The Revelator

by D W Bell

  Through this small check on the organization, the masters were still able to exert a tiny control over the arts, if not the offspring. The progeny being sent off to form The Wolf Pack where the children were trained from birth at The Den.

  “And that, boys and girls, is the whole sordid story.” Papa rocked slowly in his chair, closed eyes turned upwards, a smug smile on his lips, clearly pleased with himself.

  “Splendid, Papa! What an amazing story! They should make a movie of that and have you narrate. Morgan Freeman ain’t got nothing on you.” Guillaume giggled to himself as he topped up Papa’s tea, unabashedly fawning over the old man.

  “But how did maintaining the bai shi mumbo-jumbo make any difference at all? Boudreaux still gets his assassins, maybe not ultimate but certainly bred to be so, and goes about his business. I don’t get it.” John sat cross-legged on the creaky old porch, confused and frustrated by all that he did not understand.

  Irritated by the interruption, Papa retorted not with the swift strike of the adder, but the slow, inevitable crushing of the python, “I see why he is not your bai shi. No head for the long game. Only sees what is in front of him.” Leaning forward in his rocking chair the old houngan took a long pull on his cigar and wreathed John in a smoky cloud of shame.

  Master Fu growled in agreement, “One of his many flaws, but feel free to educate him. Perhaps his ignorance will fade, although not likely.”

  With a smirk Papa continued, “After a generation or two, the Confucian family shame began to lose its sting and the subsequent lineage holders realized they had been duped. Through circuitous backchannels men who in most cases would never meet began to plan. Through strict adherence to the ancient bai shi tradition the masters attempted to stem the flow of offspring into the program.”

  “The cunning old masters manipulated the single disciple rule to their advantage, requiring perspective replacements to defeat the current bai shi, which is an ordeal I believe you have firsthand knowledge of, John-boy.” Papa’s serpent-green eyes flashed with a mischievous gleam, “But we all know Hans took a dive for the cause, whether he truly understood his role or what he was a part of or not. That beast was a natural martial machine who was literally born specifically to kick ass and take names. When trained by the great Master Fu, you can see why he was undefeated for so long.”

  John ignored the jab and reminded himself to speak respectfully to the aggravating old man, “But how does that control the breeding? It still appears the situation is the same as before, two masters each with a bai shi.”

  Papa Koulèv smiled and favored Master Fu with a conspiratorial wink, “Each master had his own way to prevent the fathering of offspring. Master Lung, wily old dragon that he was, ensured each candidate for bai shi never survived the training long enough to be bred. Master Fu, with a little help from yours truly, cultivated the ultimate badass as was intended, but made him impotent with my poisons. Made Hans a hell of a lot meaner too, I gar-ontee.”

  “However, in their own individual arrogance, they sought to destroy the organization in its entirety, which led to the folly of your journey here.”

  “So all this killing has been for nothing? Why do you call it folly?

  It was Master Fu’s turn to answer, “Because without destroying The Pack our familial shame and this infernal breeding continues, and no one knows the location of The Den. Do they, Papa…”

  The old houngan chuckled softly, closed his eyes, and rocked.

  ―

  At the head of a long conference table, Lilith standing attentively at his left shoulder, Boudreaux addressed a group of the top preachers, producers, and media consultants of the pastor’s Christian broadcast network. “Our larger-than-life, made-for-tv shepherd has abandoned his flock. The White Lion of the Lord roars no more.”

  “Let us all take a moment of silent reflection and prayer to remember him and ask God to forgive his sins and have mercy on his soul before we continue with these proceedings. Bow your heads.” He watched as every head bowed and every eye closed then winked at Lilith, slumped in his chair, and screwed up his face in a look of utter boredom. Returning upright, Boudreaux smoothed the front of his suit jacket and reconvened the meeting, “Amen. Lilith, the agenda if you please. New business?”

  “Yes, sir.” Raising her clipboard Lilith read off the bullet points in a soulless monotone, “Damage Control followed by Succession Planning.”

