by Catie Rhodes
No. I must have been too late. Grief broke open inside me, cold and poisonous. I lay my cheek on her still chest. The sobs ripped out of me, one after the other, as I clutched my friend and mourned her. The hag squealed and squirmed, trying to free itself. If I had contained it with only half my magic, maybe I could kill it. I’d cry for Hannah, then I’d try.
I let my grief out in sobs and shrieks. My black opal grew hot with the force of it. Somewhere outside the window, my raven familiar cawed. The sound of his wings flapping filled the room.
Hannah’s chest hitched, and she coughed. She tried to roll over on her side, but I was practically lying on top of her. I pushed off her and sat back on my legs. Was it death convulsions? Hannah coughed again and half rose, clawing at her neck.
“Water. Give her water.” I yelled the words to nobody in particular. The sink faucet came on, and footsteps approached.
Mysti knelt next to Hannah and put the glass to her lips. “Take it slow.”
Hannah took a sip of water and spewed it. Coughs wracked her body. Dillon stepped forward and knelt in front of Hannah. “Stop coughing. Your throat don’t hurt.”
Hannah did as Dillon told her. Mysti tried again. This time Hannah swallowed the water and held it down. She took the glass in her own hands and drank.
Finished, she handed the glass to Mysti and glared at me. “Why didn’t you just let me die? Then this would be over. I wouldn’t have to…” She broke off her words with a sob.
I recoiled with shock, but then my had-enough kicked in. I narrowed my eyes at her. “You wanna kill your damn self, run off and do it somewhere I can’t see you. You ain’t dying on my watch.”
Hannah cut off her sobs and bared her teeth at me, her face contorted with fury. I tensed, ready for her attack. The idea of fighting my best friend killed something inside me, and my magic let go of the hag. It raged around my psyche, causing as much pain as it could. A headache blossomed behind both eyes and spread into my sinuses where it leaked pain into the rest of my head. One tear streaked down my cheek.
Hannah struggled to her feet. “You have no idea what it's like to live with this.” She hit herself in the chest with the palm of one hand.
I had no argument. The horror of what she'd been through was beyond my understanding. She spun away from me and made a beeline for the stairs. Tubby went after her.
“Stop it,” Hannah shouted. “Let me go.” Then came the sound of flesh striking flesh, and I knew she’d slapped him.
Footsteps thumped back up the steps. Tubby reappeared, carrying Hannah over his shoulder, his mouth turned down. He dropped Hannah on a cracked leather recliner and leaned over her, holding up one finger. “Don’t hit me. I’ll give you that one out of loyalty to Peri Jean, but I ain’t one of those men who puts up with a woman slapping around on him. I’ll whup your ass if you try it with me.”
Feeling the need to protect Hannah, I stomped over. Tubby held up one hand for me to stop. The menace in that one gesture stopped me where I was. And I considered this guy a trusted friend? You could kill him without lifting a finger. The voice wasn’t my own. It sounded confident and ruthless, but it wasn't the voice of the hag either. I realized I’d heard the voice of who I would become when I took on the full measure of Priscilla Herrera’s mantle. The thought froze me. “Tub? Don’t threaten her, okay? She can't help herself.”
Tubby spun to face me, eyes blazing, but took one look at my face and stood down.
“She can risk our whole operation.” Tubby Tubman was explaining himself to me. I couldn’t believe it. “Then all this trouble, all we’ve lost, would be for nothing.”
I stared down at Hannah. She met my glare and shot eye-daggers of her own. Would she snap out of it again? It didn't much matter. The old Hannah truly was lost. This one was all that was left. The hurt spread over me, aching and throbbing, but this time I didn’t let it consume me. I stared at Hannah until she blinked and turned away.
Cecil and Dillon began straightening up the mess I'd made. Drama was over to them, and I guessed it was for me too. I drew myself up to my full height, which was pretty unimpressive, and approached Mysti.
“You kept me moving instead of letting me freeze.” We hugged tight. I patted Tubby on the back. “You did the right thing.”
