by Catie Rhodes
“If this bit of magic doesn’t work, you’ll die.” The youngest one gave me the same kind smile.
“And you won’t need the black opal anyway if that happens.” The mother slipped the black opal off my neck and put it on her sleeping baby.
A pit opened somewhere deep in my emotions, bottomless and black. It took a second to recognize it as grief. It wasn’t just losing the extra magical umph. It was grief over letting go of a piece of my past. It was sadness that the black opal, which had chosen me, had now let me go.
Then I remembered where I’d gotten the black opal—Dean’s mother. That time in my life, and my romance with Dean, seemed like somebody else’s life. I had learned and changed since then, become almost a new person. Maybe it was fitting for me to let the black opal go.
A tiny pop sounded in my head as the connection between me and the black opal severed. Unshed tears stung my sinuses. I pushed them down.
The elder women unfastened the chain attached to the dram and nodded. I was to put my head through it. I bent and let her slip it over my head. The clasp clinked as she fastened it. A bolt of magic shot through me, straining the scar tissue spell and rattling the mantle behind it.
“Choose the time to take this magic into you very carefully. You’ll not survive if you choose wrong.” The old woman stared into my eyes as she spoke.
Something flashed in my mind, a quick flare of light, but then it was gone.
The mother walked to the door and held it open. “Now you must go.”
I edged toward the open door, dreading another confrontation with the white things. She gave me a light shove out of the cabin and shut the door. The cabin faded and was gone. It was just Orev and me. And the creatures who’d chased me.
It took them less than a minute to find us. Flashes of white came through the trees, branches snapping with their passage. They’d be on me in seconds. Then I remembered. They’d left me alone while I walked the trail. I’d be safe if I found my way back to it. I crashed through the branches and pine needles littering the forest floor, but the trail was nowhere to be seen. I waited for the first set of cold, white hands to close on my shoulders.
Orev cawed from a tree right next to me. When I glanced up to see what he wanted, he gave the ground at my feet a pointed look and ruffled his feathers. I was on the trail. Orev took flight, leading me out of the woods.
I trudged along behind him, full of questions. The potion would kill me if it didn’t work. I had to pick the right moment to take it, but when was that?
Before I knew it, I’d followed the path back to its beginning. I quickened my steps, ready to be out of these woods. A shadow stepped in front of me.
“You can’t go.” It was the man wearing the dog skin. The head of the dog still rested right on top of his head, its empty eyes creepy and dark.
“I have business across the veil. Let me pass.” I took a step toward him, gathering my energy. It’d give this weirdo a blast that would singe the hair off his ass.
The man seemed to grow wider and his nose broader. The tail of his dog cloak twitched. “No spirits who come in can leave.”
Orev gave me a warning caw from a tree a few feet away. I couldn’t interpret the exact meaning, so I went on instinct.
“I’m not a spirit. I’m the next Gregorius Witch.” I stood a little straighter, fully expecting him to step aside. The statement had carried so much weight with others. Dog Boy didn’t seem to care.
“You entered the forest of the dead. Nobody leaves.” His voice deepened into a growl on the last words.
The hairs on the back of my neck rustled. Orev cawed again. Another warning. But of what? I didn’t see how I could reverse this situation.
Dog Boy and I glared at each other. The only way around him would be to go off the path and face those hideous creatures that had chased me to the cabin. Even if I did that, there was nothing to stop Dog Boy following me. Then I’d have to fight both him and those disgusting, giggling creatures.
“Get outta my way.” I clenched my fists to let Dog Boy know I meant business.
The dude growled, and damned if he didn’t sound just like a dog. He even had the sharp canines of a dog. Holy taco meat. When did that happen?
I threw up my hand and let the ball of energy I’d been gathering fly. It hit Dog Boy square in the chest and blew him backward. He fell with a yelp and rolled to his feet. As he rolled, the dog pelt on his back melted into his skin. His torso changed shape, and his hands seemed to shrink and ball up. His nose became a snout. In mere seconds, a dog the size of a pony stood in front of me.
