Given (6 page)

Caleb looked disturbed, and he leaped up from his seat with a speed that belied his age. The high-backed chair fell to the floor with a crash as he grabbed Jacob's shoulders in a biting grip.

“Their smell?
What did they smell like?”

“I told you. They smelled evil, or what you'd expect evil to smell like.”

“Describe it.”

Jacob frowned, troubled by his father's intensity. They were of a size, though his father was somewhat leaner. Still, Caleb's grip on his shoulders was beginning to hurt. “I'm not sure I can describe it. They smelled almost like brimstone—and sulfur. I couldn't help it; as soon as I got away from them to where it was safe, I had to Become. I hunted them, and it was all I could do not to kill them.”

Caleb backed away from him, his hands falling away as though he'd suddenly lost control of them. Jacob reached up to rub a sore shoulder.

“I can't believe it,” Caleb said in a hollow voice. “When did they come here?” He gave Jacob another sharp look. “Are you sure? Sulfur? Brimstone?”

“I could hardly mistake it.” He watched as his father collapsed against a cupboard. Caleb had gone gray under the rich sienna tones of his skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he continued to mutter under his breath. Jacob picked up the fallen chair, then took his father's arm. “For God's sake, sit before you fall down, and tell me what in all living hell is going on.”

“Thakathi,” Caleb said. One word. A word powerful enough to strike horror, and even if they wouldn't admit it, stark fear in the heart of every Eshu. Though none had encountered the evil ones in five hundred years, the terror still lingered.

Suddenly it was as though there were no air left in his lungs. Jacob struggled to breathe, but he had to ask questions. “Here? What are they doing here?

Caleb shook his head, despair evident in his demeanor. “I don't know. I can hardly credit it. There's been no contact with them since they took our powers away and made it possible for us to be enslaved and sent here,” Caleb said. “If I had to guess, I'd say they somehow found out that our forefathers and -mothers got our powers back—that we are free. I can't believe Obaluaye didn't warn us.”

“From everything I've heard, Obaluaye does what he wants. He wouldn't warn us unless it was to his benefit to do so.” Jacob shrugged. According to Eshu lore, the capricious nature of the god who commanded their kind was a constant thorn in their sides. A thorn that they had absolutely no control over, so there was really no point in fretting over it. His breathing eased as he saw that his father was regaining his composure. The initial paralyzing fear had passed as they worked through the mystery of the encounter and worked out strategies to resolve it.

Caleb stroked his chin thoughtfully. “How did they find out? We've been free for almost a hundred years. Why now?” His eyes narrowed as he studied his son. “Did you encounter any of them when you were in Sierra Leone?”

“Trust me, Papa, if I'd ever run across anything like this before, I would've hightailed it back here to tell you about it. I've never wanted to kill so badly in my life. I was terrified,” he admitted without shame. He freely acknowledged that he was probably too proud, but fear was a normal reaction to a meeting with pure evil.

“They're being surprisingly subtle,” Caleb said in a considering tone.

Jacob frowned. There'd been nothing subtle about those men, but his father seldom misspoke. “What do you mean?”

“From what I understand, Thakathi wouldn't normally bother with trying to track us down. They can't smell us the way we can smell them. To them, we look distinctively human, unless we Become, of course. Back in the old country, they wouldn't have hesitated to wipe out an entire village or town.”

“Yes, but we're not particularly susceptible to smallpox. Besides, from what I've heard from the old stories, we had a nasty habit of wiping out whole villages too,” Jacob said, feeling that it was only fair to acknowledge his people's complicity in the war that had resulted in the enslavement and deaths of countless souls.

Caleb gave a fatalistic shrug. “That we did, boy. But unlike them, we could be selective in our slaughter, and we had orders to do so. Unfortunately they have other diseases that we're more likely to succumb to.”

Jacob didn't pursue that line of discussion. He and his father had argued the point many times, and he knew he sometimes lacked the pragmatism necessary to be Eshu, or at least to rest easy in that role, but now was not the time to deal with that particular issue. “So why do you think they're being subtle?” It was an interesting word used to describe people who were the scourge of mankind because of their ability to wipe out entire communities with horrific disease and pestilence.

Caleb rose to pour another cup of coffee. He stood by the stove and took a couple of sips before he answered. “I'm thinking there aren't that many of them here. They don't have the power to kill on a grand scale. At least not yet. Their power feeds on pain and suffering, so they will eventually be able to do so, but not yet. It will likely be soon, though.”

Jacob nodded. With slavery and the Indian Removal Act, the continent was full of pain and suffering. In Jacob's opinion, the two things practically guaranteed that pain and suffering would hold sway in every corner of the country for generations to come. “I agree, Papa. So what do you think their plan is?”

Caleb looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. “As I said, perhaps there aren't a lot of them here, and maybe that's why they haven't used their full powers yet. I believe they're trying to draw us out and kill us individually.”

“You think that that's why they took Cameron?”

“Yes. We need to help him escape. He's not Eshu, but they don't know that. Besides, torturing him will help them get stronger.”