Thanking people, and doing it in sincere way, was one of the things Cecil had been teaching me about leading people. Now I felt him watching me from inside the kitchen. I turned to meet his eyes. They were so like Memaw’s my chest ached. He winked at me and gave me a nod of approval.
“You ladies ready to talk about my idea to get the tape out of the motel?” Cecil held a valise I’d watched him take out of Mysti’s car a lifetime ago and was rummaging through it.
I nodded and dragged the chairs around the table. Tubby came to lean against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Mysti started some more of her awful smelling tea. Hannah sat alone on the other side of the room, head down, face red with anger.
I didn’t know what to do for Hannah. Next time she did something like this, I probably wouldn’t be there to save her. And that would be the end of a friend I truly loved. I let myself fully embrace the sorrow and then put it aside. I had business to tend to.
Wade Hill was still alive, and I’d do everything I could to save him. If Cecil had an idea that might help, I wanted to hear it.
12
Cecil set what appeared to be a mummified human hand on the table. I gasped and withdrew, scenting for the telltale odor of rot.
Mysti leaned forward. “That what I think it is?” A smile played on her lips, broadening when Cecil nodded. “As I live and breathe, I never expected to see one of these.”
I watched the two of them, confused. The thing was disgusting. If it was real. Maybe it wasn’t real. Because if it was, we were sitting here at this table with part of a dead body.
Mysti glanced at me and giggled behind her hand. “Look at you. Big bad Peri Jean, afraid.”
“It’s a piece of a dead person.” I glanced at Tubby, hoping for approval, but he stepped forward, blue eyes alight with curiosity.
“Hand of Glory, ain’t it?” He actually grinned. Cecil smiled back. Tubby muttered, “Hot damn.”
I stared at the dead hand, twisting my face in disgust.
Mysti rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t you remember the ordeal you went through to take on Priscilla Herrera’s mantle?”
I nodded.
She leaned forward, mirth leaving her face. “The old Peri Jean Mace died a symbolic death that day and was reborn a witch of Priscilla Herrera’s line. This left you with an even deeper anchor into the realm of the dead than you already had with your psychic medium ability.” I didn’t react. She leaned forward and put her hand over my arm. “The Hand of Glory belongs to our kind. Do not let fear take it away.”
I tried to look at the thing without my stomach rolling. Footsteps creaked on the floor. Hannah came into view, walking on her tiptoes. I studied her face, searching for the anger and resentment. It seemed to have faded for the moment. She leaned over the table.
“That thing is butt ugly.” She glanced at me. For a tiny second, I saw the bond we’d shared. Then it danced away, and dull hurt took its place. She turned away from me and spoke to Tubby. “Is there another chair? Or am I allowed…”
“Of course you’re allowed.” I got up and found an extra metal folding chair leaning against the wall. I set it behind her without speaking and sat back down. I grimaced at the Hand of Glory. “So what are we going to do with this?”
“I’m wondering that myself. Maybe Mr. Gregg will enlighten us.” Mysti didn’t wait for Cecil to answer. She plowed on, her voice more scholarly with each word. “I have never even seen one of these or talked to someone who used one. My knowledge is strictly folkloric. The Hand is cut off a hanged murderer while his neck is still in the noose.” She shot a guilty glance at Hannah, who flushed. “The amputated hand goes through a very specific procedure to preserve it. It is then
used as a candle, mostly by thieves. It's supposed to keep the occupants of the house sleeping while the thieves rob the house.”
Tubby leaned forward, grinning. “I’ve heard you light one finger for each person sleeping. If a finger won’t light, means somebody’s awake in the house.”
“The person who gave it to me said to knock with this hand, and it would unlock any door.” Cecil shrugged at the difference between his interpretation of the Hand’s powers and the other ones.
The thing still disgusted me. “Where’d you get it?”
“My grandmother had a twin brother named Samuel. My great-uncle,” Cecil said. “Uncle Sam liked gambling and women and would go off on binges of both. He came back with this one time. Sam had no children, and I was the only boy child born to our family at that time. So he gave it to me.” Cecil chuckled. “My mother had a fit. That was the first and last time I ever saw her show disrespect to her elders. She wanted to take it away from me. Daddy wanted to sell it. But Samantha stood up to them both, said Samuel wanted me to have it, and have it I would.”
