The Freedman and the Pharaoh's Staff (38 page)

A scowl crossed Verdiss. Witnessing his
voodoo
work seemed to disturb Narce more than he'd thought it would.
He may be a problem.
Somewhere inside Verdiss, he felt the twang of sadness. His most trusted man...would soon turn on him.
Forget him.
 

“First, we must destroy the
Geist
Führer
. Then the Freedmen shall watch as I take his place and make war upon the races." Verdiss hugged the glimmering gem and Pharaoh's Staff to his chest.
They
were his friends.
 

Crispus, still sprawled on the floor, grumbled something incoherent.

He can't stop me now.

Fallon, roused from his curse-induced stupor and
pulled himself onto his knees. He drew his Starr pistol when a sharp cry pierced the air. All attention went to the barn door. Two dark figures approached from the pasture. The taller, sturdier figure was clearly a man. A shorter, womanly figure struggled at his side. A pillar of flame exploded upward as the captor and captive arrived. The burst of light revealed
the servant girl, Tempest.
 

She'd been beaten, her skin mangled with bruises. Her hair lay in bloodstained chaos. Pushing Tempest
had
to be the
Geist Führer's
assassin, Zelig. Garbed in a bizarre gray uniform, with eagle pins and two double silver stripes on his collar and shoulder.
His jagged face marred with anger caused his mustache to twitch in a comical fashion. A strange, lopsided metal rucksack slung over his back, attached to an elongated pipe in his hands. A foul-smelling haze poured out from the tube's mouth.
 

Verdiss gasped, his tongue flicking as he watched the flame erupt from the contraption. “Such magic." One of his betrayer's weapons. He ignored Narce shivering as he took a step back. Such a sight unnerved even him.

“Tempest,” Fallon huffed, stepping forward.

Zelig walked through the barn door, his fiery pipe in hand. “I captured your
spy!” He shoved Tempest to the ground. “
Mein
Führer
told me you sided with this
boy
and his
thieving dogs.” He nodded to Fallon. “Give me the scepter,” Zelig snapped, his gaze shifting between Verdiss and Fallon.
 

Buffoon has no idea what is happening. Ha! This shall be easy. But, a bit insulting.

“I am disappointed to see the
Geist Führer
sent an assassin as dense as a stone to be rid of me. I cannot help but find such a travesty offensive." Verdiss sneered, still hugging both the Pharaoh's Staff and gem. As his former master underestimated his intellect, so, too, did Verdiss underestimate the
Geist Führer's
manipulative hold over people. Including himself. “As for your beloved
Führer
, I have already seen to his capture and forged him a most fitting prison." Verdiss held out the luminous gem.
 

By the horrified expression on Zelig's face, Verdiss saw the assassin recognized the
Führer's
presence.
 

“Let him go and I'll give you the magic." Zelig's voice was filled with childish fear. He held up the tube exuding a haze of gas for Verdiss to see.

“Too late for deals. The
Geist Führer
has sewn his fate, as have you. Narce, kill him.” Verdiss motioned to Narce and turned to face the burning embers. His focus needed to remain on the next ritual. It would allow him access to the future and the
Geist Führer's
body. A more difficult rite.
Verdiss raised the blue-glazed Pharaoh's Staff above his head, calling out the incantation.
 

“With pleasure,” said Narce with feigned bravado. He holstered his pistol. Zelig slapped the gas-expelling tube, trying to work the magic. But, Narce was already running at him.

“Work,
verdammt!
” Another hit to the hose and it let loose a jet of flames. Engulfing Narce. The Klansman let out a frantic howl. In a moment, his robe turned to ash and his flesh liquefied. He hurtled past Zelig, who ducked into the mounds of hay. Narce tore through the pasture in tormented mania, then collapsed to the ground.
 

Verdiss ignored him.
He was going to turn on you, anyway.
Instead, he continued the rite, holding both staff and gem high over the dwindling embers. Verdiss waved the Pharaoh's Staff in a circular motion, the crook's falcon eyes glimmering. Its magical energy sparked the dying embers into a maddened firestorm.
 