Jacob automatically thought of the usual protocol, which was
not
to come to the aid of brethren who were captured, for fear that doing so would undermine the entire network. “But we're not supposed—” He began, but his father interrupted him.

Caleb shook his head forcefully. “Son, you don't understand. If this is Thakathi, and I don't know who else it could be, all the rules must change. We must eliminate them immediately. This is war.”

“But aren't we supposed to kill them only on Obaluaye's orders?”

“Trust me. If everything I've heard about that tricky bastard is true, we won't hear from him until the Thakathi run out of patience and start killing humans. Since they're not exactly known for their forbearance, I expect that to happen at any time. I'd prefer to kill them now rather than wait until they're more powerful.”

Jacob pursed his lips as he studied his father. He heard his sister and brother on the stairs as they came down for breakfast. “And just how are you proposing to do that?”

Caleb nodded a greeting as Matthew and Grace entered the kitchen. “Now that is a very good question,” he said as he thoughtfully studied his children.

The fire blazed brightly in the still of the night. The peace was broken only by the cries of night birds seeking prey and defending their territory. Jacob crouched in the woods near a small clearing, watching the Thakathi through bear's eyes. The bear was his totem, his favored form, but it always took him a moment to adjust to the change in his vision. Although he possessed perfect eyesight in human form, he had to cope with the flat colors and shortsightedness of the bear. His other senses, though, and his claws and fangs more than compensated for the loss of visual acuity. His sense of smell in particular was heightened to such a degree that the stench of sulfur was almost overwhelming and caused his eyes to water. In this case he would have preferred greater vision impairment rather than less; the scene before him was chilling.

The Thakathi had staked Cameron's nude body to the ground, and using a curved upholsterer's knife, they took turns slicing half-inch strips from his bare back. The man's mouth opened to emit what surely were agonizing screams, yet no sound was forthcoming. The horror of the moment was magnified by the absolute silence. The witches had bespelled the poor man so that his cries remained unheard. Jacob counted the Thakathi again: six. Somehow he'd thought there would only be the three he'd encountered before. His father had warned him that would be unlikely.

The distinctive loud but low-pitched call of the great horned owl echoed through the clearing. Jacob looked up, grateful to have Matthew with him on this mission. The owl called out again, alerting the Eshu that he was about to strike, but the witches did not notice. Jacob braced himself. When Matthew attacked, he could be unbelievably fast and vicious, but sometimes he lost his head and took unnecessary risks. Before Jacob could complete the thought, the owl swooped in. Just as they'd planned, Matthew went for the man immediately identifiable as the leader. Talons sliced the man's face, destroying his eyes in one stroke. Then Jacob was running toward the circle, his growls joining the screeches of his brother and the screams of abject terror being snatched from the throats of the wounded Thakathi.

Magic slid off his fur like butter in a hot skillet as the Thakathi tried to defend themselves with death spells. He wasn't sure if they realized they were dealing with Eshu yet. The arterial spray as he clawed through a man's neck temporarily blinded him, so he couldn't tell if they were running or fighting—though he suspected the former. By the time he could see again, Matthew had abandoned one dead body and moved on to another. Two men had fled, leaving them with four bodies and Cameron's tortured form.

They both paused. Jacob's sides moved like bellows as he took deep breaths. Matthew glanced at him with his huge golden eyes and then took wing to return to where they'd hidden their clothes. Jacob followed. They made the transition back to human form, but it took an unusually long time because they hadn't had time to calm down from their fight. Jacob looked down in distaste at the blood and gore that covered most of his body, and glanced at his brother, who looked much the same. Although the kill itself didn't usually bother him, he was always repulsed by the evidence of what the bear had done. He wiped his hands on some dried vegetation and picked up a few leaves to do the same with his face and mouth. Doing so gave him a moment to adjust to the change in body form and to walking on two legs instead of four.

The loss of his fur was disconcerting as well, but in the summer heat, that was a blessing. It was always better to become the bear in the winter, when the fur provided welcome relief from the biting cold. The brothers dressed in haste, then Jacob paused for a brief second when Matthew grinned.

“What?” Jacob demanded.

“You bit one of them.” He paused for effect, and his grin widened. “
On his ass
.”

Jacob shook his head. Leave it to his brother to find humor in the situation. “So?”

“So,” Matthew drew the word out nonchalantly as he pulled on his trousers. “What did it taste like?”

Jacob frowned impatiently. “I don't know. Like ass, I guess.” His frown intensified when Matthew almost doubled up with laugher. And then, realizing what he'd said, he burst out laughing as well.

“An-and”—Matthew struggled to speak—“you would…know th-this h-how?”

This made Jacob laugh
harder, but he grabbed his brother affectionately by his neck, now grateful for his ability to make him laugh and dispel the somber mood, if only for a few moments. “Come on, Matt. We've got to go.”

It was crucial to get Cameron away before the witches came to their senses and returned, but they couldn't risk changing in front of the man. As soon as they were dressed, they rushed back to where Cameron was still staked to the ground. Matthew picked up the abandoned knife and used it to slice through the ropes holding the blacksmith captive.