by Catie Rhodes
“Do we understand each other, Peri Jean?” Gage’s tone was mocking now. He had me, and he knew it.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.” I hung up the phone before he could say any more.
Wade watched me, his dark eyes blazing with violence. He wanted to kill Nash. Maybe out of jealousy. Maybe for revenge. “Well?”
“We’re going to get the treasure. Are you going to help me?”
“I’ll always help you.” His black gaze settled on mine. He held out his hand to me. I took it, and accepted the bone-crushing squeeze he gave it. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear. “I can beat Gage’s location out of him.”
“I heard that.” A high edge of hysteria thinned Nash's voice.
“We have approximately a two-and-a-half hours. What if you spend an hour beating the stuffing out of him, and he still won’t talk? Or what if he dies?”
Wade jerked a nod and turned his attention back on Nash. He kicked the other man. “Get up. We’ve got work to do.”
“The Mace Treasure’s not in here.” Nash got slowly to his feet. “Gage said he looked all over this place, even had it refurbished, and never found the treasure.” He leaned heavily on the counter. “Where could it be?”
I walked across the kitchen to the broom closet, pulled the door open, and began removing items. “We get to where it is from here.”
“If this is bullshit, your friend’ll die.” Nash used his shirt to smear the blood coating the lower half of his face.
“Bring ‘im over here.” I motioned at Wade.
He gripped Nash's arm and frog marched him across the room.
I stepped away from the empty broom closet. “Touch the wall and use your gift.”
Nash stared at me. Wade grabbed his wrist in a grip so tight the larger man’s knuckles went white and shoved Nash's hand against the wall. Several seconds passed. Nash's eyes rolled wildly between the wall and me.
He jerked his hand away. “This is a trick. You made me see those things. Stuff like that doesn’t exist.”
What did he see? A dark blossom of fear bloomed in my chest. My heart thudded as my mind showed me horrific images. I tried to play it cool.
“Tell me where Michael Gage has Hannah. We won’t go in there.”
“Are you kidding me?” He screamed. “I didn’t go through everything I’ve done to just fucking quit.”
I dropped my bag on the floor, took out the spell book, and opened it to the page I’d marked. I spoke to Wade. “You control him while I set this up. I don’t need interference.”
He nodded and shook Nash so hard his teeth clicked together.
I took out my pill bottle of bull nettle sap, funneled the grave dust into it, and sprinkled the holy water on top of it. Now I needed something to stir it up. Wade held out a ballpoint pen. I took it and stirred the stuff into a nasty black paste. A smell rose off it, one like burning pine needles, and I winced away from it.
“What is that shit?” Nash twisted in Wade’s grasp and got his foot stomped for his trouble.
“It’s for a door to the other side.” Wade slammed Nash against the wall.
“Okay, get back.” I pulled my lighter out of my pocket. “The spell book says to light it on fire.”
Wade moved back but forced Nash to stay where he was. I touched my fire to the goop. It flamed up, dark blue with little sparks crackling off it. Having seen this show before during my training with Mysti, I knew not to panic but to wait for the flames to die down. It usually happened quickly. This spell was no exception.
I dipped the pen in the gunk, which now was the consistency of melted tar, and drew a crude door shape. Then I said the words written in the spell book.
“Powers of this dark place, I seek a portal, I seek a door, I seek a way to St. Augustine’s church.” I waited. Nothing happened. I glanced at Wade. He gave me an encouraging nod.
A white, eyeball-incinerating light broke through the bottom left corner of my doorway. Making a sound I associated with a welding torch, it burned bit by bit through the rest of the door shape. The rectangle broke away and fell into dark space. I waited but never heard it hit.
The sound of many voices singing came through the open door. It reminded me of voices raised, singing praises, on a Sunday morning in church. Usually, I enjoyed that sort of music, but fear banded around my heart and made each beat feel strained. I took a deep breath and stepped to the edge of the opening. The singing got louder. The tune sounded familiar, like something I knew, but was just a little off. Again, fear stole over me.
