The Last American Wizard by Edward Irving

Author:Edward Irving [Irving, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2016-05-16T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Both sphinxes flapped their wings and rose up into the air, screaming curses. Clearly, losing hadn’t been in their plan. Steve frantically stood and tried to put more energy into the shield, which, oddly, seemed to grow stronger only if he put less power into it. He put that thought in the back of his mind for later consideration.

A booming voice began to declaim in the distance. “Lucifer, the Morning Star! Is it she who bears the Light, and with its splendors intolerable, blinds feeble, sensual, or selfish souls? Doubt it not!”

The sphinxes fluttered in confusion.

“Return to your places! The sanctuary cannot be so long unguarded.” The voice continued. “Would you have the people say that the city has lost both Wisdom and Power?”

It struck Steve that most people believed that wisdom and power had fled Washington long ago. A man–or more accurately, an eleven-foot-tall statue of a man–was approaching with giant strides from the direction of the Old Soldiers’ Graveyard. He had a full beard and hair down to his shoulders framing a smiling face with eyes that seemed to gleam with mischief.

The statue brandished the book he held in his right hand at the sphinxes. “Get ye home, brainless fowl!” The two stone creatures wheeled, screaming angrily, and fled south at great speed.

“Well, if it isn’t the dishonorable General Pike,” Ace said. Steve spun around to see that she was now standing up and brushing off the back of her jeans. “Confederate general, adulterer, libertine, philosopher, Masonic leader, and Washington celebrity.”

“How do you feel?” Steve asked Ace.

“Sort of like a four-barrel Holley carburetor that’s just been rebuilt,” Ace answered. “I think I’m as good as new, but it was a disquieting experience.”

“You were conscious?”

“Most of the time.” Ace turned and bowed to the green statue. “Thanks for the tune-up, ma’am.”

The cowled figure didn’t move–it just looked rather sad. Since it previously had looked incredibly sad, Steve assumed she was pleased. Thankfully, all the hands and their unsettling eyes had vanished.

Ace stretched. “Who’s the guy in the dreads?”

“Oh, that’s Hamilton Jones.” Steve waved the young man over. “He seems to be plagued by a severe case of prophetic amnesia, but I think that’s because he’s the Hanged Man. Hamilton, this is Master Chief Morningstar, the Ace of Swords.”

They shook hands.

“So, you say tall, strong, and bronze over there fought for the Confederacy?” Steve asked.

“Yep. The only Confederate general with a statue on federal land anywhere in the nation’s capital.” Steve jumped as a voice came from right behind him.

He spun around but obviously, the shield had disappeared as soon as he had ceased to concentrate on keeping it in place, because the voice belonged to Old Howard.

The old marine said, “Gracious, you are jumpy. Good thing I’ve sworn off my old habits or I’d a’ stopped your heart.”

The ghost indicated the statue. “Albert Pike. Born in Massachusetts, claims he went to Harvard, decided to take off for Arkansas one day without bothering to tell his wife, misplaced his horse out West, and had to walk five hundred miles to Taos, New Mexico.

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