Douglas looked back at him with the kind of contempt a man would have for a dog turd in the yard.
“Fill that, boy,” he said. He nudged his bearded chin at Kane. “And bring my guest a cup. And a plate when you bring my breakfast. Man looks famished.”
Anthony swayed slightly, his dull expression falling on Kane. Douglas barked at him.
“Hurry, boy!”
Anthony turned away and left without a word, his expression the same as all the rest of the slaves.
“What is wrong with these people?” Kane asked, glaring at The Master. “What the hell did you do to them?”
The man leaned back in his chair, regarded Kane coolly as he spoke.
“It’s called ‘Zombification.’ Makes ‘em less likely to organize and try anything stupid. Hell, I get more out of a bunch of negro zombies than you’d think. Nice and obedient. They’ll even fight and kill if you tell ‘em to.” He grinned, the smile wicked as his eyes flashed. “Well, if I tell ‘em to.”
“You?” Kane raised an eyebrow. “Based on the house, you’re a God-fearing Christian. They usually aren’t too receptive of magic. In fact, most Christians I know think it’s a gift from the Devil.”
“A gift for you,” Douglas said, sitting forward and clasping his hands in front of him. “Me, well, I shun such gifts. The Devil knew better than to approach a man who walks with the Lord and offer him demonic power. But, it don’t mean that it doesn’t have its place. Why condemn my own soul to the fires of Damnation when I can hire someone who already has that locked up for me?” He stared hard at Kane. “Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. Shepherd?”
“I was raised Catholic,” Kane said.
“Ah,” Douglas sat back in his chair. “So I’ll take that as a no.”
Kane shrugged. It was his usual response to ignorance.
Douglas continued.
“See, God wants his people to live in prosperity. Makes him happy to see us thrive and live a fruitful life. Now, some of the measures we have to take may be questionable to some like yourself. But, we’re on the Lord’s path here. On the path of success, life, and righteousness.” Douglas leaned back in his chair.
“Why am I here?” Kane asked, his tone short and intentionally abrupt. “Your men could’ve killed me on the way. They didn’t. I’m guessing you have a different agenda? Or did you just want the pleasure of my company?”
Douglas laughed again, looked up at Richard.
“He’s a right ornery asshole, ain’t he?” He slapped the desk again, looked at Kane as he spoke. “Whoo! That was a good one!” He leaned forward slightly. “No, Mr. Shepherd. You’ve got a reason to be here. It has nothing to do with your charming personality, and everything to do with the abilities you and that pretty little blonde girl you run with have. And what they can do for me.”
“For you?” Kane raised his eyebrow. “I doesn’t work like that. Especially not now.” He shrugged. “No amulet. I’m powerless.” It was risky. He had to try. If nothing else, he had to see what kind of response he would get.
Douglas glowered at him, sat back in his chair and sighed.
“That, my friend, is a lie.” He shook his head. “Lying is of the Devil. Cliff, please show Mr. Shepherd what we do with liars and those who walk with Satan.”
The slap came quick, Kane’s head snapping to the side, the blow jarring his vision. He shook it off, glared up at Cliff. Rage swelled in him, hatred like he’d never known. Something shifted in his body as if assuming a more comfortable position from which to strike. Something large. Hungry.
Feral.
Kane spoke, his voice not sounding like his own.
“Do not touch me again.”
Cliff laughed.
“Whatcha gonna do, Yank?” He leaned in close. “Gonna spell me?”
Kane could smell blood. Sweat. Tobacco. Everything was hazy.
“We know you’re lyin’ because of the reports, Mr. Shepherd,” said Douglas. “You’ve attacked my men more than once. Though I do believe you about your amulet.” Kane looked up as Douglas held up his amulet, the cracked amber catching the morning sun. One of them must have taken it out of his pocket at some point.
Cliff nudged him a little. The thing inside Kane growled.
“See that? We gotcha, Yank. You belong to The Master, now.”
Kane’s voice was low, a growl that almost matched the creature scratching at the inside of his head.
“I said don’t touch me again.”
Cliff spat. Kane flinched, spittle peppering his cheeks, nose, and chin. “Or what? Huh?! Do somethin’! I fuckin’ dare ya!”
