Dead End (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 8)

by Catie Rhodes

  He shook his head. I noticed his eye again. It had swollen to a slit and was darkening. I knew the answer in a sudden, sick rush. Not the specifics, no. But I knew the source of Wade's silence, and it was King Tolliver.

  Wade gripped my shoulders. He could have probably pulped the bones but didn’t. “You’re my priority. Hannah, bless her, is never going to be okay again. She can’t drag you down with her. I can’t survive that.” He took one hand off my shoulder to press against his chest.

  “A couple of months ago, you drove four hours to come to my rescue. You didn’t know what the problem was. You just wanted to help me. Now I need to save Hannah.” King beat Wade up for coming to be with me. The information flashed in my brain like a neon sign in the rain, fueling a stream of smoking fury. I closed the distance between us. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.” Gently as I could, I rubbed my thumb under his wounded eye.

  It was too much. He jerked away from me, took a big step back. “Nothing that’s any of your business. This here’s between me and King.” He jabbed a thumb at his face.

  Anger spurred my heart into fast gear. My words came out before I thought them over. “Nobody fucks with you or Hannah. Not even if their name is King Tolliver.” Just saying what I thought ignited a fire in my belly.

  Wade’s expression went hard and mulish. “You can’t just barge in Long Time Gone and start telling King his business. It’ll blow up bigger than you ever imagined anything could.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You watch me. I don’t back down to anybody.”

  Wade shook his head and gusted a sigh. “You don’t understand.”

  I jammed my hands onto my hips, not caring if I looked just like Memaw. “Make me understand.”

  “All right. Have you ever stepped in a big pile of shit and got it in the grooves of your shoes?” Wade glared at me.

  “What does that have to do with—”

  He held up one hand. “Just bear with me. You know how you step in shit, and by the time you get it off your shoes, it’s everywhere—the doorknob, the paper towel roll in the kitchen, even on the ceiling of your closet?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “So what?”

  “So that’s what it’s going to be like if you get in King’s face. The mess is just going to keep spreading until it’s everywhere in your life.” Wade delivered this warning with both his hands spread wide.

  “But there’s one good thing about shit, handsome.” I tried to smile. “It washes off.”

  “Not this shit.” Something akin to fear moved behind Wade’s dark eyes. This was the second time I’d seen it in our short visit. “You don’t want King Tolliver for an enemy.”

  What was he so afraid of? A fight? I didn’t get it. “That’s where you’re wrong.” Pride, the fuel of every fight I’d ever had, swelled in my chest. “It’s King who doesn’t want me for an enemy.”

  “King fights dirty. Who and what are you willing to burn to the ground to win?” Wade swung one leg over his Harley Davidson. Discussion over. Either he’d given up on me or wanted to beat me to Long Time Gone.

  “I won’t have to hurt anybody, except maybe King.” I pulled my truck keys out of my pocket and used the remote to unlock the door. “After the amount of money he’s trying to bully out of me for his ‘services rendered’ on the Michael Gage matter, I ain’t gonna be shy about telling him how it is.”

  Wade shook his head and started his motorcycle. He sprayed gravel leaving the parking lot.

  2

  Wade beat me to Long Time Gone. He sat on his Harley and watched me try to find a place to park my huge truck in the dirt lot. The little area next to the old smokehouse that had been here back when this was a homestead was the only place it fit, where I knew I could get it out.

  The smokehouse gave me the creeps. Not only did it carry an odor of old smoke and spoiled meat, it always felt alive in some way. I suspected it was haunted but never had the brass to investigate. I scrambled out of my ride and scurried toward Long Time Gone.

  A strong wind rattled through the pine trees, deepening that smoke and meat gone over odor. The long, wooden building that housed the bar seemed miles away. I took the last steps running and soon was even with Wade.

  “Please don’t do this.” His eyes, liquid obsidian, bored into my worries and shook them awake.

  “I help people. Especially friends.”

  “Hannah’s not my friend,” he muttered and got off the motorcycle.

  “Yeah, but I am.” I marched toward the front door and grabbed the big handle to pull it open. Wade’s hand slapped down on it and pushed it closed again.

