by Catie Rhodes
Orev, wings flapping fast as he slowed, perched on the charcoal grill. He cawed a couple of times and flew into a tall pine tree next to the RV. Again, Cecil watched the bird as though it held the answers to life.
“I remember the day those things quit coming around,” he muttered. “Learned later it was the day you were born.” He climbed out of the golf cart. “Lemme show you something.”
He slipped off his jacket, threw it on the golf cart’s seat, and unbuttoned the sleeve of his shirt. Unease worked its way through my body as Cecil shoved up his shirtsleeve. He tapped a faded tattoo on his forearm. “Just like yours. We wear these to remember it’s us against the world. The bond of our blood is above all others.” He grabbed his coat and put it back on, bleak eyes fixed on my face. “Understand?”
I managed to nod and follow him inside, my insides shaking from the weird display.
5
THE SMELL of coffee and cigarettes greeted me, along with a blast from the noisy heating unit. Newspapers and magazines littered the gray and white patterned, vinyl tile floor around a cream-colored leather recliner. Just like a real home. Across from the recliner sat a matching couch with a crocheted granny square afghan, like the kind Memaw sometimes made, draped over the back. On the couch sat Jadine, hands folded in her lap.
“Bet you didn’t expect to see me again so soon.” Jadine had those full sensuous lips romance novels rhapsodized over. Now they quirked into a mischievous smile. She patted the couch next to her. Cecil took the bag of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows from me and gave me a light push toward Jadine.
“Show her your raven,” Cecil said to his adopted daughter as I joined her on the couch.
Jadine obediently pulled off her cardigan and tapped her arm. I stared at her raven. It was in the same position as mine, but Jadine’s wore a top hat. In one claw, the raven held a watch with no numbers or hands.
Cecil put one gnarled hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “We all carry this mark. All for one. One for all. Regardless of what Mr. Reed had to say about us, you’re—”
“What happened between you and Griff?” Seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up. The curiosity itched like the kind of rash you didn’t want to tell anybody about.
Cecil shook his head. “That’s Mr. Reed’s story to tell. All I’ll say is he had a hard childhood. Grew up in abject poverty. That does something to you.” He leaned down so our eyes met. “The reason I had Jadine show her raven mark, the reason I showed you mine, is I want you to understand you’re at home among us. You can trust us.”
Between Griff’s revelations and what I’d seen them do with my own eyes, I was beginning to feel like I’d stepped into some black and white noir film from the forties. The urge to get the hell out of this place slammed into me, raging like a bull loose from his pen. They’ve got information I need. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could do this.
“Thanks for saving me today, girl.” I patted Jadine’s shoulder. “Not sure what would have happened had you not shown up.”
“Didn’t have a choice.” She whipped her head side to side. “I got insomnia. By the afternoon, I need a nap. Soon as I dozed off, there you were.”
I stared at her, lost.
“Jadine has a bit of clairvoyance, but her real talent is dream-walking.” Cecil sat down in the recliner and turned it to face us. “No sight in the waking world, but she sees in dreams.”
“You did see me.” I remembered the recognition on her face, the way her eyes had tracked movement.
She smiled. “That thing that had ahold of you is strong. He…” She turned toward Cecil.
“Go on, tell her.” He nodded even though his adopted daughter couldn’t see.
Tell me what?
“He offered me sight in the waking world if I helped him.” A pulse beat steady in Jadine’s milky smooth throat.
“Help him what?” The Coachman’s ghost tried to possess me, but what was his ultimate goal?
“He wouldn’t let me see that. But I want to show you what he did let me see, to let me know the extent of his power. ” Jadine leaned close to me. “Can you sleep now?”
I sat motionless and speechless. How would she show me anything? I’d never heard of anybody planting visions or memories in someone else’s head. Who was I kidding? Before today, I’d never even realized people could walk into other people’s dreams. Didn’t matter. I was too keyed up to sleep. “I slept all afternoon.”
