by Catie Rhodes
“I don’t trust this idiot.” Wade towered over me, his face set in a narrow-lipped scowl.
“You have no choice.” I stood on the porch of the carriage house, waiting for Tubby Tubman to pull up at the curb. “You’re too big for Michael Gage to think you’re Nash for one second.” I showed him the spell book, open to the page with the glamour spell. “See right there? It says the object has to be of similar size or it requires the help of the others. I can’t talk to that thing from the crypt again today. No telling what he’d want in return—”
“Don’t even think about that horror. It can hear your thoughts.” Wade’s gaze darted around the carriage house as though the needle-toothed monstrosity was right there with us. And what did I know? Maybe it was. He turned his attention back to me. “Then, I’m going with you.”
“No, you ain’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to acknowledge his huge presence looming over me.
“You might think you can stop me, but you’re wrong.” He leaned down in my face. I twisted away.
Tubby pulled up to the curb, and I motioned to him. He hurried across the lawn, skinny arms swinging. “You know where Gage is at?”
“Old Beulah Church.” I held open the door to the carriage house.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Tubby stopped where he was. “I should have known. That’s where I made him meet me for his payments.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” I motioned him inside.
Tubby walked inside the carriage house and stared at my makeshift spelling setup. He shook his head.
“You ain’t about to sacrifice me to some horned god, are you?” He leaned over the pentagram I’d chalked on the floor surrounded by cheap white emergency candles found in the cupboards.
Nothing in the spell book talked about the pentagram or the candles, which were the wrong colors anyway, but I’d learned this method from Mysti. It was the only way I knew.
“No. I’m going to make it so Michael Gage’ll see Nash Redmond when he looks at you.”
“If he’s inside the old Beulah Church, he won’t know.” Wade waited with the chalk in his hand. He’d draw the circle once Tubby and I were inside.
“But what if he’s waiting out front? What if he has a security camera? He had my damn house bugged. Asshole’s gone high tech.” I dragged Tubby into the circle with me and motioned Wade to start. I went about casting the circle. My words tripped over each other, but the low energy of the circle falling into place came anyway, easier than usual. Maybe having Priscilla’s mantle wasn’t as bad as Wade seemed to think.
I grabbed Tubby’s skinny wrist. The feel of his pulse knocking against the thin skin there alerted me to his fear more than the deadness behind his blue eyes. I gave him a reassuring caress with my thumb.
The words from the spell book rolled off my tongue like they were meant for me. They hung in the air, heavy and powerful, at my command.
The magic built in me. It came in through my feet, powered by energy from the old floorboards, their earth magic leftover from the trees they’d once been. I breathed it in and let it move through every piece of my body. It settled in my head, waiting for me to tell it where to go. I gripped the little metal rose Nash gave me when we first met and sent some magic into it.
I hoped it had enough of Nash on it, since he’d bought it as a gift for me, to hold the spell. Nothing in the spell book mentioned putting one of Nash's belongings on Tubby. I’d simply known just as I’d known how to pronounce the words to work the spell. It seemed the mantle, rather than making the magic possible, gave me little details I wouldn’t have otherwise known.
I pressed the rose into one of Tubby’s outstretched hands and closed his fingers over it. I said the word to bind it to him, to make its energy part of his, just for a short time. I took his other hand and drew the sigil from the spell book on his palm, tapped it three times and whispered the final words of the spell.
Tubby’s skin cooled under my touch as though a layer of reality separated me from him. The visage of Nash Redmond appeared over his face, a lifelike, animated mask.
“It didn’t work. I feel like the same old me, not some Yankee douche,” Tubby twanged.
“Don’t talk, bro.” Wade gaped at Tubby from outside the circle. “Long as you keep your mouth shut, you’re dead on.” He winked at me and nodded.
A few minutes later, Tubby and I climbed into Nash's vintage Caddy. It had been parked a few streets over, and Tubby saw it coming in. Tubby drove because none of us believed Nash would let me drive if he wanted to keep control of the situation. Wade lay across the backseat. We rode in silence, the night’s darkness a cloak to incubate all my worries.
