by Catie Rhodes
Then it hit me. “We’re spirit here.”
Wade cocked his head and squinted his eyes at me. Slowly he began to nod. “We are.”
I leaned my head back and focused on the thread of my raven familiar, Orev. His blood ran through my veins and mine through his. We were born of each other. I focused in on his thoughts, which were really more like impulses, and called him. It was possible he couldn’t come over here, but mythology and folklore named members of the Corvidae bird family as psychopomps—guides to help souls reach the land of the dead.
Orev’s familiar caw filled my mind, along with his struggle to get to me. I searched deep within my spirit for the power of the mantle and pushed it at him. The effort drained me of my energy, and I rocked on my feet, sick and dazed.
Caw. Caw. Caw. I heard his call and the rustle of his magnificent wings before I saw his blue-black plumage. He landed next to me and cocked his head to one side and then the other.
“Griff’s spirit is trapped in there. If we don’t get it out, he’ll die here. What can I do?” It felt funny to talk to a bird as though I expected him to understand, but Orev often did.
He took a few hops toward the cabin.
“Wait, I need to go with you.” I staggered after him, fatigue and heat waves wavering my vision.
The bird hopped back to me. His mind reached out to mine, and we connected. Orev and I floated inside the cabin.
A bound and gagged African-American man lay on his side. His sides hitched, struggling for oxygen, and his eyes rolled up to stare at me.
I gathered my strength. The Coachman had called me by my full name. It must have more power than a nickname. I called out with my mind. “Griffin Dewayne Reed. Come out now.” I searched for and found Griff’s spirit. I concentrated on it until it was so real he could have been standing right there in the flesh. “Griff. Come on. We’ve got to go.”
“I can’t leave. I can’t get out.” He broke off sobbing. “I’m stuck.”
I had no idea what to do, so I searched Orev’s mind. We hovered over the dying man’s chest and pulled with all my strength. I shook with effort. My energy stores, already seriously depleted, began to dry out. I didn’t have much juice left in me, and I needed enough to get home. Just when I thought I could pull no more, a wavering cloud wiggled from the man’s chest.
Halfway out, it turned into Griff. He put both hands on the floor and clawed his way out of the trussed-up man. His gaze swung around the room. “You came for me.”
“I had to.” Orev and I said together. The sound of it was garbled and shrieky.
Griff jerked in surprise and leaned forward. “Are you dead?”
“Not yet. Come on.” I moved toward the window.
“No. We can’t leave him.” Griff gestured at the man on the floor. Without waiting for my answer, he sank to his knees and began trying to pull off the ropes binding him. His hands passed through them.
Above us, the roof creaked, getting ready to collapse.
“Griff, this man died a lot of years ago. We have to leave him.” There wasn’t much time left to get out of here.
Griff turned, his face twisted in sorrow, and climbed out the window with me and Orev. By the time I got out, I couldn’t do anything but crawl.
Wade hitched me up and grabbed Griff’s arm. “I’ll take us back.” He bowed his head and clenched his fists. It looked like he was trying to fart.
Orev perched on my shoulder and cawed softly. The power building in him passed through his feet and into me, but I was too tired to help the bird. I couldn’t do anything other than lean on Wade and hope for the best.
“It’s the past.” Wade said to me. “Just concentrate on the present.”
I closed my eyes. A rush of wind pulled, sucking me down a tunnel with a light at the end, and we were back in the storage unit.
Mysti sat with her back to me, shoulders hitching with sobs, both hands on Griff’s chest. He twitched under her touch and gripped one of her hands. She bowed her head and moaned.
The fatigue swept through my body like a relentless tide, washing away my will to do anything. I slumped over on my side. Someone put their hand on my back. I didn’t know who.
Thirty minutes later, we sat around Mysti and Griff’s dining room table again, and I had no memory of how I got there. Music from the next-door loudmouth’s stereo blasted through the glass as he threw his usual noise fest. I wanted so very badly to go over there and rub his nose in the mud. I didn’t have the energy.