The world was a red fog, the roar in his ears only allowing the screams in as hands reached out in his vision, tore at Cliff’s face and neck. The man flailed, caught by surprise as Kane found himself out of the chair and on top of him. Flesh ripped from cheekbone. Fists smashed nose, broke teeth, split lips. He used his thumbs to stop the frantic eyes from staring at him. Cliff’s mouth opened wide in a long, pained scream. Kane’s hands grabbed Cliff by the mouth, pulled it open further. A swift yank, breaking twigs. The screaming was gone.
The red faded as fast as it’d come, the hunger dying back. The smell was replaced with the sweet scent of tobacco in the room combined with the stench of Cliff’s body odor.
What was left of Cliff.
Kane fell back, the realization slamming into his chest. He scrambled away, backed himself into the chair he’d been sitting in, his eyes locked on the mess that’d once been Cliff’s head.
The mess he’d made.
Murdered. Kane’s mind reeled at the thought. You’re a murderer, Kane.
He heard Douglas chuckle from behind the desk.
“And that is how we deal with failure ‘round here.”
“What the hell did you do to me?” Kane could hear the panic, the shock in his own voice.
Garrett leaned down and reached for him. Kane pulled away as Douglas spoke.
“I wouldn’t advise that, Garrett,” he said, sitting back in his chair as he placed the broken amulet on his desk. “At least not until you fail me. Then, by all means, lay your hands on that boy.”
Garrett backed away, looking back and forth from Kane to Cliff.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “He killed him. Just plum-fuckin’ killed him!”
“Like an animal,” Douglas said, smiling. “Just like they said.”
“Failure is not tolerated,” Richard said, grinning at Garrett. “Nine is the number to keep order. Nine. Not eight.”
“It’s not really that hard to remember,” Douglas said. “So I’m sure it won’t be an issue again. Otherwise, Richard might just have to figure out how to wrangle new slaves on his own.”
So casual. Like he wasn’t even there. As if there were no corpse on the floor. Kane blinked. He’d done that. He’d mauled Cliff to death. He’d wanted to eat him. And they just sat around chatting like nothing had happened, like everything was perfectly normal.
It was too much for Kane. His body tensed, his eyes frantic as they went to each living man, then back to the corpse he’d left in a pool of blood.
“What the hell did you do to me?” It took Kane only a second to realize he’d screamed at them. He was shaking, his heart racing, pounding so hard it hurt. His entire body was soaked in sweat.
Douglas laughed, gesturing at Kane as he spoke.
“Listen to this boy, will you?” he said to Richard. The Shadow Wraith just grinned at Kane, his eyes gleaming. The Master regarded Kane, his voice still humored as he spoke. “We ain’t done a thing to you, son! Shoot, all we did was bring it out of you! But you’ll make a fine addition to Harbor Plantation, I promise you that. You’re gonna help me do the Lord’s work out here!”
“The Lord’s work?” Kane shook his head, still trying to come down off his panic. Murderer. Animal. He couldn’t stop shaking. Why couldn’t he calm down? “Wha…what does that mean?”
“It means a great deal, son,” Douglas sai
d. “It means you’re gonna help me keep order around here. It means I’ve got a helluva bargaining chip with that British fella from up North now. All the Northern Oligarchy would love to get their hands on a Magician like you, make a scene out of what you did today. The British fella wasn’t lyin’ about what you’ve got. Some curse on you. What you’re capable of doing. He wants you bad, Mr. Shepherd. But not until I’m done with you.” He looked at Richard and nodded to Kane. “Let’s give him some time to rest.”
Kane looked at Richard just as the man put his fist to his mouth and blew. A small pin prick in his neck, dizziness, the world blurred. Kane fell back, his body numb before he could think to reach to his neck for the dart that brought a heavy and suffocating sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Tabitha screamed, tears streaming down her face, her body racking with sobs as she stumbled over a root, fell against a tree, her blonde hair matted from sweat and tangled with twigs and leaves from running through the brush. Her shirt was torn in the back, her skin exposed, bloody from the claw marks. She tried to cast her ice spell, hurl a spear, but it failed. She was too panicked. Not focused.
Get away. Run.
