The Conductor: Exodus
by S. R. Torris
Smashwords Edition
In association with White Wolf Press, LLC
Copyright ©2011 by S.R. Torris
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.
Print ISBN 978-1-257-96126-9
Cover Art by Earnest A. Richburg
Dedication
To November Rayne, Spider Juice, and Me.
It's about time!
Acknowledgements
"The Conductor: Exodus" was a long time comimg and it's finally here. I would be remiss (and I'd have to say kinda ungrateful) if I didn't mention some folks who were very supportive and made this journey an easier one.
My feedback team, who I know I've aggravated on more than several occasions, Jacinta, Nneka, Ramiah, and Samuel thank you for your reassurance, guys.
Earnest A. Richburg Jr for his incredible cover art.
Naya'Hri Zaire and Noel, here's another and it wouldn'y have happened without your encouragement to do so.
Thanks to my Cousin, Da Mommies, Hank Hannibal, Ha Shuri (leave those track shoes at home!) LaTonia, Quiona, Real, and Tarah for your support, which is greatly appreciated.
I'd also like to acknowledge my Mother. This type of tale isn't her cup-o'tea, if you catch my drift but she was right there with suggestions and the inspirational words et al. You have to be thankful for that and believe me, I am!
And of course, the man who gave me a shot, Brian Rathbone. You'll never know how much I really appreciate what you've done for me.
Words can't fully express my gratitude but I am glad I was in good company on this ride.
Thank you all.
Andiamo!
PROLOGUE
He felt he should be amazed.
Perhaps at a different time in his life he would have been, after all it was the first and last time he would ever see this place. It dwarfed the small crowd huddled at its base as they took one look and genuflected Cristo Redentor, high atop Corcovado.
It was closing time at Christ The Redeemer, a cloudy and grey day (which he thanked God for, the sun was nowhere in the sky) and people had to get back down into the heart of Rio de Janeiro, probably to do many lascivious things they called partying in this time. He assumed they were here to ask forgiveness beforehand. He laughed to himself as he observed the worshippers, unaware of his watchful eyes, and wondered how many would sacrifice the carnal as Jesus Christ had done -- as he was doing now? How many had helped witches defile this sacred place with their sacrilege?
You are all sinners who do not deserve an ounce of God's mercy, he thought as he looked out over the peak and into the Tijuca Forest. There wasn't time to dispatch them, he was on a mission as Jesus was many centuries before him; he had a date with his own personal Legion. He headed in the forest without being seen by a soul.
What the people didn't know, it wasn't something they put in the tour brochure, was deep in the heart of the Tijuca, and buried in the hard granite of Corcovado was an ancient thing -- a thing he'd known for years he had to destroy. He was on the right path, by way of a Mongolian Shaman he killed only a week before he arrived in Rio.
He dedicated his life to revenge. He was well aware vengeance belonged solely to God but felt that dispatching demons and the foolish people who assist them, straight to the bowels of Hell, would garner some leeway from the Heavenly Father.
A force was pulling him closer, welcoming him, to the opening of a cave that would take him into the heart of the Coven -- he became anxious. He'd felt anxiety before but not the "human" type in a long time. The anxiety of a vampire was reserved for lingering too long at the crack of dawn or, every once in a while, because some resourceful humans were hunting one like an animal. In fact, when he made the decision he would start killing other vampires, a cardinal sin among them, he found it was easy because nothing alerted their senses that they were about to be murdered by one of their own.
What he felt transported him to a time long passed, when he was happy on his father's cotton plantation -- when he was a human being named Frederick Duval.
****
It was forbidden, his mother forbade it, but Frederick loved her anyway. Jane, the kitchen girl had been his best friend growing up in the antebellum south. She was smart, witty, and had the biggest, roundest, blackest eyes he'd ever seen on anyone. Her hair looked coarse but was as soft as the cotton sheets that kept Frederick warm at night; he asked her to touch her hair and he let her do the same to him.
"It's sof' and strangy," she said and they both laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Jane was one of the boys, tearing across the backyard once she'd finished her never-ending list of jobs. She played with them, all manner of rough and tumble games that he created with his friends Pierce and Bradley. His mother's shrill braying would disgust Frederick often -- it meant the games were over and Jane had to go back inside to work.
Once, Frederick made the terrible mistake of helping Jane with a sink full of dishes. His reasoning: the sooner she finished, the quicker they all could go to the fishing hole. He wouldn't listen to her protestations to the contrary, and Frederick watched with horror as his sweet, loving, caring mother beat Jane with an inch thick leather strap, calling her all manifestations of lazy harlot. She broke every single dish they washed and dried, and made Jane clean the entire mess scattered across the floor. Frederick couldn't understand why he hadn't been punished too, after all, he was the one who helped Jane. He loved his mother but after that day, Frederick lost the respect he'd always held for her.
When he and Jane grew up his mother had Jane dismissed from the house. A mulatto girl, Ruth, who "coincidently" had the same crooked mouth that made he and his father look like men of distinction, was brought in to replace Jane and his mother appeared to be a lot more at ease with Frederick hanging around the kitchen. Although he could see, she still had the same contempt in her eyes for Ruth as she did Jane. Frederick understood the things that were said, without being said.
He continued to see Jane as she was relegated to work with the stable boys. Frederick always heard his father speak of Jane's strength and smarts and how he swore that she had savage "Injun" in her blood the way she was able to handle horses. He only saw her beauty; the curve of her hips, her slender waist, and her round breasts struggling to get out of that awful brown dress she wore. It did nothing to enhance the brick colored brown of her smooth skin. He could never forget her eyes -- she still had those beautiful bright round eyes that took in everything surrounding her.
