Last Exit

by Catie Rhodes

  A lump formed in my throat as I watched my friends fight for their lives. It was useless. Griff’s dark SUV blasted from behind the second building, Brad at the wheel, his face set and fierce. I pointed at where Griff and Mysti were back to back surrounded by dogs but still trying to fight.

  Brad plowed toward them. He ran over dogs. The phantom animals yelped, went through their death throes, and then got back up to fight again. Brad ran over Michael Gage, the SUV pushing the bone and metal his body was fashioned from under the SUV’s wheels and crushing it. He pulled up beside Griff and Mysti. Finn opened the back door.

  “Get in,” he screamed.

  Griff and Mysti blew fire at their attackers and leapt into the SUV. Brad took off, but Finn yelled something, and he slammed on his brakes. Horsemen and dogs closed in on them, a couple going around to circle them.

  I watched in disbelief. Why weren’t they leaving? Everybody in the SUV was watching a fight several yards away. Then I understood. Dillon.

  My cousin-by-marriage, the only woman in camp skinnier than me, stood back to back with Hannah. Dillon used her aerosol can to spray fire to keep back the dogs. Hannah had made her tire iron into a torch, which she stabbed at anything that got close. She already had a bleeding wound on her cheek.

  Oscar sat nearby on his gray horse, watching the dogs and other huntsmen wear down the two women. His sides heaved with mirth, and he pointed one gloved finger. Of course he was enjoying this, laughing at it. He was too evil for anything else.

  Fury built in me and mixed with my magic. I held out my left hand. Another fireball glowed to life. I let it fly at Oscar. The fireball hit him in the knot of bone and sinew that served as his neck. Its force knocked him off his mount. I ran toward him, channeling more magic. The beginnings of fatigue ached deep in my bones.

  When I got near enough, I reached into the raging mass of Oscar’s consciousness and pressed on it. He was already dead, so I couldn’t make him stroke out, but I could scramble his thoughts, maybe interrupt whatever magic he was using to manifest on both the living and the dead plane.

  But I didn’t stop to think I had already played a version of this little trick on Oscar when I drained his energy back on the highway. He was waiting for me.

  Oscar’s consciousness rose around mine like a cage of red thread and ensnared me. I tried to pull away, but it was like trying to get away from melted cheese. It just stretched with me, creating new strings to connect us. The more I wiggled and tried to escape, the more thoroughly it coated me. Oscar had me.

  I staggered to the side. Shelly and Cecil came out of nowhere to stand on either side, both sending fire out to Oscar. The fire didn’t faze him. He batted it away with one chain-mail gloved hand. He narrowed his focus on me and siphoned off my power. My brain fuzzed. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t do anything but let it happen.

  Brad sped over in the SUV, headed straight for Oscar. He slammed into him. Oscar fell, and the wheels bumped over him. As soon as the SUV cleared, he stood again, glittering eyes fixed on me, cinching his mind tighter around mine.

  Brad staggered out, brandishing a hunting knife. He buried it to the hilt in Oscar’s back, closed his eyes, and began moving his lips. Brad, an energy witch who specialized in calling circles, began to tremble with effort. Though I had no way of knowing his intent, I could only guess he might try to bind Oscar’s magic.

  Lights flashed in the eye sockets of Oscar’s skull. He pinwheeled his arms, reaching for the knife and Brad. Brad pushed the knife in deeper, face knotted with concentration, and kept moving his lips. Oscar’s armor chinked. His body seemed to settle in on itself.

  It was working. If Brad could keep up this effort, I’d be able to free myself from Oscar. I saw movement in my fading peripheral vision.

  My mother appeared, sword raised and riding fast toward Brad. No. I couldn’t let Mysti’s brother be killed. Not like this.

  “Brad, get in the car and go,” I yelled.

  Orev flew at my mother, landed on her face. A mass of blackbirds joined him. Crows, ravens, magpies, and buzzards. Their heads pecked, and black ichor that might have blood flew.

  Barbie screamed. The horse, a beautiful white stallion with bunching muscles, bucked off my mother and the mass of birds covering her and ran.

  Oscar used the distraction to sling Brad off him. To his credit, Brad ran for his life. That left me lurching around, head aching like a rotten tooth. Oscar tightened his grip on my mind. I convulsed once with the pressure of it.

