Last Exit

by Catie Rhodes

  I called to my magic. It felt like scraping the bottom off an empty mayonnaise jar. I pulled at the tiny thread of energy, body aching with the effort. Orev responded from a tree. It would have to be enough. I set my sights on Oscar and started walking.

  Hannah yanked me back. “You can’t. You’re so tired, you’re holding your side. You’re not strong enough.”

  I faced her. “But do you see my death?”

  Hannah took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax as she called her power of foreseeing death. She searched my face. “No.”

  “Then go find the rest of the family. Stay with them. If I don’t come back, call Mysti.” I took off toward Oscar.

  Seeming to sense my approach, he turned the horse but otherwise did not respond. I finally got a good look at Oscar’s return to the land of living.

  His head, a skull partially covered with tissue and sinew, had living eyes. Jewels sparkled from his antler headdress. Silver armor sparkling with magic protected whatever there was of his body. The metal of his sword flashed pure white-silver.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite dumb bitch.” His beautiful voice caressed my mind. If I allowed it, he could use his voice to lull me into hypnosis. Good thing I was too mad for that.

  “I’m going to kill you, Oscar,” I hollered, still walking toward him, still calling power.

  I called to the power of my ancestors. They surrounded me, witches in blood if not practice. Their whispers tickled at my brain. The energy strengthened, and I channeled it into a ball. I’d throw it at Oscar. It would hurt him, maybe buy me some advantage. I reared back like a star baseball pitcher.

  Then I lay on the ground, on my back, staring at the sky and confused as hell. The space in front of me rippled as though something otherworldly was hiding in it. My third eye tingled in the center of my forehead. I opened it.

  The hag, the one I’d banished from Hannah and bestowed on King Tolliver came into view. It smiled, barbed teeth slick with spit, and straddled my chest. Its bony hands closed around my neck. Because we’d once shared my body, its thoughts came to me.

  King Tolliver wasn’t as tough as you thought. He became depressed rather quickly and ate some glass. Took him a while to die. That was fun, but then I had to go find something else to do. And I do hate you with a passion unlike any other.

  “Did you let Oscar out?” I thought back.

  Of course, stupid. He offered me the world. A place of leadership in his new kingdom. The hag pressed harder, cutting off my air supply.

  I plucked at its arms, but there was no way I could overpower a supernatural being. Was there?

  From somewhere near Oscar’s deep voice intoned, “Choke her out so I can get at the magical core. It’s mine, remember?”

  The hag redoubled its efforts. The need for oxygen beat at my chest. Black spots danced in my eyes.

  The mantle pushed at the scar tissue, straining toward the hag. My chest ached with the force of it. That snapped me awake. The mantle pushed forward again. Pain flashed through me.

  The mantle wanted the nasty little hag’s power. The knowledge came to me as though it whispered in my ear. I’d eat the hag’s magical core instead of it pulling mine out and giving it to Oscar.

  I sent a blast of magic into the hag, shocking it. Light flashed behind its awful, black eyes. The ugly little thing screamed in pain.

  A hunched figure ran toward me and kicked the hag, knocking it cockeyed on my chest. Cecil reared his shiny old man shoe back and kicked the hag again, this time in the head. Still it clung to my neck.

  “Get it, baby,” he gasped through his effort, clutching his chest through his shirt. Cecil’s heart. His poor, weak heart. Would it get him through this?

  I couldn’t worry about that right now. Ignoring the need to breathe, I bucked underneath the hag, throwing it off balance. Magic heated every inch of my body. My hands lit. I grabbed the hag’s arms and sent the fire into them. The arms blackened and began to smoke. Their owner let out a piercing scream.

  Orev cawed from behind me. His wings rustled, both inside my head and out. My hands and Orev’s feet hit the hag’s chest at the same time. The force of our blow knocked the hag backward and off me. It tried to run.

