by Catie Rhodes
“He’s got a gun.” Scott Holze’s squawk of surprise sounded almost comical. The sound of the metal bat hitting metal reached my ears. The gun thumped to the ground. Wade’s shout of anger followed, and flesh struck flesh.
Much as I wanted to see who Wade had attacked, I focused my attention—and my fists—on Felicia. She blocked with her forearm. My fists slammed into the hard bone, the pain jarring my injured arm. Ignored it and kept hitting.
Somewhere in the distance, an engine roared. It had to be Rainey getting out. The vehicle’s wheels made machine gun pops as it traveled down gravel driveway, and the tires screeched when the car turned onto Farm Road 4077. Godspeed, Rainey. Another engine started up and screamed off after her.
“Get her off my daughter,” Loretta Brent yelled. She grabbed at my hair. I swung one elbow back. It cracked against bone. Pain radiated up my arm. Loretta cried out and let me go. I took the opportunity to slam roundhouse punches into Felicia’s face. Her hand feebly tried to push me away, the fight gone out of her.
I took a good look at my most hated rival. Fear and pain glazed her beady little eyes. Blood streamed from her now crooked nose. She opened her mouth, and thick, dark blood oozed out. Her teeth, sheened with blood, glinted in the sunlight. I sat back on my heels. Felicia couldn’t fight me anymore. I could put my hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. Did I have it in me?
Before I had time to think about it, a howl I recognized as Wade’s came from nearby. I turned to see what was happening. Wade had Scott Holze pinned to the ground, but his head hung drunkenly forward. Scott’s parents, Carly and Joey, stood on either side of Wade. Joey slammed his cane repeatedly into Wade’s back. Carly, whose weapon of choice was a marble rolling pin, reared back to deliver another blow to Wade’s head.
“No.” I launched myself off Felicia. It was too late. The rolling pin began its descent before I took the first step. I ran anyway, pushing harder than I’d ever pushed in my life. I hit Carly at the same time the rolling pin made impact with Wade’s head. The older woman screamed and lurched sideways, me pushing her toward the ground. Scott pushed Wade off him. Wade flopped to the ground and lay still. Joey handed Scott his cane. The younger man stood over the one man who mattered to me and prepared to brain him. I disentangled myself from Carly, shoved her face into the dirt on my way up, and raced for Scott. I swung out my leg, praying for good aim this one last time.
“Son, behind you,” Joey screamed.
Scott spun to face me, dropping the cane in the process. I redirected my kick to his family jewels. He blocked me with his thigh, raised one meaty fist, and clouted me on the side of the head. I staggered backward, dark motes clouding my vision. My mind seethed with half-made plans. I couldn’t go down. They’d beat Wade to death then me. A small voice deep in my body began to speak. It’s okay to die now. I’ll see Chase again. I can explain, make things right. Be with my daddy and my memaw. It’s going to be okay.
Scott swung his fist again, this time connecting with my chest. The punch knocked the air out of me. I sank to my knees, not even feeling it as he kicked me in the sides and legs. In my dim state of awareness, I heard a bird cawing. It sounded familiar. Try as I might, I couldn’t quite drag my mind to the surface enough to piece things together. A sound like someone beating a rug came from above me. Scott began to scream.
“Get this bird off me. It’s hurting me. Get it off me.” Like he hadn’t been kicking me to death a few seconds ago.
I cracked open one eye, still seeing double, and recognized the frantic black mass tearing at Scott. My bird, my Orev, had come to help me.
I surveyed my would-be murderers. Loretta knelt over Felicia, weeping. Did I kill her? I hoped not. She wasn’t worth having a death on my conscience. Myrtle Gaudet was gone. She must have been the one who went after Rainey. A few feet away Carly struggled to her feet. Joey stood gaping at the animal attacking his son. One hand massaged his heaving chest. About to have a heart attack, you jerk? Good.
I tried to push myself to my feet but just ended up on all fours rocking back and forth. The effort caused me to choke on the mouthful of blood, and I gagged at the dirt, terrified I’d choke to death on my own blood.
Carly Holze moved up behind Scott holding a golf club. “Grab it by the feet, baby,” she yelled. “Momma will get it off you.”