“What’s in there?” Nash asked from behind me.
“Dunno. Too dark.”
Wade pushed a mini flashlight into my hand, and I clicked it on. A set of stone steps stretched out into the darkness.
“I guess we’re going down.” I packed up the spell book and my grave dust gunk in case I needed it to get back and started walking.
Wade dragged Nash through the portal and let go of him. He stuck one finger in Nash's face. “Pull any shit, and I will tear your ears off your head and force you to eat them.”
Shining the flashlight in front of me, I took the first step. The blowtorch sound came back. I turned just in time to see our portal to the outside world close.
DANK COLDNESS SPREAD OVER ME. The stairs faded into the perfect, still blackness, the odd singing somewhere beyond them. I stood still. The last time I went into another realm, I almost didn’t come back. Was I doing the right thing? No way to know.
Hannah’s scream scratched and clawed its way to the surface of my memory. If I didn’t do this, Gage would kill her. Just for fun. I couldn’t live with her blood on my hands.
Wade stopped behind me, so close I felt the heat from his body and smelled his special leather and gasoline smell. “We can still try beating Gage’s location out of Nash. You find the treasure on your own timetable, maybe not at all.”
“I’m just working up the nerve to go down there.” I licked my dry lips. “Memaw used to say ‘Sometimes, the only way out is through.’ I think this is one of those occasions.” I took one step toward the sound of the eerie music. Then another. I stuck one hand into the darkness, groping for a rail. Cold fingers brushed against mine. I yelped, tried to backpedal, and slammed into Wade’s solid mass.
He grunted and slid one arm around my waist. “What is it?”
“Somebody touched me.” My breath came in sharp pants. I shone the flashlight into the dark.
A face leaned out of the darkness, one I recognized from pictures we accumulated for the project I did in high school. Chris Leeland. He went missing in this carriage house. Nobody ever heard from him again. Now I knew for sure what happened to him.
“I found heaven. I found hell.” His voice whispered like dead branches skittering over fallen leaves. “I’m here. I’m in it.” He swiped a black forked tongue over his cracked lips. Nash screamed. Something, probably Wade’s hand, covered his mouth, muffling the sound.
Heart leaping against my ribcage, I stood as still as I could, the same way I would with any ghost. Chris Leeland faded back into darkness. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. “Wade? Did you?”
“Yep. Nash did too. Crapped himself, I think.” Wade tugged at my pants. “I got my finger in your belt loop. I ain’t letting go.” He let out a trembling breath.
Something howled nearby. The cry ended with a nasty laugh. The laugher picked up the song the distant voices were singing. It sang a few words in an off-key growl. The words were definitely not English, but they seemed so familiar.
I gulped and made myself start moving again. The heat and humidity thickened until sweat dripped off me, making my feet squelch in my boots. The black opal heated around my neck. Even its energy seemed to have no effect in this place. Its heat felt dimmed and dull. No sparks of magic seeped into my skin.
The music continued, its melody so familiar I hummed along with it. Behind me, I heard the drone of either Wade or Nash humming.
Fuzzy shapes shambled alo
ng in the gloom. The sweet smell of rot touched my nostrils, and I stifled a gag. A hand with long claws swiped at me. It missed me by less than an inch.
Wade snapped me against his chest. I stood there, breathing hard, his heart rattling against my back and my blood pounding in my ears. My knees wanted to fold up and dump me on my ass. I forced them to hold me. I didn’t want to know what was at my feet.
The steps ended. My feet sank with each step into something I judged as either mud or deep sand. My thigh muscles ached and trembled with the effort of fighting my way along. Water splashed against rocks somewhere near, but the dim light from my flashlight showed me only more blackness.
The singing was nearer than ever. I forged along until a rough, wooden wall rose out of the blackness. A set of arched plank doors with black curved handles sat in the middle of the wall. I pulled open the door.
Light streamed out with the scent of unwashed bodies. The singing I’d been hearing for no telling how long rushed out to greet me. Without thinking, I walked right inside.
