Almost all of them had some blood on them. Some had gashes across their necks, blood still seeping down to their shirts from slashed throats. Others had wounds in their chests. And there was even one, who Sasha recognized as Roderick, with a knife through his eye socket.
The inner circle of the Order of the Black Sun had all been murdered—no, butchered.
The meeting had obviously reached a decision, whether it was the one the council had decided on or not. The decision was clear—Julian Corvus was in control.
“Do you think I'm overreacting now?” Galen asked with wide eyes.
Sasha knew the depths of Julian's madness. She'd seen how unpredictable he could be. He terrified her. She knew that his return couldn't be good but had hoped that maybe the Black Sun would be able to quell him before he caused any damage. Sadly, he had already gained support from his acquisition of the Spear of Destiny. He was the new blood that so many in the order thought was needed.
Julian claimed he was the change, and that change was already happening.
And everyone should fear it.
Julian scrubbed the blood off of his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He liked what he saw looking back at him; a man who had finally taken what was rightfully his, who had dared to take a stand against those who held him down.
He should have thrown a coup years ago. Eliminating the old fools running the Order of the Black Sun had been far easier than expected. Killing them would be simple enough, and it had been. In their arrogance, they kept very minimal security to protect themselves. They probably didn't think they would need to. It turned out that they were very, very wrong in the end.
They thought no one would dare make a move against them. They thought that no one was bold enough to defy them, knowing that the punishment for such action would be fatal. They were almost correct; there were indeed very few people who would ever even try to turn against them ... but they had underestimated Julian just like they always did. To them, he was just a wild dog who always stepped over the line in retrieving the world's most precious relics. They knew he was ambitious, and even mocked him for it, but they never understood just how strong his drive was. If they had, they might have foreseen the next step he needed to take.
He rubbed his hands together, letting the red stains rinse off of his skin.
It was amazing how much being killed and coming back to life could change your perspective; made him focus and stop wasting so much time. He had been killed facing enemies that the Black Sun should have removed ages ago. The leadership's inability to defeat threats to the order like David Purdue cost Julian his life.
That was where he knew he had to start: removing any threats to the Order of the Black Sun. David Purdue was just the most recurring threat. He and his allies had to be beaten down and put into their place, so they would never meddle in the Black Sun's affairs again. They had been thorns in the Black Sun's sides for far too long. They were a wound that had been allowed to fester and infect the order. To truly save the Black Sun, Julian needed to put an end to David Purdue.
5
COME WHAT MAY
They walked through the French Quarter. Purdue was still struck by the sounds of the area. It was like New Orleans was oozing with music. All kinds of instruments rang out from alleyways, rooftops, and windows.
“Before I go anywhere, I speak with Mama May. Ninety-nine percent of fortune tellers and psychics in this town are charlatans. Not Mama May. She is as real as real can be. If you ever need to know your days to come, she will tell you what you need to know. She once told me that I would soon find myself on the hood of a car. That afternoon, a car nearly struck me when I was crossing the street. Only reason I avoided it was because I took heed of Mama's words.”
“Could be coincidence,” Purdue said.
“Don't let Mama hear you say that word.”
They came to a small home tucked between two apartment buildings, like it had somehow resisted the progress of industry. There were a few people standing outside the door, looking anxious and nervous.
“Many come to Mama hoping to know their future. She is quite popular. Unlike most in her profession, she is ... sincere. Although, most here are residents. Neighbors who trust Mama May's advice. She does not advertise. Her gifts are known only to those in town. Tourists can waste their time and money on less gifted psychics.”
Jean led Purdue past the visitors waiting and opened the door for him. Purdue stopped on the doormat and turned back to the handful of people in line. “Not that I mind, but shouldn't we be at the back of the line?”
“Mama May and I have developed a close bond over the years. I have privileges a lot of her customers do not share.”
“Oh, she's your girlfriend, is that it? Special privileges and all that?”
“Not at all,” Jean said with a somewhat amused glare. “Mama May is to me what she is to everyone. A wise mother who just wants to share her wisdom and counsel those who need her advice.”
“Sure,” Purdue said. “And she gives you that advice in between the sheets. I know how it goes.”
“You are hopeless, my friend.”
They turned right once they entered the house and came into a cozy living room. Wood panels lined the walls, and a large fire burned in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm glow. A single chair rested in front of the blazing hearth and a small silhouette sat in it.
Mama May was a petite, frail woman who looked to be approaching her seventies. She wasn't wearing a turban or a cloak or anything Purdue thought most fortune-tellers liked to dress up in. If anything, she looked like any kindly grandmother you would pass on a street; who children would visit during the holidays.
When they entered, Mama May didn't turn to them. Her attention remained transfixed on the embers in the fire; staring at them like she was watching television, like some grand, hour-long story was taking place before her eyes.
“Is that you, Jean-Luc Gerard?”
Jean smiled. “You know it is.”
Jean took Mama May's hand and held it comfortingly. She looked up at him from her chair and then past him at Purdue. Her expression was passive like she couldn't tell if she was happy or not about his visit. Since most tourists didn't come to Mama May, it was probably strange that she was seeing an unfamiliar face.