  I sat up and snatched at the scrabbling thing, pulled it to me, and held it down with my knees. Orev and I tore the little monster’s chest open as it screamed. Its magic pulsed right next to its heart, black and malignant. Orev darted forward and plucked out the magical core with his beak. He bit it in half and consumed his end like a particularly good snake.

  Without letting myself think about it too much, I popped the end he’d left me into my mouth and swallowed. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and the scent of metal filled my nose.

  My magic ate what had powered the hag. The beast’s power flowed through me, so great it felt as though I’d burst. It blackened the edges of my vision and throbbed inside me like a wound. Then it evened out.

  I turned my attention back to the hag’s still body. Rubbery skin flayed open to reveal a cracked ribcage. With the magical core gone, all that remained was the heart.

  Crystal encrusted, the heart glowed ruby-red. It gave off its own weird light. One that faded with each passing second. Orev pushed around me and plucked it out.

  “Don’t touch it,” I barked.

  Orev dropped the nasty organ on the ground, where it rolled, glinting in the weak moonlight. Despite what I’d told Orev, I grabbed the thing and stuffed it in my pocket. Tanner had taught me these things had value.

  The hag's small body dried and blackened within seconds. I shoved it away from me, finished with it.

  Then I stood and settled my gaze on Oscar. He sat frozen on his mount, sword held at half-mast. Too shocked to move? Good. I’d kill him where he sat.

  “I’m gonna kill you, Oscar,” I growled and stomped toward him, wiping the blood from my mouth with one arm.

  He showed me his bony middle finger. “You’re too dumb. Remember where you threw the runes? You might as well have handed them to me gift wrapped.” He waited for me to catch on.

  My skin went cold. The pieces clicked together. That deep, deep hole where we’d thrown the runes had been the place where Oscar had hidden his soul. Embarrassment burned through me.

  Seeing that I’d caught on, Oscar began to laugh. Between guffaws, he managed to gasp, “What kind of moron does that?”

  Embarrassment at my colossal mistake burned through me. Fury followed. I might have screwed up once, but I’d make it right.

  I called my fire. It came, hotter and more willing than normal, fueled by the hag’s inhuman magic. Heat gathered in my hands, burning from the inside out, so painful I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of pain. Not in front of Oscar. With a mighty push, I sent the fire to Oscar.

  It formed a bright ball and flew right at his head. He spurred his horse and whirled out of its path. The fireball changed directions and followed. Oscar spurred the horse harder, trying to escape the flames. He was too slow. It slammed into his back. Oscar exploded in a flash of light.

  The riderless horse galloped away. From somewhere in the dark night came the sound of a horn. The flat note blasted against my skin, vibrating.

  The barking of the dogs stopped. So did the screeches of metal from the other horseman tearing open RVs like sardine cans so they could kill the occupants and absorb their power. The pounding of horse hooves rose as did the motorcycle engines. A flash of lightning caught them disappearing into the clouds, the dogs running behind them.

  “How did that not kill Oscar?” I muttered to Orev.

  My raven familiar didn’t bother to answer. He perched on a post, swaying back and forth. He let out a pained squawk and keeled over on one side. Both legs stuck straight out.

  Then I felt it. The hag’s poisonous magic swelled inside me like an expanding balloon. The scar tissue spell stretched with it. Pain lanced through me, hot and intense.

  I fell to
my knees, clutching my chest, the same way I’d seen Cecil do. The agony crested, and my bowels loosened. The buzz from the pole lights got so loud it vibrated my eardrums. Blackness rimmed the edges of my vision and spread until it was all I saw.

  5

  A cool breeze came out of the blackness to chill my sweat-coated skin. A freezing hand stroked the hair back from my brow. One icy thumb swiped over my forehead.

  “You aren’t dead, so wake up.” Priscilla Herrera’s voice sounded almost sympathetic.

  I shook off the blackness and blinked. Candlelight jumped on rough-hewn walls. Glassy pain ripped through my chest. I hissed and writhed.

  Cool water dripped over my face. A freezing hand delivered light slaps to my cheek.

  “Wake up,” she said, and slapped some more.