The day Frederick's feelings overcame him, he tried kissing Jane in the stables and was slapped in his face.
"You treat yo' white gals like a whore, Massa Fred?"
"I love you, Jane, I am not your master."
"Then stop callin' me, 'Jane'. It not my name!"
"That is what I've called you for 14 years."
"Been wrong fo' 14 years."
"What is your name if it isn't 'Jane'?"
"Somethin' my folks gimme from they folks from 'cross the water. Secret name that no Massa know. I know."
"May I know?"
"If you loves me so much then teach me how to read them books. Then might be, I'll share my secret name."
Did I love her? Has it been so long? I can't remember the rest of her face; only her eyes remind me...
It was coming back in a deluge of memory and emotion -- guilt. He did love her but it was a grave mistake to teach her how to read.
After the second week of secret reading lessons, she revealed her name was "Sankofa".
"It sounds pretty when you say it. What does it mean?"
"Means I can go to my pas' and see my future. All I has to do is look right behind me and my peoples will tell me where's I go if I listen."
"Can I do it too?"
"You need to listen, Frederick. Jus' listen."
After the sixth week of reading, she let him take her. He knew then he would never want another woman and he would have to take her away from his home, the plantation, in order for them to be happy.
They continued their trysts in this fashion, reading first then sex or sex then reading, whatever mood suited the young lovers. He spoke of the changing world and the money he'd saved that no one knew about, not even his mother.
"We can move from here, Sannie, perhaps to Louisiana? Or would you prefer a little more north?"
She always nodded her head in agreement before answering, "Whatever you see best, Freddy." She smiled for Frederick's sake, he was so caught up in his dream for them but she knew it couldn't come true.
Frederick's father was a businessman and she'd been hearing word around the slave house about his latest business deal, which concerned her. Senior Duval wanted to invest in more horses but didn't have enough able-bodied men (or women) that he could trust to train his future investments. His neighbor, Mr. Jonathan Green of the Green Plantation, suggested a long-term business proposition that would be beneficial to them both: his buck stud, Hep, would marry Jane and they would care for the horses. If they had any offspring (which both gentlemen would make sure they did) their children would also be used to care for the horses. As they got older any male children they had would be used as jockeys, racing his horses in some of Europe's best competitions.
Mr. Green would be honored to be a part of bringing up some prize winning horses; especially receiving a portion of the income those horses would bring.
The younger women around the slave house were envious of the arrangement being made for her but Sankofa was afraid. She saw Hep when he came with Mr. Green to visit Frederick's father, always in the evening, and she didn't like the leers he would shoot in her direction when he thought no one else was looking. He had a way of singling her out that made her uncomfortable. It was such an evening that he looked straight at her and mouthed, "Hello Sankofa" smiling his wicked smile.
How could you know my name? I never told nobody!
Jane kept her composure, she couldn't have seen him say that and almost laughed when started to ask him how -- until a voice in her head that resembled Hep's replied.
You told someone.
Jane looked at him and his smile was broader and more frightening.
Most alarming to her was the quickness with which he was able to make it disappear when Mr. Green or Mr. Duval glanced in his direction.
The evening Frederick stopped his midnight reading with Sankofa changed everything in his life forever.
It was my destiny.
She'd begun the classic story of Herman Melville's, "Moby Dick", when they heard footsteps outside of the stable. Frederick snatched the book from her and slid it under some hay stacked in a corner for the horses. When they heard the footsteps get closer (Frederick surmised they were a man's) he was relieved that he wouldn't have to explain to his mother what he was doing in the stable with the black kitchen girl she'd sent there to keep away from her son. Hep walked in.
Frederick didn't like Hep and was annoyed that he was free to roam whatever property he wanted to. He thought Hep big and scary and he noticed his eyes trailed a little too long over Sannie's body for his liking.
He was smiling his usual sinister, every tooth showing grin until he saw Frederick. Something happened to his face, it became dark and filled with rage although his toothy smile never moved an inch.
"Beggin' yo' pardon, Suh, didn't spect I'd see you out heah dis late," he said with all of the false humility in the world.
"I suppose we're both surprised this evening, Hep. I did not think I would see you walking so comfortably at night on my property. Think of the damage you could have done to my father and your master's friendship. Imagine if I had my pistol? I might have shot you like a common trespasser. I imagine your master would not be very happy if his prized stud were killed."
Hep's face strained as he maintained his smile. He felt that the young boy speaks to him as if he were a common addled child, or worse yet, a dog.
"Well see, Suh, it's 'cause of dat 'lationship witcher Pappy and my massa dat I slipped on by. Came to 'xamine what's promised to me. Jane gone be my wife soon --"
Sankofa reached for Frederick's hand and squeezed it. This single act injected him with the courage he needed to dismiss Hep. Until then, Frederick felt smaller and smaller, afraid even though Hep kept smiling, even though Hep continued to refer to him as, "Sir". There was something to Hep's demeanor that made him seem more superior, more dangerous than any white plantation owner he knew. His presence was even more intimidating than his own father when he was most displeased with Frederick's behavior.
He felt with her desperate squeeze he had to get rid of Hep or she would be, they both would be, doomed.
"You can not be promised what you don't own, Hep. You should go on home now before you get yourself in some trouble."
"Ah, Freddy," he said, smile replaced with a sneer, "I spect I'll be on back here and I'ma gets what's mine."
