Crossroads (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 7)

by Catie Rhodes

  We were in an open, brick walled room. At its center was a long table with seven corpses seated around it. The remains of rotting clothes hung from the skeletons. Four were adult sized, but the other three were clearly children. Rotting ropes bound the bodies to the chairs. Each one had a place setting before it, complete with a tarnished wine goblet.

  “What did he do with them here?” Brad stepped into the room and crept over to the table, holding his flashlight aloft. He leaned close to one of the corpses.

  “Stay away from that.” Mysti shone her own flashlight on Brad.

  He reared away from the table, one hand over his mouth. “There’s bite marks on the bone. He set them up at this table and ate their corpses.”

  The table had an eighth chair, pulled out and empty. Who was supposed to sit there? Zora? My chest tightened. After all this, had I failed her again? No. I couldn’t deal with that.

  A child’s crying drilled into my consciousness. I tried to take hope but knew it could well be her ghost, lost and scared, forever looking for her mommy. The crying increased in volume. I couldn’t stand it. “Zora? Sweet pea, you in here?”

  Wade took my cue. “Zora, honey? I’m here to take you back to your mommy and daddy.” He stepped deeper into the chamber, using his own cigarette lighter to see. “I got a niece just about your age. She loves her mommy and daddy. I bet you do too. Call out to me. I’ll get you out of here.”

  Wade walked the perimeter of the room, fingers climbing over the brick walls, probably searching for an antechamber. He stopped and slumped. He shivered head to toe, head jittering with the force of it, and stood up straight again.

  “Wade? You all right?” Griff came forward.

  Wade turned back to us, eyes glowing black, full of electric, murderous midnight. That scared me more than his little dance. Wade’s eyes usually glowed gentle with good humor. He moved toward us, muscles bunched, like he might grab any one of us and break us like twigs. “Thank you for bringing Peri Jean Mace right to me. I’d hoped you’d be this stupid, but there are never guarantees.”

  My chest tightened. I told my feet to move backward, to get away from Wade. But I couldn’t do it.

  Griff clambered in front of Mysti and me. “You’re never going to be able to carry off this silly plan. Hand over Zora. We might consider not banishing you from this world.”

  Wade threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, Griffin Dewayne Reed. You’ll be lucky if I wait until after you’re dead to eat the flesh from your bones.”

  A mist I recognized as the magic the Coachman stole from me slithered along the edges of the room. It gathered at Wade’s feet and rose in bands over his legs. His hands glowed.

  The black opal pinged me, warning me, but I couldn’t cut and run. Wouldn’t. I’d come here to get Zora, and I wouldn’t leave without her. I reached for my own magic. It boiled out of my center and into the black opal.

  Wade’s face faded, and the Coachman’s smirking likeness rippled underneath his skin. The scream built in my throat. I fought against it, swallowing it down like bad medicine.

  The Wade thing, teeth bared in a vicious parody of a grin, grabbed Griff’s arm. Griff’s back arced. His body jittered, hair standing on end.

  “He’s shocking him.” Brad jammed his hand in his pocket, came up with a closed fist and threw it on Wade. He shook off the shower of sea salt.

  Mysti and I launched ourselves at the fight. I went for Wade, slamming both hands into his chest. I channeled the mantle through my arms and pushed a jolt of magic at Wade. But I forgot something important. The Coachman knew how to steal my magic. My energy drained away as my magic flowed from me to Wade. I jerked my hands away and crumpled to a heap on the floor, head swimming.

  Mysti, nickels cupped the palm of her hand, slapped her open palm on Wade’s forehead, standing on tiptoe to do so. She yelled, “In the name of the Goddess, get out of him, right now.”

  Wade’s legs went loose. He crumpled to the floor and lay still. Griff fell to one side and crab walked away from us, one arm held to his chest. Mysti went after him.

  “Wade?” I crawled over to him and touched him. His chest rose and fell steadily. His eyes fluttered.

  “I knew you still cared.” He tried to pull me to him. I wrenched away and bolted to my feet, ignoring a wave of dizziness. Wade crawled to his feet.

