Last Exit

by Catie Rhodes

  I got a little closer and lowered my voice. “While we wait for them to get gone, maybe we could have a little wake for Cecil. Why don’t you start, Dr. Danny? Tell me how you knew Cecil.”

  It hurt my soul that a group of outlaws standing in a darkened cemetery was as close to a wake as my wild and wonderful uncle would get. He deserved more, and I wished I could provide it. But things were too desperate right now.

  Dr. Danny nodded his head. “I suppose I could.”

  The low murmur of my cousins talking among themselves stopped. They formed a tighter circle around Dr. Danny.

  Dr. Danny shrugged. “In prison. But you probably guessed that. I was a doctor with a drug problem. Led to me doing all kinds of shit. Which led to me losing my license and serving a few years in the federal pen. Cecil was serving out a sentence for tax evasion. I was mad at the world and pissed off the wrong guy. Cecil kept me from getting killed.”

  It didn’t surprise me. Cecil had had a habit of helping people remove thorns from their lives. He’d had a talent for picking people who’d benefit him on down the road. The life and times of a con man.

  Shelly stepped forward, dropped her cigarette on the dirt, and carefully mashed it under her shoe. She intended to speak next.

  “Cecil knew my husband,” Shelly said in her Yankee accent. Her voice trembled on the last word. She cleared her throat and stood straighter. “They did business together sometimes. I thought Cecil was cute, even though he was at least twenty years older.”

  She smiled, that same faraway smile I’d seen her give Cecil over the months. Her smile told the story of many years spent together, of the kind of bond you found once a lifetime. The ache of Tanner’s desertion tightened my chest. I drew in a shuddering breath. Shelly picked up her story in a sad, soft voice.

  “I’d been out of love with my husband for quite some time. We had our kids, and that was about all we had in common. Cecil and I started having an affair. My husband knew I was cheating on him but couldn’t figure out with whom. It boiled over the night before my husband and some other men were going to rob a bank. We argued all night, and I said I was leaving.” She glanced around the group, maybe gauging reactions. “My husband beat me up, tied me to a chair in the kitchen, and left to rob the bank. Said he’d deal with me when he came back.”

  Shelly touched a spot high on her cheekbone. In the dark, the mark was invisible. But I’d seen the divot in her skin and wondered about it often enough to know what she was touching. Now I knew how she’d gotten it.

  She began speaking again, a smile growing on her face. “Next thing I knew, Cecil came in the back door and untied me. We got in his car and left. He made an anonymous call to the police. They interrupted the robbery. My husband, who bragged to everybody he ever met that he’d never spend a day in jail, started shooting. The cops killed him.”

  Jadine cleared her throat. “I don’t remember this because I was just a baby, but Cecil and Shelly found me in some woods in a box crying. They treated me like I was really theirs. They always encouraged me to be just who I was.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. Cecil had been a con man, a murderer, and who knew what else. But he’d also been a good friend, a good husband, and a good father.

  Life rarely painted people in black and white. Shades of gray colored them, made them a mix of good and evil. My vision blurred with tears. When I wiped them away, several people stared at me. It was my turn to speak.

  “Cecil accepted me at a time in my life when I wasn’t sure where I belonged. He helped me find myself. He tutored me. He loved me.” My voice shook on the last word, and I could say no more.

  The parking lot was empty by then.

  Brad turned on the truck’s lights so we could see what we were doing. Dr. Danny dug a hole, and we buried my uncle, who’d been nothing but good to me, in an unmarked grave in a graveyard full of strangers. The ugliest truth of life is that it just stops. The ends we come to are neither glamorous nor beautiful. Then everybody left figures out a way to go on.

  As though reading my thoughts, Dillon said, “I guess we’d best go back to the bunkhouse. Maybe start packing.”

  She threw a long glance at Dr. Danny. He ducked his head. He wouldn’t ask us to leave. We’d hurt his nuts too bad for him to dare. But people like us, life’s travelers, knew when to go. I gave her a nod. My family began milling back to the bunkhouse.

  I checked the clock on my phone and saw that I had less than half an hour until my appointment with the Wanderer. In the nice, dark, shadowy cavern. My favorite place.