Frederick was angry. He looked around the stable and replied, "I don't see anything here that belongs to you. Unless you speak of a few lashes your master will have to give you once I speak to him of your insubordination."
Hep turned to leave.
"We'll see won't we, Freddy?" He looked over his shoulder to Sankofa and tipped his hat, the creepy grin back on his face, "Ma'am."
Sankofa panicked, begging Frederick to convince his father to sell her away to a different plantation. She looked frantic almost to the point of tears, warning him she would run away before she ever stepped foot on the Green Plantation. He was afraid for her, afraid for them both, but he also felt a tremendous sense of courage and conviction. Frederick thought he could take care of this, he would protect her from that obstinate monster of a man and she could run away because he would go with her -- as her husband. He told her they would meet in this stable in a week and things would be better by then, they were going to go away.
They didn't have a week.
That morning, Frederick heard his mother arguing with his father about Sankofa. She was enraged that the "black whore" entrapped her innocent son into committing acts that were tantamount to having a church of Satan right in their home! She wanted him to send her to the Greens immediately; she even went as far as demanding all of the female slaves be sent as far away from her home as possible, including his precious Ruth. As he listened to his mother's ranting (it was very hard not to hear her) he'd learned that a loyal and God-fearing Hep told her about strange things his "niggra" mind couldn't possibly understand, but she knew what the simpleton was talking about.
"Do you know what will happen if this gets around to our neighbors? She's reading to our son like a white person does! How does she know how to do that Percival? And he's been intimate with her! It's a good thing that only Jonathan's slave saw the bestial goings on in those stables. Hmpf! He is definitely his father's son."
There were more of his mother's yells and objections, particularly when he stated he was not going to get rid of every female slave on the plantation, a door slammed followed by silence. He was astonished to learn Hep was spying on them. How long had that sneaky bastard been watching them?
Regardless of what his parents or his neighbors told him about the blacks they thought they controlled, he always knew they weren't a bunch of slow-witted beasts of burden. He knew there were rational minds in these people and some of them, like Hep, could be very manipulative. Frederick would have to stay one step ahead.
Frederick learned later that night, Mr. Green was coming to take Sankofa to be with Hep.
"Pick yourself another gal, Son. I don't mind. But you have to be careful because Mrs. Duval objects. You see Son, our women know nothing of the forceful urgings men have and these niggra fillies can take them. They're built tougher than our lovely white daisies; they don't understand we're executing our gentlemen's manners when we act in such a fashion. It is for their own good they don't experience the brute force a man can be. Why we might as well invite one of our studs into their boudoir and that will show them something. They would personally march us to the slave quarters, Son, if they even suspected we had an ounce of the animal rage our bucks have."
Father, if you could have lived to see this time… How astonished you would be.
His father chuckled a little before asking, "What are these books you've been reading? Is she teaching you their black witch magic?
"I taught her to read, Father. She's been reading my books with me. There has not been any of what that lying Hep has told you! Why is he free to roam on our property? You should talk with Mr. Green, he is quite an arrogant slave."
"Yes. You are right. You know that buck came to the front porch where Mrs. Duval was sitting by herself and told her that horse dung story. I will talk to Green but Jane is going with him tonight, Son, my word is what bonds me to it. And do not say anything of this teaching her to read. You know slaves are not allowed! Leave it all up to Green, it will be his problem now."
There was nothing Frederick could do but gather his money and run away with Sankofa. His father was never going to go back on his word, especially not for something as frivolous as him being in love with a black slave girl. He could hear the lecture he'd get about so many eligible women looking to marry the only Duval heir and how he wouldn't allow his only son to pine away after a "niggra", not when there were plenty of rich family alliances to be made.
He had it all thought out as he ran toward the slave quarters to get Sankofa. Frederick would help her escape to New Orleans then he would join her later under the guise of studying art. His mother thought herself an aficionado so she'd have no objection to him going away to develop a gift. It was the perfect cover, he thought, and he broke into a light trot. Nightfall was coming fast and Mr. Green would be there soon.
Something was wrong, the barracks looked deserted. He walked into the eldest slave's quarters. Jim was a reliable old man who knew everything that went on around the Duval Plantation, the Green Plantation, and all things in between. Frederick was worried when he didn't see Jim in his room shuffling about, preparing to pour a steaming hot cup of pot liquor while the younger children sat around sipping waiting to hear one of Ole Jim's adventure stories.
Frederick smiled remembering when he sat with Sankofa, as children listening to the tall tales Jim would tell. Now he looked around the room and hadn't a clue where Jim could be. He didn't know why but he knew if he went into the other quarters they'd would be as empty as Jim's.
Were they planning a revolt? Please not a revolt tonight, not when he was so close!
A piercing scream came from his house making his hair stand on end. When he turned toward his house and began running, he heard the scream again, then nothing. Frederick stopped and looked toward his home, the silence made him uneasy and he ran as fast as he could to see what was wrong.
When he got to the veranda he noticed his house was as dark and empty looking as the slave quarters. He walked through the already opened door, there were no lamps lit anywhere. Frederick became more concerned when he caught himself tiptoeing past the foyer into the grand living room that he found in shambles. Couches were overturned and Father's chair, what was left of it, was strewn across the Persian rug he was so proud to have acquired. Through the window the sliver of moon cast a dull glow on the rug where he noticed a large stain, but stained with what? What had happened here and where was…?
"Father?" he cried out in the darkness. Only an eerie silence answered him.
