Patriot (A Jack Sigler Continuum Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Finkle had ever seen before, rested on the pirate’s chest. Finkle peered closer, and saw the strange engraving of Greek letters along the blade. The metal was too tarnished to make out what the inscription said.
    It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now. From looking at the shriveled body before him, he knew with disparaging certainty that they’d made this trip in vain, and that one of them would pay the ultimate price for his hubris.
    “Let it be me,” he whispered, slowly backing away.
    “ Pardón ? ”
    “It’s my fault. I led these men here…to this fool’s errand. They shouldn’t suffer for my mistake. Let the loa take me, and let them be.”
    The bokor cocked her head at him, as if not understanding what he was saying.
    “I really must insist.” His voice was louder than he’d expected, fueled by disappointment, if not a little bitterness.
    “But mon cher , da blood hasn’t been supplied yet.”
    “What good will that do? Lanme Wa is dead! The legends were erroneous.”
    “And what’s it matter to you? It not your blood I be needin’.” She nodded over at William, who instantly pulled his knife from its sheath, sliced at the palm of his hand and dribbled a fresh puddle of blood into the dead pirate’s coffin. The moment he pulled his hand away, the serpent struck. Coiling itself around the black man’s torso, it squeezed the air from his lungs before he could even scream.
    “Stop!” Finkle cried, leveling his pistol at the python, and firing. The slug tore through the creature’s body and impacted against a nearby tree, but the serpent continued to squeeze the life from its prize, completely unfazed. The old man turned to the bokor, his eyes pleading with her. “There’s no need to kill him. Please.”
    She ignored him, and instead she moved over to the casket, withdrew a small glass bottle from somewhere under her dress and used it to scoop the spilled blood before corking it closed. The moment the blood was securely inside the bottle, the Brave Ghede streaked into the jungle, dragging poor William with it, before disappearing completely from sight.
    “Da tribute is accepted,” the bokor said.
    Greer dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, as he repeatedly thanked the ‘Lord Above’ for delivering him from such a gruesome fate. Finkle, disgusted with the display, whirled around to face the bokor.
    “You. Witch.” His teeth were grinding together as he struggled to contain the rage building inside him.
    “ Oui ? ” That infernal, ever-present smile seemed to radiate out from her.
    “You gave him hope, then took it away. You lied to him. He thought he was safe, and you betrayed that trust.”
    She nodded at this, then lifted the crimson-dripping bottle up to him. “But mon cher , dis is his hope. Dis is his promise. With dis, young William will be discovering power he never before imagined. And, after our journey’s end, he’ll be livin’ once again…and far longer dan any o’ us have ever dreamed.”

 
     
    5
     
    Reardon’s Mark
    Off-Shore of Kavo Zile
     
    “Absolutely not!” Captain Josiah Reardon said, slamming his fist down on his charting table. His Irish accent was so thick, it had always been difficult for Finkle to grasp every word. “I’ll not have that whore of a witch anywhere near me ship.”
    “But Captain…”
    “I’ll no’ have it, I tell ye. ‘Tis hard enough convincin’ me men to sail in these Caribbean waters, what with all these voodoo goin’s on around here. But ta actually bring a mambo bokor aboard me ship? I’ll have a mutiny on me hands ’fore dawn.”
    Finkle stared at the young captain, barely thirty years old, and already showing the ravages of ‘too long in this world.’ There were prematurely graying hairs speckling the corners of Reardon’s temples. The crow’s feet deeply cut into the corners of his eyes revealed a predisposition to laughter, but the heavy lines across his brow showed an equal amount of worry.