Read Online The Freedman and the Pharaoh's Staff by Lane Heymont - Free Book Online Page A

Orleans where voodoo took hold of people like a plague, he’d seen what magic could do.  
    His Parisian father, La Croix, had come from France, breeding illegitimate children with slave girls like a bitch in heat. The scum birthed Verdiss by force with a twelve-year-old. And Verdiss suffered for it. Born deformed, his skin swelled as thick as hide, riddled with contusions.
    La Croix decided his son had been a curse for his relations with slaves, so he hid him away in a cellar for over a decade to avoid his “divine punishment.” La Croix’s slaves tended to Verdiss throughout his infancy. The few times he’d spoken with his son, La Croix berated Verdiss— you’re my punishment cause of that slut!  
    As he grew older, Verdiss entertained himself with books of Shakespeare and Marlowe kept in a rotten trunk. Soon La Croix tried to erase Verdiss from the world by murdering his mother, Rikka. Her family gathered a mob of local freedmen and stormed the house, in turn murdering La Croix. Governor of Louisiana, Andre B. Roman, put the mob down and executed them all.
    La Croix’s slaves secreted Verdiss away. They performed voodoo rituals to cure his disease. Though they strengthened his frail body, they failed to cure him. He hated them—La Croix taught him well. Verdiss cursed their skin, his own skin, and himself as one of their bastard children.  
    Whites would judge Verdiss. He’d never reveal the curse he’d been given. It took him years to master a white dialect. Nevertheless, he learned voodoo rituals from his caretakers. They called the harmful voodoo, fenwa majik . Dark magic. Though he loathed the deviltry, it served his purposes.  
    Another crack of thunder scattered his thoughts. “ Geist Führer, what of the majik you promised me?” Verdiss tried to hide the impatience in his voice. He hungered for those boxes that displayed living photographs, and metal air gliders equipped with Gatling guns. Most important were the colossal air torpedoes the Geist Führer claimed would reduce nations to ash.  
    Â The Geist Führer hesitated, the boiling water seemed to mirror his suspicion. “In good time, soldier. Once you know where the scepter is, I will supply you with the weapons to destroy our enemies. Have faith in my unfailing wisdom. I must return to other matters. We will speak again.” His stony face vanished in the steam.  
    â€œExcellent.” Verdiss flicked his tongue. He’d have to hurry to retrieve Narmer’s staff. Those weapons will be mine .  
    Footfalls slopping through mud interrupted his thoughts. “Grand Dragon! Grand Dragon!” Narce came running. He toppled over, landing in the mud. He climbed to his feet, wiping muck from his face.  
    Verdiss wheeled on him. “Out with it!” He hoped Narce hadn’t seen or heard his conversation. If the Grand Wizard, or his men, learned he employed fenwa majik , he’d hang.  
    â€œTwo of them . . . pickets seen the constable . . . takin’ his wagon out to them swamps.” Narce spit a glob of mud on the ground. “They questioned him, but let him go, him bein’ the constable and all.” Narce finished cleaning the filth from his robe.
    Verdiss frowned. “There is no doubt he is carrying the thieves with him,” he said as he pulled his hood over his bulbous head. “Not splendid news, Narce, but I’m pleased you have proved your worth.” Verdiss meant it too. But if he’d said anymore, the Nighthawk would start to slack. He needed his men to fear him, otherwise one would grow too  comfortable with him. Then they might learn of his curse.
    â€œI knew he was a-takin’ them boys, too, so I had three men follow them,” said Narce.
    â€œAh . . . well done.” Verdiss smiled. He’d find the Pharaoh’s Staff’s location faster than he’d thought. “Come now.” He patted Narce on