Busted Flush

We all looked up. Coming down out of the sky at an incredible rate was a bright yellow streak. Then the streak landed, and a bare-chested man dressed in low-slung, faded bell-bottom jeans appeared. He had sun-streaked hair that fell halfway down his back and a peace medallion around his neck. He was holding Drake tucked under one muscular arm.

Fortune grabbed Sprout and pushed her toward me. I folded her into my arms in a hug.

“I want Daddy,” she said, pouting at me.

“I know, sweetie, but remember what we talked about.”

It was getting hard to look at Fortune now. An aura surrounded him, bright gold.

“Let the boy go, Weathers,” Fortune said.

“Oh, The Man wants me to let the boy go,” Weathers said in a nasty voice. He flexed his biceps, squeezing Drake. But Drake didn’t start crying. I wanted to bubble the hell out of Weathers.

“The Man’s got to control all the power in the world,” Weathers said. It was freaky how persuasive he suddenly sounded to me. “Can’t let anyone else use any power.”

“Let the boy go,” Fortune said again. “Sprout wants her daddy.”

Weathers glanced at me and Sprout. His face softened and you could see that he loved her. He dropped Drake, who landed hard on his hands and knees.

“Drake,” I said in as calm a voice as I could. “Come to me.”

“Let Sprout go,” Weathers said.

“Not until Drake is over here.” I stared right into Weathers’s face. I knew he had a lot of power, but I also knew I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.

Drake scrambled to his feet and ran to me. As soon as he touched my hand, I let Sprout go.

She ran to Weathers and they embraced. Their golden heads bent together. Family reunion.

After Weathers checked Sprout and saw she was okay, he looked back at the rest of us. The expression on his face was pure, mad hatred.

“Don’t try anything,” Fortune said. “There are dozens of aces here. You can’t take us all down.”

I glanced around. The SCARE aces had obviously decided that Weathers was a bigger threat than we were. They had turned their attention from us to him and were slowly circling.

“To hell with you and the Committee, Fortune,” Weathers said. “And those nimrods from SCARE. What I want now is Bahir. I frown on people who kidnap my child.”

Fortune laughed. “You’re not getting Bahir,” he said. “You’ve got Sprout. We’ve got Drake. End of conversation.”

A cruel smile formed on Weathers’s face. Bad as his angry face was, this one was worse. There was a horrible feeling in my gut. Worse than when those helicopters had gone down in Egypt and all those people had died.

Weathers gave a yank at the medallion around his neck. The leather cord broke, leaving a thin line of blood on his neck. He began to swing the medallion around. It reminded me of Lohengrin patterning his sword. It spun faster and faster, glinting in the sun.

My hands started shaking. Drake had hold of one of them, and he squeezed it.

“You were always a clever boy, Fortune,” Weathers said. The medallion whirred. “I could have used you in The Movement. But you had to go and work for the government.” He moved backward, taking Sprout with him. “Oh, wait, you work for all the governments. That makes you the worst traitor of all.”

He kissed Sprout on the forehead and opened his free arm wide. “Hop up, baby.” Sprout wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she really were a four-year-old. And he began to slowly rise into the air.

“I can’t kill you all,” he said, looking around the park. “But he can.”

The medallion flew from his hand and hit Drake in the chest. Drake stood there, frozen for a moment. Then he staggered back, pushing me into the statue of Andrew Jackson, and we both fell against the statue. Weathers shot into the sky and disappeared.

“Drake!” I cried. “Oh, my God, Drake!”

I slid out from behind him, then looked down and saw that the medallion was buried in his chest. Drake reached a shaking hand up and touched the blood, then pulled the medallion out of his chest. He held it up in front of his face as if he couldn’t decide what it was. His eyes began to glow.

A cold knife went into my heart.

I looked up and saw Cameo, Hoodoo Mama, and Earth Witch running toward us.

“Stop!” I shouted. As if that would save them.

“God help us,” I heard a velvety voice say. I looked up and saw the Midnight Angel hovering above us.

“Get out of here! Get everyone out!”

“Michelle!” screamed Cameo.

“Go! Everyone go! Now!”

I turned to Fortune. But at that moment, he started screaming. His golden glow had intensified. Squinting, I saw his hand go up to his face.

“No,” he said as his body twitched and spasmed. “No . . . NO . . . NO!” His head jerked around like a hooked fish. The scarab that was always outlined against his forehead was moving . . . getting bigger . . . expanding . . . until his flesh burst apart. Fortune shrieked, and blood covered his face and ran down his chest.

Sekhmet.