  Cecil redoubled his efforts of keeping the huntsmen and the dogs away. Fatigue bent his shoulders forward, and his hands trembled. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  Kenny sped up in his huge heavy-duty truck. He pushed the passenger door open. “Y’all get in. Now!”

  I took a couple of steps toward the truck. Oscar’s mind whipped tighter around mine, strands of him invading me with red, vengeful hate.

  Shelly and Cecil ignored Kenny and kept fighting as I staggered around, hands holding my head. It felt as though it might explode any second. I got control of myself enough to connect with Orev. Together, we pushed against Oscar.

  Hannah and Dillon, somehow having slipped their attackers, ran up behind us. Dillon grabbed my arm and dragged me toward Kenny’s truck. I shook her off.

  “Shelly and Cecil.” I pointed desperately at my elderly great-aunt and uncle.

  Dillon’s face fell, but she did as I asked, ignoring Shelly’s and Cecil’s attempts to fight her off. Hannah came to help her, shooting fearful glances at me. Just as they’d gotten the two to the truck, she dropped Cecil’s arm.

  Her mouth opened in a perfect O, and her eyes rounded to the point it scared me. She screamed one word. “Nooooooo….” It seemed to go on forever.

  Fire blossomed in my lower abdomen, turning my bowels into liquid. I glanced down to see what had happened. A sword stuck out of me. Vision graying, I raised my head to see who’d killed me.

  Oscar grinned at me from the other end of the sword. “This is it, you vapid little bitch. I’ll have what I deserve.”

  A black mass of feathers dove at Oscar’s head and landed squarely on the headdress. Orev. Thank goodness. The rest of the birds joined my raven familiar.

  Instead of clawing out Oscar’s eyes, which was what they should have done, they covered his headdress. Made of leather with deer antlers and jewels attached, it was obvious why birds would gravitate to that. But it wouldn’t hurt Oscar. Clawing out his eyes would hurt him. Even if they grew right back.

  Oscar, however, had a different reaction. He screamed and let go of the sword. The weapon slid out of my middle and thumped to the dirt.

  A stream of my blood followed it to splat on the ground. I slapped one hand over my lower abdomen as though hiding the wound would fix it. Shock held the pain at bay for the moment, but I had only seconds before it took me. I tried again to shake Oscar’s hold off my mind. He was still too strong.

  The birds’ wild caws blotted out all other sound. They flapped and clawed, battling Oscar for the headdress. He went down, holding onto the thing with both hands. His panic beat at me. The more hysterical he got, the more his hold slipped.

  His mind unwrapped from mine a bit at a time. At the last I jerked away. But it was too late.

  Blood leaked out of my abdomen in a steady stream. The shock had gone, taking with it any merciful unawareness of the pain. My insides ached. Cold spread inch by inch through my body. Gray fogged the edges of my vision.

  The birds quit squawking. I glanced over at Oscar to see they’d flown away, except my Orev. Poor Orev staggered around, disoriented, sharing my injury. He was too sick to control them anymore.

  I grabbed for the mantle, only to find its shine had dulled. Its power felt more like a light push than its usual electric pop. The world around me faded a bit more.

  No. This couldn’t be it. I wouldn’t let this be it.

  The ghostly Six Guns and the horsemen stopped to watch my end. Barbie stood right ou
t front. Skin had grown over some of her bones, and one eye shone out of a socket. Enough hate radiated from that one eye to burn a hole through my heart.

  Oscar joined them, picking up his sword off the ground. “Time to die, Peri Jean Mace. I would say you fought a good fight, but it was really a shitty effort.”

  I groaned in pain and frustration. Vision fading, I fell to my knees, hands laced over my stomach, still horribly aware of all that was going on.

  Cecil screamed and bawled from inside Kenny’s truck. Shelly held him back from coming to me, her dark eyes leaking tears.

  “Go,” I croaked at them. They didn’t need to see me die. I curled my knees to my chest.

  An engine screamed up behind me, and a door slammed. A ball of flame hit Oscar in the chest. The gas can carrying the flame fell to the ground, gave a polite cough, and spewed fire up his legs. Oscar danced around.

