Forbidden Highway (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 5)

by Catie Rhodes

  “Where’s the bird?”

  Wade cast his gaze about the overgrown cemetery. “I see ‘im. He’s on top of the tallest monument.”

  I squinted where Wade pointed and saw the white stone through the mass of vines overrunning it. We fought our way toward the bird, Mysti bringing up the rear. I turned back to find her huffing and puffing. Sweat plastered her light brown hair to her cheeks and dripped off its curly ends. I hoped she didn’t puke.

  We reached the monument, which was in the shape of an obelisk. Wade pulled off the vines so we could see the inscription.

  Luther James Palmore

  1860-1907

  Born in Connecticut

  Died in Texas

  “He was a young man,” I muttered, thinking of all the times it scared me to hear Luther Palmore’s ghost through the woods, howling as he relived his death. I tilted my head back and regarded the bird. “Do we dig here?”

  The raven turned its back to me and cawed several times. It stared at a barren corner of the cemetery. I took off in that direction.

  The brush came up to my thighs. Each step was a balancing act. A slightly raised gravestone, probably a child’s, tripped me. I went sprawling face first into the growth. My hands slammed against something flat and hard. The black opal sent a jolt of magic into my skin. Wade held out one hand for me to use to pull myself up.

  “I think this is it.” I pulled the runners of dead grass off the stone so I could read the words. The rain and sun had flattened the engraving to the point of illegibility. Mysti trampled the last few steps through the grass to stand over me.

  “Try to trace it with your fingers,” she said. I did as she suggested. It took several tries, but the letters made better sense with each try. First I found an “f,” then a “b”. Little by little the lettering revealed itself.

  “It says, ‘Waiting for One of the Blood.’”

  “It’s her.” Without waiting for my say so, Wade slammed his shovel into the dirt, used one boot to shove it deeper, and pulled. The roots of the grass tore apart with a wet rip. Wade tossed the shovel full of dirt to the side. “Come on, ladies. Don’t tell me y’all are too girly and weak to help.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and started digging. Arguing with him wasn’t worth the effort. I’d need all my energy for the hard work ahead. Mysti, on the other hand, couldn’t resist.

  “Who’re you calling girly?” She pawed the sweat off her face and scratched at a mosquito bite on her neck. “I can do anything you can do.”

  “Talk is cheap.” Wade already had a growing pile of dirt behind him.

  Mysti stabbed her shovel into the dirt, pushing with her foot to sink it the way Wade and I were. She kicked at the thing, putting all her weight on it. She struggled to get a shovel full of dirt, grunting with the effort.

  “Here. You can dig here where I’ve already got it started.” I moved to another spot and started digging again. My muscles already throbbed, but Mysti would never get a hole started on her own.

  Wade snickered. “I’m so tough,” he said in a falsetto, parodying Mysti’s bland city accent.

  Mysti raised her shovel at Wade.

  “Save your energy and dig,” I said. To my surprise, she took over my hole. She never got far. She simply lacked the physical strength, but she put forth a dedicated effort. Plus, watching her struggle had its humorous side. I needed levity, especially after it got to the point where Wade and I stood hip deep in the hole, still digging. Wade hit something first.

  “Think I found what’s left of the coffin,” he said. He began removing dirt faster.

  I kept digging. My shovel soon hit its own piece of wood.

  Wade put his hand on my arm to stop me. “All right. Just go gentle and sort of clear off the dirt.”

  Using the side of my shovel, I did as he asked until the entire coffin lid showed. A shiver ran down my back. The urge to get out of this hole swept over me like a strong wind.

  “Want me to get the lid off?” Wade asked.

  Not helping him would be weak, and I have too much pride to take the easy way out. I shook my head. “I’ll do it. You shouldn’t have to do my dirty work.”

  He nodded and stood with his feet on both sides of the narrow box. I bent, heart pounding, and tried to find the edge of the lid with my shovel. The shovel rattled against the old wood, and it splintered away, exposing a sliver of what lay inside the box. My eyes strained to see, even though I wanted to avoid my first exposure to a hundred-year-old corpse as long as possible. I couldn’t tell what I was looking at.

