Patriot (A Jack Sigler Continuum Novella) Read Free Page B

much harm to da crew Lanme Wa had such deep affection for, da Cap’n used deir bones to mark da graves of men he knew history would never remember. Da forgotten few what had saved da world.”
    There was a hissing growl from somewhere to their left, and each man turned to peer into the shadows beyond the torchlight. They paused, trying to identify the wild creature that had made the savage sound. After several moments, Greer caught the subtlest trace of movement. Three figures huddled in the shadows, dressed in what appeared to be tattered robes. The three robed creatures hissed at them, as tiny ember-red eyes burned underneath large hoods. Trembling, Greer reached for his cutlass, but the monstrous trio quickly melted once more into the jungle, before he could withdraw it.
    “What in St. Peter’s beard was that?” the Quartermaster asked, turning to face the bokor.
    She shrugged. “Only dose wanting to pay deir respects. Dere’s not’ing to fear from dem…unless you disturb dis holy ground.”
    “So they’ll leave us alone?” Finkle asked.
    When the witch nodded an affirmative, Finkle sighed and stepped toward the central sarcophagus, only to be stopped by the bokor’s extended hand. “Not just yet, cher . Remember da Brave Ghede. He not like dose creatures, and he won’t be takin’ lightly to da intrusion of da livin’. Least not wit’out da proper tribute anyway.”
    Warily, Finkle stepped back. “You said Lanme Wa buried twelve men here. But there are thirteen graves,” he said. “The sarcophagus. Is that the Captain’s?”
    She nodded, smiling. “It be he.”
    “But I don’t understand. Legends suggest Lanme Wa was immortal. That he couldn’t be killed. It’s why we came here…to ask for his help.”
    “And I told you all this was mad from the beginning, Mr. Finkle,” Greer spat. “We lost two good men on this unholy expedition. Men we’ll need against the British. Had I known you were searching for an ‘immortal’ pirate, I would have called to vote Captain Reardon out of his post immediately. I’m not sure in which lunatic asylum Washington found you, but he’d do well to send you back there.” Frustrated, the quartermaster kicked at the dirt under his feet, spun around to rejoin his men back in the jungle and screamed, as he stared into the jet black eyes of a giant, hissing python.
    “Gentlemen,” the mambo bokor declared, twirling around the central sarcophagus with melodic giggles. “Let me introduce you to da Brave Ghede.”

 
     
    3
     
    The three men leapt back, their gawking eyes fixed on the enormous reptile coiled around the branch of a nearby mangrove tree. The creature’s length was difficult to determine, but its width was easily three feet in diameter, and its head was the size of a small carronade.
    The snake hissed at the intruders, then bobbed its head back and forth as it eyed each of them hungrily. Panicked and unable to flee the clearing through the Willow Gate, Greer spun and ran to his right, only to be stopped by a second cannon-sized snake head, just five yards away. He then turned to run in another direction, but saw that a third head bobbed and weaved, blocking that path as well.
    “What devilry is this?” Greer shouted, backing away to return to the company of Finkle and William. His eyes had traced the long, sinewy necks of each snake to the centrally coiled body wrapped around the mangrove limb. Is this three distinct creatures, or one with three heads ?
    “I already tell you.” The mambo bokor twirled around the sarcophagus, her arms spread wide. “Dis be da Brave Ghede. He guards da dead from da living, and brings dose wit’out tribute to da place of da dead.”
    “Tribute.” Finkle had his pistol calmly trained on one of the heads. “You mentioned tribute before. What kind of tribute does it require?”
    She moved toward them, seeming to glide across the damp earth, as if hovering on a cushion of air. “You wish to remove Lanme Wa from