Forbidden Highway (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 5)

by Catie Rhodes

  “The stuff about the birds was in English.” Mysti stared at me, worry edged into the lines of her face.

  Of course it was. It’s what Priscilla wanted me to know right then. I took a shuddering breath and found I couldn’t breathe as deeply as normal. “How does the dead bird command the live birds?”

  “Same way the ghosts get in touch with you, I’d think.” Mysti passed the book to me. “This is probably the spell you’ll use to bring your bird back to life.”

  “Priscilla’s kids called it Orev.” I glanced at the spell and stopped reading when it got to the part that mentioned a piece of the familiar was needed.

  “She probably got Orev from the Holy Bible.” Wade folded his spiral notebook, put it under his arm, and stood. “Orev is Hebrew. Means raven.”

  Mysti stood as well. “You ready? Sooner we do it, sooner you’ll feel better.”

  “Or not.” Wade gave us a tight smile and stomped toward the door. Whatever happened between them must have been a hell of a showdown. “The poison she took into her body from the curse’ll still be there.”

  “And, if necessary, you can heal her some more to buy more time.” Mysti put her hands on her hips.

  Wade went out and closed the door behind him.

  “Damn hillbilly medicine man,” she muttered. She glanced at me. “Get up and get dressed. I’ve gathered everything for the spell.”

  We rode to Priscilla Herrera’s homesite in silence. Wade hummed an annoying tune and tapped his fingers on his legs. Mysti clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead. I tried to think of something to break the tension, but a fluttering sensation awoke in my chest. It expanded until I felt like an elephant had taken up residence inside me.

  We parked on the dirt road and used the path through the brambles to the little patch of land where the dilapidated old cabin sat. I raised my arm to point at the log and nearly screamed from the pain it caused. I settled for a quick wave of my hand.

  “When I was a kid, it was buried under there.” Even back then, Priscilla was trying to lead me to the remains of my familiar so I could do this. Still scared the life out of me. What if something went wrong?

  “Your bird won’t have any trouble getting to you. The log might even help it.” Wade and Mysti exchanged another glance.

  “Go ahead and make your circle.” Mysti motioned at me. While I worked, she used a regular red lighter to burn the end of a stick. She handed it to me. “Use this to draw the sigil shown in the spell book.” She gripped my arm. “It’s going to be okay. You’re supposed to do this.”

  I made the shapes in the spell book in the order indicated, overlapping them where directed. The earth hummed underneath my feet. Its power radiated through my body and vibrated in each follicle of hair. The tightness in my chest fluttered and stilled. The skull and feathers went in the center of the sigil. Around the pieces of raven went a circle of salt.

  “Now the candles.” Mysti handed me the white one first. “One on each corner. Deosil.”

  I did as she asked, waiting for the almost electric charge of magic to fill the air. It didn’t come. Instead, a bolt of agony slammed through my chest. I fell to my knees in the dirt. I waited for Mysti or Wade to come to me. Neither did. We were magic practitioners, and this was my lot in life. I had to find a way to deal with it. Eyes closed, I took shallow breaths until the pain eased and turned to Mysti, silently asking what I did wrong. She held out a bundle of natural incense and the lighter.

  “Lighting this starts the spell. So have your words ready.” She waited for me to light the incense. “This next part’s going to be hard because you’re willing the familiar into life, and you never personally knew him. But try to—”

  “It shouldn’t be hard,” Wade rumbled. “Remember how you felt when the ravens saved your life in this clearing a couple of months ago.”

  I latched onto the thought and closed my eyes, letting the burn of the incense fill my nostrils. The magic of the black opal flowed into me. I let my head lay back and called up the memory of the ravens helping me. The gratitude swelled in my chest, burned at the back of my throat. The thing in my chest fluttered like a moth crashing around a light. The movements made it hard to concentrate. I gathered my will and held on for dear life. The air finally changed, filled with power and potential. I let the words come out.