Griff and I had both taken Mysti’s homemade herbal treatment for shock and fatigue, but the deep, dark half-moons under his eyes made him look like he'd gone a month without sleep. I suspected the potion had more than a little magic mixed in its ingredients. It didn’t help much. My energy stores were too depleted.
Wade had a glass of milky looking stuff in front of him. Mysti said it would restore his psychic energy. He took occasional sips and traded insults with Mysti as though it was a wonderful day in the neighborhood. Cecil sipped at a dark drink Mysti said would be good for his heart. He hadn’t said much since the storage building, but his dark eyes were pensive.
“I’m sorry for what happened today.” Griff’s words came out scratchy and broken, as though his body, instead of his spirit, had almost died of smoke inhalation.
“You couldn’t help it.” I gripped his forearm. “At least we got you back.”
Griff pressed his lips together and shook his head. “The night we came back from the campground I had a nightmare, and I wouldn’t tell any of you about it.” He pulled his gaze off mine and stared at his hands. “I watched the Coachman dragging a dead woman into the ground. He saw me watching him and smiled. He had blood on his teeth.” He bit his lip and took a few deep breaths. “Then I dreamed the Coachman sat outside this house in a carriage, waiting for someone to come out.”
“The night you woke the house screaming?” Wade drank more of Mysti’s elixir.
“Yes.” Griff paused and seemed to gather his words. “In the second part of the dream, I could see the Coachman sitting inside the carriage, and he had changed. He was more monster than man.” Griff slumped and leaned his elbows on the table.
“In your past life, you were Israel Beard, the man who tried to warn the Blessed Union community about the man in the carriage, weren’t you?” I paused, and Griff nodded. “And the Coachman killed Israel and burned down Blessed Union to keep his secret. Because if Israel had been able to get anybody to listen, they’d have known the Coachman wasn’t human.”
Griff nodded and blew out a long breath. “When I was in that shack, I saw Israel’s whole life. I know where the Coachman hid the bodies of the original family who lived in Camilla Plantation.” He shivered. “And I think it’s where he’s keeping Zora now.”
“Then we’ve gotta move fast,” Wade said. “He saw us in that other place. I hit him, made him break up into little bits.”
“A-a-are you saying you know where Finn’s daughter is?” Cecil blinked rapidly.
“I hope so.” Griff’s gaze bored into Cecil’s. The anger was still there, but he didn’t seem to be as focused on it. “Because we’re going to get her right now.”
“I’m going too.” Brad stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
16
I FOLLOWED Griff and Mysti out to the garage, prepared to get into the SUV, but Cecil tapped my shoulder. “Ride with me. Please?”
I turned to go with him, but Wade grabbed my arm and leaned to whisper in my ear. “Want me to go too?”
Cecil spoke up before I had a chance to think on it. “I’d like to speak to my niece alone.”
I patted Wade’s arm and followed Cecil to his truck. We climbed in and rode in silence for so long I thought maybe he’d just wanted my presence. Traffic slowed until we had to stop. Back home, something like this meant a wreck. Here? It could be as simple as a traffic stop. One person stomped his brakes, and the whole freeway could grind to a halt.
Cecil
cleared his throat. “I know you have enough sense to notice I’ve been talking to you about Sanctuary’s problems, involving you.”
I nodded. It scared me, though maybe not as much as it should have. The members of Sanctuary lived so differently than Memaw raised me. My family welcomed me with open arms, but did I really fit in? Probably not.
“I don’t share Finn’s talent for mind reading, but I sense your uncertainty.” He turned to me. “This is where you belong. With your family. You’re the center of our power. We need you, especially if we want to continue to hold the leadership of Sanctuary.”
I broke in. “You keep saying that. ‘Center of our family’s power.’ I still don’t know exactly what it means.”
Cecil didn’t answer. Had my insistence made him angry? Too bad. I had no intention of pledging allegiance to Sanctuary without knowing every detail I could. Traffic began moving again. Cecil crept along as people on all sides of us wanted to change lanes. A few miles later, he sped up to the speed limit and drove without speaking until we were almost to Woodsy Haven RV Park. I kept my silence as well, waiting for his answer.
