Jeb looked out at his father’s land, deep in introspection, lost in his thoughts. This week had been one of the worst in his life--Dad was sick, and he had let him down. His brother had been quietly gloating the entire time, and now it was becoming all-too-clear that orange-skinned jackass was probably going to win...he sipped his beer, tried not to think about it.
The press had been right, of course. He hadn’t really wanted to run. He had seen what the Chair did to his father, to his brother. The governorship was hard enough--all those voices, all the signs, the portents. No one understood what it was like, unless you knew what it was like. You didn’t get the vision unless you had the visions.
He didn’t hear Georgie sit down--he always was a quiet one. The expansion of foam from the can was Coke, not beer, but it shook Jeb from his thoughts, twisted his stomach. Georgie slurped the soda noisily, then gave that shit-eating grin he always had. “Well...you gave it a good shot. Dad was happy when he saw you on the screen.”
“Well, that’s why I was running. Hopefully it kept him happy. Maybe give him a few more years…”
Georgie laughed, starting beyond the horizon. “I guess. Doesn’t matter, though--he’s got his reward waiting for him.” The words of a true believer, the tone of one who KNOWS. Jeb didn’t roll his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Right.”
Georgie turned then. His eyes were sharp, his voice tight. “Just because you didn’t have the guts to finish, don’t be a smartass. Our father was Presided, given the blessings of the Grand Old Ones. His afterlife is secured, and his works will be remembered...just like mine.” He laughed that mean laugh of his. “That’s one thing you’ll never be able to get over me know, Jeb. You might have been the smart one, but my manse is ready, my name now immortal, my hand has guided to the Day!”
Jeb shouldn’t have risen to the ribbing, but he was tired and angry and scared for the future. “Yeah Georgie...thanks to me and Cheney’s Nixomancers. You can have your big house in heaven--remembered forever as the shittiest president of the twentieth cen-”
He was thrown from the porch by a mighty invisible hand. Georgie was now up, the coke spilling at his feet, his eyes burning with the Red. Jeb was hovering in the air, trying to breathe, distracted by the small spheres of beer floating around him. Georgie was barely keeping it together. “I am so. Damned. Tired. Of your crap…” He raised his hand, and Jeb could see he hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t, but he really did want to use to closing sigil.
Jeb realized that a part of his brother would really try to kill him. For real.
Jeb didn’t let him make the decision. He was only a governor, but that was enough--besides the Bushes were always good and avoiding attacks. He willed the katas, and blurred out of Georgie’s grasp, on the ground, ready. One hand was shaped into an ancient sigil, a red-white burning sword in the other. Jeb squinted--Georgie had more power, obviously, but he never knew what to do with it…Now this would be finished.
“Boys!” From the poarch, their mother glared at them. You might be the head of a nation or a state, you might have the power of elder sleeping deities, but when your mother scolds you...the two men released their powers. Georgie pointed an all-too mortal finger at Jeb. “He started it!”
Barbara scoffed. “I don’t care. Don’t waste yourselves out here…”She templed her fingers, and the dark shadows coalesced in her hands. “...save it for Trump. We’re going to war.”
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