Nope. She ain’t killing my damn bird. Not if I had even an ounce of fight left in me. Carly Holze, who had me committed for psychiatric testing when I was just a little girl, didn’t deserve to get away with anything else. I summoned my last bit of get up and go, stumbled to my feet, and grabbed one of the dropped bats on my way. I stumbled unimpeded toward Carly’s back, adjusting my grip. I cocked back the bat, and let it fly at the side of her head.
The crack sounded like a ripe melon dropping on a concrete floor. Carly slumped to the ground in a sloppy heap and lay still. The bird’s talons sunk into Scott’s cheek, ripping the tender skin. He clawed at the bird, my bird, and pulled out a handful of feathers. The bird let out a pained cry.
Something inside me awoke and got up roaring. Its boiling heat matched my fury degree for degree. Unlike my fury, this magic—the power I got from Priscilla Herrera’s mantle—could do some real harm. My problem? I didn’t know what to do or how to make it stop once I got started.
I centered myself, soaking up the energy coming out of the earth, the trees, the sky, and my black opal. My fingers prickled with it. An impulse from a deep, primal part of my brain searched for a ghost. Paul’s ghost stepped out of the woods. He glided toward me and stopped behind Scott. I poured my energy into my father’s ghost. One of his transparent hands reached into Scott’s head and twisted.
The larger man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he folded to the ground. His legs kicked, and his body jittered, back arcing. The convulsions stopped as fast as they started. Scott lay limp. I watched for signs of life and saw his chest rising and falling. Good enough for someone who’d have beaten me to death given the chance. My raven cawed its thanks and flew away. Paul and I exchanged a nod. He faded as quickly as he’d come. I took a deep breath. It was over. They were all done fighting. Good thing. Every part of my body, even my fingernails, ached.
Something hit me in the back of the neck. Bright light flashed behind my eyes. I joined Carly on the ground. Once the shock of getting hit wore off, I rolled over to find Joey Holze standing over me, his lips shiny with spit. He raised his cane over his head. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he intended to brain me with it.
“You damn witch. You killed my wife and boy.” Joey huffed and puffed, chest heaving with every wheezing breath.
The energy swirled in me, weakened but not quite done. I focused on Joey’s cane and imagined it burning red hot in his hands.
Joey’s arms shook as though he’d gotten hold of a live wire. He let out a high scream, slung the cane away from him, got away from it. The palms of his hands glowed red. A few white blisters started to form.
Back of my neck still throbbing, I crawled to the cane and gave it an experimental touch. The dark stained wood felt cool to me. I glanced back at Joey. He stood staring at his hands, mouth agape. I gripped the cane in one hand and stood.
“Witch, witch, witch,” Joey chanted. “Go back to hell.” He took two steps toward me and let out a thin scream. The former sheriff of Burns County sat down hard on the ground, face turning gray, hand clutched at the middle of his chest.
“Stay the fuck away from me, or I will beat you to death with this stick.” I backed slowly away from my would-be murderers. Each step awoke an orgy of pain in one side. I scooped up Wade’s semi-automatic pistol and limped to him, knelt, and touched his face. He moaned.
“Can you get up?” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my attackers weren’t getting ready for another strike. Joey sat on the ground, face the color of chalk, and gasped. Somebody needed to call him an ambulance. It wouldn’t be me. Loretta Brent leaned over her daughter sobbing. I saw
some movement from Felicia. She’d probably live. Scott Holze was stirring, and so was Carly. It was time to get out of here before they rallied and wanted to go another round.
I put my hand on Wade’s chest and lightly shook him. He clutched his head and rubbed, eyes squinted against what must have been a mother of a headache. In the far distance, the ring of a siren floated over the woods. Help was finally coming. Too late to do anything but keep me from saving Hannah.
“Wade? I’ve got your gun.” I pressed the weapon into his free hand and then ran one hand over his cheek. “I can leave you here if you want, but I have go. Hannah’s life depends on me.”
“No. I’m fine. Her hitting me upside the head just stunned me.” He shook himself and sat up. “I hear those sirens too. I don’t want to talk to the cops right now. Help me up.”