Cecil pulled a brown bottle from his pocket. Something rattled inside. “This’ll knock you right out. You really need to understand who you’re fighting.”
“Can’t you just tell me?” I asked Jadine.
“I think you need to see. There’s no way I can do it justice.” She wouldn’t budge. I could see it in the set of her shoulders.
Caw. Caw. Caw. Orev’s call came from outside the RV. Something began to tap on the metal door.
Jadine turned toward the door first. Cecil rotated his recliner to stare at the door.
Caw. Caw. Caw. Tap, tap, tap.
Orev’s thoughts came to me as they always did, bright with impulse and simplicity.
“He wants in.” I continued sitting on the couch. Mysti wouldn’t let the bird in her house. She worried he’d crap everywhere.
Cecil, however, stood and took the few steps to the door. With one shaking hand, he opened it. Orev hopped inside and made a beeline for the shelf near my head. He leaned close and cawed softly into my ear. Though we shared no language, I knew what to do. I took off my black opal necklace.
“Orev is my familiar.” We shared more than just a psychic link. Orev and I shared a life force. “He thinks the three of us can have a sort of psychic conference call, where I’ll be able to see your vision. Only thing is, you’ll have to touch Orev.”
“Is he going to bite me?” Jadine lifted one hand off her lap and hesitantly reached out.
“If he does, I’ll bite him.” The bird’s sharp gaze fixed on mine. I knew incredulity when I saw it. “Orev won’t bite. He suggested this.”
The bird let out a soft caw. I held out the black opal necklace to him. He took the chain in his odd, curved beak and dropped it over his feet. The black opal magnified its owner’s power. Right now, Orev needed it more than I did. The bird cawed again, and I placed one of Jadine’s hands on his back. I put my hand over hers. Cecil’s chair creaked, and he leaned forward, his brow creased, eyes hard with anticipation.
Magic charged the air. It danced over my skin like static electricity, standing the hairs on end. I glanced at Jadine to see a light halo around her head where some of her hair had actually raised. I counted to four as I inhaled and four on the exhale.
“Find Orev’s magic.” My voice had deepened, taken on a languid, slow pattern. “It’s already inside you. Just search for the thread.”
Jadine’s eyes squeezed shut as she concentrated. Her body jerked as she connected to the magic. The static of Orev’s thoughts, mostly images and sounds, filled my mind but then dimmed.
“Is this it?” Jadine’s voice boomed in my head.
“You don’t have to yell. And yes. Just relax and show me what you want me to see.” My muscles felt heavy and warm, as though I really were sleeping. Had Orev simply put us to sleep? Before I could ponder the idea, Jadine’s mind took hold of mine. My vision blacked out. Panic gripped my chest, crushing all the breath out of me, and I felt myself moving to a different time and place.
The smell of wet rock fills my nostrils. A few seconds later, the plop of water dripping on rock further grounds me. My eyes adjust. Candlelight casts more shadows than creates light, but it is easy to see the room’s jagged rock walls. Where are we? A cave? A castle?
A man stands with his back to us, a paintbrush held aloft. He paints several broad strokes. The dark paint streaks and runs.
A hand closes around mine, and Jadine's presence surrounds me. I cannot see her so much as feel her. The smell of blood hits me. The marks on the
walls aren’t paint. They are made with blood. I move closer, and my foot scrapes against the rock floor and splashes in some standing water.
The man spins around. The Coachman. Alive and well. “Who is it?” The Coachman raises a lantern and peers into darkness. “Is it he whom I seek?” He takes a knife from his belt and approaches another lump of black cloth. “I call to Darkness, the darkness that gathers in shadow, the darkness from which men hide. I call to Darkness all powerful.”
Shadows gather in the corner. Something with no face and goat horns on its head steps forward, hoofs clicking on the stone floor. “It is I. He who walks behind the light. Make your sacrifice and state your petition.”
The Coachman whips open the black cloth. Little legs kick and small arms flail. A tiny voice babbles.