Suddenly, Frederick heard a rustling sound come from the dining room and he rushed toward it. His mother was splayed out on the floor. It looked like she took a horrible spill from her chair at the dining room table. A lamp rested on a table that Frederick set upright. He took a match out of the candy dish filled and lit the lamp to examine the extent of his mother's injuries. He was horrified by what he saw.
There was blood all over her neck, what neck she had left. It looked like an enormous dog had come along and taken a large bite out of it. He'd heard no dogs. Frederick wondered what could have done this? There was blood all over the floor near her and caked clots of it on her hand where she tried to stop the flow. What was more horrifying to Frederick was the frozen grimace on his mother's ashen dead face. Her eyes were rolled back and he could barely see the irises that held the same emerald green his eyes do. Her lips were purple and contorted in a position of the last thing she uttered in her life, the death scream that brought him running to the house.
Frederick felt sick but willed himself not to vomit. He didn't think he would be able to stop once he started. He didn't want to experience the smell of his sick mixed with his mother's drying blood and her very last indignity, the stench of her own waste. When thought crossed his mind that she probably died from self-induced humiliation when she shat herself, rather than the massive loss of blood from her neck wound, he began to laugh hysterically.
"It so funny to my brother. My brother laugh!"
He turned around and saw a ghoulish looking Ruth. There was a large bloodstain on her mouth along with blood splotches on her cheeks. She was grinning and Frederick swore he saw sharpened K-9s. No, they are fangs! What was happening that he was hallucinating such evil things? Had Ruth done this to his mother?
As if to answer his question, Ruth said, "She not my Mammy. She jus' a mean ole bitch that like to beat and whip! I fix it."
"Ruth, you did this? Why would you do something like this?"
"She not MY MAMMY! She not my Pappy neither! And she not my brother. My brother safe."
"What in Heaven's name are you?"
Ruth looked around the room as if someone might be trying to listen in on a big secret.
"Mr. Green makes me a devil! Hep a devil, him made Mr. Green, and they gone make Jane one. Ole Jim an' de res' gone burn Green's back to Hell!" and she let out a squawking cackle, "Don't worry none, Brother, I keep you safe!" She laughed even harder.
Sankofa! That wretched bastard Hep had been to the slave quarters before he was able to get to her. Frederick wasn't the kind of man who enjoyed seeing or participating in the punishment of slaves but he promised himself he would hold the whip to tear Hep's hide. As soon as he found his father he would rush over to Green's and demand restitution. The information she told him of Green also being a devil had completely slipped his mind, he was going to get Sankofa back and that's all that mattered. Ruth let out a long painful sigh. She'd been so still, he'd forgotten she was in the room with him. She was looking out the window in the direction of the Green Plantation.
"Ruth, where's the Master of the house?" he asked.
She continued to look out into the night.
"Ruth. Ruth, where's the M- Ruth, where's Father?"
"He gone," she said in a voice so morbid and sad Frederick grabbed her arms so he wouldn't faint.
Reluctant to ask, he could feel his mouth moving anyway, "Where did he go?"
"Hep takes him, our Pappy. Couldn't save him myse'f and Ole Jim came 'round too late. Pappy say Hep cain't have Jane but he give up two extry gals instead of Jane. Mr. Green was happy to git two extry gals but ole Hep mad. Say, 'Green you promise me Jane an' I aim to git her!' But Green like he gittin' two gals on one price so he calm Hep down fo' de deal 'til yo' bitch Mammy come. She had Jane an' threw her right inta ole Hep's arms. Pappy say no mo' two gals fo' Mr. Green an' Green gits mad at Hep. He go off, but come back by hisse'f to git dem two extry gals. Pappy were gittin' off de horse when he seen Hep an' hit him wit' de ridin' whip. Hep grab Pappy and break his neck; he pick him up and me up and take us on over to Green's. Green makes me his devil but I escape and come home. Pappy still there…"
I should have waited until I found a place that would marry us, Frederick thought as he left Ruth in the dining room with his mother's body. Frederick felt the Lord knew he has a pure heart and in his heart he had every intention of marrying Sankofa. He still would if he could only get to her in time. He was going to make sure they were the best Christians of any Christian family in the south and he would banish the land of the devilish plague that was spreading in his town.
He ran upstairs to his room to get his Bible for protection and rushed out of the house toward the Green Plantation.
There was chaos when he arrived. Green's slaves as well as his father's had already set Mr. Green's house on fire. Whoever was in there, whatever was in there would die, for there were slaves at every possible exit with torches in their hands, ready to use them.
Frederick spotted Jim in the melee of black bodies jumping for joy and darting in all directions looking for the traitor, Hep.
"You shouldn't been here, boy!" Jim said with an authority he'd never heard in his voice before. How could he know so little about these people? He'd live with most of them all of his life. Jim was an 83-year-old man who saw when he took his first breath and there he was before him a complete stranger. The man who spoke to him had the strength of someone half his age.
"Have you seen my father, Jim?" he pressed.
"Yo' Pap is dead and it's better so."
"Where is Sankofa? I have to find her and get her away from here."
"Where you hear that name, Son?" Jim asked him with suspicion in his eyes.
"She told it to me herself. Do you know where she is? Were you able to get her away from Hep?"
Jim looked down at the Bible Frederick clutched in his hands.
"Good you brung that with you, Son, it's all you can do fo' her now."
Jim lead him to Green's barn where he found a shackled Master Hosea Green and next to him, also shackled, was his beloved Sankofa.
"OH, THANK GOD!" Frederick, they killed your father and they're going to kill me! It's a revolt. Hurry and slip away to Greystone's place -- he'll send help. Any of them you can kill, you have my permission but get help."