“You ever use it for its intended purpose?” Tubby stared at the thing. His finger snaked out a couple of times to touch it, but he withdrew each time.
“No. I don’t have the gift of moving energy like Peri Jean. The Hand of Glory stayed in a special cedar box most of my life.” He took the box out of his valise and set it on the table. It was plain, stained cedar with sigils carved into the wood. “I’d forgotten about it, but Jadine had one of her dreams earlier this week. She woke up asking about it. Knew exactly what it looked like. I got it out so she could…” Cecil shrugged. Jadine was Cecil’s adopted daughter. She possessed the gift of precognition, among other things. “Then when Mysti called asking for my help, Jadine insisted I take it.”
Jadine called her gift dream walking. She saw dreams of the past, dreams of the future, even dreams of the present. It usually happened when she slept. “Did she say exactly what she saw?”
Cecil nodded. “This ought to interest you. She said she saw you in a small room with only a bed. The room had red carpet and a picture of a horse on the wall. It also had a red phone.”
Hannah gasped. “That’s the motel room where I picked up that hag.” She jerked a thumb at me. We all knew what she meant.
Cecil stared at Hannah for several seconds, the lines on his face deepening. He started to say something but shook his head. He spoke instead to me. “Jadine also said she saw you using the hand to knock on the wall. Perhaps this tape is hidden in the walls of this motel room.”
I still wasn’t a believer. “But how would you hide something in a motel room wall? It’s not like your house, where you do renovations.”
Mysti spoke up. “For the room to have been guarded by the creature now inside you, there has to be something important in there. And it’s still there because Hannah didn’t find it.”
“I agree with Ms. Whitebyrd.” Cecil gave Mysti the smile he always seemed to reserve just for her. He wanted her to join Sanctuary the same way a mosquito wants blood and did everything he could to charm her. Mysti patted Cecil’s hand and smiled back. I wanted to pour syrup over the both of them. Cecil leaned forward where he could see Hannah’s face. “Ms. Kessler, I’d like for Peri Jean to have as clear an idea as possible about what she’s walking into. This might also give us an insight into how the tape is hidden. Do you feel like answering questions?”
“I’ll try.” Hannah had taken the crystal Mysti gave her out of her pocket and squeezed it in one pale, freckled fist.
“You went to the front desk at the motel to ask for the key. Did the ummm…person manning the counter strike you as odd in any way? Make you uncomfortable?”
Hannah gave him a blank stare.
“I think I know where Cecil’s going,” Mysti interrupted. “Maybe his face was really narrow? Or his fingernails seemed sharp? It might have been his teeth you noticed. Or he might have smelled like swamp water.”
Hannah stared at the table, wringing her hands. “There was something odd about him. But I can’t…” She sat up straight. “I thought I imagined it.” Hannah shook her head as though trying to clear it. “Sometimes, since my time with Michael Gage, I hear and see things that aren’t there.”
“This was probably real.” Mysti used her reassuring voice.
Hannah swallowed hard enough for it to make a clicking sound. “His tongue. It was his tongue. For just a second, I thought it was forked like a snake’s. Not surgically split, like you sometimes see, but thin and long. It flicked out of his mouth.”
Cecil sucked in a breath. “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a boy. A man like that came to see my grandmother sometimes.” He put his hand over mine. “Listen carefully. This is who you’ll negotiate the contract on your life and the rider’s freedom with. He’s no joke.”
I thought about the forked tongue and swallowed hard. Why did I always get stuck dealing with weirdos? “But I don't know how to…”
Everybody at the table simply stared. They didn’t how to negotiate with the hag’s owner either. I was on my own. “The day’s wasting. Better to try this than sit on our asses and let the clock run out.”
Someone pounded on a door downstairs. Tubby got up. “That’s the medic I called. I’ll stay here with Corman. Y’all go on.”
“I’m staying too.” Cecil yawned again. “Do you have a bed in this building, young man?”
Tubby showed Cecil to a room with a locked door and let him inside.
