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Strength filled me, righteous and unyielding. It lifted me from the dirt and muck. It straightened my back among the fields. It told me to walk tall. No longer would I stoop to anyone.
The mandate put me at odds with those closing in. Their tin stars transformed them; I’d been there. They were the law which others obeyed. They would demand a compliance and meekness which had been assumed of my people for generations. But right now, the men, women, and children who’d sacrificed themselves for another’s profit in this field were done obeying. They demanded satisfaction.
Not far away, the Shaw sword trembled in the grass.
Why shouldn’t I be the one to end this? What better revenge than to carve the cancer out of this backwater hell? The soldiers sent to end oppression might have failed to root it out, but I’d soon make good.
Pain gone, I sat up and dug my fingers into the wet soil. I took a handful of the stuff when I stood. I held it under my nose and inhaled as deeply as I could manage.
My lungs cleared and chest filled with cleansing air. My limbs swelled, muscles primed and strong. Working its way up the spiral of my DNA from my feet to my heart was a dance unaffected by time and distance to the birthplace from which it had been stolen. I prowled and crept, I strutted and stomped, I moved toward the ancient blade ready for code red, ready to go to war.
The steady thump of Fortune’s cane on the hollow log began. Gradually, a chorus of drums filled the open space like a passing train. The voice of Jupiter’s father came to me and spoke Truth.
No longer shall you call for Death, brother, for you are Him!
Damn straight. I’d been granted a warrior’s armor of shadow. All I needed now was a weapon. The Gallus themselves should fear me. No more cowering in a corner if they dared bring their ferry through this field of sacrifice. As I moved toward the sword, my conviction grew. Finally, a justice I could serve and not one I had to appease.
The drums pounded furiously. A wooden clacking like the hafts of spears clashed together kept the time. Passionate cries layered with the beat calling from Above and Below. I drew the sword from the field and stared down the length of the runed blade.
Shrouded in complete darkness I could sense the beating hearts of the posse tightening their noose. I held out the blade and mentally traced the distance to my targets, visualizing the shortest path to pierce Kevlar vests, sever heads.
What allegiance did I owe them? Their brotherhood, their law wasn’t mine. They’d disowned me for stopping a murder. One life spared, too many more had been lost. Whipped. Beaten. Chained. Lynched. Hunted like animals. Bred and separated from their children like livestock. Obey or die. That had been the reality and still was. It was time for true justice.
Darkness coalesced behind me in the rippling membrane of Kibaga’s Cloak. My feet began to rise, and I grinned at the flutter in my gut. Flashlights devoured by the magic, none of them saw as I ascended above the field.
The sword homed in on my first target. Drawn to the taint of evil on his soul, he was also the closest to the clearing — Sheriff Hallewell.
The thought of me getting away must’ve lit a fire under his lazy ass. With Mordecai’s thugs dead, he’d been next on the menu. His death would be another mercy killing. But I wouldn’t stop with him.
I leaned forward into the ghostly breeze, hovering mid-air, preparing to dive.
“We should fall back,” said a voice next to Hallewell.
Deputy Gardener. Hallewell’s own minion in the sublease of souls. The only one of the two with a damn bit of sense.
“Shut your hole!” Hallewell demanded.
“Does it bother you that every flashlight out here just died? He’s armed and we’re going to walk right up on him in this mess,” Gardener swiped at a head high stalk of grass with his extended firearm. “Let’s surround him. Wait him out. He can’t get far.”
Deputy Gardener had the plan. Not only were they inside a kill zone where a crouching suspect could shoot them, but any return fire from the thirty or so other police would tear them to shreds. Practical thinking. A guy just out doing his job, best he could. Trying to get home from his shift alive.
I’d been there too. Still was.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Hallewell spat. “We don’t bring this boy in, our benefactors will do more than pull their funding. You lose more than just a job. You lose...”
Gardener came to a stop. “What will I lose exactly?”
Hallewell refused to answer. He pushed ahead. He knew despite the danger that his Deputy wouldn’t leave him without backup. Gardener would follow that thin blue line right into an early grave. They’d both need to die.
The drums raging in my chest skipped a beat.
Kibaga’s force was one of vengeance. The sword demanded action for its cause. Combining the two had created a toxic infusion of magical energy in my own spirit, one I struggled to contain.