“I’m not completely sure what the phrase means.” Cecil glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
Great. He didn’t know, but he still wanted me to make decisions based on it. I pressed my lips together.
“Samantha mentioned it a few times. Especially after she got older.” He squinted at the road in front of him. “She claimed her mother, Priscilla Herrera, was the center of their family’s power. Samantha said, ‘Momma, Samuel, and I could do more when put our power together.’”
I tried to reason out the concept. “Bigger spells? Or more accurate results?”
“She never said.” Cecil spotted Griff’s SUV parked on the roadside and began to slow. “But that’s not the only reason I want you involved.” He pulled the car to a stop but put his hand on my arm to keep me from jumping out. “The first thing is you have something special, a presence about you. That’s what we need. But the second thing’s a bit more personal.” He smiled. “We like you. Jadine can’t quit talking about you. And me? You remind me of Leticia when she wasn’t acting like the Princess and the Pea. Finn and Dillon already liked you, but they’ll owe you for life once you get Zora back. You’re one of us.”
“Finn and Dillon will owe me for life if I get Zora back,” I muttered. Somewhere, way in the back of my mind, Zora started crying.
Cecil laughed. “Never, ever underestimate yourself. I see great potential in you. I just hope you’ll choose to use it on us.”
Griff came to stand at the back of the SUV. He didn’t glare at Cecil, but he didn’t smile either.
“Get on out.” Cecil unlocked the doors. “I’ll go back to camp. Once Finn and Dillon know what’s going on, we’ll probably join you.” He pulled me into a hug, and I returned it. “Be careful,” he whispered into my hair.
I got out of the car, and Cecil drove off.
“He’s not going to help?” Griff’s voice had a mean edge to it.
“He’s too old, and you know it,” I snapped.
Griff jumped at my rebuke and walked into the woods next to the campground with his shoulders hunched. I exchanged a glance with Mysti.
She moved close to me. “It’s just going to take him some time with Cecil. You know how childhood villains are.” She clutched her coat around her and stepped into the thick trees.
I followed. “What do we do if the Coachman is in there with her?” I had to speak to her back. “He’s bound to be guarding her.”
“Run?” Wade grinned at me. Since I stopped acting like an infatuated puppy, he had dropped his aloof act. He smiled at me. Teased me. Tried to touch me. I ignored it all. Games like this were stupid. Why not just get down to business if you wanted each other?
We came to the field where Blessed Union used to be and stopped. Griff stood overlooking the empty field where his soul, in another incarnation, died a gruesome death.
I shrugged and moved closer to Mysti. “You hear me?”
“Griff is concentrating.” She gestured at Griff, who paced the perimeter of the clearing, his hands on his hips.
“The Coachman put his victims in a root cellar.” Griff spoke almost to himself. “The house was over there.” He pointed. “The Blessed Union settlement was right in front of us. The root cellar was built into a hill, but where was it? I don’t see a hill here.”
Griff held up a finger and walked away from us, skirting the perimeter of the clearing. Wade, giving me a confused frown, followed Griff. Brad tagged behind them like a little boy trying to learn to be a man.
“Don’t worry about the Coachman being there. I have a surprise for him.” Mysti took quick steps through the brush, leaving me behind.
“What is it?” I called to her back. She kept walking. I stopped to stare at a pile of limbs and other debris. It looked as though someone had piled it here on purpose. Didn’t make sense. Nothing else in these woods looked as though anyone was working to clear the undergrowth. Had someone, one of the Coachman’s helpers, done this when they uncovered the root cellar to hide Zora? If so, the entrance to the root cellar might be hidden somewhere near here.
“Mysti?” I called. My friend turned around. “Tell Wade and Griff to come here. I think I’ve found something.”
The two men came back, and I pointed at the trash pile. “Either somebody cleared this to get to something, or they’re using it to hide something. Like maybe the root cellar?”
“But there’s not a hill here.” Griff squinted at the terrain.