  “The Hannah you knew is gone.” He gripped one of my shoulders. A burning current of desire shivered through me. Damn it, I wanted this man in the worst way.

  I shook both the thoughts and Wade’s hand off. “She ain’t either. Besides, I’m here on your behalf too.”

  He put his hand back on my shoulder and turned me to face him. He cupped my face with both hands and tilted it up so our eyes met. His thumbs caressed my cheeks. “Michael Gage and Nash Redmond killed Hannah. They gut shot her mind, so it’ll take her forever to die, and nobody can help her. I’m the same. I laid out my bed with the Six Guns a long time ago, and I deserve what I get.”

  “No.” I pulled away and burst through the door. The smell hit me like a kick in the chest. Yeasty, stale beer and puke. I took a step backward, hand going to my nose. My eyes adjusted. I wasn’t alone in the dark entry hall. Corman had both arms wrapped around Candy Pistol, his mouth against hers.

  He broke off the kiss and faced me, lip curling with disgust. Wade came in behind me. Corman’s eyes shot to him. “What’s she doing here? She can’t be here.” His voice rose on the last two words.

  “Because Daddy said so?” I made my voice high and sweet, enjoying the fury darkening Corman’s face.

  “Because I said so.” His hand, covered in rings and tattoos, flashed out to grab my arm.

  I reached into the old boards at my feet and let a flash of magic flow through me and into Corman. He cried out and jerked his hand back. Smoke drifted from his fingertips.

  “Fucking witch,” he hissed.

  “Pencil dick.” I brushed past him and strode into the main area of the bar. Dim, neon-tinged light flickered from the bar, casting the room in gloomy shadow. The only other light came from white Christmas lights strung around the raised stage where cut-rate bands sometimes played. Nobody was playing now. Red dirt country music twanged from the jukebox.

  Several members of the Six Gun Revolutionaries turned to stare. Most of them clenched their faces into the same puckered butthole look Corman had adopted upon seeing me. All conversation stopped, and the sound of pool balls clacking in the back reached my ears. I pretended to ignore them all and slowly surveyed the open, booth-lined room.

  Hannah’s flame-colored hair blazed in the glow of the red neon beer sign hanging over the bar. She sat spraddle-legged on a barstool, back hunched, elbows dug into the bar. The Hannah I had known would never sit like this in public. She’d sit poised and perfect like she was at one of her starched undies social gatherings. And her clothes. My Hannah would never have worn filthy jeans and a faded T-shirt four sizes too big in public. Who was this person? Dread pressing against my heart, I took a deep breath and made a beeline for her.

  Five feet from her, I got a good look and stopped. Hannah’s transformation shocked the righteous fury out of me. Always slim, she’d crossed the line into skeletal. Her collarbone stood out like a scythe connecting to her shoulder. Scabs covered the bony backs of her hands, mingling with mystery sores and bruises crawling up her arms.

  And a tattoo. Hannah had never expressed interest in a permanent marking. This one was a wicked skull and crossbones, something I’d have never imagined Hannah getting. If ever there were a woman who’d be perfect for tattooed butterflies and flowers, it was my old buddy Hannah Kessler. Talk about alternate universes. I gathered my determination and made myself c
lose the last couple of feet separating us.

  “Hey.” I touched her shoulder. My black opal flashed to life. Magic jolted through me, the force of it shoving my hand away.

  Hannah turned to me. My mouth dropped open. Hannah’s warm caramel eyes, usually tastefully made up, were ringed in so much eyeliner, they made my tramp tracks look like something a Sunday school teacher would wear. The eyes behind all that makeup were foggy and unfocused, and no recognition showed in them. She didn’t even know me.

  Hannah held a lime in one hand and a shot of clear liquid in the other. The citrusy smell of tequila hit me. We stared at each other. I saw what Wade meant. All the sweet warmth and silliness that had made Hannah herself was absent. The woman before me was a shell, a home to misery and self-loathing. She was dying slow.

  Salty tears closed my throat. Seeing my dear friend like this, so broken and fucked up, sent sorrow to burrow deep in my heart. The hurt of it emanated out in waves harsher than the Texas sun.