A baby. No. My skin crawls. Next to me, Jadine whimpers. What does this guy plan to do with a baby? I think I know and don’t want to know what I think I know.
The Coachman swings the knife down. The baby shrieks, but only for a second. Its cry ends in a wet gurgle. The candles flare, the same way they do for me when a spell works. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
The Coachman moves to a rock with a gold object on it. With one blood-soaked hand, he draws a symbol around the piece of gold. Then he picks it up. The flickering light makes it impossible to see exactly what it is, but it looks like a piece of jewelry. Maybe a watch. The Coachman speaks to the horned creature in the corner. “Darkness, grant my petition. Transfer my soul to this piece of metal so that it may never die. I ask for the ability to nourish my mortal existence with the light of other souls. ”
The horned man steps forward. “You must keep a piece of the ones whose life force you use to sustain your existence. Bone is recommended. Without it, you’ll lose your hold on the mortal world, be trapped forever between worlds. Never harm your mortal body. For although you’ll never age, your body will be subject to death. If you lose it, you’ll be forced to find another vessel in which to live. Do you agree?”
“Yes, master. I agree.” The Coachman trembles, eyes bright and eager.
“Then so it will be. Your petition is granted. I leave behind a symbol. Use it to mark the bone of your victims that you keep.” The horned shadow begins to smoke, steam and waves of heat rising off it. “Hide your soul well.” Its voice echoes in the chamber. A few seconds later, the goat man bursts into flame and burns.
I wince away from the white light. The fire blazes hot and then dims to nothing. Nothing remains of him but a symbol burned into the stone. I don’t recognize the shape. It feels unnatural. Evil in some way. I turn my face from it and watch the Coachman instead.
The gold object begins to glow like afternoon sunlight. It lights the room. The candles and lanterns flare again. The Coachman wraps the piece of gold containing his soul in cloth and disappears down a dark tunnel. Eventually I lose sight of him.
I came to with Cecil leaning over Jadine and shaking her.
Her eyes flew open, and she gripped Cecil’s arms. “Papaw?”
“Yes, baby. It’s Papaw.” He stroked her arms. “I’m sorry to shake you like that, but you were screaming.”
“I saw more than I did before. He…” She shook her head and turned to me.
“He sacrificed a baby and made a deal with this goat man for immortality.” My mind raced, and more words tumbled out my mouth. “But he’s not immortal. He’s dead right now. The thing that got inside me earlier today was spirit.”
“That goat told him to take care of his body.” Jadine pushed Cecil away and walked shakily to the kitchen counter, which she used to lead her to the refrigerator. She took out a can of Texsun grapefruit juice and drank it in three big gulps. She said nothing more until she was seated again. “He must not have taken care of his body, got killed somewhere along the way. Now he's looking for another vessel.”
My mind ran over what I knew, but I needed to talk about it. “Earlier today, when Jadine saved my ass, we were expelling a ghost from this kid’s house. Right around this area.”
Cecil motioned me to go on.
“This kid told us about a serial killer named the Coachman who terrorized these parts some time in the past.” Next to me, Cecil jumped at the name. I’d question him about it later. “So combining what this kid told me with what we just saw, this must be the Coachman and he killed people to keep his bargain with the goat man.”
“Then somebody killed him along the way.” Jadine shook her head. “But no. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Right, right. Because the goat man warned the Coachman that physical death would trap his spirit in that nasty murder cave.” I slumped against the couch. “So how did he get out?”
“My grandmother, Samantha, used to tell a story about—” A knock on the door cut off Cecil’s words. Irritation flashed over his face. “Tell you in a minute.” He rose to see who was there.
FINN CAME into the motor home brushing the black hair he shared with Daddy, Memaw, and me out of his face. Zora shot around him and raced at me like a wild animal at food. I instinctively recoiled, unsure what she wanted. The kid didn’t notice.
She climbed onto the sofa, put both hands on my shoulders, and stared into my face. “I remember you.”