Everyone in the church stopped singing and turned to stare at us. Every single one of their eyes was solid black. No iris, no white, just shiny, button black.
We stood near the front of the church with the pulpit off to our side. Something moved in the pulpit. A goat wearing priests robes trotted from the pulpit and stared at us with its weird slit pupil eyes. Something red and wet shone on the tips of its horns. It turned its head toward the parishioners, bleated, and they began their song again.
The need to get to the treasure still burned at me, but not quite as hot. I stood there, swaying on my feet, staring out at the sea of faces. A man with a handlebar mustache and a woman wearing a bonnet stood next to two young men wearing shorts and t-shirts advertising a rock-n-roll band. A man wearing the kind of hat I associated with Depression-era gangsters stood next to a girl dressed in a floor-length dress and a scarf over her head. None of them seemed aware of each other. They stared straight ahead, mouths forming the words to their weird song.
And what a song it was. I hummed along again, even singing a few of the words now that I could hear them good. Wade’s elbow jabbed into my side. I let out a scream. The song stopped again but only for a second.
“They’re hypnotizing us,” he hissed in my ear. “It’s a trap.” He bumped me and motioned at Nash, who stared straight ahead, his mouth hanging open. From his mouth issued the words to the song. Finally, I recognized it.
“They’re singing ‘Leaning on The Everlasting Arms,’ only backwards.” I kept my voice as low as I could.
Wade shook his head at first and then stiffened. “Get out of here. Now. Just go.” He gave me a light shove toward the door at the other end of the church.
I tiptoed toward the front of the church, sticking close to the wall. I got halfway and heard Wade’s frustrated voice behind me. I turned to see the problem and watched Wade tug on Nash's arm. The smaller man slapped him away. Wade’s heavy brows drew into a v, and his jaw stuck out. Uh oh. I backtracked.
“Just drag him,” I whispered.
“He’ll start a commotion.” Wade pulled at Nash. He attacked Wade with both hands, swatting at him until Wade let go. “See? I vote we leave the stupid little bastard.”
The song changed. Now that I knew they were singing backward, I recognized “In The Sweet By and By” right away.
“If we leave him, we lose the place where Gage has Hannah.” A flash of her tortured face filled my head. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Wade leaned down until our gazes met. He touched my cheek. “Baby, even if you get Hannah back, she’ll never really leave that place. Her mind’s likely gone.”
“Are you suggesting I just leave her?” My voice raised. A few singers paused. I held my breath until they started again.
“He’s going to make you trade yourself for Hannah. You’ll do it because you’re that kind of person.” He leaned into my face, so close I thought he’d kiss me, but he didn’t.
“Could you leave me?”
Wade’s cheeks, what I could see of them over the top of his beard, turned red, and his black eyes went hard.
“I’ve got a plan.” I said the words so soft I didn’t even hear them. “Now get Nash. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Wade grabbed Nash by the hair and began dragging him through the church. Nash made animal squealing sounds and tried to beat Wade’s hand away. I didn’t wait to see how Wade fought him off.
The goat let out another bleat and the freaky congregation stopped singing again.
I went still. It worked before. Maybe it would work again.
The only sound in the room came from Nash squealing and trying to get away from Wade.
The goat bleated again. The singers stirred in their seats, heads swiveling. Every obsidian eye in the place fixed on our little parade. As one, they stood and shambled toward us, hands outstretched. They surrounded us in an instant, blocking our path to the door outside.
Wade whipped out a semi-automatic pistol and opened fire. Bullets punched into our pursuers and didn’t slow them down a bit. They pushed toward us, hands reaching, open mouths revealing blackened, split snake tongues.
Hysteria crowded all the rational thoughts out of my brain. It ran wild, pumping my heart harder and harder until I was dizzy. I didn’t want to spend all eternity here singing gospel songs in reverse.
The black opal pinged weakly on my chest. It woke me up just enough to get control of myself. I tried to remember every lecture Mysti Whitebyrd had given me over the last couple of months. Nothing like this ever came up. But I did remember something about holy water or salt repelling a lot of bad entities. I elbowed Wade. “I need the holy water out of my bag.”