  King Tolliver slammed a full bottle of tequila down on the bar in front of Hannah. “Told you I had one more bottle of the good shit.” He bared his cheese-colored teeth in a shit-eating grin, engrossed in cutting off the foil sealing the bottle closed. He popped the cork and glanced at Hannah for the first time.

  His smile faded as he took stock of Hannah and followed her gaze to me. King and I glared at each other for several long seconds. I waited for him to say something, anything, so I could smart off and start the fight. Once I had feared King. But I’d seen death, shook his hand, and felt his cold lips on my cheek. We’d danced, death and I, and I survived. King was little compared to that.

  “Let’s have us a drink.” King poured two shots of tequila, ignoring me. He and Hannah licked the salt off their hands, slammed the shots, and sucked on their limes. She set her glass down, and King immediately refilled it. His dead eyes slid over me. Warning flashed in them. I smiled at him and winked.

  “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” I tugged on the sleeve of Hannah’s too large shirt, which I now recognized as one of King’s, and winced at the odor coming off her. Unwashed body and stale hair. My bestie’s skid into darkness opened a deep, empty chasm in my emotions. “Hannah?” I whispered.

  She slowly raised her head and locked confused eyes on mine. We stared at each other for several long seconds. That chasm in my emotions yawned in front of me, beckoning me to fall in, never to be heard from again. The beginnings of fear stirred in my midsection. The black opal gave me another warning ping. Hannah’s eyes sharpened, their warm depths freezing into hard ice. The black opal pulsed on my chest several times. Then Hannah’s eyes went dull again. She slumped and let out a relieved sigh. What was going on here? I’d had enough farting around and was about to find out.

  “Take a short walk outside with me. The air might do you some good.” I wrangled her off the stool and dragged her toward the front door. She staggered along with me at first but yanked her arm away before I could get her outside.

  The black opal pulsed magic on my chest. I took a good look around the corners of the room, expecting to see a lost spirit. There was nothing but dust and maybe some drying puke. The black opal warmed until it burned. Magic tickled its way through my hair, making it bristle like the hair on a dog’s back. Hannah. It was coming from Hannah. I focused on her, opening my second sight as much as I could in such a tense situation. Without meaning to or planning to, I leaned into her face.

  That hard chill darkened her eyes again. Her upper lip curled into a snarl. A cold, oily voice issued from her dry and cracked lips. “Your own darkness will swallow you. Fuck off, or I’ll make it happen even faster.”

  I recoiled. Where the hell did that come from? The voice, devoid of sympathy or emotion, reverberated like the last bass notes of a death metal song. It fluttered against all my nightmares and insecurities, caressing them until they hurt. There was no Hannah at all in that voice. Fear stole over me. My instincts told me to run, to get out of here as fast as I could, but I couldn’t move.

  Hannah’s eyes flickered back to confused puddles of melted caramel, and she rocked on her feet. “I don’t want to talk. I talked and talked and talked in that overpriced damn hospital in Florida.” She glanced back at the bar. “I’m all talked out. I’m thirsty now.”

  King watched from the behind the bar, hairy arms crossed over his chest. His brows knotted up like thunderclouds boiling before a storm. It wouldn’t be long before he got in on the action. Once King and I locked horns, getting Hannah out of here would be near impossible.

  “Then let me buy you food. You need some food in your stomach.” I couldn’t quite make myself touch her again. Instead, I rested the tips of my fingers on my black opal for comfort.

  “Listen to me. You escaped Michael Gage relatively unscathed. I didn’t. The only time I feel safe is when I’m with that man behind the bar. The only time I can sleep is when I’m so drunk I pass out. I need this.” She stopped speaking and held onto the wall, breathing hard.

  “Sweetie? I got your next shot poured,” King yelled. Hannah lurched back toward the bar. King raised one hand and moved his fingers the same way you shoo away a stray cat. I knew the signal. It was for drunks King wanted out of the bar. I wasn’t surprised when Wade grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.

  “Get her out of here,” King yelled at Wade.

  “Come on.” Wade stared at the wall behind me. “Don’t make me force you.”