“I remember you too.” I patted my little cousin and tried to ignore the way my chest tightened. My black opal pinged at the magic Zora carried inside her, much stronger than anything I’d felt from Finn, Dillon, Jadine, or Cecil. “Breakfast hasn’t been so long ago.”
“Before that.” Zora drew closer, so near I smelled the chocolate she’d had sometime in the recent past. “Back when I lived in your tummy.”
I jerked away from the child and unbalanced her. Her little arms pinwheeled, and I caught her waist with both hands.
Dillon appeared behind her and snatched her off the couch. “Have I not told you to keep your hands to yourself? You don’t climb on people like that.”
“But I know her.” Zora’s voice raised dangerously close to a wail.
“It’s nothing,” I told Dillon. “Jadine and I were having an intense conversation, and I’m on edge. It’s not Zora’s fault. She didn’t bother me.”
“See?” Zora yanked away from her mother and climbed back on the couch to sit next to me, legs straight out, hands folded her lap. She gave her mother a look of such solemn innocence I wanted to laugh. But Dillon didn’t laugh, so I held it in.
“You gotta mind me, girl.” Dillon glared at her daughter for several seconds before turning her attention back on her son, who’d wandered to where Cecil had left the marshmallows and pulled down the package. She took the marshmallows from Zander. The kid shrieked. Dillon silenced his indignation with a stare.
Finn sat on the other side of Zora and smiled at me. “Drama, drama everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”
Dillon glared at him but spoke to me. “So you and Jadine have your talk about what she saw in your noggin? That’s about the freakiest mess I ever heard. You make any sense of it?”
“I think I know who and what the spirit is.” I explained about my experience at Travis’s house with the Coachman and then connected it to what I’d seen in Jadine’s vision. Dillon swallowed hard and glanced at her son, as though to make sure he was still okay.
Finn twisted to face me. “That Coachman thing sounds like the story Papaw tells us every year when we stay here.”
Cecil nodded and opened his mouth to speak.
Dillon interrupted him. “Papaw said you possess the center of our family’s power.” She leaned against the counter, holding the marshmallows away from her son, who clawed at her leg and made mewling sounds. She had to raise her voice to be heard. “Can’t you just send him away?” She glanced at Cecil.
I did too, even though I had a different question. “What’s the center of the family’s power?”
“The center of our family’s power is what you call the mantle,” Cecil said. “All the magic practicing women in our family have tried t
o attain it, but you’re the first to hold it since Priscilla Herrera.” Cecil gave me a proud pat.
A few months earlier, I’d had to raise the power of the mantle from Priscilla Herrera’s corpse and accept it into my body. The reason for that now made sense. She had never passed on her power to anybody else. Reasons for that flooded my mind, but none made sense. Right now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was finding out how to remove the spell blocking my power so I could get rid of the Coachman.
Cecil’s soft, slow words interrupted my thoughts. “I’m actually curious about the same thing as Dillon. Why weren’t you able to use your gifts to send this bad spirit away?”
I hesitated. I had intended to tell him about the spell when we were alone.
“Naw.” Finn shook his head. “Tell him now. I’m curious what it is anyway.”
I glared at my cousin. “You read my mind?”
Zora pulled herself to a standing position and spoke to me. “You gonna take all his clothes away and make him go naked? Let him see how it feels? That’s what Mommy says she’ll do if Daddy ever reads her mind again.”
Both Finn and Dillon turned the color of strawberry pulp, and Jadine giggled. Finn snatched his daughter, pulled her into his lap, and said with a great deal of dignity, “Go on and tell Papaw about the spell inside you.”
“What spell?” Cecil took the marshmallows from Dillon and gave Zander one. The little boy pulped it between his chubby fingers and began rubbing it on his face, totally missing his mouth. Ewww. No wonder Dillon took them away.
I gathered my courage, and in as few words as possible, I explained about Mysti’s gift and how she’d used it on me. “She said there’s a core of magic in everybody like me. She saw a spell wrapped around that core, and it’s keeping the mantle from completely absorbing and working with what I’ve already got.”