The dog bared his teeth, a deep growl bubbling in his chest. The coarse, matted hair on its sides vibrated with each growl. Huge muscles bunched in the thing’s hindquarters as it tensed to lunge, tail slowly waving back and forth.
Fear prickled at my nerve endings, begging me to scream and run. But dogs chased things that ran. This one was so big, it would be over in seconds if we played that game.
Dog Boy’s growls increased in intensity. A line of saliva dripped from his sharp, ivory teeth, stretching and snapping back. He feinted at me. I gasped and jumped back from him. It was all he needed.
Dog Boy lunged and caught me in the chest. I screamed and fell backward, arms up to keep him off my face. The hard-packed ground slammed into my back. The air belched out of my lungs. My arms faltered. The dog’s snarling snout came even closer. Panic seizing my heart, I got control of myself and shoved the dog upward just as he snapped in my face. Saliva dotted against my skin. My shoulders began to ache from the strain of holding the dog off me. I couldn’t do this forever.
Orev swooped down from the canopy of trees and landed on the dog’s back, digging in with his feet and squawking for all he was worth. The dog took his attention off me and twisted to snap at Orev. The bird rose, a blur of flapping wings, and dove into the dog’s face. The dog winced away. The movement gave me enough leverage to throw him off me. The effort caused a sharp ripping sensation in one of my shoulder muscles. I ignored it and struggled to my feet.
Dog Boy, already back on all fours, launched himself at me again. His mouth yawned open as he came, slobber spraying from it. I raised one arm to neck level. In the next instant, his powerful jaws clamped down on it. I howled in horror and used the other arm to push at him. It was no use. He dug his teeth in deeper and gave my arm an agonizing yank. I squealed like a trapped animal, which I suppose I was.
Orev swooped in, talons digging at the dog’s eyes. The dog screamed, dropped his hold on my arm, and clambered backward. Orev followed. His furious caws filled my ears. The dog’s snarls and yips joined Orev’s anger.
This was my chance. I could dart around Dog Boy and Orev and get out of this forest. Make a run for the dock and hope my skeletal tour guide was waiting for me. Orev and Dog Boy blocked the path going out, but I could cut around them. Those faceless, naked men who lurked off the path would come for me. But maybe I could slip them. I had to take a chance.
I raced at the brawling pair. My injured shoulder throbbed with each footfall. I gritted my teeth against the pain, took a deep breath, and jumped off the path.
They were waiting for me. A half dozen fish-belly-white hands reached for me, their hissing laughs taking the place of Orev and Dog Boy’s brawl. I backpedaled away and burst back onto the path in time to see Orev swoop at Dog Boy. The dog snapped at my bird, and a cloud of feathers rose.
Oh, hell no. I ran at the dog and hit him with my injured shoulder. It knocked him back several paces. A bolt of pain shot through my shoulder and climbed up one side of my neck. The creature rebounded as though I’d done no more than tap him. Orev swooped in before he could bite, herding him back a few paces.
I called my magic. It throbbed through my injured shoulder and down that arm. My hand twitched, but no magic came. Instead the memory of plucking the hag’s sparkling, hard heart from its chest flashed. My jeans pocket, where I’d stowed the heart, heated. The magic left in this nasty last piece
of the hag sent pinpricks through my body.
“What do I do?” I muttered to myself.
Think, came Priscilla Herrera’s voice from inside my head. You can come up with the solution yourself.
I pulled the hag’s heart out of my pocket and stared at it, racking my brain for ideas. The ruby crystals encrusted on the organ sparkled in the weak light filtering through the trees.
Orev flew to me, his exhaustion traveling through our connection, and landed on my shoulder. He cawed at the dog but made no move to go back to fighting it. He was too tired.
Turning the hard, sparkling hag’s heart over and over in my hand, an idea came to me. Orev and I might not be able to outfight Dog Boy, but what if we distracted him with a treat? Surely a dog would love eating the heart of another beast.
I held up the hag’s heart where the dog could see it. Dog Boy’s wild, mad eyes tracked it.
“Yum yum.” I sniffed the heart and immediately wished I hadn’t. It might have been hard as a rock, but it smelled of old blood.