He looked at a worn Sankofa. His heart broke in pieces when he saw the blood stream down her neck and the two holes it flowed from. He was too late. She would become the monster Ruth was -- he noticed his sister shared the same mark.
"What happened to her?" he asked Green.
"You have to get to Greystone, before sun up boy, you must hurry! Unshackle me and I can help too!"
"This mark, what is it?"
"Frederick, take the old man. Get me loose and we can stop this rebellion!"
"DID YOU MARK HER LIKE YOU MARKED MY SISTER, BEAST?"
Green took a deep breath and answered him with a peculiar calm.
"We don't realize what we brought to our shores, Frederick. None of the Masters, these great men of industry do, but me -- and them." He nodded his head in Jim's direction.
"How do you think a bunch of simple blacks were able to catch me? Immortals, boy! They live among all the savages and we helped to bring them here. We were able to eliminate a lot of them but not all, Frederick," he said and began to laugh.
"Look at my face Frederick," he continued through gales of laughter, "it's paler than most -- I've become accustomed to viewing my alabaster hands, but I don't look one fortnight over 45 in the year of our Lord, 1853. I was 45 in 1720, Frederick, look at me now!
"They need us; they can't roam around freely like they are white men. Why do you think Hep stayed in my care for so long? I really tried to save your father and the slave girl for you; I've had no ill feelings toward your family. But Hep…"
Frederick became angrier at each word Green spoke and focused his concentration on Sankofa. She looked like she was having a terrible nightmare, eyelids blinking rapidly as sweat danced across her forehead.
"Jim," he began, "what is happening to her? Is the Devil possessing her body now?"
"We gone have to kill 'em both, Son. She goin' through a change and Mr. Green gone keep on doin' what he doin'. He ain't gone be able to help himself."
Green was alarmed by Jim's words. He'd been shot before and survived but he knew there were ways he could die, Hep told him.
"Frederick, you can't let them do this to me! You can't let these savages kill a white man! They are slaves. Listen to me Frederick, we could -- I could change you. On my honor, you could live forever! Think of Jane, she's going to change. The two of you could live forever with no rules to hold you back. You could live forever!"
"If I were to be an immortal like you. Why are you so afraid?"
He nodded toward Jim who had, by this time, gone to the back of the barn and returned with the scythe. He swung it in a high arc that made him look like he was going to fall over on his back and impale himself; for a moment Green thought that was exactly what was going to happen. Before the laugh could form in his throat he notice the sure look on Jim's face -- it was the last thing he saw in his life.
Hosea Green's head rolled toward Frederick's shoe, eyes looking up at him as if to plead further for mercy. Frederick closed his eyes and held his Bible tighter.
" 'Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return ye children of men.'"
"Amen. Look here, Son, you need to say yo' goodbyes cause we have to bury this head and burn his body. And… If you can't do it then I will cause it the same fo' the womenfolk."
"I need a moment," Frederick replied.
"You need to hurry. Hurry fast."
As Jim stepped out of the barn, Sankofa's eyes shot open and looked through Frederick. He was surprised by the terror he felt when she looked at him. His hands shook as he stepped closer to her, never for a minute letting go of his Bible.
"Maybe we should have read that book 'stead of star watchin', huh Freddy?"
"I… I am so sorry. I didn't know… I should have let him take you then I could have helped you run away instead of…"
Sankofa closed her eyes. She could hear the pounding of his heart. Her focus was more intense and she heard the rush of the stream that ran through Green's property -- until she realized it wasn't a stream at all, she could hear the blood rushing through Frederick's veins.
Sankofa was overwhelmed with thirst, mouth dry as desert sand and she didn't understand why. But deep within her she knew, from what little she'd witnessed, Frederick was in danger if he didn't do what he'd come there to do.
"You gone kill me, Freddy?"
"I was hoping to try and fetch a Pastor for an exorcism. Maybe we could go away afterwards…" As he thought what a great idea it may have been, he looked around and realized a Pastor wouldn't be able to help in this case.
"I don't want Jim to. Please, Freddy, you have to save me. Hep done put somethin' bad inside of me an' I don't want to hurt nobody when it comes out. If you got to kill me then you do it!"
For the first time since he got there, Frederick set his Bible down. He walked to the wall where Jim laid the scythe and picked it up. It felt awkward in his hands, having done very little manual labor, so he swung it with care.
"I can't do this, I'm not a murderer. How can I say I love you and do this?" he asked as tears poured down his face. How did he end up in this brutal, hellish predicament?
"You know I don't want to live with this evil in me. I don't know how much longer I can hold it. Set me free!"
He held up the scythe trying as much as he could to mimic the way Jim held it, closed his eyes and swung across as hard as he could. He was stopped in mid-swing by a force that lifted him off of his feet and flung him across the barn.
"Always tryin' to take what don't belong to you. I told you I was gone come get what's mine." Hep said with a sneer on his face. He stood taller and ready to pounce on Frederick.
Frederick rose and looked Hep in his eyes. There was a peace about him that showed no fear of Hep. Most would say, having witnessed the exchange, he went into shock but Frederick believed it was at that moment when he had received his calling -- he was to destroy the evil that brought a blight upon this land and he was going to start with Hep.
"If you beg the Lord's forgiveness perhaps you will not spend the rest of your eternal life in Hell. But I can promise you this, if you do not, there will be no place you can go that I will not find you and send you there myself."