“
Nan non de Narmer, m kòmand pòtayla la non!
" Clouds of ash and flames churned into existence, the embers coalescing into form. The jar of moths near Jeb exploded in a shower of glass. Moths fluttered through the air toward the door, as if their human souls urged them to escape. As though it were alive, the firestorm took a deep inhale, dragging dirt, loose straw, and the flock of moths into its maw. Consumed by flames, the soul-carrying insects popped, those lost souls screeching in brief agony.
 

“In the name of Narmer I command the doorway unlocked!” There was a burst of light in reality, then a doorway between times tore itself open.

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Six

 

Jeb dodged the glass flying at him. Somehow the noise broke him free from the staff's magic. Maybe because he still didn't know if he believed in the
voodoo
?
Doesn't matter.
He rushed across the room and grabbed his saber and Colt pistol. When he turned to face Verdiss, the tornado of flames burned an opening through the air itself. The hole it ripped in reality, ablaze with glimmering clouds, revealed a compact room of concrete. The chamber was crammed with various pieces of furniture. Its furnishings boasted bizarre designs, constructed in an unknown style. As if shelled by cannons, the cement room shuddered. Dust cascaded down from its ceiling.
 

“
Der Führer-Bunker!
” Zelig leapt out from his hiding spot behind bales of hay. “What are you doing?” His words came out in barks like a wild dog as he struggled to work his magical weapon.
 

“Destroying your
Führer
and finishing the war—“ Verdiss raised the glowing gem to smash on the floor.
 

Whatever he planned with that gem, Jeb couldn't let it happen. With the surrounding insanity, he couldn't get a good shot at Verdiss, either. So he flung himself at him. Both men tumbled to the ground, a moment before Zelig's magic went off. A wave of flames bit Jeb's back. It'd probably kill him later, but battle frenzy seized him, and he could've ignored a blade in his gut. But, his shirt caught fire, and in one yank, he tore off. While the Grand Dragon felt around for the glowing gem. Before Verdiss could find it, Jeb laid a fist into his face.

“
Mein Führer!
” Zelig went charging for the gem as it flew into the air. It clanked down near Fallon struggling to his feet.
 

“Get it!” shouted Jeb.

Pistol aimed at Zelig, Fallon snatched up the luminescent gem. “Let. Tempest. Go.” He heaved as he said each word.

“
Nein
. Give me the gem or your precious
freundin
dies!” Zelig spoke with hatred, more than words. He turned the gas exhaling tube on Tempest, still laying at his feet. He
stomped on her stomach, pinning her to the ground. She let out a shriek, clawing at Zelig's thick boots.
 

“All right, all right! Just don't hurt her.” Fallon held the gem out and hobbled toward Zelig.

Shit!
A blow to the face sent Jeb reeling off Verdiss. He'd paid too much attention to Fallon and not his own fight. Worried about the boy. On his back again, he spotted Crispus. He seemed in some sort of damn trance.
Goddamn magic!
 

“Crispus! Get the ritual sword.” Jeb flung his hand to where it sat on a bale of hay. A melodic rattle arose from the loft. As Jeb climbed to his feet and grabbed his saber, a massive rattlesnake slithering down from the loft appeared on his flank. Its immense body coiled around something—and as it reached the floor, it unfurled itself. A Klansman, his body crushed, tumbled out on to the floor. That short, bald bastard who always wore a smile.

No time to wonder about it.

Crispus came to, and dashed for the ritual sword. He stopped when the enormous rattlesnake slinked in between he and the sword. It raised the front half of its body forming an S-shaped figure, standing as tall as a teenager. Its forked tongue flicked out between inch-long fangs. Crispus edged forward, but each time he did, the rattler lashed out with a hiss: a warning to go no further.

Jeb turned to face Verdiss, saber poised for a lunge attack. The Grand Dragon stood, his deformed hand gripping the Pharaoh's Staff as though it were a ledge over an abyss.

“Oh how—”

No more talking.
Jeb advanced then lunged, cutting at Verdiss's hand. Verdiss took an elegant step back. Mocked a counter attack as though the staff were a sword. Then his cracked lips pulled back into a sneer.
 