  “I need in your cavern,” I told Dr. Danny. People who used the caverns as tourist attractions kept them locked, either to keep out freebie seekers or for insurance purposes. I’d never know which and didn’t really care.

  He exhaled a long breath through his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. This night probably felt as though it could never end soon enough for him. I knew how he felt. “Meet me back at the storage shed. Once I put this up, I’ll give you access.” He started his tractor and drove away without waiting for my acknowledgment.

  I trailed behind, rubbing my aching stomach, steps heavy with grief for Cecil and worry about the next mountain of feces I’d have to climb.

  Hannah walked with me to the equipment shed, head hanging, wringing her hands. We stood a short distance away and smoked while Danny unhooked the backhoe and put everything away. Hannah stole glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

  She tossed her cigarette away half-smoked. “Where to next? Now that Cecil’s gone, you’re the one who says.”

  I kept smoking, staring into the dark night, trying to prepare myself to meet the Wanderer. My nerves ground painfully. Deciding where to go was the last thing I wanted. I tried to channel my uncle’s wisdom but knew I didn’t have it. Then I remembered the date. Today was Samhain.

  “I’m going to end this whole crap-fest tonight.”

  She raised her wet eyes to mine. “Tonight?”

  “Yep. It’s October thirty-first.” I held up my phone and showed her. “The Samhain is tonight. The veil between us and the spirit world is thinner than ever. If Oscar wants to use my power to rip a permanent hole, tonight’s his best chance.”

  “What if the Wanderer won’t help you?” Hannah’s shoulders drew up.

  “I don’t know.” The words came out in a near whisper.

  Dr. Danny came out of the equipment shed and locked it. “You ready?”

  I nodded and gave Hannah a quick wave. She trudged away, head hung low. Danny walked fast across the property. I had to jog to keep pace.

  We stopped at a light-colored stone building with a gate across its front. Dr. Danny unlocked the gate, reached in, and flipped a switch. The whole thing lit up like Saturday night. If I hadn’t been scared out of my wits, I’d have thought it pretty, even if it was a cavern. Dr. Danny took a step back.

  He motioned for me to go inside. “Steps take you straight down. There’s lights all along the way.” He chewed his lower lip.

  “Say it. I’m not going to whip your ass.” It was no lie. Without Finn to help me, there was no way I’d be able to beat up Dr. Danny.

  “Tours of this cavern start at ten in the morning. That’s just about seven hours from now.” He stared, as though waiting for an answer.

  My patience with Dr. Danny grew a little thinner. “If I’m not out by then, something has gone wrong, and there was nothing I could do to help it.”

  I walked away from Dr. Danny to keep from biting him. The building turned out to be nothing more than an open room with a stone floor. At the far end of the room was a wide set of stone steps.

  Now that I was here, all the worries came back. The Wanderer, despite whatever bargain Cecil had made with him, might still refuse to help me. Cecil forcing the coming of the Death Card might not be enough. Queenie had indicated the Wanderer thought me not ready for his kind of help.

  Exactly what is his kind of help? whispered a sinister voice from the dark of my mind.<
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  I made myself walk to the steps. The lights lining the way emitted a maddening buzz. It didn’t matter what kind of help the Wanderer offered. He was my last hope. I gathered my courage and took the first step into the unknown.

  A layer of dampness from the humidity slicked the stone steps. I held tight to the metal bannister, also wet with condensation, and forced myself to take step after step. The staircase ended in a dimly lit room with high ceilings showing off the rock formations, which looked to me like dripping lava. The room was empty.

  “H-h-hello?” Despite my pounding heart and singing nerves, I wouldn’t call him Mr. Wanderer or another silly name.

  A scraping sound echoed in the huge room. I jumped and clapped my hand to my chest. The gesture reminded me of Cecil. Ashamed, I dropped my hand. I checked the clock on my phone just in time to watch the time change from 3:00 a.m. to 3:01. The Wanderer was late.

  The sound came again. My heart leapt, a caged animal flinging itself against its bars in a futile attempt at escape.

