it. He
felt
the hard floor. Soon, he'd gain control over his body again. He hoped it'd be soon enough.
 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Four

 

Awe and horror possessed Crispus. Fascinated by Verdiss's ritual, his only reaction to the pops of gunfire were unemotional flinches. He wasn't Jeb, and was wrong to think he could stride in and stop these brutes. Though enchanted by the magic before him, Crispus's mind raced against itself. Formulating ideas, connecting dots.  Those four Klansmen, standing rigid like planks in a fence, moved the way Tillemont Darkwa's animated
zombi
had
. Awkward, as if the muscles in their legs could barely support them. And the same soulless emptiness in the eyes. Verdiss had dominated their minds.
 

In the long chant of Creole words, Crispus caught hold of a familiar few.

“
Montre m
...”
 

It's a divination rite.
 

“
Vre non
...”
 

True name? A rite to divine the Geist
Führer's
name
. To know a thing's true name gives you power over the thing. Yes, that's it!
 

The bonfire erupted in a blinding radiance, reaching for the roof with flame-like claws. Verdiss's red eyes gleamed as he watched the inferno. He trembled, attempting to will his dark magic into reality.

“
Mwen rele suite Geist Führer nan non de Damballah! Mennen suite kè l' depi lè l' a nan nexus de tan nou pou mwen ka mare l' kenbe l' nan flanm sa!
” Breaking his concentration for a moment, Verdiss grabbed the blue-glazed staff from his belt. Licked his lips at the thrill of energy flowing through the room.
 

Crispus felt it too—and the distinct awareness it was the energy ripped form him—that dulled his ability to react. In an abrupt crash, his sensation rushed back to him.

“Jeb...
y
Jeb wake up." Crispus kicked him. Then gave Davis a nod.
 

Davis maneuvered around the
veve
and towers of hay, making his way to where Narce sat. “Sir Nighthawk, I hear something outside.” Narce shot him an angry look. “I'll just
go take a look.” Davis backed out of the barn followed by Narce's glare.
 

“I call forth the
Geist Führer
. In the name of Damballah! Bring forth his soul across the nexus of time so that I may bind him and keep him within these flames.” Verdiss raised the Pharaoh's Staff in triumph. Flames bended and twisted, taking on a cruelty Crispus never thought fire could possess. The inferno growled words in a guttural language, frightening enough that it woke Jeb.
 

His eyes opened, focusing on the malformed Verdiss shouting at the bonfire.

“Jeb, I have a plan." Crispus nudged him again, and pulled Lafayette's spell scroll from his haversack.
The blessing powder!
He unrolled the parchment, the power in its crinkles tingling his fingers. Then grabbed a handful of blessing powder. Crispus closed his eyes. Unsure he could make the magic work, he imagined it in his belly like a gold mine.
 

“What are you doing?” Jeb reached for his boot knife.

A gold mine in his belly filled with magic. He was a miner, there to pick away stone and find gold. With strength, Crispus hacked away. Pulled gold from the stones. In the cage it went. Ropes taut, he
hauled the cage up through his throat. Magic tickled inside him. Into his voice box. Then out came the words of power. “
Pè m! Pou tout lènmi m' cower, tande vwa m' ak kouri byen lwen ale bè rout. Si yo pa s' se lè sa a pou yo jwenn pa ka dòmi de pè ak consommer tèt yo ak latèrè ak fènwa. Sa se ta vle m! Se konsa li pran ou!
” More power surged through the paper. It jolted his hand like a knife wound. With a toss, he shrouded the four Klansmen standing guard in a wave of dust.
Run away! Flee this place! Never come back. Never.
Crispus willed it, letting nothing else cloud his thoughts. No death. No racism. No insanity around him. Only those four men running like the cowards they were.
 

Three of the entranced Klansmen shrieked in panic, dropping their rifles and raced out of the barn. They disappeared into the darkness. The large, red-headed Klansman collapsed to the ground. His body jerked as if yanked on by ropes, foam pouring out from his mouth. Crispus watched, astonished at what he'd done.
 