  “I’m sorry, y’all.” He leaned against the cold bricks and wiped his hands over his face. “Griff, man, I…you know I’d never…”

  Griff got to his feet, also breathing hard. “Forget it. Let’s just get Zora and go.” He walked around the room, knocking on walls. I listened for the sound of Zora crying. It was gone. Had the Coachman just used it to confuse and weaken me? It might have never been there at all. The Coachman was probably storing up power for his next tantrum. We needed to get out.

  “Zora’s not here.” Frustration rolled in, high tide and ready to drown me. “Let’s get out before someone really gets hurt.”

  Wade leaned so close to the mildewy brick wall his nose nearly touched it. His nostrils flared. “She is too here. Otherwise the Coachman would have never put on that show.”

  No, no, no. He’s smelling for her corpse. What am I going to say to Finn and Dillon? I probably wouldn’t have to worry about it for long. Dillon would tear my head off my shoulders and eat it like some weird mythological creature. The crying came back, this time closer than ever. I perked up and tried to latch onto Zora’s presence.

  The wall. He put me in the wall. The high, sweet voice came from inside my head. A memory whispered behind it. I remember you from before.

  “She’s in the wall.” A gout of puke almost came out with the words. Zora couldn’t have survived being put in the wall. If the Coachman had killed her, I’d destroy him. I’d never stop until I ground him to nothing. My throat tightened as I walked the room, waiting for Zora to make contact again.

  Right here. Her whisper made my heart ache, and the tears started. I knew she wasn't mine, but in a way, she was and I had to save her. I had to, since I wasn't able to save her the last time. I clawed at the old bricks. "Hang on, baby. We're going to get you out of there."

  Wade joined me. He took out his pocketknife and scraped mortar from between the bricks. He held out the knife to me. “Fresh.”

  Griff and Mysti stampeded to the wall. Together, we knocked the first brick loose. After that, it went pretty fast. The little girl lay curled on her side in a dugout in the wall. I backed away, dread cutting a cold path through me.

  “Is she…” I couldn’t make myself say it because I couldn’t imagine telling Dillon and Finn that I hadn’t been able to save their child, their only daughter, after all. I couldn't face the fact I'd failed this beautiful soul once again.

  “No. I feel her chest moving.” Wade scooped up the little girl and held her against him with one arm.

  I held out one shaking hand to touch her for myself. My fingers made contact with the warm skin, and I nearly swooned with relief. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Something sharp pricked the skin at the back of my neck. I clapped my hand to the wound, spinning around. Nothing was there. I held up my hand to the flashlight Mysti still held. Blood stained the fingers. The Coachman had bitten me. Maybe payback for biting him.

  “She’ll stay like this until her body wastes away.” The Coachman’s voice vibrated all around us. “Peri Jean Mace, your power will be the death of her. I’ll have you both. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” His words ended on a shout, and a brick popped out of the wall. The little chamber where Zora had lain collapsed on itself. Another brick fell from the wall, and several more followed it.

  “It’s falling in.” Wade grabbed me with his free hand and dragged me toward the door, forcing me along behind his mile-long footsteps. Mysti, Griff, and Brad crowded close behind us. From my peripheral vision, I saw one entire wall collapse. Dirt salted the brick floor in a dry patter. Wade yanked me up the steps and
handed me Zora. My nerves ground together at the limp way she flopped into my arms. I backed away as Wade jerked Mysti up and out. Griff came next. A rumble shook the ground and Brad began to shriek.

  I ran to the opening, not sure what I thought I’d do with an unconscious child in my arms, but determined to help. Brad lay on his stomach. He’d been last, and the brick stairwell wall had collapsed and knocked him down. A combination of bricks and dirt scattered over the backs of his legs. Wade nodded to Griff, and the two men each grabbed one of Brad’s outstretched arms and pulled.

  “My ankle, my ankle,” he screamed.

  “It’s either your ankle or stay down here,” Wade snapped. “You’re about to be under a thousand pounds of dirt. I won’t be able to help you then.”