  “I call to the raven, the spirit within,

  I call on the power that we may begin

  Though two born apart may our futures combine,

  Our destinies merging, our spirits entwine

  Your sight lights my path and my will blends with yours,

  Our purpose unites and our destinies soar

  My soul your protection, your aid shall you lend,

  While my life continues, yours never shall end

  I call on the power, I call three times three

  Bind us together, so mote shall it be.” I stopped speaking and waited.

  The buzz in my head picked up until it roared like a jet flying overhead. The candle’s flame whipped around, though the air was still, and shot out sparks. The fluttering in my chest started again, increasing in urgency until my whole body shook with it. It broke off and traveled through my body, slamming into organs, pressing against nerves, in search of a way out into the world. The skin on my stomach grew taut and stretched. I lifted my shirt to see the peak of a beak denting it. The magic inside me turned and went the other way. I fell to my side and curled into a ball, weeping from the pain. Whorls of sparkling color danced before my eyes.

  A moving mass filled my throat. I gagged on the agony exploding in my body. It expanded and stretched until I imagined my neck blowing up, chunks of it flying everywhere. I clutched at the ache, lungs screaming for oxygen. The black opal sent a shock of magic into my throat and something warm and moving blocked my mouth.

  “Spit it out, Peri Jean,” Wade yelled from somewhere behind me.

  I used the last of my strength to push it out and fell onto my back in the dirt. The raven was nothing more than a chick, wet and brand new. It walked into my sigil and regarded the skull and feather, head cocked. The two objects emanated smoke and blackened within seconds. The raven increased in size.

  Part of me wanted to turn away from this nightmare. The other part couldn’t quit watching.

  More steady on its feet, the raven walked to the log, maturing as it went. It scratched around in the dirt, trying different areas until it found one it liked. It stood on the spot, rocking in place. Smoke rose around it. The raven’s body filled out, and the feathers took on a glowing shine.

  It turned to me and cawed.

  I heard it both in my ears and in my head. It was as though it had spoken one word. “Orev.”

  The exhaustion grayed over my vision, and I let myself drift.

  TAP TAP TAP. The sound became part of my dream, something awful where I barfed up a bird. Tap tap tap. No. That wasn’t a dream. It really happened.

  My eyes snapped open to a gray-black gloom I took to be dying twilight. My fingers found my throat. I felt for soreness but found none. I took a deep breath, waiting for the pressure in my chest to wake back up, but it too seemed gone. Tap tap tap.

  “The hell is that?” How did I get in bed? I didn’t even remember leaving Priscilla Herrera’s homesite.

  “Look at the window.” Wade’s voice came from across the room, just about scaring me out of my skin. He sat by the door in a chair he must have dragged in from the kitchen.

  Tap tap tap. I turned my attention to the window. The silhouette of a bird perched there. He leaned forward and gave the window three quick pecks. Tap tap tap. “What does he want now?”

  “Guess he figured you slept long enough.” Wade’s lighter flared, and he lit a cigarette.

  “How long did I sleep?” The red, digital numbers on my bedside clock read five-thirty.

  “All night. It’s five-thirty in the morning.” The ember on the end of Wade’s cigarette brightened with his inhale. “The bird’s b
een trying to wake you since three-thirty.”

  I shot up in bed. “Why’d you let me sleep? Hannah’s time runs out tonight. I still have so much to do.”

  “Settle down. We’ve got time.” He stood and thudded across the room. He sat on the bed. One hand stroked my back. The warmth of him through my t-shirt made me wonder who undressed me and put me in clean clothes. “You needed to sleep after all that.”

  The deep hurt of us never, ever being more than friends stung all over again. Fury over him putting me before Hannah jumped into its place. I moved to push him away. Tap tap tap. My arm stopped midway. I twisted to face the bird in the window.

  “I don’t know what you want,” I said to it.

  “So ask it.” Mysti stepped into the room wearing a diaphanous white nightgown. She reminded me of a heroine off the cover of one of those books teenage girls loved to read.

  “What do you want?” Speaking to a bird through a window felt a hundred different kinds of stupid. Nothing happened. Just as I guessed.