Wade’s warning about Hannah never being the same played over and over in my mind. Would death, even the kind of death Michael Gage would inflict on her, be better than a lifetime of the kind of mental anguish this kind of trauma caused? I’d never know. All I could do was try to save her.
“I smell smoke,” Tubby said as we neared the church, which was less than a mile from Memaw’s house.
“Some assholes tried to kill us before we went to get the treasure.” Wade’s voice came from the darkness of the backseat. “Ended up burning down Miss Leticia’s house and killing Peri Jean’s Nova.”
My mind formulated a hoard of questions. Where was I going to live? What was I going to do now? I quelled them with the simple thought that I might not have much longer to live.
“Y’all done had a busy day.” Tubby turned into the parking lot of Beulah Church, tires whispering over the dirt, and put the Caddy in park. He sat staring at the boarded up building. “No lights on in there. We ought to be able to see ‘em from the cracks around the boards.” He turned to me. “You sure you right about the location, girl? If you ain’t, all this been for nothing. Wearing this Yankee’s skin might make me talk funny.”
I knew what I’d seen in Nash's blood. The images of what he and Gage did to Hannah would never leave me. Nor would I forget the picture of them laughing about her, imitating her misery, right in front of this church.
The first bullet sounded like a rock hitting the car’s metal. Tubby and I both went down. The next two bullets took out the windshield. Chunks of safety glass pelted our backs and arms.
“Gage? The fuck you doing?” Tubby yelled in his best Yankee accent, which sounded nothing like Nash.
Gage must not have noticed. “Partnership’s over, son. Thanks for the help getting out of prison, thanks for caring, but we’re parting ways.”
Tubby pulled a semi-automatic pistol out of his pants and jacked a round into the chamber. “But I’ve got the treasure right here. And Peri Jean.” Tubby’s second try at a Yankee accent sounded about as authentic as a fast food cordon bleu.
“I’ll get it out of the car once you’re dead.” Gage shot at us twice more.
Tubby returned fire and ducked down. More bullets punched into the car. I thought about Bonnie and Clyde’s final moments. Not happening to me. “Don’t try to shoot it out with him, Tub. Run over him.”
“Go in the direction of the muzzle flashes,” Wade whispered from the backseat.
“I know what to do.” Tubby turned to glare at Wade. “Just because you were in the military—”
“I was a Marine.” Wade’s voice went cold.
“Just do it before he starts shooting again.” I punched Tubby in the ribs. The effort pulled at my own injury from the beating. I jerked my arm back.
Tubby raised slightly to see out the hole where the windshield had been.
“The muzzle flashes are coming from your left.” Wade kept his voice barely above a whisper.
“I see them, Mr. I’m-A-Marine.” Tubby stared into the darkness. “Gage! We can talk this out. Come on, man.”
“No deal.” Gage shot three more times.
Tubby started the car, raising just enough to see, and popped the gearshift into drive. He floored the Caddy in the direction where we’d last heard Gage’s voice. Gunsho
ts flashed in the dark. Tubby sped toward them and crashed into the side of the old building.
“I saw him jump out of the way.” Wade sat up in the back seat. The back windshield shattered and crumbled as another bullet crashed through it. Wade yelped and dropped back down on the seat.
My heart leapt into my throat, flailing and flopping. I rooted around in my seat to get a look at him. “You hit?”
“It’s not bad.” He pressed one hand to his arm.
“But you’re hit.” Something dark and powerful fluttered inside me. This had gone far enough. I would not let Michael Gage shoot my friend and get away with it, no matter how much he scared me. A rage, not quite my own but not separate from me either, rose up and looked around. The black opal pulsed on my chest, letting me know it was ready for action. I focused on the growing quiver of magic inside me and let it lead my consciousness out of the car. I found Gage hiding around the side of the building, reloading his gun. I saw the evil inside his soul, a malignant thorn with poison dripping from its tip.