The berserk fury of Atofo’s battle magic had always been a last resort. Plugged into that source, I always felt like a junkie fighting a bad trip. From the feral nature, you gained strength, cunning, and a drive to do whatever it took to survive.
This magic scared me more. With it, I had no excuses. It spoke to a truth I found nearly impossible to deny.
But could I murder a man in cold blood? Men?
Watching the dark shapes converge hesitantly on the central clearing, I knew the rest of the men were like Gardener. Told by the sheriff they were here to apprehend an armed suspect, they hadn’t made deals with a demon preacher. Not yet. Their deaths wouldn’t solve a damn thing.
My grip on the sword tightened and I cradled Jupiter’s skull close. I’d become the foci of a whole new convergence of arcane energy. One wanted revenge for an unspeakable injustice. The other wanted to satisfy its purpose and hunt the demonic presences here. No matter how justified, I needed to be the one who controlled it, not the other way around.
I took the battle inside. I sank into the meditation necessary for so many of my own rituals. I remained floating, eyes on the horizon. From my vantage point, I saw headlights bouncing down the path from the manor at high speed. Had somebody decided to take their government ride on an off road excursion to get a spotlight to the scene? No, the purr of the engine sounded too familiar...
Sheriff Hallewell reached the clearing. He crouched by the corpses of Mordecai’s bodyguards and shook his flashlight. I stared down on him, barely aware I’d slipped the sword into an underhand grip. It would be nothing to plummet and drive the point home. Finish him off before he caused more harm.
Clouds and shadow started to clear away in starlit gaps. The cloak a rippling void, I realized I might be visible soon, long before the car tearing down the path had even gotten here. The magic inside me was trying to force a confrontation.
“Come on out,” the Sheriff demanded. “I got protection from your voodoo mumbo jumbo. Give up and I’ll make sure you get a nice, comfortable cell. Gonna want one because Mordecai, he’ll give you a long sentence for the world to come. Of course, you got that sword maybe we can make a deal. Hell, he might reward you in the new order he’ll bring.”
So he knew about Mordecai and the Overseer’s plans. He knew what this sword meant, yet he had every intention of helping. A corrupted soul and a soldier for the Apocalypse, he was no innocent.
I whispered a simple ritual, one to make stocking your medicine bag less of a chore. It made roots curl up out of the ground and exposed them. Aimed at Deputy Gardener’s feet, he went down face first with a grunt of surprise.
“Gardener?” The Sheriff turned toward the sound of his partner thrashing in the grass. “The hell you doing?”
The police dotting the field had slowed to a near stop. Many had turned toward the sound of the engine roaring down the trail. I descended to float right off of Hallewell’s shoulder.
You ready to give satisfaction? Jupiter’s father asked.
I’d agreed to put his son to rest, nothing more. “I’m ready to give you justice,” I said out loud.
Hallewell jerked toward my voice, his gun held in an unsteady grip. I stared into the whites of his unseeing eyes. Fear caused him to backpedal toward the middle of the clearing.
“Come out!” he shouted. “Come out here right now, boy! I’ll give you justice!”
His lips trembled. Hands shook. I stood off to one side keeping Hallewell’s gun barrel aimed harmlessly into open air. Behind him, a wedge of light hopped erratically above the grass. The engine gunned and the pounding creak of a stiff suspension designed to cruise into the beyond filled the quiet. Death was coming. This time, it wasn’t for me.
Hallewell turned to face the path. Men shouted. I saw their featureless shapes jump clear. Headlights barreled down on him and he raised his gun, terrified. I felt the cloak slip off my shoulders and reach for him.
Bubonic swerved from where it had been mowing down stalks. It leveled a massive swath as it drifted to one side, spraying mud and grass. It came to a stop with the headlamps blinding Hallewell.
Bathed in light, he lowered his arm from his face and a transformation happened. Jupiter stood in his place bearing a devilish grin. He aimed the gun outward toward the freshly cropped field.
Araceli honked the horn.
“Get in!”
Just then, I heard those fateful commands shouted from all around the perimeter.
“Drop the weapon!”
Jupiter laughed and waved the gun. I dove into a few tons of Detroit steel with a magic sword and the boy’s skull as the bullets began to fly.