  “Is anybody here?” I licked my lips.

  A dark blob appeared on a nearby wall. I took a couple of steps backward. The shape morphed until human shoulders, and a head became visible. A man stepped out of the wall.

  Tall with long, graying strawberry blond hair and a red beard, I put him in late middle age. Creases cut the skin next to his eyes and on the part of his cheeks not hidden by beard. He took purposeful strides toward me on long, muscular legs encased in rough leather pants. Items tied to rawhide patted against his legs. If I’d imagined a frontiersman from the eighteenth century, the Wanderer would have come to mind.

  He stopped a few feet from me. “You’re Peri Jean, the next Gregorius Witch.”

  His words echoed in my head. The next Gregorius Witch. A clammy sweat broke out over my body. If I understood Priscilla Herrera right, taking on the full measure of the mantle would give me the power of a demigoddess. Forever.

  My pulse fluttered. Though I’d said goodbye to normal a lot of times, this one was the real deal. There’d be no take backs. Whatever becoming the Gregorius Witch did to me would be the new me.

  I might hate it. I might suck at it. I might spend the rest of my life a freak and a pariah.

  The Wanderer cocked his head. “Are you the next Gregorius Witch or not?”

  Oh boy. He expected an answer. I gulped and nodded.

  The Wanderer held out one hand covered in crisp reddish hair. At first, I thought he meant for me to shake it, but instead he gestured to a natural bench set into the stone wall.

  “Dr. Danny won’t mind if we sit here while we talk.” The Wanderer had a slight accent, somewhat like Herta’s. He continued holding out his hand. Finally I understood he meant for me to go first.

  I walked past him. “How do you know Dr. Danny won’t mind?”

  He smiled, folding the creases of his face even deeper. His eyes, blue as the winter sky on a pretty day, twinkled with good humor. The Wanderer wore the skin of a very sexy man, middle aged or not.

  A flush worked its way over my face and body. The Wanderer was desirable in a way none of the other chthonic beings had been. I didn’t know what to think about that, so I sat on the cold stone.

  “My uncle Cecil died so you’d see me.” I said it in the same way I’d have told the pizza guy I had a coupon.

  “He did.” The Wanderer hitched up his pants and sat down next to me, his arm brushing mine. The smell of leather hung between us. Neither of us said anything. It reminded me of a red-faced first date. That irritated me.

  “Do you know what I need?” At best, we’d get this show on the road. At worst, the Wanderer would tell me to rot in hell and leave. I didn’t care which at that point.

  “Queenie has informed me.” The Wanderer glanced at me, no longer smiling, but eyes still dancing with humor. “Let me ask you a question. What do you think holds this scar tissue spell, as you call it, in place?”

  Few questions would have been harder to answer. I searched for a way to explain that didn’t involve telling my life story.

  “It’s all my emotional baggage, stuff I can’t let go of.” I couldn’t make it much simpler.

  “Have you noticed that you only try to rectify this issue when your life or someone else’s is at stake?” The Wanderer stared at me until I squirmed. He nodded. “Would you believe me if I suggested your baggage is rooted in one simple thing?”

  I didn’t believe him. The scar tissue was made up of many layers, all bad things that had happened to me or because of me.

  He nodded at whatever he saw on my face. “Of course you don’t. The root of this scar tissue, the thing that holds it together, is something so old and so ingrained, you think it’s who you are.”

  The Wanderer grabbed one of his rawhide strings and showed me a piece of amber with some kind of bug suspended in it.

  “You think you’re trapped by it. That to let go of this thing, you’ll lose who you are, all that you believe.” He let the amber bug drop.

  He was wrong. I had already lost everything because of who and what I was.

  “Have you ever thought that by losing all, you can start to rebuild?” He waved one hand. The tarot cards Queenie had drawn appeared on the wall in front of us.

  The Tower. Death. Ten of Swords.

  “The man with the swords in his back. Isn’t that how you feel most of the time?” The Wanderer smiled at me. “But if you let it all break apart and die, like the Tower, you can be reborn.” He paused. “But only if you understand what to give up.”