“And just who is this? Are you going to introduce me to your friend, or not?”
“Sorry, Mama.” Jean helped Mama May out of the chair and they moved toward Purdue. “This is David Purdue.”
Mama May gave him a second glance, looking him over like she was trying to place his face. “Never heard of him.”
Purdue wanted to make a crack about how she was supposed to be all-knowing but thought twice about being snarky toward an elderly woman like her. Didn't seem fair. Instead, he just laughed and held out his hand in greeting. She didn't take it.
“He is a collector of old things,” Jean said.
“So, has he come to collect me then?” Mama May said coyly.
Purdue was surprised just how sharp she was for someone who looked so decrepit. Her appearance was more than a little deceiving. There was a vibrant energy beneath the fragile exterior; it was a strange energy too, unlike anything Purdue had really seen before in someone.
Purdue tried his best to make a good first impression. “I'm not here to collect you, no, despite how wonderful I'm sure you are. Jean here insisted that we come visit when we decided to work together. He said that you might be able to give us some insight into what lies ahead of us.”
“Perhaps,” Mama May said ambivalently. “Depending on what you want to know.”
“And how much does this cost?” Purdue asked, pulling out his checkbook. “If Jean can afford it, I'm sure I can.”
Mama May motioned for him to lower his checkbook. “My assistance is free of charge ... even to outsiders like you who like to throw their wealth around to their heart's content.”
Purdue nodded appreciatively and put his checkbook away. H
e had the money to spend, but it was never a bad thing to hear that you didn't have to spend it. Especially if Mama May wasn't as legitimate as Jean made her out to be. For all he knew, her psychic readings could just be as fake as the rest of them.
“I appreciate that,” Purdue said. “So, let's hear it then. Are you going to tell me who I am just destined to marry one day? Or what the gender of my theoretical firstborn shall be?”
“I don't preach prophecy,” Mama May said sharply. “I can't tell you what will happen.”
Purdue chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, but isn't that what fortune tellers do?”
“I can't see what will happen. Only you are in charge your destiny. I can only see what may happen.”
“Aye,” Purdue said with realization. “Hence, Mama May.”
“You may not be as dense as you seem.”
“But anything may happen. I could make a prediction right now and what I predict may indeed happen at some point. Anything could happen. A plane may fall from the sky and kills us all. That might happen. So what good is knowing the future if there's no certainty in the prediction?”
“There is no certainty in the future,” Mama May said, speaking at him like he was a child. “It is constantly changing. I only see one of many possible eventualities.”
“So, where are the crystal balls? The tea leaves?”
“You want tacky props, find another psychic,” Mama May said. “Such items are useless to those of us with actual vision. Just smoke and mirrors. Distractions.”
“How you do it in then?”
Mama May gave a tired sigh, like she had been asked that question so many times over the years and always had to show them evidence of her power.
“Give me your hand.”
Purdue did as he was told and unfolded his hand in front of her, expecting that she would read the lines on his palms. That was nothing new for many other so-called psychics he'd seen tell the future. His reassurance that it was all the same old mundane palm reading didn't help him avoid being caught off guard when she pulled out a knife and moved for his hand. He hurriedly pulled his arm away and shot Jean a look of warning. “The hell is this?”
“Your blood,” Mama May said. “I need your blood.”
“So, ask. You don't need to come at me with a blade. Ask to prick my finger or something.”
“She needs more blood than that,” Jean said. “If you want a clearer reading.”
“You could have at least warned me,” Purdue said to Jean under his breath.
Purdue grudgingly held his hand back out in front of Mama May. She put her free hand around his wrist. Her touch was gentler than he expected as she kept his hand firmly in place above the table. She then slid the knife across his palm. Purdue winced as it cut his hand open. Once she'd finished making her incision, Mama May put the knife down and closed his hand until he was clenching it into a fist. His blood seeped between his fingers and onto the table in front of Mama May. She seemed to watch each and every red drop fall with utmost fascination. His blood made a messy display of red liquid in front of her.
Her gaze was fixed on the pooling blood, but her hand was still tightly wrapped around his, squeezing hard enough that blood continued to drain out. She was muttering something to herself, something that Purdue couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, the words seemed to send a ripple through the woman, who twitched a little as she spoke.
Mama May let out a gasp, like air had just been sucked out of her lungs.
When she spoke, her voice was trembling. She almost sounded afraid. “You have a dead man following you. He traces your steps. Lingers close behind.”
Purdue gave a dramatic turn of his head, looking behind himself. When he turned back, he laughed and shook his head. “See? No dead men. No zombies.”
Mama May didn't take notice of his snarky response. She was lost in her own little world of visions. Her eyes were wide open, but it was clear that they weren't actually looking at what was in front of them. She wasn't seeing the blood; not really. She was seeing through it—beyond it—to another time, to another place.