He spun around and peered into the darkness and smashed the magazine back into his pistol with the heel of his hand. “I see you.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. My voice sounded loud and muffled inside my consciousness.
Gage didn’t seem to hear. He backed against the church pointing his gun to the left, then to the right. “Where are you?” He pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked in his hand. He pointed the gun right at me and pulled the trigger again. I heard the whiz of the bullet as it passed through me and lodged in an old pin oak tree behind me. Gage, now in full panic, pulled the trigger again and again. Some of the bullets went through the spot where my spirit stood. Others went wild. The gun’s slide locked back, showing it was empty. Gage’s chest rose and fell. His gaze still darted around.
I came forward and brushed one hand against his cheek like a lover, really pouring energy into it.
He screamed and jumped away. He squinted into the darkness. “Raelene?”
Hate brimmed over and spilled its poison in me. He was scared and calling for my cousin who he brutally murdered? Oh, hell no.
I remembered what I saw my father’s ghost do to Scott Holze and knew how I wanted to end things with Gage. I gathered my energy, the last I had, and crowded against Gage. I pushed my hand, or what passed for it in this form, into his brain and squeezed. The mass popped as something within it burst, and the rush of blood running out of it filled my ears. I pulled out of Gage and backed away.
He fell to the ground convulsing, kicking and flailing. The moonlight shone silver on his face and made his eyes look like coins rested on top of them. His movements slowed, and a foul smell hit me as his bowels emptied. He twitched once more and lay still.
An invisible force pulling me backward to the car where my physical body sat. I merged into my own still body. I opened my eyes and pushed Wade’s hands away. “I’m fine. I just went to…run an errand.”
“You went…” Tubby stared at me. “You were right here the whole time.”
“You’re an idiot, Tubman,” Wade muttered. “I’m guessing Gage is dead.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. My legs were so weak, they barely held me up. I balanced against the wreck of the Caddy. “Go see for yourself. He’s over there.”
Tubby ran to see, probably happy to be rid of a formidable enemy with no injury to his person.
I stumbled toward the church. Wade appeared at my side and took my arm. I expected him to lecture me, to try to prepare me to find Hannah inside dead, but he didn’t. He held me up, the way he had our entire friendship. I put my arm around his waist and squeezed.
He stopped walking and stared down at me. “You probably saved me and Tubby tonight. Thanks.”
“You’ve saved me more times than I can count.” I stared up into his face, wishing so much we could walk off into the sunset and live happily ever after. The ache in my chest was almost as bad as the ache of fatigue threatening to consume me.
Wade pulled open the door of the church and motioned me through. The cavernous room was pitch black. Gage, when he prepared to double-cross Nash, must have cut the lights. Or maybe he anticipated me coming into the room and wanted me to dread seeing whatever horror he had in store. I took out my flashlight and clicked it on. At the front of the church was a small raised area where the preacher would have stood. It held a long table with a still form on top of it. Naked white flesh glowed in the flashlight’s harsh glare.
I took off in that direction, still holding my breath. I was afraid if I breathed I’d puke. Wade kept pace with me and guided me to the steps at one end of the stage. He stayed on the floor.
Gage had banded Hannah to the table with long strips of fabric. One at the feet. One at the shoulders. One across her forehead. She was blindfolded and had a rag stuffed in her mouth. I clicked off the flashlight because I couldn’t look any more.
“Is she…” Wade trailed off. I knew what he meant, though. He wanted to know if she was alive or dead.
Hannah began to scream behind her gag. The combination of relief and anxiety about the extent of her injuries nearly made me swoon. I pulled it together and got the gag out of her mouth.
“Oh, Peri Jean, is that you?”
I caressed her cheek with my fingertips. “It’s me. I’m here for you.”
“You’ve got to go. He’ll be back any minute.” Her words came fast, all razor edged with panic and fear. Hadn’t she heard the gunshots outside? Or was she so paralyzed with trauma she couldn’t process any of it? I didn’t know what to do or how to help her.
“He’s dead.” I kept rubbing her cheek.
Wade came up the steps. Hannah’s head wagged wildly, and her chest rose and fell too fast.