Hep's smile disappeared; he was frightened by the conviction in Frederick's voice. He seemed different from the rest who threatened to kill the "savage nigger" or send the "animal" back from the pit he came from.
Hep had heard so many negative promises made by so many arrogant men and here was this boy, all of 19 years, and he believed him. There were no arrogant boasts, no superior remarks made about race, just the cold fact that if he didn't allow himself to repent to the white man's god and be destroyed, this 19 year old boy would kill him -- an immortal.
"You won't live long enough to see the day, boy!"
Just as Hep was set to leap across the barn and attack Frederick, a torch came flying through the open door and set the dry straw ablaze.
Unaware of Hep, Frederick rushed over to Sankofa to free her. He could decide what to do with her once they got out of the burning barn. He figured being burned alive was far worse than what she deserved. She thought otherwise. She snapped at him baring large fangs.
"Let me be, Freddy! I can't live like a monster. Go on now!"
He ran out of the barn into a group of slaves, Jim at the front, watching as the flames grew higher and higher.
"That traitor's still in there, he gone burn to ash! You go home an' bury your dead, Son. If you want, I help you bury yo' Pappy."
Frederick's only thought was of what Mr. Green said: "We don't realize what we brought to our shores…"
He would sell his father's plantation and explore overseas -- and he would destroy anything that resembled Hep's creations if he came in contact with them. He was going to look for the source of this evil and take it apart at the root. There was only one way he believed he could do that, an ambition of this size and scope could take a lifetime -- he'd have to become one of them. Frederick hurried back to his home knowing who he could trust to help him walk among the Legion.
It wasn't as difficult a task to coax Ruth into making him like she was. Frederick convinced her of the importance of him being strong and able to protect her from those who would come and destroy them both.
Her bite was painful and he could hear his blood rushing from his veins in powerful slurps and gulps; the sucking sounds were sickly and twice Frederick gagged. He changed his mind and wanted get up and run from this terrible nightmare but Ruth with her unbelievable strength had him pinned to a dining room chair. When she finished she let him go, looking out in the darkness of the room with the knowledge of his life written all over her face. She resembled a horrible clown, the mask of his life's blood smeared across her lips and dripping down her chin. Ruth grinned a wicked crimson-toothed grin and extended her arm as if to grant her approval of what her brother intended to do.
He was weak, unable to close his hand around her wrist. Frederick felt as if he were in his downy soft bed, falling deeper in the feathers of his pillow. He was ready to let go and let the sweet blackness of death encompass him. It was comforting and not as half as bad as many who spoke about it made it seem; Frederick wanted to fade away.
The burning sensation on his neck kept him drifting between life and death -- Ruth slapped his face and his eyes shot open like pistons. She gashed herself with her ragged fingernail and placed her bleeding wrist to his lips -- Frederick could no longer resist. He felt the rush of blood open his senses with each drink he took. His want to sleep was blasted away by a keen awareness of everything around him; sounds, smells, the vivid color of nighttime, Ruth's heartbeat -- his heartbeat. He continued to gulp down her life force until he heard his heartbeat in complete rhythm with hers. He wanted more but she pushed him away lest he kill them both.
"Shows you what I will, then we be strong, Brother," she said.
During their brief time together, he learned what he could from Ruth before he finally made the decision to destroy her; he promised her forgiveness and absolution for his mother's murder.
"I am not the Heavenly Father but I am certain He will find favor with you, Ruth."
She thanked him before he lopped off her head as Jim had shown him to do.
Frederick stayed for a time on his plantation with Jim, listening and learning from Jim's stories, wakening to the fact that he could no longer be a man free to roam whenever his heart wished. He was one of the cursed now. He would make new acquaintances with the denizens of the night, the inhabitants of the moon and stars. His kind were no longer welcome in the land where the sun smiled on their faces and birds sang joyous songs to welcome them to the day; his birds were night owls that "hooted" warnings to those who roamed unfamiliar places in the dark.
When Jim died he took it as a sign from God to sell his family's plantation and go to Europe. He left Georgia in 1857, four years before the start of the Civil War. It was also a sign to Frederick that he was charged to do God's work and he would do it with the zeal of the Crusaders of old.
Frederick heard her…
Mongolia.
Who is she, calling to me from the darkness, he wondered?
He broke his slumber to find out. Frederick set on his journey from a small province in France to Mongolia, leaving a trail of blood that would span decades.
****
This was the closest he'd gotten to a leader. Years he spent, killing witches, a few warlocks, and their most treasured, Conductors, when he realized what he needed to do was find the leader of a powerful House to send the whole thing spiraling out of control -- Frederick had to destroy one of The Six.
He sat for a while and looked at the intricate carving on the stone door (they called it Cuneiform) that he knew lead to the temple where the witches paid homage to their leader, he was sure of it.
There was a point in Frederick's bloody spree when he'd become lost and thought it best that he kill himself (thinking he'd failed his mission) when his epiphany that God sent him a message, through the Shaman, brought him from the brink. He'd been a part of so many Covens or what he was led to believe were Covens, in Paris, London, Eastern Europe… There should have been chaos among them but he only saw them growing in number.
As modern times came bringing progress with it many had very little respect for the rules and traditions developed by the older breeds, with the exception of the two Cardinal Laws: Never expose your own kind to the Others and never kill your own kind. He cared little for their rules; as far as he was concerned they were written by the Devil himself. When Frederick reached Mongolia and met a fearless, slight looking old man, he found he cared very much for the laws -- especially the laws that would help him win the fight of the righteous.