  Mysti came further into the room. “I don’t have a familiar, obviously, but I think communicating with him is not going to be too much different than the way you communicate with ghosts. More psychic than verbal.”

  I concentrated on the bird and pulled at the power in my black opal at the same time. A warm spot awoke in my chest near where the pressure had been so awful earlier. It grew, spreading over my whole body, until I thought I could fly if only I opened my wings. My thoughts became impulses.

  I climbed off the bed, dragging the sheets with me, and walked to the trunk containing Eddie’s treasure research. I dropped to my knees. The force of my landing jarred my spine. Wade made a noise somewhere behind me, but Mysti shushed him. The light clicked on.

  My vision was wrong. The world was shot with colors I normally didn’t see, in places they didn’t belong. Eddie’s faded black steamer trunk had shades of neon green and violent purple hovering at its edges. One of my hands shot out, faster than I normally moved, and pushed open the trunk.

  Hands fixed into claws, I dug through the mass of papers, throwing them over my shoulder, dropping them on the floor. The rational part of my mind wanted to set them aside neatly, but I couldn’t quite make myself do it. My hands kept making this huge mess without my permission.

  The trunk half-empty, my frantic motions stopped. On top of the remaining papers and files was a book I’d noticed during my perusal of Eddie’s notes. It was a large black book, but now had a lot of blues and greens in it. Its gold foil lettering read The Illustrated History of Burns County. Hoping my mess making was over, I lifted the book out of the chest.

  My vision went back to normal. The book came open on its own. Pages flipped, fanning my face and blowing my hair off my sweaty brow. They stopped without warning. I slapped my hand down to hold the place. It was a chapter titled “Luther Palmore’s Dream and Nightmarish Death.”

  My body tightened. It would come down to this.

  “What is it?” Mysti knelt, stacked papers, and squatted next to me.

  “I’ll have to go back there.” I gestured toward the pasture. “Where those ghosts are.”

  “Wait until dawn breaks. Too dark right now.” Mysti took the book from me and turned the pages. “We won’t be able to find anything.”

  “I have to talk to the ghosts.” I left Mysti holding the book and spoke to Wade. “Get out. I need to get dressed.”

  He rolled his eyes but obeyed. I dressed while Mysti studied the pictures. She put the book back into the trunk and watched me tie the laces on my work boots.

  “How do you know you have to talk to the ghosts?” She sat down on my bed, her brown gaze fixed on me. I knew this expression. She wasn’t challenging me, unless it was to learn something about myself.

  “It’s in my head. I can see the lights of the ghost fire, even hear them.” I stared at the soft curve of her kind face. “They’re here for me. The bird knows, so I know.”

  “I’ll go dress while you find some flashlights.” She left my room without a backward glance.

  Ten minutes later, the three of us trooped across the pasture. Wade carried three shovels slung over his shoulder. The bird knew he needed them, so I did too. We walked fast toward the place I’d feared since the day I came to live with Memaw.

  The craziness of the last few days filled my mind with a seething mass of pissed off ants. I thought back to the night a year ago when I walked out here to tell Rae to shut the hell up. Maybe if I hadn’t done that, I could have stayed ignorant about my true nature.

  Being myself for the first time since I was a little girl felt good at times, but other times it felt like a huge mountain rising into the clouds above. The weirdness just kept piling on me. Every time I accepted one thing, another came along. This otherness belonged to me, but I wished so much for some steady ground, a place where I could take a breath and get used to it all. I suspected I never would. The weight of my years bore down on me, and I ached like an old woman. I wanted to stop.

  Pull it together, Peri Jean. You don’t have the luxury of quitting. My inner drill sergeant had a point. I let my mind drift until I pictured the huge bird who wanted me to call him Orev. I willed him to come where we were. A familiar caw drifted out to us from inside the woods where the ghosts were.

  “He’s waiting for us.” I took longer steps. Wade matched them, pulling ahead of me in seconds. Mysti stomped behind us grumbling about the dew soaking through her shoes. We reached the thick brush at the edge of Memaw’s pasture. I pushed right through, my path lit by ghost fire, and kept walking until I stood in the overgrown clearing where once a mansion sat. Humped figures ran in the flickering light, their dying screams echoing in my head.