“No, Kane!” she screamed as she got to her feet, ducked around the tree. Kane ran to her, hit the large trunk. Wood splintered. He reached out. Tried to grab her. Hold her.
She ducked his grasp, got her footing, ran like the wind as she pushed brush and branches out of her way. Kane moved swiftly. There was no effort in keeping pace. He wasn’t even sweating.
He was toying with her. It made the meat sweeter.
He lashed out, the fur on his arm spotted, the meat hanging off in places. The clawed hand opened, swiped down, opened another set of bloody trails on her back and shoulder. Ripped through her bra strap, tore away more of her shirt. She fell, screamed in agony. The smell of blood made his head spin. He ran his tongue over jagged, broken canine teeth. She rolled onto her back, pushed away from him on her heels and elbows, her eyes wide with fright as he closed in on her.
They were on a small beach, an open part of the marsh. Water lapped up on the shore, soft and rhythmic as Kane moved toward Tabitha. He wanted to take her. Taste her. Feel her.
Devour her.
Something moved in the corner of his eye. He looked down, saw the monster staring back at him from the reflection in the water. The head was like a large, demonic dog, the eyes glowing yellow, the features sagging, bone exposed. The antlers protruding from his head were chipped in places, the prongs dark with dried blood. Drool hung from the rotted mouth, the throat open and tendons exposed.
He turned back. Looked at Tabitha as she wept, shaking her head.
“No,” she said, her voice cracked. “Please!”
He crouched down as she reached for him, her eyes pleading.
The creature clutched his heart, fed his anger. His hunger. Jaws snapped as clawed hands went for her throat.
Kane screamed as he tried to flail his arms, tried to hit something, fight off the beast. He struggled against the binds, the rope tight around his wrists, pinning his arms behind him in the chair. His neck hurt from his head being slumped over. His heart raced, his mind a cyclone, the room spinning. His breathing was rapid, the shouts coming every time he exhaled. He looked around frantically. Where was he?
He closed his eyes, worked to slow his breathing. How long before he calmed down? A minute? Hours? He opened his eyes slowly, let them adjust to the dark.
The moonlight through the small window only giving Kane a small sense of the space around him. There was enough room for the bed, a small table, and a wash basin.
And an occupied chair in front of him.
The Master leaned forward, smiling as he looked Kane up and down.
“Good mornin’,” he said. He gave a chuckle. “Or evenin’. Either way, we are just a ray a’ sunshine, ain’t we?”
Kane glared at him, let thoughts of breaking free and tearing into the bastard play in his mind over and over.
Douglas sat back in his seat, his eyes still fixed on Kane as he spoke, the grin fading.
“Now, now. You ain’t real good at keeping your thoughts off your face, Mr. Shepherd. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d like to get your hands on me.” He grunted, his mouth turning up in a smirk. “Tear me apart. Watch me die.” He leaned in close again, his eyes flashing in the moonlight as he spoke in a low whisper. “Eat the flesh off my bones.”
Kane blinked, the comment catching him into a dead stop in his thoughts. Douglas had known Kane would attack Cliff. Kill him. He knew Kane wanted to kill him.
He knew.
“The Wendigo,” Douglas said, standing and pacing around behind the chair. Kane glanced to the left and saw Richard materialize in the corner, come out of the shadows, a rictus grin on his face as he looked hungrily at Kane. “Do you know what that is, Mr. Shepherd?” Douglas stopped, turning to Kane, his tone cocky and arrogant, mocking. “Oh, you don’t mind the formality, do you? I mean, we’re such good friends now, but I feel there should still be a mutual respect between us. You see, I call you ‘Mr. Shepherd.’ Shepherd is a fine name, a fine one.” He grinned as he rested his hands on the back of the chair, levied his stare on Kane’s eyes. “And you get to call me ‘Master.’ Just, well, it’s got such a good ring to it. Not that I’m ashamed of my name by any means, but I find it easier if everyone’s on the same page.”
Kane stared at him, keeping his rage in check, letting it rest instead in his stare back at Douglas. He spoke, his tone low and threatening.
“If I get loose, you’re a dead man.”
Douglas nodded.