Dog Boy, however, raised his ears and cocked his head.
Shaking the heart in the air where the dog could see it, I tossed it behind me. It hit the ground and rolled. The dog shot past me, thick tail moving in a circle as he bounded after the treat. I spun and ran for the light at the end of the path.
The dog’s running footsteps stopped. There was a pause, during which he must have eaten the heart. Then he came after me, grunting and panting. He hit my back. The ground rushed up to meet my face. This was it. Now I would die.
But instead of biting me, Dog Boy let out an ugly, dry cough. I twisted in time to watch him arch his back and gag. Nothing came up. Dog Boy began the series of coughs that led up to retching again. He seemed to have forgotten all about me.
I shoved out from under him, clawed my way to my feet, and took off running. Behind me Dog Boy gagged. He tried to bark but just started coughing again. I raced for the end of the path and didn’t stop running until I hit the pier.
“Come on, come on,” I whined at the foggy mist covering the water, dancing foot to foot. Soon Dog Boy would dislodge that piece of nastiness from his throat and come after me. A particularly loud barf sound came from the forest. Any time now, Dog Boy would come charging out to drag me back.
The boat came out of the mist, and the skeleton held opened its hand. I put my final coin in the hand and climbed aboard. It rocked no less, and it scared me just as much. We went back the way we came, many sets of eyes watching us across the black water.
Something fluttered against my face. I brushed it away, wondering what kind of flying creatures this realm of the dead housed. It came again. This time as a sharp pop.
“Peri Jean, wake up.” The voice came from all around me. The pops on my cheeks started again.
My eyes flew open, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Oxygen filled my lungs, replenishing the way cool water does on a hot day.
Hannah rose and spoke to someone nearby. “See? I told you she wasn’t really dead.”
Taking deep, gulping breaths, I glanced around the room to see my entire family, faces set in various degrees of distress. Mysti and Griff stood off to the side, eyes wide, hands clutched. Mysti gave me a weak smile.
Had I dreamed that whole episode—the women, the woods, the weird boat ride? I took deep breaths until I could move and sat up. Something unfamiliar and cold banged against my breastbone. My fingers found the dram of potion the three women had sold me in the land of the dead.
Nope. No dream. All I needed to do was figure out a way to take this without killing myself. My eyes found Mysti’s, and I pointed the dram.
“Help?” I mouthed.
She nodded.
I climbed to my feet and made my way toward her. Mysti would know what to do, what it all meant. Things would be okay. I hoped.
Mysti met me halfway. I explained about the Wanderer and the three women. Her eyes grew wide. What remained of my family and friends crowded around to listen.
“You gave them your black opal necklace?” Tubby wrinkled his nose.
“They said I only needed this to beat Oscar.” I pointed to the little bottle hanging from my neck.
Mysti leaned close and squinted at it. “Take it off, please.”
I hooked my fingers under the chain and pulled. Nothing happened. I tried again. The chain wasn’t stuck to my neck. It didn’t pull at my skin. It was like trying to lift a car. No matter how hard I pulled, it didn’t budge.
Mysti tried. Hannah did too. Even Finn and Dillon took a turn. Mysti backed away to talk to Griff. They spoke with their heads together, faces pinched in worry. Seeing me watching, they motioned me over.
“Tell me again what the three women said about this potion.” Mysti leaned in to look at it again.
“To choose when I took it carefully, or it would kill me.” Curious about Mysti’s curiosity, I took out my phone, turned on the camera, and reversed it to see the dram.
The potion looked like melted silver. Iridescence shimmered through it. The molten silver went through the full spectrum of the rainbow, all the way to black, and then silver again. I watched it the same way I’d have watched a kaleidoscope.
Griff’s voice broke into my reverie. “The Wanderer mentioned the scar tissue spell having a root, yes?”
I nodded, still fascinated by the color moving through the dram.
He tugged my arm to get my attention. “The root of the scar tissue, whatever that is, and the warning about when you should take the potion are connected.”