Jeb grabbed one of the fallen rifles. He aimed at Narce, who came rumbling toward him from his seat across the barn, pistol in hand.

“
Gwo Damballah, loa nwaj kondisyon piwo an ak serpents pi ba pase mwen envoke a! Mwen te kaptire nanm lènmi m', Geist Führer nan flanm sa a. Retire kò l' nan yon pwizon an ak nan yon lòt, kenbe l' nan san apa pou ou a! Jan mwen command sa li dwe ap fè l!”
 

Verdiss's thunderous recital of magic stopped both Jeb and Narce. They both turned to face him.

“Mighty Damballah,
loa
of the skies above and of serpents below, I invoke thee! I have captured the soul of my enemy, the
Geist Führer
, within these flames. Pull him from one prison and into another! Capture him within your holy blood. As I command so it must be done!”
He pulled a teardrop-shaped gem from his robe. Extended the blood hued jewel, flames dancing along in its smooth surface.
 

“What have you done?” Crispus stood with his pistol drawn. He glanced at Jeb and Narce, still standing in awe of Verdiss.
He's out of the way.
 
What...what is coming?!
Crispus leveled his gun at the inferno that moved with intelligence, hissing guttural words.
 

“I have lived to see inherited my very wishes, and the building of my fancy," said Verdiss. As the flames containing the
Geist
Führer
leaned toward the gem in his warped hand, wispy tendrils of light flowed outward.
 

“There! Do you see him, Jeb? The
Geist
Führer
, he's real! I told you!” Crispus fired at the fiendish man in his burning prison. The bullets passed through the flames, striking towers of hay.
 

“I...
re
I ain't...see a thing," stammered Jeb as if half-aware of his surroundings.
 

Curls of fire surrounded the gem, glowing like a lone star in the night. Verdiss watched, flicking his tongue.
In an instant, the inferno keeled over. Its curls shot into the gem in a tidal wave of power.
 

“I have pulled forth my betrayer's soul from his time and have ensnared him within this holy prison." Verdiss smiled, his eyes gleeful. As the firestorm vanished into the gem, Crispus swore it let out a wail in that strange, guttural language. Ash and embers remained
of the bonfire, smoldering in an unnatural manner.
 

“Now, with the
Geist
Führer's
soul ripped from his body, I will take his place as master of the future. I shall do what he could not have done by himself, for
I
have the Pharaoh's
Staff. It shall grant me the power to dominate all who oppose me. Ironic, the power of an African king shall be the end of
your
people." Verdiss's words were meant for Crispus, but both men watched the blood-red gem pulsate with a light that expressed the furiousness of its prisoner.
 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Five

 

“Naturally, we will retain a company of slaves for our own purposes." Verdiss nodded toward Narce. The big man looked concerned.

“That ain't happening." Jeb turned his rifle on Verdiss, clicking the hammer back.

Verdiss pointed the Pharaoh's Staff at Jeb crook-first. Excitement flicked from his tongue as he shouted the command. Titillated at what power it would unleash. “In the name of Narmer, I command you to halt!” He watched the freedman...do nothing. His finger still on the trigger. He didn't fire. Only stared at Verdiss, eyes trapped wide as though he knew what happened. Yet could do nothing about it. “Exquisite." Verdiss hissed with a flick of his tongue.

Crispus lifted his pistol, prepared to fire on Verdiss when he caught a sucker punch to the head. Verdiss's lips twisted into a smirk as Crispus reeled to the ground. Narce towered over him, ready to fire his revolver. But hesitated, glancing at the barn door. Verdiss followed his eyes.

“What is it, Narce?” For a moment, he realized this must be it. The
Geist Führer's
lackeys come to slay him.
 

“N-nothing.” Narce's eyes narrowed on the door. “Grand Dragon, let's just kill them already.” His patience was waning. He yanked the rifle from Jeb's hands and tossed it away.