  “Ah, yes. Thank you, Lilith. We all know that despite his steadfast and faithful public persona, the old man was a truly flawed child of God. However, his zeal for the Word and vision for a future nation that was truly ‘under God’ begat something larger than himself, this network and its affiliates, and we mustn’t let what must most certainly be a physical manifestation of the will of God to be sullied and destroyed by the shortcomings and transgressions of one debauched mortal.”

  “Not to mention losing the millions of dollars of offerings and tithes gathered by the network to do the Lord’s work.” Boudreaux leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and met the eyes of everyone in the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, how do we spin this?”

  “Sir, if I may?” With a raised hand a young producer awaited Boudreaux’s acknowledgement to continue, “What information has been released or leaked to the public at this point? Once we know what’s known it will be easier to figure out how best to pivot.”

  “Sensible reasoning. The good news is that no one outside this room knows the old coot has gone to his reward. Thankfully we start already ahead of this thing and will control the lion’s share of the early coverage.” Boudreaux giggled at the pun.

  Already furiously scribbling notes, a middle-aged woman in glasses interjected, “Paramedics? Authorities?”

  “Have not been notified.” Boudreaux indulged in a devilish smirk as the spin machine began to churn before him. “He remains in his quarters where I found him. Sitting in a puddle of his own shit. I felt it undignified for anyone else to see him like that. As you all know, the old reverend and I were very close and I am certain he would not have wanted to be remembered that way by you, his peers and admirers.”

  “Do you want us to work the drug angle or try to bury it?” Boudreaux pursed his lips thoughtfully at the media analyst’s question.

  “Accidental overdose?” The short silence was broken by another colleague.

  Another objected, “Barbiturates haven’t been sexy since the 70s. Elvis in ’77.”

  “The 60s, really. Marilyn Monroe and so on,” an older man corrected.

  The young woman practically squealed with the eureka moment, “Change the catalyst to negligently prescribed opioids for back pain! It shifts fault to the pharmaceutical industry, taps into the public sympathy for the ongoing opiate crisis, and opens the opportunity to tack on an anti-prescription drug campaign to his legacy!”

  “Splendid!” Boudreaux’s uncharacteristic outburst of praise took them all by surprise. “Now let us hear some ideas for the funeral. It needs to be a presidential-level affair. I’m thinking a Lincoln/JFK type of feel. Go!”

  Chapter 27

  “Yes,” Papa Koulèv rocked slowly with his eyes closed, wreathed in a halo of his blowing smoke, “The Den is where the program is most vulnerable, and its location is a closely held and heavily guarded secret. But the mystères know many unknown things.”

  “Master Lung and I were able to slow and then halt completely the contribution of our bai shi to The Den, but, The Pack has begun to breed within itself lessening the effect of our efforts. Our solutions proved to be too little too late as The Pack has grown beyond our influence.” Master Fu declined Guillaume’s offer of a refill with a wistful shake of his head.

  “This is why Master Lung’s final solution to defang the snake was sound in concept but flawed in execution.” Papa blew another smoke ring as he resumed control of the narrative, “The snake quickly regenerates smaller fangs, perhaps not as sharp and deadly as its formerly ultimate weapons, but just as effect
ive and more numerous.”

  “As you can imagine, the time investment alone is extraordinary to cultivate these assets from birth to maturity. Thanks to the efforts of the masters even Boudreaux has lost patience with the process and is attempting to skip a step by adopting the preexisting offspring of promising candidates, but this too will take time to tell as to success.” Papa cracked his eyelids open slightly to regard John with a curiously somber gaze then shut them tight and continued rocking, “Anyhow, to really stick it to Boudreaux ya’ll have to purge The Pack and destroy The Den. You savvy? As the man say, ‘this is chess, not checkers.’”

  ―

  “So, who are we putting forward as successor?” A hopeful sounding senior pastor finally broached the question all had been nervously putting out of their mind. The almost jovial funeral discussion chatter fell deathly silent.

  “I think Bishop Boudreaux has a nice ring to it.” Speaking for the first time since stating the agenda for the meeting, Lilith confirmed all their fears.

  With a mirthless guffaw Boudreaux savored the moment as he scanned the conference room for reactions, relishing every involuntary bodily cringe and pained look, “Hush yo’ mouth, Lilith! Bless your heart, you flatter me.”