As she hummed and muttered words he didn't recognize, Purdue was struck by just how strong the old woman's grip was. It was unbelievable, and growing tighter. Part of Purdue worried that if she squeezed any harder, his hand would be crushed. Purdue winced at the pain. Someone of that age and so fragile-looking shouldn't be so strong. It was more than a little alarming.
Purdue turned to Jean and his concern must have been easy to see.
“Stop resisting,” Jean said with a thin, knowing smirk. “Just listen close, my friend. That's all you have to do. Listen very close.”
That wasn't very helpful. Purdue hoped Mama May would hurry things along. At this rate, she would drain his whole body dry by the end of her prediction.
This whole psychic reading session was much more frightening than he thought it would be. It was far more intense than any others he'd seen before. The blood alone made it feel so much different from any of the other tacky fortune-tellers.
If this was a performance, it was a damn good one.
“You won't be able to move. You won't be able to stop it. You will only watch. Yes, only watch. Frozen. Frozen in place. You will be frozen.”
Mama May was shivering. It was impossible to know what she was seeing but it must have been cold.
She gripped his hand harder, and finally spoke again. “You will lose everything. Everything you ever had. Taken. Taken away. Riches to rags. Riches to rags.” Mama May's whole body was shuddering wildly. It was like she was convulsing from some epileptic attack. “Riches to rags. Riches to rags! Riches to rags! Riches to rags!”
Purdue had enough. He didn't need some woman screaming in his face. He tried to pry his hand away but couldn't get out of her grasp. She just kept shouting; horrified shrieks like she was witnessing a murder right before her very eyes. Maybe she was.
Even Jean looked scared now but only approached a few steps, keeping a safe distance.
“Is this normal?!” Purdue yelled over her screams. “Does this usually happen?”
“I am not sure! I have never seen her get like this!” Jean called back.
“RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS!”
The phrase rang out in the room over and over. She rocked violently as she spoke the words, still clinging to Purdue's hand. It was like the sentence was bursting from every part of her body, erupting uncontrollably with no hope of stopping it.
“RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO RAGS! RICHES TO—”
Mama May fell abruptly silent. She gasped and heaved. Her hold of Purdue seemed to be the only thing keeping her standing. She suddenly looked up at him and he saw terror in her gaze. She pulled him in close.
“Remember this, David Purdue,” Mama May said, her voice quiet, barely louder than a whisper. “The only one who can lay a dead man to rest is another dead man.”
Her eyes closed, and she stumbled backward, releasing Purdue's hand. Jean rushed to her side and kept her from falling over. Purdue looked down at the gash running across his wounded palm and then to his blood that had formed a mess on the table. Jean helped Mama May to a seat and then handed Purdue some bandages, obviously prepared for blood to be spilled. Purdue wrapped his hand up tight, but they paled in comparison to how tight Mama May's grip was.
“You still could have warned me that she was going to cut me open,” Purdue said stubbornly.
“You survived,” Jean said, turning his attention to the old woman in the chair. “May, are you alright?”
“I think so,” Mama May said, putting a hand to her head. “It has been some time since I saw something like that. Something so grave ... so ... unavoidable.”
“Unavoidable?” Jean looked flabbergasted. “But your visions are not guaranteed.”
“You said so yourself,” Purdue said, shaking his hand. “You only see things that may happen.”
“Usually, yes,” Ma
ma May said, looking exasperated and haggard. “But this ... this will happen. It will. As much as you try to stop it.”
“Tell me more then,” Purdue said. “Give me a chance to stop it.”
Mama May shook her head firmly. “That is not possible.”
“Why?!” He didn't mean to ask as loudly as he did, but he felt anxious, completely off-balance after what had happened. He hated to admit how afraid this whole thing had made him. He'd never experienced anything quite like that before.
The blood. The inability to break free from her grip. The screaming.
It had all been horrible—but the words she shared were the worst.
Purdue needed to know more.
Mama May, however, didn't seem willing to give him what he needed. She spoke softly, looking truly apologetic. “I am afraid there is nothing more I can tell you. What I see ... it fades away quickly once it passes. It's all a haze, even now, it passes.”
“Convenient,” Purdue said, clenching his jaw. “Immediate amnesia. Great. Perfect.”
“I am sorry,” Mama May said. “I may not remember the details ... but I remember the feeling and I do feel for the pain that you are going to have to face.”
“I've got another hand right here,” Purdue said, throwing out his other palm. “Take another look then.”
“That is not possible,” Mama May said. “I cannot see the same vision twice.”
Purdue swore under his breath. So many rules to something that shouldn't even exist. Psychic foresight shouldn't be something that had so many strings attached to it.
Everything Mama May said to him; everything she had screamed at him. It was all so cryptic and so vague. Maybe she was a fraud and maybe none of it actually mattered, but the pain in his hand wouldn't let him believe that. It wouldn't let him give himself that excuse.
No. She'd really seen something awful in his future.
A dead man following him, losing everything. It all sounded rather bleak, and certainly not an ideal future.
Riches to rags.
She'd said that the most and it was what immediately stuck to his memory. It had planted itself into the front of his thoughts and wouldn't budge.
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