  Tears streaked down Brad’s cheeks. My stomach did a slow flip. He was hurt. Really hurt. And it was because he’d tried to help me.

  The old guilt and horror came back. Would whatever became of Brad make a new layer around my magical center, keeping me from accessing my true power? Probably. That was the problem with this spell. There was no way to stop it growing. Wade and Griff set their heels and pulled Brad out of the chamber just as it collapsed around him.

  He clutched his ankle, gasping and sobbing. Wade knelt next to him and spoke in a low voice. Brad nodded and said something back. Wade motioned me over. I handed Zora’s still form to Mysti, walked over, knelt next to him. We locked hands.

  I let my eyes slide closed and pulled on my power. It was there, weaker from the Coachman feeding off me a few minutes earlier, but there.

  Wade began to whisper his words, in that old, old cadence. He sounded like he should have been in a church, but he was in the woods trying to heal a guy he didn’t even like very much right now.

  “When thou wast in need, I found thee. I knew thee by thy real name, Bradley Jamison White, and I laid the hands of heaven above upon thee. By faith, I healed thy wounds. The old gods have blessed me and will bless thee. My blessing is yours.” Wade’s voice rose as he spoke, and he elbowed me. We repeated the verse together.

  Wade’s skin glowed. There was no other way to describe the bright, warm light within him. I lent my power and kept repeating the words until they were nonsense to me. Wade’s body heated next to mine, and a drop of his sweat hit my arm.

  The light passed into Bradley, all the way through his body, and down to his ankle. Heat emanated from him. He gripped his calf and ground his teeth together, tears squeezing from his eyes.

  Wade let go of him. “It’s done.” He leaned closer to Brad, still shaking with the effort he’d just made. “And I’ll still beat you to a pulp if you cock block me again.”

  I got away from them. Nausea rolled across my stomach like a coming storm. Wade’s magic always did this to me. Wade jumped to his feet, staggered away and vomited in the bushes, holding onto a tree to keep him out of his own mess. My chest hitched, and the nausea passed without me having to empty my stomach. Brad got up, tentatively tested his ankle, and snorted a disbelieving laugh. I tried to smile back but couldn’t quite make it.

  I went to Zora and touched her still face. Mysti offered her to me. I reached to take her, and the first crack of thunder shook the sky. Lightning sizzled into the ground somewhere near.

  17

  THUNDER RUMBLED AGAIN, this time hard enough to shake the ground. Freezing wind cut through the trees, kicking up dead leaves. They chattered together like dry bones. A bolt of lightning hit the tree next to me, its flash so brilliant, black motes swam in my vision. I reared away from the tree and took several stumbling steps in the opposite direction. Maybe I didn’t need to carry Zora.

  Wade caught me before I got too far and wrapped one arm around my shoulders. I leaned into his side. No matter our relationship, I still looked to him for protection. When would I ever let him go? We stared at each other several long moments, and I turned away.

  “Let’s take Zora back to her parents.” What had happened to Dillon and Finn anyway? I figured they’d have joined us by now. Were they lost? I took off for the trail that would lead us straight through the woods and to the RV park. The others followed.

  “What are we going to do about the Coachman?” I paced myself to walk next to Mysti. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her carrying Zora. But if something happened, maybe I could help.

  “That book you found at the poisoner’s house. It had his name—” Another clap of thunder cut off Mysti’s words.

  Wind blasted through the dead trees, and rain hissed right along behind it. It hit us hard, ice cold and stinging. Wade took off his jacket and put it over Zora. We couldn’t do any better for her other than walk faster, which we did. Thunder came at regular intervals now. Lightning flashed all around us. The air crackled with electricity.

  Icy rain needled at my face, each drop an assault. I lowered my head and let it drum into my scalp. It didn’t hurt much less. Wade stopped, and I ran into his back. Wind whipped harder than ever. Leaves rose from the ground and blew around us, sticking to our wet clothes.

  “Aw shit,” Wade yelled. “What is that?”

  Wade rarely sounded scared. My fear awoke and curled into sharp hooks. Griff’s scream sunk them as deep as they’d go into my nerves. I peeked out from behind Wade. My skin went even colder than it already was, and my ears began to ring. Terror wound its way through me. I’m not sure if I screamed. I couldn’t think.