“Why?” Realization dawned on his face about the same time he answered me. “Never mind. I’ll hold them off. Get it.” He shoved me against the wall and shielded me with his body.
I dug through the bag, not familiar enough with it to remember where I put the holy water. Finally, my fingers closed over the cool glass. I took off the top, nudged Wade out of the way, and shook the water at the revenants. It steamed on the faces of the ones in front, eating holes in their flesh, but they kept pushing forward as though they felt nothing.
The black opal jolted on my chest again. I knew its signals by now. This one meant it could help me. I tried to think of an ability I already had for the black opal to boost.
Then, I felt the spirits of the black-eyed people hovering at the edges of the church. They were just like ghosts. The bodies in front of me were empty, just puppets. If I pulled the spirits back in the bodies, maybe we’d be able to reason with them.
I pulled at the spirits, the same way I pulled at real ghosts, summoning them to me. They came fast, cresting like a huge wave. When they were near enough I could feel their distress at being displaced, I pushed them toward the living flesh of their bodies.
The goat must have figured out what I was up to. He jumped off the pulpit and ran at me, head down, stained horns speeding straight toward me. I pushed harder at the spirits, straining so hard my head ached and sweat rolled down my back. The first spirit went into its body. I felt the two meet.
A man dressed in a homespun shirt and pants spun backward. His black eyes went back to normal human eyes. He looked around, shock slackening his face, and began to disintegrate. In seconds, he was nothing but a pile of dust. The other spirits found their homes, and more bodies turned to dust.
The goat was almost to us. Wade snatched the holy water from me and splashed the last of the holy water in its face. Its snout disintegrated, leaving a gaping hole in its head. It listed to the side and toppled over.
“Let’s go.” I tugged on Wade’s arm. We walked through the chaos unnoticed. The former singers were too busy reuniting with their souls and dying their final deaths to mess with us. We went out the door and closed it behind us. Behind me, something growled. I turned to see what obstacle faced me next.
19
I sucked
in a deep breath and had to grab my injured side. The cat was solid, inky black with glowing gold eyes and stood as tall as my thighs. The animal’s long tail swirled behind it. Reminded me of a house cat getting ready to cut a gash in somebody.
The interview from Eddie’s notes on the Mace Treasure came back to me. When Luther Palmore’s lumber company discovered the lost church of St. Augustine, one of the workers went inside. A large black cat attacked and killed the man. The interviewee called the animal a panther.
Sometime later, Luther Palmore brought Reginald Mace and Priscilla Herrera back to this place. They must have expelled the panthers from the church and put the goat in charge. But why? As an obstacle for any treasure hunter who made it this far?
The big cat growled again, deep in its chest. I pressed my back against the church door. My heart thudded heavily, and a metallic taste formed at the back of my throat.
Six more cats of the same size and shape came to stand behind near the first cat, all their creepy gold eyes trained on us. One in the back opened its mouth. Its scream sent an icepick driving into my spine. It sounded like a woman having her fingernails pulled out.
“I vote we go back in the church.” Without waiting for Wade or me to answer, Nash opened the door and let out a surprised yap.
I turned just in time to see a hand with black fingernails stretching through the door. A face with huge black eyes appeared in the crack. The mouth opened, its thin, black tongue slithered out. A lunatic laugh followed.
Horror and disgust closed my throat. I slapped Wade’s arm to get his attention.
He spun and went into action. One huge palm shoved Nash back. Wade jerked open the door enough to have a clear shot at the freak and hit him hard in the chest. The freak stumbled away from the door, but another one took its place. Wade pulled the door shut and held it. He glared at Nash.
“Great job opening the door, nitwit.”
“Eat me, peckerwood. I thought they’d all be dead. Why didn’t her spell or whatever she tried to do work?” Nash gestured angrily at me.
I didn’t know. It was working when we got out of the sanctuary. I shrugged.