  “Help me.” His armor clinked as he beat at himself.

  In my mental fog, he reminded me of a kid doing the pee-pee dance. I giggled and tasted blood at the back of my throat.

  Skinny hands closed around me, and Tubby Tubman scooped me into his arms. I screamed from the pain of being moved.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he chanted, his voice choked. He was crying. Tubby Tubman, the toughest person I knew, was crying.

  Veronica Spinelli and Trench Coat put Oscar out by rolling him on the ground. He lay still a few seconds and bounded to his feet, holding his sword up.

  “Get them, you morons. Kill them.” Oscar led them toward us.

  They’d kill both Tubby and me, and they’d have what they came for. I tried to plan, but I was in too much pain and too weak.

  Kenny appeared in front of us, holding a torch and Mysti’s bottle of clear liquid. “Get Peri Jean in your car and go. I’ll stay.”

  “You can’t. They’ll kill you,” I slurred at Kenny.

  “Anita’s dead,” he choked. “This is the end of my road. Safe and long travels. Both of you.” He turned from us, shoulders square and brave. His sacrifice touched me. Even assholes could be heroes.

  “Kenny, wait.” Saying the words hurt every inch of my body.

  He came back.

  I gripped his arm with bloody hand. “You were one of us. A Gregg, if not by blood, then spirit. Godspeed.”

  Kenny picked up my hand and kissed it. Then he marched toward the assembled huntsmen and his death.

  Tubby carried me to his car. Each step jostled and hurt worse than the one before. Just as Tubby shoved me into the back seat, Kenny let out an agonized scream. I raised my head to find him, to honor him by watching his last moments. Tubby slammed the door in my face. I twisted around on the back seat and leaned my face against the window.

  Kenny had somehow managed to set all the horses and their riders on fire. He bled from more wounds than I could count. He dropped to the ground and rolled over on his back to stare at the sky while he died.

  Cecil raced Kenny’s truck through the horsemen and their riders, tearing them apart, dispersing them for the moment. He swerved to miss Kenny’s lifeless body and peeled out of the dirt parking lot.

  Tubby took off. I hurt too bad to turn my body to see more. The pain clutched at me, pulling me under. I wanted to hear Tanner’s rough voice speaking words of comfort.

  I pulled out my phone, surprised I hadn’t lost it in the scuffle, and unlocked the screen. My finger smeared blood all over it. I dialed Tanner’s number.

  A recording picked up, and an impersonal voice said, “This is no longer a working number.”

  Grief stabbed through my fading emotions. Tanner had turned off his phone. I’d truly lost him. With a sob, I let the phone drop into the floorboard, wishing I could tell him how much he’d meant to me.

  The world turned around, as though someone had flipped it. I found myself on a airplane full of people. The white noise from the engines filled the cabin. How had I gone from dying on the backseat of Tubby’s car to the inside of a plane?

  I glanced down at my hands. Tawny skin with a sprinkling of dark hair. I knew those hands. Tanner. I had somehow found my way into Tanner’s body. Was I here to say goodbye?

  Before I could figure out what to do, or how to do it, a familiar voice spoke from beside me.

  “I’m thinking we’ll call up our old contacts, and…” Dave moved forward and into my field of vision. He waved a hand in front of my face. “Tanner? What’s wrong, buddy?”

  “I thought I heard Peri Jean’s voice. Calling for me,” came Tanner’s raspy purr.

  Dave gave a nervous laugh.

  “It’s not funny, David.” Tanner’s voice had gone sharp, each word clipped off precisely. “Something’s wrong. Bad wrong. I need to get in touch with her soon as we land.”

  Neecie’s voice came from the other side. “Don’t worry about her. You’re doing the right thing. Let those people get back to their lives.”

  “Those people? Their lives?” Tanner’s voice raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Calm down,” Neecie whispered. “You didn’t belong there. Think of this as a course correction. Leave her behind.”

  Tanner let out an angry growl. “I’ve had enough of your barbs about Peri Jean and the Greggs. I love her, and they’re family to me. If she needs me, I’m going back.”

  The world turned again, and I was back in Tubby’s car, jouncing painfully with every bump. It really seemed I had been with Tanner for just that one second. But that was impossible. I was a psychic medium. Not a telepath.