  I stuck my shovel in the opening, trying to pry away the boards. Something inside the box rustled. Just my imagination. It’s dirt falling inside the coffin. No big deal. A chill breeze found my face, drying the sweat and parching my lips. I shifted on my feet, got my balance again, and pushed harder on the shovel. Something hit against the coffin’s lid. This was not my imagination. I felt it through the soles of my shoes. It hit again.

  “Get out,” I yelled. “Something’s moving around in there.” I tossed my shovel out of the grave and began scrambling out. Wade got out in a few quick moves. He and Mysti each took one of my hands and yanked me onto higher ground. The sound of something hitting the coffin’s lid came again. Without my weight to hold it down, the lid moved.

  “Ooooh, shit.” Mysti backed away. “I don’t want to see what’s about to come out of there.” She ran several yards and stopped, standing between us and Luther Palmore’s huge monument.

  The coffin lid shook again. And again. Then it flew off the coffin, slamming against the wall of dirt surrounding it. A mostly decomposed corpse, wearing tatters of the calico dress Priscilla Herrera wore to her own death, sat up in the coffin. Somebody screamed. I’m pretty sure it was me. Wade grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the edge of the grave, backing us to where Mysti stood, eyes as round as a full moon, and hands covering her mouth.

  A dirty skull covered with sparse hair popped up. One skeletal hand gripped the edge of the grave, digging its fingers into the earth. In a few seconds, it would join us on top of the ground. I glanced back at the raven, still sitting calmly on top of Luther Palmore’s grave. Maybe I should have dug up that grave instead of this one.

  Wade crept back to the grave, grabbed his shovel, and ran back to where Mysti and I stood. He gripped his shovel and stood in a batter’s stance. The skeleton threw one leg over the side of the grave and rolled out, resting on its hands and knees a few seconds, and then standing. It took the first step toward us. I turned to Mysti.

  “Is this part of taking on the mantle?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t expect anything like this.” Her nostrils flared.

  “Think we should run?”

  “Not if you want those spelling stones,” Mysti whispered in a trembling voice.

  Having dealt with Priscilla Herrera’s ghost, I expected her to come straight to me. My black opal heated in preparation of communicating with her. Instead, the bony structure lunged at Wade. He raised the shovel and swung. The skeleton moved super-fast, snaking one arm out to grab Wade’s forearm. Its fingernails cut bloody trenches. He screamed.

  The sound tore through me, overriding my fear and spurring me into action. No telling what kind of germs the animated corpse just transferred to Wade. All because he wanted to protect me. I couldn’t just stand here and watch him get hurt. I made myself move toward the corpse, knees loose and watery, fingers tingling with too much adrenaline. Mysti shoved me aside and took three large steps toward the skeleton, holding out one hand.

  “Unquiet dead,” she shouted. “Harm no one.”

  The skeleton turned its head to regard her with its hollow eye sockets. Mysti stepped closer.

  “Unquiet dead,” she repeated. “Harm no one.”

  The skeleton moved fast again, this time grabbing Mysti in its arms. My friend’s confidence melted away, leaving her with nothing but animal fear. She thrashed in the bony embrace, tears leaking from her wide eyes.


  The black opal pulsed little shocks into me, but I didn’t know what to do. Everything had gone to hell so fast. I put one arm around Mysti’s waist and tried to get her out of the skeleton’s grasp. It only tightened its arms. Mysti’s frightened cries turned to screams of pain. I let go and held up my hands in surrender. There had to be something I could do, but I didn’t know how to figure out what it was.

  The raven called to me again. The black opal heated. I left Wade and Mysti and took the few steps to him, now on the backside of Luther Palmore’s grave. I noticed it had its own inscription.

  To the one who comes, speak three times your name, and your blood is her blood.

  The weirdness of it all bore down on me. I didn’t want to believe. I didn’t want to try to figure out what this meant. I just wanted to run home and pretend I never ventured out of safety. Then Mysti screamed again. My friends were hurting because of me. I had to help them, had to make it right.

  I dug in my pocket and withdrew what I thought I needed. Five trembling steps, and I stood within striking distance of the skeleton.