I snapped to attention. Griff was right. The conversation with the Wanderer seemed eons away after fighting the monsters in the forest of the dead. But I needed to examine it further. The Wanderer had said the scar tissue was connected to a root. A place where it began. This one thing held the scar tissue spell together.
“The root has to be gone for the potion to work,” I muttered, still trying to put it together.
“I disagree.” Mysti glanced at Griff.
He nodded his agreement. “Think about the words they chanted…born in fire, death by same. Your magic often comes out as fire. Perhaps this potion will allow you to burn away the root of the scar tissue, thus destroying the whole spell.”
“If you can identify the root.” Mysti still stared at the dram, her eyes moving with the shifting color.
The root of my scar tissue. Of course it would all boil down to that one thing. I had no idea where to begin finding it. Was it a memory? The Wanderer had said it was something I’d learned so early that it had become deeply ingrained in my psyche. He had also said I wasn’t really ready to find it and that was why he hadn’t jumped to my aid in the first place.
Dr. Danny came down the steps into the cavern. “I want you folks off the property in fifteen minutes. Please.”
“Gee, thanks.” Shelly gave him a withering smirk.
“No. Don’t start that crap. I’m done. Any favors I owed Cecil ran out when I buried his body in a historic cemetery. I depend on this place for my income.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
I could tell Finn and Tubby to beat his ass, and they’d do it. But I saw no reason. There was something to be said for treating people the way I hoped they’d treat me. Even if they ended up shitting all over me.
“He’s right.” I raised my voice, surprised it didn’t hurt the muscles in my lower stomach and the shoulder muscles I’d injured fighting Dog Boy. Something about being in that other place and then leaving it had made those muscles feel a hundred percent better. I flexed, looking for hurties, and found none. Everyone stared at me.
I straightened and said, “Let’s get our things and go.”
Dr. Danny gave me a grateful smile. “I’ve already lost the fares for the cavern today. If I don’t open the dance hall in an hour, the whole day’s a loss.”
Huh? I cocked my head at him and then glanced around at my friends and family.
Only Dillon met my gaze. “You laid in here all day. Dead.”
“She wasn’t dead.” Shelly swatted her arm.
“Was too.” Dillon ducked away from Shelly and spoke to me. “They all sat around crying, trying to decide what to do. Dr. Danny wouldn’t let us bury you next to Cecil.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s a good thing now.”
“Wait a minute…are you saying it’s night?” When I’d looked at my phone earlier, I was positive the time hadn’t even been eight. I checked it. It was before eight. Eight p.m.
I groaned and slouched. “We’re cooked.”
“What is it?” Finn crept closer but didn’t touch me. It was as though he was afraid I’d explode.
“Oscar will be here any time. It’s the night of the Samhain. The veil is thinnest tonight. He’ll be at his most powerful. This is his best chance to kill me.” I slumped toward the stairs.
Shelly hurried after me. “We knew he’d come. We’ve been preparing all day. Or I have. The rest of them cried a lot.”
I took in Shelly’s red eyes. She’d been crying too. Maybe for Cecil, maybe for me. Today had been an upsetting day for all of them. I reached for her hand, and she let me take it. We walked up the steps together, our progress slow.
If Shelly had spent the day preparing for our final battle with Oscar, I needed a report of what had been done. Then I’d decide what still needed to be done.
It all felt pretty dire. We had no master plan to beat Oscar. No access to a weapon that would put him down and keep him down. No magic that would fry him forever. The dram hanging from my neck was our only ace in the hole. And I knew in my heart I wasn’t yet ready to drink it.
Shelly and I stepped outside the cavern’s outer building and into the deepening darkness. Another cloudy night with no moon. Maybe my last one.
“Shelly, I need…” I began.
“Hey, skinny,” a familiar voice rumbled.
I spun at the sound of it, wondering for just a second if I’d lost my mind entirely.
Wade leaned against the sedan I’d seen parked in front of Desiree’s house. Over his shoulder, he’d slung the kind of axe nerds carried at medieval reenactments. I saw Wade with new eyes. A warrior. A highwayman. A gambler. The kind of man no woman would ever catch because he was too busy fighting the war of life. The kind of man you wanted on your side when you went into battle.