I’m not sure how much help I was. He outweighed me by many, many pounds, but I got him to his feet. Together, we limped across the pasture. Once we got where the barn no longer blocked my view of the house, I let out a pained sob. Seeing Memaw’s house half-eaten by fire hurt worse than any of my injuries. Another gout of smoke rose in front of house.
“My car,” I moaned and quickened my steps. The one thing I had of my daddy’s was on its way to becoming a burned out hulk. I put my hands on my knees and choked out a few ugly sobs.
Wade stopped beside me and put his hand on my back. “Where’s your backpack of spelling supplies?”
I rose, eyes darting back and forth, trying to remember. Had I put in my car? No. I set it next to the porch steps, thinking it would be easy to get when we were ready to go. My guts contracted with the fear I’d lost the thing I needed to save Hannah. I ran for the house, ignoring Wade’s shouts, and my agonized grunts from my injuries.
Heat baked off the house. I grabbed the gate latch and hissed. The chain link fence felt the same way it did on an August day when the heat index rose into triple digits. Toughen up, Peri Jean. Jaw clenched, I hit the latch and ran toward the blaze. The fire was already consuming the porch, belching satisfied pops as it ate the hundred-year-old wood. The backpack sat leaned against the concrete steps, right where I left it. As I watched a cinder fell on it and began to smolder. I took the last few steps, leaned into the heat, wincing as the fire breathed dragon’s breath into my face, drying and tightening the skin, and snatched the backpack. The porch roof creaked and a few blazing chips of wood fell right where the backpack had been sitting. Another couple of seconds, and I’d have lost everything I needed to save Hannah.
Wade appeared beside me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the blaze, his lips moving. I couldn’t hear his words over the roar of the fire. He pulled me through the gate and toward his motorcycle.
“We gotta go now.” He pushed me at his motorcycle and climbed on. I got on behind him. The machine roared to life beneath me. Wade took off, spinning dirt as he went.
18
Halfway to town, I saw Myrtle Gaudet standing on the side of the road. Her car hung cockeyed over a ditch. Rainey must have out driven her. I showed Myrtle my ugly finger as we drove past.
Wade drove past the Gaslight City limits sign and took a detour away from the downtown area. He parked a block from the Mace House and cut the engine.
“Something don’t feel right.” He spoke without turning around, and his voice rumbled against my chest, which I’d pressed to him on the drive over. I scooted away from the Mr. Right who just wanted to be my friend.
“Like what?” I had to get to the Mace Carriage House and take care of my business. There was no other way to save Hannah from Michael Gage.
Wade got off the bike and turned to me, digging in his shirt. He pulled out the mojo bag he used to know if I was in danger. “This thing’s giving me signals you’re in danger. You’re with me, so I don’t know how.”
I waited for him to share his solution. He didn’t talk about a problem unless he already knew what he planned to do about it.
“You’re going to walk this last block to the Carriage House. If you ain’t too hurt. Are you?” He rubbed at his head, reminding me neither of us was in great shape.
“I can do it.” I pulled the backpack holding my supplies tighter against my back.
“Give me five minutes to get inside and check it out. Then you come in the front door.”
I pulled my keys out of my pocket and got the key to the Carriage House’s back door off and gave it to Wade. He let out a soft chuckle but slipped the key into his pocket. Wade leaned to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head at the last second and brushed his lips.
“Be careful.” I grabbed his t-shirt in my fist and gave it a light jerk. He nodded and walked away from me.
I set the timer on my cellphone for five minutes and almost went nuts waiting for it to pass. Finally, the alarm dinged, and I stared walking. It didn’t take long to reach the Mace House. A Lexus sedan sat out front. Hannah, who’d bought the property from the bank, used the main house as a bed and breakfast. She must have had an overnight guest. I took off walking around the house, headed for the backyard where the Carriage House stood. It looked the same as usual, well-kept but dark and deserted.
Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I stopped instead of climbing onto the little house’s porch. On each side of the building were banks of overgrown gardenia bushes. This time of year the flowers were long gone, but the glossy leaves could have hidden a full-grown adult. Wade’s inside. If I can just make it inside, he’ll help me fight.