It was foretold Pi Lo would meet a strange and sad man and when he did he would die. He was not afraid. The reindeer bones told him, the wind told him, and she told him. She always spoke to him in his dreams when peril was coming, even when he was a child. Pi Lo was able to save his tribe from many dangerous things when she spoke.
When he said goodbye to his family he saw he would be leaving good people behind, good Shamans. He'd come from a long line of very powerful Shaman who, when it was time to allow the newer winds to blow, simply rode away from their mortal homes and disappeared. Why should his fate be any different? He would deliver the message as he was told and disappear like his forebears.
He rode his little horse for two days until he saw a man standing in the middle of the barren land. He's just a boy Pi Lo, thought as he approached the specter. He was a tall slender young man with auburn hair. His hair accentuated his very pale, almost translucent skin. He had a crooked looking mouth but not twisted and evil like the others. If Pi Lo didn't know better, he'd think this was a man who was lost or a ghost haunting the land, looking for a love lost. But Pi Lo knew who and what he was, she'd told him, and seeing him standing there made him feel sad. He wasn't sad for his own fate but for the man-boy who stood before him, with a worn leather book in his hands, looking for peace Pi Lo knew he was never going to find.
Frederick didn't understand the language the Shaman spoke nor would he try to speak to him. The information he wanted coursed its way through the man's veins. He rationalized there would be casualties in a war, holy or not but was unsettled by the Shaman's composed demeanor. He bared his fangs and tried to make himself as fearsome as possible but the Shaman only smirked as he hopped off his horse. He gave the horse a hearty SMACK on its butt and sent it running back in the direction of his home. He took a step toward Frederick who, surprised by Pi Lo's boldness, stepped back.
"Do you understand me? Can you speak?" Frederick asked. " 'Can you speak?' What kind of ridiculous question is that to ask of someone? Of course he can speak." He looked at Pi Lo, "Can't you?"
"You no happy," Pi Lo said.
"English? Do you speak English?"
"You, no peace now. The end, you peace." Pi Lo shook his head and walked away from Frederick.
What ever did you mean by that Pi Lo, I wonder?
****
Pi Lo didn't fight when Frederick overtook him, he wasn't at all afraid. The only thing Frederick could get from his blood was he needed to break the Merkaba -- whatever that is. It struck him odd, scared him, that he could not read anything else other than the Shaman's name, "you, no peace", and there was a yurt with a coffin in it waiting for Pi Lo a few miles in the direction the horse ran. Frederick wanted to attribute all of this as an act of God but why did he feel so uneasy? And why was he nervous now?
Because you are not strong, yet you are determined. Enter.
He could hear something moving like cement block grating against cement block. A small door opened and Frederick entered.
He walked down a dark tunnel that led to an even darker stairwell where the stairs tilted downward. He was going into the belly of the beast. His new sight as a vampire made him able to navigate the pure blackness of the stairway but he still strained to find light or any clue of what lie ahead.
You are almost here, the beginning of your journey.
Frederick broke out in gooseflesh. He chastised himself for being so silly and frightened. This is what his destiny is, why he sacrificed so much. How could he come this far and turn back without destroying them? He couldn't fail his father.
Or your beloved. Has time erased her face from your memory so soon?
Frederick walked down the stairs with greater conviction. Whoever she is, was toying with him and he would have no more of it.
"…He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
When he reached the bottom step he was able to see torches lit the antechamber. There were objects that looked like they were used in rituals, sacrificial rituals, and he picked up a very sharp silver blade.
Frederick stepped into the larger main room and saw an eight-foot tall statue. It was nude except for an ankle length skirt, cuffs on both arms, and an ankle bracelet made from pure gold. The statue itself was complete ebony that appeared to be buffed because Frederick could see it had a glow. It had the stark facial features of a primitive African; sharp cheekbones, a broad nose and very full lips. It didn't look like a typical primitive African tribe carved statue -- the detail was like something from the Renaissance. He noticed on either side of its bottom lip there was the small detail of the fangs. When he looked closer, he could see blood was on its chin.
Is that fresh blood?
All of a sudden the eyes on the statue flew open. Frederick fell back in awe of the eight-foot vampire who was not a statue at all. He was staring in the fiery red eyes of a House Elder. He wanted to flee as fast as he could. He wanted to forget he ever came here but he had a mission to complete.
She stepped off of the three inch thick piece of granite that was her pedestal and walked to her throne. The torch lights followed her. She picked up a goblet that sat by her left hand. She used her razor sharp nail, slit her right wrist and let her royal blood drain into the goblet. She closed her eyes and was still as the statue Frederick thought she was.
"Who are you?" he asked, brandishing his Bible.
That will not help you here, Frederick.
"How are you doing that, speaking to me in my head?"
The time you have should not be spent asking me senseless things.
"You know my name, isn't it only fair that I know yours?"
I know of things unfair since Our Beginning, nevertheless, I am Ayalu, second born of Lilith and Sama'EL.
Lilith? Frederick knew that ancient name. He still held his Bible close but he feared he needed another sign. He stood before a thing that claimed to be one of the daughters of Lilith. His head began to swirl. He didn't know whether it was from Ayalu speaking to him or if it was because he was about to faint.
You need to drink it has been a while for you.
She extended the goblet without opening her eyes.
"No. That could be poison. You could be trying to sway me."
Ayalu opened her eyes and looked at Frederick as if seeing him for the first time. When he returned her gaze, he saw a depth that he was convinced no human being could ever witness and stay sane.
"Quem é você?" Her voice was low like thunder and echoed through the temple.