  Satisfied that all in attendance knew who was truly the power behind the throne Boudreaux turned on the charm with a beaming smile, “Besides, Bishop Boudreaux makes me sound like some purple-suited passa’ in a black Baptist church, and we don’t want to lose the ignorant crackers in our congregation.” He waited for a couple of uneasy courtesy laughs and moved on, “No, friends. I’m just simple, old Brother Boudreaux, content in offering comfort and guidance to his betters that are called to the pulpit.”

  “Who then?” The cowed but still hopeful senior pastor cut to the chase.

  With a pitying smile Boudreaux crushed the man’s hopes, “I’m sorry, Brother Mike. You were quite the lion yourself in your day, but it is time for a more modern approach.” He paused to relish the moment as the crestfallen old fool slumped dejectedly down into his seat. “No, we need fresh, young blood to carry us into the next generation and beyond. A candidate who understands the current youth while still being endearing to the older folks. Who’s that boy band looking young fellah that preaches like he stepped out of a self-help book?”

  “The Youth Minister? Brother Chad?” The production assistant blushed a little as she realized how eagerly she had provided the answer. Quickly composing herself she managed a whispered aside to the woman next to her, “The cute one with the faux-hawk.”

  Boudreaux clapped his hands in delight, “That’s the boy!”

  Outmaneuvered but seeking to regain face, the senior pastor chimed in once more, “We should have the title conferred by the grieving widow, really solidify the sense of legacy. ‘You were like a son to him’ and all that.” Puffing himself back up to a respectable position he addressed Boudreaux directly, “Do you think she will play ball?”

  Boudreaux acknowledged the bloated buffoon with a polite nod as he rose to his feet and buttoned his suit jacket, “I am certain she will. Meeting adjourned.”

  ―

  Papa had dismissed both acolytes back into the cabin so “the grown folks can talk” as he put it. John crept stealthily to the window, straining to hear, but it appeared the old men were just staring at each other across the unused checkerboard as they both slowly rocked in silent synchronicity. A bored sigh drifted from the kitchen, “You might as well join me for a drink. They gonna be a while.”

  John stepped through to the little kitchen to join Guillaume at the table, “You’ve seen this sort of thing before?

  “Oh yes, many times!” The Cajun lilt had crept back into his speech with the slight flush of inebriation as the youth poured a shot for John and then refilled his own.

  “Somebody is always wanting something from Papa, but this silent staring thing only happens once in a great while. Papa says all the great masters can communicate in this way. But masters of what I don’know.” Both men relaxed and chuckled in the brief moment of levity, “Cheers!”

  “He teaches you voodoo or whatever this is?”

  “Oh, I learn some herbs, some potions, some poisons and the like, a few simple charms, but really I’m just here to care for the old snake-in-the-grass. Folks think he keeps me as a slave or has a hex on me or whatever, but really I just love the cranky old fucker.”

  “So you believe in all this mumbo jumbo spirit stuff?”

  Guillaume giggled into his shot glass, “Oh, mon cheri! I more than believe. I’ve seen enough to know. Don’t you?”

  “I didn’t used to, but after being beat over the head with the reality of it for the past few months I’m coming around. What’s all that serpent and demon stuff about Boudreaux?”

  Guillaume trembled and hugged himself as if suddenly chilled regardless of the oppressive swamp heat, “I don’t like to think about that. I’ve only met him once and he scares the wits out of me. He’s the only one Papa leaves this swamp to have an audience and parley with, rather than him coming here as is proper.”

  “Which, confidentially, suits me just fine! I’m used to dirty old men leering at me, but when that one looks at you it’s like he wants to rape your soul. Like I say, he scares the shit out of me. And I think he scares Papa a little too, though he’d never admit it. One mo’gain?” The young man refilled both glasses with a shaky hand and without waiting for an answer.

  “Is that why your master is helping us?

  “There’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip.” Guillaume burst into a derisive laugh, “I don’t think Papa ever truly helps anybody. Every superstitious coonass that comes here for love charms or John the Conqueroo never seems to get what he bargained for, but Papa always gets paid. He’s a cagey ol’ rascal, I got to tell you fer’shure.”