“Think you are the only man who has trained with a sword?”

Enough of this shit.
Crouching down, Jeb feigned ready for a charge. Lowered his saber straight into line, and watched. Verdiss scoffed, eyeing him with disappointment. His expression said it.
A charge, you simpleton?
Jeb kept his face cold, stone, a good poker face. One advantage of free time during the war—lots of poker. Verdiss braced himself to receive the charge, bending his knees, gripping
the staff with both hands.
 

“Come join me in—”

Jeb swung his sword back then forward, letting go of the hilt at the last moment. It spun low, whirled at Verdiss's legs, meant to pull them out right from under him. With unnatural quickness, Verdiss batted the saber away with the staff. That didn't matter. Jeb already drew his pistol, aimed and clicked back the hammer. But when his eyes met Verdiss's, he found only the staff, its falcon-head staring at him. Those ceramic eyes glowing with power peered into Jeb's soul. He couldn't help gawking at those five thousand-year-old eyes. They commanded him to stare at their beauty.

“'Foul deeds will rise, though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.'" As Verdiss spoke the cryptic words, Jeb felt the magic willed through the staff. The Grand Dragon's fierce expression focused on him. Then it crashed over him like a tidal wave. Guilt. It dragged him down under unimaginable pressure, burying him beneath its hefty waves.

Saber clattering to the ground, Jeb fell to his knees. Tears burst from his eyes and they swelled red. Moses
Noitavlas, Rufus, Rayford, La'Rita, Lafayette, Wardell, and Allenville itself had died because of his actions. He knew that now.
His
mistakes murdered them. Crispus's jailbreak caused the Allenville riot. Now, its victims arrived to take their revenge. As they should. Jeb deserved their vengeance. Whatever punishment they lay on him. Their snarling jeers demanded he face them. Face them like a man. They stood around him. All of them. Blaming him with fingers outstretched, wearing cruel sneers upon their lips. Elle Mae's dress torn, her body ruined. Wardell's chest peppered with stab wounds. Lafayette's neck twisted, elongated, and his head limp on his shoulder. Rayford riddled with bullet holes, blood oozing from each like intersecting streams. And Moses. His head nothing more than a ring of tattered bits of flesh. They demanded revenge. Screamed for Jeb's death.
 

“You did this to me! I tried to help you and look what you did.” Rayford picked a round from his chest, and held it out for Jeb to see.

“Where were you when we needed you?” cried Elle Mae and Wardell in unison. A chorus of harsh lamentations.

“A hex on ya. A hex! Me mother and me dead cause of ya. They lynched me!” howled Lafayette.

Drawling came from Moses's ruined neck, his finger leveled at Jeb. “You...said...you'd...watch...over...me. Liar.”

Jeb wailed. Face burned, eyes ached, pouring out tears. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” He was about to fail again. Unable to protect his family and friends. Fallon. A little boy going to die because of him. Tempest, too! Everyone would die. The entire world would know it was his fault. Jeb couldn't bare anymore jeers from the unforgiving dead blaming him for their murders.
End it now. Kill yourself and it'll all be over. Take your pistol. Do it. Do it now before it's too late.
 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Seven

 

For a long moment, Verdiss watched Jeb hunched on the floor sobbing. He turned back to the fiery portal.
Minutes away from possessing the
Geist Führer's
body.
He raised the Pharaoh's Staff again and continued the incantation.
 

I have to hurry with this damn snake.

Sousson-Pannan
observed Crispus as he inched forward. The serpent's vertical pupils glinted with an eerie intelligence. Realizing he lost his pistol, Crispus drew his dagger from his boot. The snake's clever eyes convinced him to disregard caution. It seemed to understand why he drew his weapon and lunged at Crispus, baring its fangs. He stepped back and jabbed with his dagger, slicing through the serpent's scaly flesh.
Sousson-Pannan
hissed as he recoiled to lash out again, striking Crispus's left hand. Its fangs ripped through flesh. Crispus cried out in pain.
It burns!
They seared like hot pokers in his hand. Blood poured from the wounds.
Sousson-Pannan flexed the venom glands near its mandible.