  “Peri Jean Mace. Peri Jean Mace. Peri Jean Mace.” I meant for the words to come out loud and strong, but my voice had faded to a whisper by the time I spoke my name the final time.

  The skeleton’s arms dropped from around Mysti with a dry whisper of bone grinding against bone. She scampered away from the fiend, throwing wide-eyed glances over her shoulder. The horror shuffled toward me.

  My body, now on high alert, screamed for me to run, but I forced myself to stand my ground and open the knife I’d removed from my pocket seconds earlier. I took a deep breath and sliced my finger, closed the final steps separating me from the skeleton, and squeezed my cut finger over its head. I made sure three drops of blood touched the bone since I’d said my name three times. My instinct called for the balance.

  The skeleton held out one closed hand to me. I waited for it to drop whatever it held, but it didn’t, so I held out my hand. The skeleton opened its hand, and the black, oddly shaped spelling stones I’d seen Priscilla Herrera use to create the curse fell into my outstretched hand.

  “Now it is yours.” Its voice grated from all around me. “Your responsibility is now to fulfill your destiny. There is no turning back. Say you accept.”

  “Peri Jean, don’t.” This time it was Wade’s voice I heard. “You don’t want this horror to be part of you.”

  The raven made small noises behind me. I listened with my other sense, trying to understand the bird. The only feeling I could read was one of determination.

  “I accept,” I said.

  The skeleton fell apart at my feet.

  A wave of invisible force slammed into my chest. The poison from the Mace Treasure curse, still hidden in places Wade’s healing magic couldn’t reach, bubbled and burned away. The world grew sharper edges and crisper colors. The scent of the pine trees worked its way into my nostrils. I knew its straw had astringent properties, and I knew the fungus growing on the tombstones could be used for similar purposes. The bond between Orev and me sang and snapped tight. He cawed three times and flew away.

  “Peri Jean?” Wade kept his distance from me, one hand gripped over his arm.

  I approached him, and he backed away, eyes widening. I stopped moving forward, and he stopped.

  “It’s still me.” I thought this was true, mostly. “I want to help you heal your arm.”

  “I can’t heal myself.” He gripped his arm tighter. “You know that.”

  “Now you can. Especially if you’re with me.” I reached for his arm but stopped short of touching him. I wouldn’t force him to take my gift. My mind startled at the thought. My gift? Where did that come from? It was at the back of my mind, haughty and proud, a young woman with fierce eyes and a lot of old-fashioned tattoos. Oh, sweet Pete. How would I manage this?

  Wade held his arm out to me, fear dancing in his dark eyes. I put my hand over it, lending him my energy, and he began his ritual. The healing made me feel like a used tube of toothpaste, but it took some of the crazy, wavering edge off the trees and made the forest odors less intense. I considered it a win. I left Wade examining the newly healed pink scars scoring his arm and turned to Mysti. Her power, so similar to mine, glowed around her, a red-hued nimbus. Did I have one? What did it look like?

  “Are you hurt?” I moved toward her. The raw magic of the earth tickled at my feet with each step. I held out one hand. Mysti took it in both of hers and pulled me close.

  “I might be sore tomorrow, but I’m all right.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Sister.”

  The day turned overcast, the humidity growing, as we walked back to Memaw’s house. We cleared the woods, and I pointed to the black dot of car sitting in front of the house.

  “Who’s that?” I squinted at the car, unable to tell what kind it was but knowing it was something off the wall.

  “I don’t know.” Wade stalked toward the car. “But you two stay back. I can’t save both your asses at one time.”

  “I don’t need you to,” Mysti shouted at his back.

  We hurried to keep up with Wade.

  I HAD plenty of time to worry as I crossed the pasture. Had Michael Gage come for me? Wade would help me fight him until he died. But what if he lost? His blood would be on my hands, and Michael Gage would make good on his threats from a year ago. Hurt me in ways I didn’t want to think about. Probably ways he’d already hurt Hannah.

  I got close enough to see the car and stopped in my tracks. A black hearse sat in front of the house, patiently waiting. Michael Gage would drive a hearse. He’d use it to hide in plain sight. He could stow his victims in the back, and nobody would really look because people don’t want to see hearses. They’re creepy.