  The boy sobered quickly with a contemplative look in his eye. “Sit tight. I got a little gift for you. Nothing like Papa could do, if he was so inclined, but it might help.”

  Guillaume jumped up and rifled through an old medicine cabinet, the opening of each drawer filling the air with the pungent and musty smells of dried herbs and the like. “Gotcha!”

  Pleased as pie the beautiful youth presented Smith a small silken pouch with a beaming smile, and then cast his eyes down in boyish bashfulness. “It’s just an old gris-gris, but I added some High John the Conqueror to it. Seemed the proper thing.”

  “You girls done with your little tea party?” From the rumble in his tone and the scowl on his face, Master Fu was in a foul mood.

  “Come now, Master Fu! We push these boys so hard, they deserve a little fête now and again. Laissez les bon temps rouler!” Papa Koulèv coughed a cheery, smoky laugh as he slapped the tiger master on the back.

  “John, we go.” The curtness of the master’s tone switched John to high alert.

  “Yes, sir.” He shot to his feet with such force that it sent his chair skidding across the floor behind him. Catching Guillaume’s eye, he nodded his thanks and reverently but quickly stashed the gift in his pocket so as not to be impolite.

  “Well, if you must be going, it would be terribly impolite for me not to offer you a cup of tea for the road.” Papa’s green eyes gleamed with mischief, “I’m brewing an old family recipe for Guillaume and I.”

  “No. Thank you, Papa. John, let’s go.” Master Fu’s gratitude was expressed through clenched teeth.

  With a teasingly dramatic sigh Papa relented, pulled a heavily carved jade bottle from the front pocket of his overalls, and placed it in Master Fu’s hand, “Alright, suit yourself. But take your medicine. You’ll need it before you know it.” He made a sort of hand waving blessing in the tiger master’s direction and then busied himself at the stove, “I need to put the kettle on and get started on the tea. You two can show yourselves out. Do you know The Way?”

  “I’d like to think so, but I often do not understand it.” Papa’s double entendre had not been lost on Master Fu.

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nbsp; “Such is the way of The Way, I am told. Follow the path and it will be revealed to you. Farewell, Master Fu and John. Safe travels and good luck.”

  “Ya’ll come back now, ya’ hear?” Guillaume’s youthful laughter seemed to heighten the tension rather than break it as Master Fu looked coldly at the still smiling Papa Koulèv and left without saying a word, a confused but wary John following close behind.

  ―

  They had trudged in awkward silence, only speaking to curse shin-scraping cypress knees and leg-swallowing mud holes. Finally back up on the packed gravel trail that led back to the airboat dock and the only link to the outside world, John stopped to catch his breath, “Why did things get so tense back there? Were we in danger?”

  Master Fu gave a dejected grunt as he pointlessly brushed mud from his saturated trousers, “Yes and no. Papa Koulèv is sacrificing the boy for greater power and status on the other side as he crosses over.”

  “What?! That kid loves him! Does everything for the old bastard!” John clenched his fists in frustration as he looked back the way they had come.

  “Well, now he can serve him forever in the afterlife. Or so Papa believes.”

  “Wait, the tea? He was trying to poison us?

  “Technically he was offering to poison us. Giving us a more peaceful out to this suicide mission, to his much greater benefit of course, which is as magnanimous as that old snake is capable of being.”

  “Motherfucker…”

  “Indeed. In his mind he was being quite polite and caring while possibly gaining two more servants to boot.”

  “Well, ain’t that sweet of him.”

  “You’re too ugly for him anyway.” Both men chuckled softly in their muddy, swamp-soaked despair, laughter, even when dark and doleful, being the best medicine.

  “Decided not to stay for tea, old man?” The only thing that alarmed John more than Lilith’s voice lilting from the surrounding swamp to interrupt their moment of succor was his master’s reaction to it. Master Fu instantly assumed a fighting stance and began frantically scanning the surrounding vegetation with what may have been real fear in his eyes. Boudreaux’s beautiful assistant stepped casually into the sun-dappled clearing, straddling the path before them.