  “I can’t let him get away with this.” I tried to brush Wade’s hand off. It stayed where it was.

  “Please,” he mumbled, still unable to look at me.

  I glanced toward the bar. Hannah leaned forward and kissed King Tolliver’s ugly lips. Something broke open in my heart and oozed bottomless gloom. I tore my arm out of Wade’s grasp and sprinted for the bar, almost forgetting that ugly, bitter cold voice.

  King saw me coming in the mirror behind the bar. The stony expression on his face never changed. He reached beneath the bar, took out the shotgun he kept there, and pointed it at me. “Stop.” He didn’t bother to shout. The gun did all the talking he needed to do. We both knew he’d use it.

  I slid to a stop and stood still, too shocked to call on the mantle and make that thing blow up in his hands.

  “Get out.” King put his finger on the trigger. “You’re banned for life.”

  “You cowardly shit. Send me a bill like I owe you something. Fuck you in the dick hole with an icepick.” My shouts rang out in the quiet bar. I glanced into the mirror to see how Hannah was taking all this, praying she’d get up and follow me out. I never even saw the expression on her face. All I saw was the thing perched on her shoulders.

  It was solid matte black with a hunched back. Wide, flappy ears stuck out from its head, and a long crooked nose dominated its face. Its eyes flicked to mine in the mirror. The thing’s lips stretched, and it bared its jagged teeth in a smile. Fear froze me an inch at a time. The black opal sent ping after ping of magic into my skin. I stood rigid, unable to process anything.

  Priscilla Herrera appeared behind me in the mirror. The thing’s eyes widened for just a second at the sight of her. The two glared at each other. The magic pinging through my black opal grew. It made sense, considering the source of my power came from Priscilla’s gift. The power swelled. The thing on Hannah’s back hissed. Behind me, Priscilla hissed back. This was about to get so bad.

  Wade gripped me around the waist and lifted me. Too shocked to fight, I let him carry me out of the bar, still slack-jawed at that awful thing riding Hannah’s back.

  King’s voice followed me out. “Come back here, and I’ll kill you.”

  Wade dragged me to my truck. He outweighed me by over a hundred pounds and was taller than me by more than a foot. There was no way I could do anything other than go. He let go of me, dug in my bag, got out my keys, and used the remote to unlock it. “Get in.”

  “Is that monster the reason you won’t help Hannah?” I couldn’t shake t
he sight of it.

  Wade snorted. “King Tolliver saved my life when nobody else would lift a finger to help me. My loyalty to him goes beyond a broken woman hell-bent on destroying herself.” Wade took in the expression on my face and quit speaking.

  “I’m not talking about King.” The image of that thing appeared again. All the spit in my mouth dried up. I tried to swallow and choked. Coughs and gags wracked my body, and I bent double. Wade pounded my back.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice squeaked with fear.

  I pushed his hand away and dug in the backseat for a bottle of water. A few sips soothed my throat. I leaned on the seat and stared at Wade.

  “You’re telling me you didn’t see it?”

  He shook his head, confusion evident. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I took the black opal necklace off and handed it to him. “Put it on.”

  “What are we talking about here?” He made no effort to take the necklace.

  “Put the necklace on, go back inside, and look at Hannah in the bar mirror. Then, come back out and tell me what you see.” I pushed the necklace at him, about ready to shove it up his big ass.

  “I don’t…” He took one look at my face, slipped the necklace over his head, and walked back to the bar, probably to keep me from chewing him up any worse.

  I lit a cigarette and watched the door. A minute passed, then two. I drank some more of my water and waited. Would Wade just leave me sitting out here? Maybe. The necklace didn’t matter. The black opal would find its way home. The idea of Wade blowing me off bothered me more than anything. If he hid in the bar until I left, would our friendship end? A stray thought came into existence. If the friendship ended, it might be a relief to us both. I shook off the thought. My desire for Wade went too deep for that.

  Caw. Caw. Caw. Orev, my raven familiar, flapped to a low hanging branch and perched there. He cocked his head at me.

  “What is it? You got something to say?”

  Orev made soft sounds.