“It’s all right, baby.” I kept my voice soft. Inside, I raged and screamed and howled. If I could have killed Michael Gage again, I’d have done it. Only slower. “It’s just Wade Hill. He came to help me get you.”
Wade put a sleeping bag over Hannah’s body. She winced when it touched her.
“All I could find,” he said.
“I can’t see.” Hannah began to sob.
“You got duct tape over your eyes.” I stroked her hair back off her forehead. “I’ll have to leave it for the hospital.” The hospital! I spoke in a low voice to Wade. “Can you call 911?”
He walked away without speaking. Outside, tires squealed on asphalt and an engine came near.
“Five-oh!” Tubby yelled. “I’m running. Catch y’all later.”
How had they found us so fast? Had someone reported the gunshots? Wade walked outside. Someone shouted a question. I recognized the voice.
“Dean!” I screamed. “Hannah’s in here.”
Sheriff Dean Turgeau burst through the church’s double doors and trained his flashlight on us. I stepped in front of Hannah.
“She’s naked under that sleeping bag,” I stage whispered. “And she’s hysterical.” My vision wavered in the brightness of Dean’s flashlight. All the drama of the last few hours washed over me. This time, the loss of energy refused to be ignored. My legs went weak, and I sat down hard.
“You hit?” Dean screamed in my face.
I ignored him and let the fatigue and my injuries overtake me.
I WOKE up to bright sunlight streaming through the room. The smell told me right away I was in the hospital.
“Need water?” Dean’s voice sounded as tired as I felt.
He sat across from my bed with his hair mussed and grime streaking his face and clothes. One side of his lips was swollen and split.
“What happened?” I tried to ask, but the inside of my mouth felt coarse and dry. I nodded and pointed to the water.
Dean stood with a grunt and filled the plastic hospital cup. He bent the straw and leaned over me to help me take a sip. He smelled like smoke. I had a blissful second to wonder why before the dots clicked together with a final clunk, and I remembered the previous day in all its horror.
/> Joey and his crew of vigilantes burned Memaw’s house. They wiped away everything I had left like it never existed. My throat tightened. They tried to kill me, and I tried to kill them. I almost won. I found the Mace Treasure, and I killed Michael Gage. Hannah was hurt.
I swallowed my water and pushed the cup away. “Hannah?”
“None of the injuries were life-threatening. They were just…” He let out a breath and shook his head. “Just brutal. Never seen anything like it. Never want to again. They’ve got her sedated.”
My mind called up what I’d seen of Nash’s memory for that brief second I looked into his blood. I shut it off. Thinking about what my sweet, dear friend went through because of me made me sick. “Wade?”
“Mr. Hill needed his gunshot wound treated. He needed his head examined after Mrs. Carly Holze hit him in the head.” Dean touched his lip. “When the hospital staff tried to remove him from your room, he got upset. I made the mistake of trying to remove him myself.”
“Am I under arrest?” No need to say any more if I was.
“For…” He raised his eyebrows, and a little mischief danced in those light blue eyes that had held me so enthralled at one time.
I shook my head, numb. Someone rapped on the door to my room. It opened, and Rainey Bruce stuck her head in.
“I’m interviewing Peri Jean.” Dean said the words as though they’d send Rainey backpedaling. He was a slow learner. Rainey stepped into the room and set her tote bag on the dresser. She appraised Dean coolly, as though they didn’t run together most mornings, as though they weren’t friends. She stared at him as though she had big teeth, and he was small and juicy.
“You know I’m her attorney, don’t you?” Rainey pulled the room’s other chair next to my bedside.
“I just want to hear what went on, Rainey.” The same whine I remembered from our short relationship made Dean sound fifteen instead of forty.
“And as her attorney, I’m here to make sure the law is observed.” Rainey stared at Dean through hooded eyes. The sheriff kicked at the floor and shook his head. Rainey nodded. “If your office is pressing charges of any sort, I’m going to advise my client not to talk. If you’re simply gathering information…”