Mysti and I gathered her witch supplies. She had a place for each thing in her witch pack. My pack was usually a messy jumble. I grabbed what I needed and then tossed it back in when I was done.
I pinched the Hand of Glory between a thumb and forefinger and lifted it off the table. The fingers twitched, and I dropped it with a clatter. Hannah giggled from behind me. I turned to face her, already smiling, but she turned away and walked into the living room. The recliner groaned when she sat on it.
Mysti stared at me with the corners of her mouth pulled down. I gave her a shrug. This time I picked up the Hand with little caution. I dropped it into Cecil’s box and worked the latch. Then I slid it into my witch pack.
Mysti leaned close to whisper in my ear. “What about Hannah?”
“I can’t leave her,” I whispered back.
“No,” Mysti agreed. “You need to keep an eye on her. Her life force was out of her body long enough for transformation to have started."
No, not that. People sometimes came back from near death experiences with psychic gifts. I didn’t think Hannah could handle much more. I nodded to Mysti to show I understood and walked into the living room to find Hannah rocking in the recliner. She stared, blank faced, at the wall.
“Want to come with us?” I stood near her chair but not too near. She shrugged without looking at me. I tried again. “You were always good at puzzles.”
She finally looked up. “Plus, I might try to eighty-six myself if you leave me here.”
I hefted my witch pack onto my shoulder.
“You gonna force me to go?” She squared her shoulders.
“I honestly don’t know what to do.” The words, ones I’d have never said back at Sanctuary, just came out. Leaders always know what to do. But Hannah’s situation was out of my element. So I added more to them. “I just figured…you’re good at this. Smarter than me.”
Hannah pulled herself out of the chair and approached Mysti, ignoring me. “Do we need wax to light the Hand? Or do we just knock without it lit?”
“All the legends I’ve heard talk about it being lit,” Mysti answered with a glance at me.
“But that’s for burglarizing a place and making sure everybody stays asleep, right?” Hannah asked.
“We could just try knocking with it. See what it opens.” Mysti held up both hands and shrugged. In other words, we’d have to try things until something worked.
“Works for me.” I led the way out of the loft.
“Wait
a minute,” Dillon called after us. I turned to see what she wanted. She gave me a hopeful smile. “Mind if I go? I ain’t never seen nothing like a Hand of Glory in action.”
I motioned her to come along. Mysti shot me one of her patented scolding looks. I shrank at her disapproval but didn't renege. I’d gotten used to making my own decisions over the last few weeks and liked it.
Dillon ran to join us, crowding up against my side. “You think me and Finn could use it for—”
I held up one hand to cut her off. “Later. We’ll discuss it later.”
Mysti stared for a long second, her expression unreadable, and then turned and went down the stairs. From somewhere near, Corman let out an ungodly scream. We ignored him and kept walking.
Mysti led the way to her dusty white Toyota sedan and used the remote to unlock it. Hannah got in the back.
When I opened the door opposite her, she raised her head, stared at me levelly, and said, “Please ride in the front with Mysti.”
The hurt of her rejection almost blinding me, I stumbled to the front seat passenger side. The hag chewed on my hurt, poured some salt on it, and gnawed some more. The ache set up between my lungs. Every time I took a breath, it gave a low throb. I needed to blast the little bastard, but all a sudden, I didn’t have the energy.
Dillon got in the backseat and stared at Hannah as though she expected her red hair to burst into flames. Dillon had watched and helped me do worse to people who’d done less. She glanced at me, and I gave her a slight head shake. Dillon cocked her head at me. She didn’t understand me giving Hannah a free pass. Nobody but family got those in our world. And Hannah wasn't family.
“Kill her. That's what she deserves.” The hag's ugly voice sucked even more want-to out of me.
Mysti started the car and drove us out of Gaslight City. As we passed the green city limits sign, I wished I didn’t have to come back. The wish that I didn’t have to do another damn thing, that I could just die, crept into my thoughts and moved through them.
Mysti’s voice cut it off. “I’ve been thinking about the deal you have to make with the hag’s master.” She spun the radio’s dial, cutting it to silence. “There’s no way of knowing what terms he will offer. The hag probably doesn’t even know. But my experience has taught me one thing.”