  A ghostly woman wearing a nightgown passed in front of us. Her mouth hung open in a scream even I couldn’t hear. She had a baby in her arms, and her hair burned like a torch. She faded into the darkness.

  Orev cawed to me from deeper in the ruins.

  I clicked on the flashlight and swept it over the ground as I walked. The Palmore Mansion’s masonry lay scattered over the ground. It would be a fantastic start to the day if I tripped and busted open my head.

  Caw caw caw.

  I climbed over the wreck of the brick steps and found the bird perched on a tree growing where the floor of the house must have been. Next to him stood a ghost I’d seen before, back when I was too scared of myself to try to figure out what they wanted from me. His barbecued flesh carried a reek my nose would remember come dinnertime. My flashlight played over his face, showing me one hollow eye socket and shriveled lips pulled back from his teeth. Not something I want to see. I clicked off the flashlight.

  “Mr. Palmore? Luther Palmore? I just realized you need to see me.” The black opal pulsed on my chest, easing the way for me to communicate with him.

  “The message I’m to give you…” His voice broke into an insectile buzz. Sometimes it happened. I didn’t have enough control of my ability to hear everything they said. “You’re to follow me.”

  I turned back to speak to Mysti. “Go back to the house. No telling where he’ll go.”

  “Forget it. I’m with you.” She gave me a little shove in the direction of the ghost.

  I walked behind him. The smoke drifting off his long-dead flesh made him easy to keep in sight. In my eyes, it glowed like tendrils of errant moonlight. Wade crashed along behind me, close enough for me to hear him breathing. Mysti stumbled along behind us, her progress punctuated every once in a while with a string of curse words. Palmore’s ghost stopped fast. I did too, not wanting to get into his space. Wade slammed into my back.

  The first light of dawn streamed through the trees in dusky rays. Palmore turned back to me, maybe to say something, but he faded in the new sunlight. I hoped this was his last night at the banquet of his death now that he’d delivered his message. He deserved better than this. But I still didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do back here.

  15

 
A tangle of trees and vines stretched in front of us for several feet on both sides. Orev had shown me shovels before we came back here, but I didn’t know where to dig.

  “Priscilla Herrera’s remains are nowhere near here.” Unbelievable. We’d been led on a dummy run. I cast my gaze about with increasing desperation. Hannah’s time was running out. Something deep in my body burned and stung. The effects of the curse’s poison. My time would eventually run out no matter how many times Wade healed me.

  “She might well be.” Mysti wiped the sweat off her face. “That’s a cemetery. Come back here where I am. You can see the iron in the fence.”

  Wade and I stepped backward and stood alongside her. Sure enough, rust peeked through the vines.

  Wade walked a few feet away where the woods thickened again. “Here. Whatever fence there was is down right here. Just be careful.”

  Once we crossed the fence line, I made out the shapes of grave markers. Elaborate winged angels stood watch over some of the graves. Others were marked by simple rounded topped headstones. The kind of decay I would have expected wasn’t present. Clear out the brush and clean off the markers, and the place would be new again.

  I walked deeper into the cemetery and understood why. Magic charged the air, bristling the hair on the back of my neck. There was a reason the history buffs hadn’t turned this into another tourist attraction. The magic that preserved it likely kept it invisible.

  So this was the place where I’d find Priscilla Herrera’s remains and the spelling stones. It surprised me she wouldn’t make me take on her mantle before she gave them to me, but I’d take whatever I could get. Maybe she’d changed her mind about the mantle. Fine with me if so. The idea made my skin crawl.

  Cawing came from the far corner of the cemetery. I worked my way through the waist high grass, knowing any moment I’d step on a copperhead. My toe slammed into something hard. I yelped and pitched forward. Wade caught my arm and dragged me upright before I made contact with the ground.

  “Just a tombstone.” He reached down and snatched double handfuls of overgrown grass. The top of a monument showed through. “There’s a line of ‘em right through here.”