  Wade put both hands up and walked slowly toward the car. What the hell was he doing? Trying to get close enough to draw his pistol and start shooting? The idea he might not be a fast enough draw plagued me. I ran after him.

  “Peri Jean Mace, keep your ass back there with Mysti,” Wade yelled without turning around.

  The hearse’s window began to lower, slowly, so slowly I wanted to scream at it to hurry up so I could see Michael Gage’s dark, flat eyes staring at me and be done with the anticipation. I gaped at the person framed in the window for several seconds before I recognized Tubby Tubman. Relief rushed through me. I fought back the insane urge to giggle. Then Wade drew his gun and pointed it at Tubby, his finger already on the trigger.

  “Wade, no!” I took off running. Oxygen tore in and out of my lungs, as if every cigarette I’d ever smoked had come back to laugh in my face.

  “Who’s in that car with you?” Wade had the gun in Tubby’s face.

  “Nobody.” Tubby’s gaze flicked to me. He frowned and turned his attention back to Wade.

  “Get out.” Wade jabbed the gun for emphasis. “And keep your hands up.”

  Tubby did as Wade asked. The corners of his mouth twitched, and his blue eyes danced with mirth. This was fun to him. What a freak.

  “Now, open all the doors, including the back.” Wade backed up and swung one arm out to sweep me behind him.

  Tubby did what the other man said. His shoulders hitched with giggles. He finished with a flourish and settled his wicked gaze on Wade. “Get on in. All of you. We could have us a hell of an orgy.”

  “I ought to shoot you anyway, you nitwit.” Wade tucked the gun back in his pants.

  “What you ought to do is get a holster, Mr. Motorcycle Man. You gonna blow another split down your ass.” Tubby stood near back of the hearse.

  “State your business or leave.” Wade crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Tubby.

  “Peri Jean, darlin’, come and see what I done got for you.” Tubby waved one skinny arm at me.

  I glanced at Wade. He held up one hand walked to the back of the hearse. He glanced inside and motioned me over. I hurried to his side.

  “Luther Palmore’s books!” I jumped up and down and grabbed Tubby
in an impulsive hug. He held onto me too long. I pushed him away. “Where’d you get them?”

  “Oh, same person you thought had them. Just had to do a little creative looking.” He winked at me.

  “Books?” Mysti stood a safe distance away, a can of pepper spray clutched in one fist.

  “The clue I got from the Mace crypt said I needed Luther Palmore’s books.” I grabbed the handle on the chest of books and gave it a yank.

  Wade pushed me out of the way and dragged the trunk to the edge of the hearse’s opening. He motioned Tubby to help him, and the two men carried the chest of books into the house. Tubby made sure he let Wade know he carried the chest from wherever he stole it to the hearse all by himself. With no help. Up a hill. With demon dogs nipping at his heels.

  I ignored them and continued talking to Mysti. “Hopefully there’s directions to the lost church of St. Augustine somewhere in there. That’s where the treasure is, I think.”

  A few minutes later, we sat on the living room floor, the books spread in front of us.

  “These books don’t look special to me.” Wade picked one up and thumbed through it.

  “We have to try. Hannah’s running out of time.” I sat down next to Wade on the floor and tried to ignore the way his leg felt against mine.

  “So what are we looking for? Some church?” Tubby picked up one of the books.

  I got up and retrieved the picture of the lost church of St. Augustine from Eddie’s Mace Treasure research. “See that little building in the water?” I tapped on the paper. “The treasure’s there. I’m hoping these books can tell us how to get to it.” I sat near Mysti. Being near Wade hurt too much right then.

  “‘Bout as easy as finding toilet paper at Long Time Gone.” Wade grunted and tossed his book aside.

  I slumped. He was probably right unless the sharper edges on my vision and my increased knowledge of herbs and healing included knowledge about the treasure. I searched my mind and came up empty. Priscilla Herrera’s presence had never lingered around me, but this time I searched for her. The edges of my vision brightened. I glanced at Wade to find a white nimbus around his head.