I hurried onto the porch but dropped my keys before I could unlock the front door.
“So this is where the treasure is?” Nash Redmond’s voice came from behind me, and his body pressed against mine, pinning me to the door. “Gage’ll be furious he never found it when he lived here.”
“W-w-w-what are you doing here?”
“W-w-w-w-w—” Nash imitated me. “Gage sent me. Wanted me to keep you on track.”
“How’d you know…” I trailed off when another thought hit me. Nash might know Wade was inside waiting. Worse, Nash may have already confronted Wade, and he might be inside the carriage house dying or dead.
“You should have never left me alone in your living room, Peri Jean.” Cold steel pressed into my temple, and the clicking of him pulling back his pistol’s hammer sounded the way a roller coaster does when it’s going uphill. “I was against planting a bug. Argued up and down with Gage. I thought seducing you would be so much more fun. He insisted, though, and it turned out he was right.” He jammed the pistol’s barrel into my skin. “It was fun to listen to Wade not want to fuck you. Now, unlock the door and go inside.” His hot breath tickled at my ear.
Bile stinging the back of my throat, I nodded and cast my gaze to my feet. Ideas for warning Wade flooded my mind. I could yell out his name. I could knock on the door. Maybe it was best to stay quiet. Hope Wade knew what was going on and had a plan.
“Get your keys, and open the door.” Nash's sour breath heated the skin on my ear.
I jabbed the key at the keyhole. My hand shook so hard I missed. Nash had to guide it for me.
“Go in.” He nudged the back of my leg with his knee.
I walked into the gloom of the carriage house. The stuffy smell hit my nostrils but didn’t surprise me. Hannah didn’t use the carriage house as part of the bed and breakfast. Too many weird things happened, too many calls from scared guests in the middle of the night. She had decided on gutting it and making an event venue out of it.
A rough hand gave me a shove and sent me sprawling. Wade Hill stepped out from behind the door and grabbed Nash Redmond. He slammed Nash's face into the door frame, so hard it seemed like the house shook, and snatched the gun out of his hand. Blood bubbled out of Nash's nose and streamed down his face. His knees buckled, but he raised one fist and swung at Wade. He calmly yanked Nash inside the carriage house and kicked the door shut. “So it’s you. You’re the one who helped Gage get out of prison.”
Nash cowered on the floor. Wade pointed the
gun at his head.
I grabbed an empty wine bottle off the counter and held it in case Nash decided he still wanted to fight.
“Kill me now, and you’ll never get Hannah back alive.” Nash cringed, one shivering hand shielding his skull from the gun.
“We won’t get her back alive anyway.” Wade’s voice carried a bone chilling finality. My hand went loose around the neck of the wine bottle. I stared at him.
What does that mean? I wanted to scream. Hannah had to be alive. I had to get her out of this. Otherwise, how would I live with myself?
Nash turned to me, the lower half of his face a mask of blood. “Wanna chance it, Peri Jean? Or you want to go along with the plan?”
My cellphone rang. The caller ID said unknown. I knew who it had to be. “Gage?”
“I guess my man’s made contact?” Michael Gage whinnied.
“Yep. We’re holding him at gunpoint. Wade wants to kill him.” I paused. “You remember Wade don’t you? The guy who whupped your ass and saved my memaw?”
“Better not shoot him. Nash is the only person who knows where to bring the treasure.” His voice, smooth as pig shit, sounded as confident as he had back when he preached at Gaslight City First Baptist Church. “If you kill him, how will you rescue Hannah from me?”
On cue, Hannah let out a wail followed by a string of curse words. My stomach hardened into a heavy knot.
“She’s still alive, you know.” He paused, and Hannah let out another animal howl, so full of pain and fear it barely sounded like her. “For the first time in your trashy life, Peri Jean, you’re gonna control that ugly temper and do as you’re told.” He chewed something crunchy and swallowed. “You and Mr. Redmond will be at the appointed place in exactly two hours and forty-five minutes. Otherwise, pretty Hannah Kessler is going to die a gruesome fucking death. And I’m going to film it and send it to your cellphone.”
Cold fingers walked up my spine. Sweat popped out over my scalp.