“Not a big one, but we’ve been walking at a slight incline for the last several yards.” I grabbed a handful of brush. Might as well see what was under it before we got too excited. Wade helped me, purposely brushing his arm against mine. I moved to the side a little to give him more room. He grunted like an angry boar.
“What’s your problem?” He leaned close to my face, black gaze boring into mine.
“What’s yours?” I widened my eyes and hoped it looked more innocent than smartassed.
He ground his teeth and picked up a double handful of branches and vines, tossing them away from us. We got to the bottom of the pile but found nothing. Wade kicked at the mess he’d made and turned his back to me.
“I don’t think this is a steep enough hill.” Griff chewed on his thumbnail.
“It wouldn’t have to be steep.” I walked a few feet, realized I was no longer going uphill, and changed direction. “They might have built the root cellar like a cistern, lined with bricks. It may have started out more of a safekeeping place for valuables during the Civil War than a root cellar.”
Griff nodded slowly and walked in the same direction as I was. Without warning, he stopped in his tracks and sank to his knees. He dug away the leaves and pine needles and began to excavate the dirt. I squatted next to him, cold moisture soaking through the knees of my jeans, and joined Griff in digging. The smell of damp earth drifted up as a pile of dirt grew next to us. Griff stopped digging and swept dirt off something hard. I leaned in for a look.
The flat stone probably sat on the surface of the earth once, but time had covered it layer by layer. An X had been etched on the surface of the stone. Griff, without speaking, scooted about ten feet away and began the exercise again. This time Wade helped him. The two men unearthed another stone. Griff took five steps into the space between them and stopped. Then, he walked ten paces up the incline and brushed at the ground. The rest of us followed him.
Griff bent and hooked his fingers into the dirt. He dug down and nodded at Wade. “Help me pull this up.” The two men grunted with effort and lifted a piece of plywood off the forest floor. Someone had glued a very convincing tapestry of leaves, branches, and pine needles to it. That was why they’d cleared the branches I found. To make this ugly thing.
For no reason, I thought again about the way the Coachman’s manifestation broke into a bunch of pieces when he started to lose the fight. The idea wormed arou
nd in my brain. I tried to connect it to some other idea and couldn’t. I hurried to help Wade and Griff flip over the camouflaged spot. Underneath was a very new steel door with a padlock on it. I let out a groan.
“You think that thing’ll stop me?” Wade took a set of lock picks from his jacket and went to work. He sprung the lock in seconds, waved his arm at it, and smiled. “What’s behind door number six-six-six?”
Mysti snickered but sobered quickly. “Peri Jean asked me earlier what we’d do if the Coachman confronted us.” She withdrew her hand from her pocket and opened it to expose a bunch of nickels.
I made a face. “Even if we tried to pay him, that wouldn’t be enough.”
Wade took a nickel and squinted at it. “Silver repels evil spirits, ninny. Year’s right. Good job, hippie witch.”
Mysti somehow managed to roll her eyes and preen at Wade’s compliment at the same time. “Throw the coins at him. That should break up the manifestation long enough to get Zora out of there.”
“But what then?” I thought about the tantrum the Coachman pulled at the RV park, how powerful he’d been. “I mean, how do we keep him from killing us after that?”
A raven cawed from somewhere near. More of them took up the call until the forest sounded full of them.
“Orev has an idea.” I tried to latch onto the animal’s thoughts but got nothing more than a set of blurry images. I hoped he knew what he was doing.
“Then we’re ready?” Wade put one hand on the door.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” My muscles tensed, and I waited for the worst.
Wade swung open the door. I expected a haunted house squeal to come from them, but they whispered open, their silence somehow more eerie than a loud screech would have been. Blackness and the smell of damp stone greeted us. I sucked in a deep breath and took the first step inside. And nearly fell ass over shoulders down a set of steps. Wade grabbed my arm.
“Steady now.” He crowded behind me, the muscles of his chest brushing against my shoulder. Raunchy thoughts warring with any good sense I had left, I ascended the short staircase, one hand out to balance myself. The wall fell away at the last step. I pulled out my cigarette lighter and thumbed the wheel. The flickering light showed me something I never wanted to see again as long as I lived.