  The first thing I saw was its eyes. Glowing black holes of madness. The rest of the monster, made of leaves and branches, stood several feet taller than Wade. The bits and pieces of the monster writhed as though they had their own life.

  “Peri Jean Mace.” Its voice was like ground-up leaves and mulched branches rolling together.

  I forced my gaze off the thing and spoke to Mysti. “Take Zora back to her parents.”

  “I can’t leave you.” She glared at me, her hair plastered her cheeks. Her teeth began to chatter.

  I tried to think of an argument, but then the leaf monster took a step. The impact shook the ground and knocked me off balance. “Run!” I yelled at Mysti.

  She shoved Zora at Brad. He ran without being asked. Mysti dug in her pockets, probably looking for more silver coins. She came out with a few and threw them at the monster. A few patches of leaves fell off it, but more took their place.

  Wade drew his pistol and started pulling the trigger. Mysti’s coins had done more than the bullets did. The leaf monster somehow channeled the sound of the falling rain and the rumble of thunder into a roar. I clapped my hands over my ears. Wade loaded another magazine into his pistol and kept right on firing, eyes bugged out, mouth open in a scream.

  The leaves moved faster, swirling in the shape of a tornado. The chittering mess came right for me. Good buddy of cowardice that I was, I ran. My shoulder clipped a tree. I hit the ground and rolled. I lay there gasping, knowing full well the cyclone of leaves waited at my back, but not sure what to do. Then the roar came again, the pain of it incredible in my ears, and it fell on me, blocking out the meager gray light.

  I tumbled backward into my own psyche, past the pristine white mist of the mantle and right into the layers of scar tissue I’d built up to protect myself. The force of my screams tore my throat raw and made my eyes feel like popping out of my head. I landed in the wilds of my own bad memories, trapped and alone with the demons I’d fed and nurtured without meaning to.

  I stood at the backs of dozens of people. They faced a stage festooned with red, white, and blue streamers. Dean Turgeau and I stood on the stage, holding hands and smiling, blissfully ignorant of the way the next few seconds would change both our lives.

  No. I didn’t want to see this again. Living through it once had cost so much. I had to get out of here. The black opal pulsed heat on my chest, almost as though it had its own heartbeat. I tried to grab onto the magic, but it skittered out of my reach.

  “Thank you all for coming out tonight, and thank you for your votes,” Dean drawled. “I only hope I
can prove myself worthy of your confidence—” The crowd cheered.

  My heart banged inside my chest. Dread of what came next made me shuffle backward. From the back of the crowd, I had a perfect view of the entire courthouse square. A lone figure skirted around the edge of the crowd, hand held stiffly to one side.

  “No,” I whimpered, and my voice came like it did in a dream, all soft and weak. Please. I don’t want to see this.

  The figure crept through the crowd, working through to the middle where there’d be a perfect, clear shot at me on the stage. I stood next to Dean, my grin stupid and innocent.

  “Stop it,” I tried to scream, but the word only echoed in my head, blunted and useless.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. The shooter must have made herself known. A wide circle formed around some people in the middle. The chrome of a wheelchair, Memaw’s wheelchair, winked in the bright lights.

  “Stop right there.” Memaw’s words ended in a cough. This time, I heard her gag at the end of her coughing fit. This time, I saw her stand from her wheelchair and grab the shooter’s arm. The gun went off, a blast of fire coming from the barrel, right in Memaw’s face. She fell against King Tolliver, President of the Six Gun Revolutionaries, like a marionette with its strings cut. He put one hand to the back of her head, maybe trying to hold in her brains. My chest ached and the salt of unshed tears stung my eyes.

  The shooter stepped away from them and pointed the gun at the stage, screamed “Die, witch!” and shot again. The dark figure ran from the scene of the crime and down the street.

  King struggled out of the crowd and lurched past me, Memaw draped over his arms. I got a good look at her face, eyes wide, and a dark hole right in the middle of her forehead. Her mouth hung open.