  I forced my eyes open. Priscilla Herrera wiped my face with a wet cloth made of some rough material. She dripped more cool water on my face.

  “That was a very brave thing you did.” Her voice carried none of the recriminations it usually did. “But now we have to deal with the consequences.”

  “Where am I?” I took in my surroundings. I lay on a long table surrounded by animal skulls with candles affixed to them.

  “You think Samantha is the only one with a hiding place?” Priscilla Herrera raised one thick brow, dark eyes sparkling. “Of course, Samantha with her games and silly fancies created a place out of a story. But I don’t work that way. This is a real place, the place I lived with my husband and raised my children.”

  I took a closer look. Sure enough, we were inside the cabin in Gaslight City where Priscilla Herrera had spent her final hours. My mother murdered my father in front of this house.

  The pressure returned to my chest. My insides seemed too big for my body. I curled my legs, barely able to breathe.

  Priscilla turned away from me and hurried to the pot hanging in her hearth. She dipped out a ladleful and poured it into a cup.

  She hurried back to me and put the cup to my lips. “This will ease it.”

  The liquid smelled like boiled donkey foreskin mixed with a dash of camphor. I sipped it because anything was better than this pain. The liquid numbed my lips and made my tongue tingle. I swallowed and took another sip.

  “That’s enough. Now we’ll see if that monster’s magical core kills you.” Priscilla sat down on a stool.

  The pain in my chest eased. It was still there, but it seemed further away, less immediate. Without it clouding my vision, I noticed Priscilla wore a smile, a real one that crinkled her dark eyes at the edges. She was pretty in a scary way.

  “What are you so happy about? You said I might die.” I had never seen Priscilla smile like this.

  “You won’t die. I was being facetious.” She patted my chest.

  “Where’s Orev?” I hoped we hadn’t left him back at that RV park. He’d been sick too.

  “He’s resting.” She gestured at a perch near the ceiling of the cabin. Orev stood still with one leg raised, his usual sleeping posture.

  The pain had exhausted me. I fell into a light doze. A while later, Priscilla woke me and gave me more stinky water to sip.

  Something popped inside my chest. Relief flooded through me, closely followed by voices. That of the hag. That of Oscar.

  This had happened when I ate Loretta Nell Grimes’s spirit. I’d seen bits and flashes of her life.

  Priscilla’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”

  I listened, but only heard bits and flashes. “Revenge against the entire Gregg family, taking what’s mine…nothing that makes sense.”

  “Try harder,” she grumbled.

  I concentrated on the voices. It was like listening in on a conversation in another room. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed myself toward them.

  Oscar sat before a fire. The multicolored stars in the night sky told me he was in the dark outposts. He pointed to the deer antler headdress he’d been wearing when he attacked.

  He said, “With this, I will rise to the power worthy of me. We will walk the earth as something neither alive nor dead. You’ll all rise to power with me. The first thing we’ll need is the power of the Gregorius Witch.”

  I repeated what I’d heard, body chilling. That name again. The one Mohawk called me when I beat him out of making me his brood mare. Hearing it this time, in conjunction with someone wanting to kill me, didn’t thrill me the way it had before.

  Priscilla’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t look particularly surprised. She handed me the cup. “Drink the rest of this and listen to me. It’s time for you to learn who you are and about your destiny. There’s no time left to ease you into it.”

  I stiffened. “You call the way we’ve been doing this easy?”

  She slitted her eyes at me. “The being you call Mohawk—you shouldn’t make fun of him, you know—called you the Gregorius Witch.” She settled her dark gaze on me. “You’ve never questioned what that meant. Why is that?” Those dark eyes bored into me, chilling me, threatening me.

  I shook my head and took another drink of ass water. The term Gregorius Witch both excited and terrified me. Things like that usually stung like a bitch if you prodded them too much.

  “Sting like a bitch or not, you’re going to find out tonight. You must understand this part of your history so you’ll better grasp what is at stake.” She brushed strands of hair that had strayed from her bun off her face. It made her look normal, like someone’s favorite aunt or grandmother instead of a mean old witch who never cut me any slack.