“Oh, I’m well aware. We’ll get to that, don’t worry, son.” He stood tall again, resumed pacing as if he were a teacher in a classroom. “Anyway, the Wendigo. Old Indian folklore, there. Algonquin, I believe. It’s an interesting story, really. See, the Algonquin believed that, if a man were to…taste the flesh or blood of another human being, consume it like food, then that man would give in to a creature of rot with an insatiable hunger for living flesh.” He stopped and looked at Kane sidelong, his tone sarcastic. “And a temper, to boot. Fancy that. Big fella like you.”
The Algonquin Indian tribes had been mostly concentrated in the Michigan area before and during the Civil War. The Union and Confederacy were both guilty of driving the Natives from their land, hunting them as savages and even enslaving them alongside the Africans they’d brought over to serve on plantations. Once the war was done, and discourse in the South followed, the tribes became more and more scarce. The Oligarchy’s rise in power had come with fear-mongering magic and its users, and the Native American tribes were no different, their heritage steeped in spiritual power and conjuration. As the cities expanded, the last of the tribes were driven from their land. Many were forced to assimilate with the rest of the lower classes, while others moved further north to the Canadian territories where they were systematically picked off or enslaved by rival tribes. Some had gone South to states like Oklahoma, some as far South as Texas, only to join other tribes.
Or be slaughtered.
Douglas grunted.
“Not much of a talker, now. Are you?”
Richard stepped forward, the shadows seeming to swirl around him.
“Speak when spoken too, Piggy,” he said. “The Master demands it.”
Kane looked up at him.
“Go to Hell.”
Douglas clapped his hands and laughed as Richard grinned at Kane, stepping back and allowing the old man to step around the chair and take a seat.
“There he is!” said Douglas. “I was beginning to wonder about you, Mr. Shepherd!”
“What have you done to the people here?” Kane said.
“Well, as I said before: ‘zombification.’” Douglas kept his tone casual, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “Zombies. Make great farm hands, I’ll tell you what. Obedient, never complain, never stop until you tell ‘em to. Little Voodoo goes a long way.”<
br />
Voodoo? Damn it. Wil had cursed Nick’s name. Kane mentally kicked himself for not listening to her. He’d been right there in the bastard’s store.
And vulnerable. Why hadn’t he taken Kane out? Because of the Wendigo?
Douglas cleared his throat, sat up straight as if conducting business.
“Time to get to brass tacks, Mr. Shepherd. I’ll make it very simple: you belong to me now. Everythin’ about you, right down to the Wendigo curse, is now my personal property. You killed Cliff without even breakin’ a sweat. I need a man like you workin’ for me.”
“Not gonna happen,” Kane said, shaking his head. “Besides, I’m having problems with my magic. I told you that.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Douglas said. “Richard, here, seen you first hand flingin’ fireballs at people like some kind of human catapult.” He pulled his pipe out of his jacket pocket, lit the tobacco with a match. The sweet smell filled the shack quickly. Douglas blew a lungful of smoke into the air, smiled at Kane as he spoke.
“What’s your endgame?” Kane asked. He’d interrogated people under worse circumstances. “What do you think you’ll accomplish? The Revolution is going to come looking for me. Cross Gentry, and he’ll have the Special Forces so far up your ass you’ll be spitting gunpowder for weeks.”
Douglas laughed. Kane glanced up at the sound of Richard hissing through his teeth, his eyes glowing as he glared at Kane.
“Boy, I don’t think you understand the gravity of your current situation,” said Douglas as he calmed down off his laughter. He leered at Kane. “That Brit you got chasin’ you is ob-sessed. Been here more than once, askin’ if my Hunters have found you and your pretty blonde girlfriend. No, he ain’t gonna do a damn thing to me. He’s…well, let’s say he’s rather invested in this place. Sees I’m doing God’s will out here as an Oligarch.”
Kane gave a bitter laugh.
“You’re a relic,” he said. “That’s what this is? A power struggle?”
Douglas grunted.
“The South shall rise again, Mr. Shepherd. And it starts with an invasion. Right here in Charleston.” He stood. “Takin’ my leave for now. Got a bloodthirsty European to send word to. Richard, see that he gets cleaned up.”
Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2) Page 14