"You seem to already be aware of who I am," he replied surprised that he understood the question she asked in Portuguese.
"É blasfêmia para voce se aproximar de nim, mortal."
Frederick was livid, "YOU are the blasphemy! Your existence on this planet shames the Angels in Heaven! Look at the damnation you have caused!"
"Bebe, meu filho."
"I refuse to drink your blood."
Ah, Frederick, you will drink. For you are not strong enough and you wish to destroy your rival.
Frederick looked at the goblet. He thought of what she said and wonder why she would give him the means to destroy her, his only rival left in his quest.
"Bebe, meu filho."
"You are not my mother."
"E não sou sua mãe, mas em breve você vai conhecê-la, ela não será tão indulgente como I," she said as he finished the last drop of her blood.
He could hear hundreds of thunderous voices shouting at once in his head. There were ancient images flashing before him too quick for him to grasp, forests and desserts… The voices became louder and louder until they were all one chorus calling his name; Lilith herself was going to come to him, he thought, and she would show him no mercy for trying to kill her daughter. He passed out.
When he woke amid the opulent carvings surrounding the cavernous temple, he found himself sprawled at Ayalu's feet. She was still seated in her throne, eyes closed, goblet gone. The silver blade was placed in Frederick's hand and his Bible was on his chest.
Hep is the rival she speaks of! He still lives.
Yes.
He asked himself how that snake got away? The answer didn't matter because he was strong enough now to hunt him down and have his justice -- vengeance.
The Lord had spoken to him again. All he had to do was kill one of His oldest of things, one of the most ancient things he would ever see in his life. He had to kill her even after she'd bestowed a gift from God to him. She sat there extraordinary and still, he knew she was not going to attack him; it would be a lot easier if she did. How did David slay Goliath?
It was his destiny.
" 'It was his destiny.' Indeed," Frederick said. " 'The Lord shall judge the people; judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me.'"
David was a poetic man, Frederick.
"Yes, he was," he grasped the silver blade and ran toward Ayalu's throne, toward his destiny.
CHAPTER ONE
The adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons, people really do sound like them, especially when you aren't paying attention to a damn thing they're saying, thought Kaya. It wasn't that her girlfriend was boring her with all the "formalities" of tomorrow's initiation selection but her Aisha was making sandwiches and let's face it, anyone who knows anything about Kaya will tell you she loves a good sandwich.
Fiancé. Aisha is going to be my wife.
One could consider it's because she used the leftover chicken breast or because of the Provolone cheese or the fresh rolls she always got at the Cheese Eating Grin Deli down the street from their apartment, but one would be wrong.
Aisha had been in Kaya's life for the past six years. The first three weren't the greatest for Kaya financially but, unbeknownst to her, when she was broke those were the best for days Aisha.
"You're at your most creative when you are on empty," Aisha said to her once.
Never had she admired rocks and stones as much as she had when they walked across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan. Kaya pointed out their shapes and sizes. And if you leaned at the right angle, the tightly wound cables looked like an intricate web Spider Man spun to hold the bridge up. Supersizing and the $1 Menu were the greatest inventions in the world to lovers on a budget. There was always enough drink, in the bucket-sized cup, for two and they could treat themselves to fast food decadence for under $10 dollars when the urge overcame them. Because of Aisha's strange witch friend, Jenna, they always saw whatever movies they wanted for free. They liked the boring movies the most; they didn't do too much "watching" during the boring ones. And Aisha's small studio apartment filled with her colorful candles and her exotic incenses and oils made for a wonderful scented love nest. There was a pallet under her window that served as a bed where they slept as if it was a king-sized mattress. They were forced to know one another, Aisha remembered; every dimpled cheek, every curve, crease, nook and cranny, every soft expanse of beautiful bronze skin, each soft kink of black (sometimes brown in the summer months) hair, and sweet taste of pouted lips -- she never felt poor during her early years with Kaya.
Now she often found herself at Kaya's place, a spacious one-bedroom apartment with all the traps and trimmings. The branch's Customer Service Manager had many perks to go along with her salary but she also had to listen to people complain for 8 hours out of a 10 hour day that started at 6 o'clock in the morning. There were meetings to be conducted, extra work to be done; the days of sneaking into "see" a boring movie had since passed.
"Baby," Aisha said, "sometimes… I miss us."
"Hm? Who did what?"
"Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix! You weren't even listening to a word I was saying, were you?"
"Yeah, I was listening to you," she lied trying to retrace the last thing she remembered Aisha saying before she stepped into it with the "Peanuts" gang.
Aisha looked at her and grabbed the culinary work of art man called sandwich, and an evil grin spread across her face. She walked to the outer part of the kitchen's miniature island, toward the garbage bin and held her hand, with sandwich in it, high above her head as she stepped on the pedal opening the top to the bin. Kaya looked horrified.
"Don't you do it!"
"Now let me ask you again, since I appear to have your full attention. Were you listening to me?"
"It's blasphemy, what you're doing right there. People are all over the world starving and you are playing with my emotions!"
"Kaya?"
"OK! OK! I was listening but not just then. I got a little distracted."
"Kaya!" she said handing her the sandwich. She looked disappointed. "This is important for you to know. You have to take this stuff seriously."
"I'mff," she replied between bites, "I will. Go ahead. Tell me again about what's his name, Hiccups? Poo poo doo doo? What was it?"
"Hikpodu. I can't believe our House is even considering you as its Conductor."
"Well they are and it's no thanks to you, I must say. Archie told me you ain't say a peep when he mentioned me as a candidate."