  “The Gregorius Witch was the child of an old god and a human sorceress.” She watched my face, her mouth curved in amusement.

  “Like Mohawk wanted to have with me.” My mouth puckered with the disgust I still felt at the idea.

  “Yes, that’s why Mohawk wanted to sire a child with you so badly. The child the two of you made together would be even more powerful than one with a full-blooded human.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Dark Beings are a randy bunch. It’s not so uncommon. But it’s not so easy to make it work, either. Most of those children are not viable, mentally or physically.”

  “But the Gregorius Witch did live.” I tried to imagine what sort of woman she’d have been. My mind supplied a woman with whipping black hair. Maybe she’d had olive skin and dark eyes like mine.

  “Live she did. Born in the time of gladiators, she lived for more years than is normal for a human. She was power incarnate, feared and respected. She was a sorceress to emperors and chieftains.” Priscilla warmed to her story, face more animated than I’d ever seen. “It was the Gregorius Witch who took on Orev as a familiar. She found him with a broken wing and nursed him back to health. They made a blood bargain, bound themselves to each other for eternity.” She sat perfectly still as she told this story, eyes sparkling. “The Gregorius Witch made the bargain with Sol for her power, the mantle, to be passed from generation to generation.”

  Something occurred to me. “How could you possibly know all this? You’re talking about something that happened thousands of years ago. It probably doesn’t even exist on record.”

  Fire kindled to life in Priscilla’s dark eyes, and I recoiled, regretting my question immediately.

  She leaned into my face, and I smelled grave dust on her breath. “You’ll know every detail of this story when the mantle is yours because then your story will be added to it. Only the most worthy take on the mantle. Only the most worthy have their stories added.” She turned away from me, sides expanding and contracting.

  “I’m sorry.” My cheeks flamed. This was the nicest she’d ever been, and I’d screwed it up.

  She turned back. “No. I am sorry. It was Leticia, your grandmother, who chose not to prepare you for this. She chose instead to run from it. And here we are.”

  I thought hard, wanting to please this hard woman again. “So if I can absorb the mantle, I’ll have half the power of a half-god?”

  A slow smile spread across Pr
iscilla’s face. “No. Everything all of us have been before you will belong to you. Everything.”

  I finally understood what Oscar was up to. “If Oscar manages to take it from me, he’ll have it all.”

  She nodded.

  “But how? The mantle can only be passed to one of my descendants. Oscar is not that.” If I could get out of this on a technicality, I would.

  Priscilla, who’d have normally given me a rough rebuke, only gave me a sad shake of her head. “To pass it to someone living, that is true. It would drive anyone else mad or kill them. But Oscar straddles the realm of the living and the dead. He can’t be killed, and, quite frankly, he’s already mad.”

  I hunched over, dug my elbows into my knees, and cupped my cheeks in the palms of my hands. Each new thing I learned made it all a little worse.

  Priscilla put a gentle, yet freezing, hand one my forearm. “Take heart. Oscar has had months to work on this. You are only now finding out…”

  “Months after I threw the runes right into that hole with him.” I nearly shouted. The magnitude of that mistake would haunt me for a long time.

  “It’s not your fault,” she hissed with such fierceness I flinched. “You did the wrong thing, yes. But even I didn’t know. Now you’ll fix it.”

  I took the last sip of the nasty water and handed the cup back to Priscilla. She took it with a nod. Pain now gone, I sat up and scooted to the edge of the table.

  I had a question. “What happens if Oscar gains the mantle’s power?”

  Priscilla leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. “After he annihilates everyone you love and steals their power to fuel his mission, he’ll bring war to the human race. He will open the gates between veils so everything can cross. There’ll be anarchy and destruction.”

  She let that soak in. It would be the end of the world as I knew it. Innocent people. Mothers. Fathers. Their children. Dead because Oscar was an asshole.

  Priscilla got off her stool with a grunt. “It’s time for you to go back to your body. Are you ready?”