  I slumped. Circles and riddles. That’s what this whole conversation was turning into. I didn’t have enough mental energy left for that kind of thing. “What do I need to do?”

  “I cannot tell you. Only you can discover it.” The Wanderer let out a sigh. “This was why I told Queenie you weren’t yet ready.”

  “But I need to shed the scar tissue to fight Oscar.” My voice rose with my frustration.

  “But if you get rid of the spell before you’re ready, you’ll either go mad, die, or both.” The Wanderer’s voice rose too, much more forceful than mine.

  “But if I don’t, I’m going to die anyway. And so are a lot of other people.” This time I shouted. My voice echoed in the chamber, magnified and disembodied.

  He drummed his fingers on his leg, thick brows furrowed. Without warning, he turned to me and cupped my cheeks in his hands. His eyes closed. Was he going to kiss me? No. I didn’t want that. I struggled, kicking uselessly at this man who probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds.

  The Wanderer tightened his grip, fingers digging into my cheeks to force my mouth open. My teeth ground against the tender skin, the pain growing more and more intense until I lost control. My mouth popped open. The Wanderer opened his mouth and inhaled deeply.

  Deep inside, I felt a tug. The Wanderer inhaled again. The tug turned into a pinch. Something inside me let loose and passed between the Wanderer and me.

  My heart pounded in my throat and began to slow. Light flashed behind my eyes and faded. The Wanderer eased me onto my back. He stood and stretched out my legs.

  I tried to speak, but my voice was frozen in my throat. My slowing mind registered the Wanderer leaning over me.

  “You’ll need two tokens. One for the trip there. One for the trip back. Don’t lose them.” He closed something cold in my hand and then placed both hands on my chest. He brushed a kiss on my forehead and whispered, “Just let go.”

  The Wanderer straightened to his full height and walked away. He faded back into the rocks and was gone.

  My heart slowed to a beat every once in a while. The Wanderer had taken my breath just like in an old fairy tale. I was dying. The thought scared me, elated me, and pissed me off all at the same time. The Wanderer had cheated Cecil. He’d come with no intention of helping me. He’d simply killed me and left me in this cavern.

  As I raged inwardly, my vision filled with growing black dots. They expanded until there was nothing but
a tiny pinpoint of light. After a while, it winked out too.

  Tanner’s face loomed large in what consciousness I had left. How I hated not to see him again in this life. Deep down, I had believed I could win him back. If not that, then make it where he crossed the street when he saw me coming.

  And my family. Finn would step into the leadership position. I loved my cousin, but some of his decisions made less sense than tamales served with ranch dip. Hopefully Hannah and Tubby would get out before Finn got them killed.

  The thoughts raced. They went faster and louder with each revolution until I thought they’d drive me mad. Then they slowed. One realization remained.

  There was nothing I could do. No matter how much I hated it. The darkness deepened, took on textures I didn’t know it could have. It was happening. I was moving to the next plane.

  Fear took over. I worried about what lay in wait for me on the other side. I’d made a lot of people and things angry. This recent war with Oscar proved as much.

  The sound of water dripping somewhere in the cave seemed overly loud. It became my whole world. But then it faded too.

  The dampness from the stone seeped through my clothes, cold against my skin. Little by little, the cold mattered less until it no longer felt like anything.

  I tried to draw a breath and couldn’t. Was I dead? No. I still thought. Or was this what it was like to be a ghost? Floating with no body and no senses, just a ball of thought.

  The Wanderer had been right. I wasn’t ready to take on the mantle. I wasn’t ready to be the Gregorius Witch. Need and preparedness were not the same.

  The Wanderer had said one little root held the scar tissue together. That one thing stood between the mantle and my magical core. What was it?

  I searched my mind until I wanted to scream. It wasn’t there.

  No, but it will be. When the time is right, it will be.

  The voice wasn’t Priscilla Herrera, but it wasn’t me either.

  Not yet. But it will be.

  The voice was right. I’d been on this path since that day a lifetime ago when I’d called my power to keep my mother from killing me. This path had taken me on a tour of hell, but I was closer to finding my place in the universe than ever.