  The whole thing had probably just been the fevered dream of a dying woman. Brought on by a last wish to tell Tanner just how deep my feelings had gone. That he had been the right one. But now it was too late. Now I’d have to face whatever lay on the other side of life.

  The thought trailed off. The world faded, first gray with black dots, and then white. I let my consciousness slip away, hoping Tubby wouldn’t get too upset about me dying in his car.

  8

  Tubby’s shouts gave me a rude push back into consciousness.

  “No, I don’t see any damn gate. It’s dark out here.” Tubby brayed a few sobs. “She’s dying. Oh shit, can’t you do something?”

  My consciousness crept back in little by little. A clammy chill coated my skin. I wanted to shiver, but I was too tired. A red ball of pain pulsed at my center. My jeans clung wetly to my skin. Had I pissed my pants? What a great way to end things.

  Tubby cried some more, but then shut it off like the flip of a switch. “No. You’re right. I’ll calm down.” He paused. “I see the sign. There’s the gate. The code’s 55632?”

  The car door opened, and the car shifted as Tubby got out. The sound of coyotes yowling in the distance drifted through the open door. They were singing me home, to whatever waited in the great beyond. Tubby got back into the car and slammed the door, sobbing again. The tires thumped over a cattle guard.

  “Fight,” said a voice next to my head. A freezing hand pressed against my forehead, the cold of it seeping in my head like an ice cream headache.

  My eyes flew open at the pain. Priscilla Herrera leaned over me, this time as her young, tattooed specter.

  “You can’t die. You have to pass on the power.” She patted me with cold hands.

  The death wound woke up. Its intense pain spread through me. I wished for sleep, the kind I’d never wake from, just to end the misery. I accepted my own death. A peace I had never expected slipped over me. With it came a revelation.

  “You don’t need me to pass on the mantle. Mysti Whitebyrd took on Petunia LeBlanc’s mantle, and they weren’t even related,” I told Priscilla and relaxed, eyes drifting closed.

  “The Gregorius mantle can only be passed daughter to daughter. That was the bargain made thousands of years ago.” She stroked my forehead and pressed cool lips to it. “You, my sweet, have a long and fruitful road ahead. You are the next generation of our line. Don’t give up.”

  An image flashed into my mind. In it, a
very pregnant me sat on the scarred wood floor of a room with the softest yellow walls, putting together a crib. Tanner spoke to me from the doorway. We smiled at each other. Just as quickly as it came, the image faded, leaving me to wonder if it had been a real vision of the future or just wishful thinking. I looked for Priscilla, so I could ask, but she was gone.

  Tubby’s sobs and curses came from the front seat. The electric window hummed as he rolled it down.

  “This ain’t a house. Why didn’t you tell me to look for a damn storage building?” he yelled.

  Another male voice rumbled a sharp answer. I knew that voice.

  “Don’t matter anyway. I think she’s done dead. She was back there talking to people who ain’t here.” Tubby began to cry again.

  Pain gripped me again. I yelled, barely recognizing my own weak voice.

  “She’s not dead,” the familiar voice said. “Let’s get her out of the car and carry her in the house.”

  Tubby got out of the driver’s seat and pushed it forward so he could get to me. The sharp smell of his sweat enveloped me. He pushed his skinny arms between the seat and me and lifted.

  The movement poked the pain, hard. Like hornets swarming from their nest, it came, seeping over me, becoming all that I was.

  “Just leave me here,” I managed to whisper.

  “You’ll die,” Tubby grunted. His steps crunched over dead, dry vegetation. Each one provoked the agony in my gut a little more.

  “Leave me. Let me go.” I gasped from the pain and coughed. The salty taste of blood filled my mouth. I tried to spit but didn’t have the strength.

  “I got the door,” the familiar voice rumbled. “Hurry. She doesn’t have long.”

  A door opened, and light shone in my eyes. I winced and tried to turn my head away. My muscles didn’t work. We brushed past another person. The scent of sunshine and gasoline filled my senses. It hit me whose house this was. Wade. Tubby had brought me to Wade’s.

  “Put her on the couch.” Wade’s voice followed us through the too-bright room.

  “I’ll get blood on it,” I whispered.