Dead End (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 8)

by Catie Rhodes

  I turned to stare at my friend in shock. She always acted horrified and sad when I made deals with Sol. But now I realized she probably made her own deals from time to time.

  “Don’t take the first terms offered. They’re usually unnecessarily steep. This thing will act as though there’s only one choice. But that’s a lie.” She stopped there and turned the radio back on.

  The hour’s drive to Tyler passed in tense silence, except for the occasional gasp from Hannah. I turned to see what was wrong. My friend stared out the window, eyes widened in horror. I wished so much I could help her but didn’t know anything else to do.

  As little girls, we’d been inseparable, always whispering secrets and wondering over the world together. Then my ability to see ghosts injected a gift-wrapped box of shit into our relationship. We weren’t friends for more than twenty years after that.

  Hannah had come back into my life less than two years earlier. We picked up as though we’d never left off, only this time as grownups. We shopped. Made fun of the way men looked and acted. Ate too much ice cream. Loved each other. Had us a helluva time together.

  The memories brought tears, both happy and sad, to sting my eyes. But nothing lasted forever. The truth of who and what I was came to call again. This time it had done permanent damage to Hannah’s body and mind.

  The image of her hanging from that rafter took shape in my mind. Knowing me caused her to do that. How would she ever let me help her when I was the cause of her misery?

  “She’ll never be okay.” The hag’s voice lowered to a soothing caress. “Once I plant my seeds, they’ll grow whether I’m there to tend them or not.”

  This time I gathered the mantle, ignoring the way my body ached in fatigue, and delivered a sharp shock to the horror inside me.

  “Bitch” was its only response. Its less-than-pained response let me know I was running out of juice. I’d have to rest soon.

  “You’ll want to get in the turn lane now.” Hannah’s voice from the backseat nearly made me jump a mile. She stuck one bruised arm between the seats and pointed to a strip of depressed businesses. “It’s right across from the used car lot. The big white building.”

  Mysti jammed on the brakes and whipped into the turn lane. “I’m glad you said something. It doesn’t look like a motel.” Cut into a small hill, the backs of its buildings facing the road and hiding the entrances to the guest rooms, The Rose City Inn hit me as a good place to do clandestine business.

  Traffic cleared, and Mysti zipped across the lanes and up the narrow driveway. A few late model cars sat in the oil-stained and cracked asphalt parking lot. Had Hannah been herself, we’d have joked about it being a by-the-hour establishment or the kind of place you went to do things you didn’t want to do in your own home. I glanced at her and caught her staring. She turned her head away.

  “The admissions office is that little building.” Hannah pointed again, and Mysti pulled into a parking place in front of it.

  “Don’t go in there and talk to the monster.” Dillon rose over the back seat and gripped my arm. “We’ll break into the motel room. Use that Hand of Glory thing.”

  I shook my head. “I have to go in and make a deal for the hag. Otherwise he’ll never leave my body.” I opened the car door. Dillon opened hers too. It flattered me that she wanted to act as my bodyguard, but she had way more to lose than I did. I waved one hand at her. “Stay here.” I climbed out of the car before she could form an argument and went inside.

  13

  The admissions building had a glass entry door. The sun peeked through the clouds to glare off it, making it impossible to see inside. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. An entry bell dinged, and the smell of lemon-scented cleaner almost knocked me back out the door. There wouldn’t have been many other places to go.

  The building’s interior had been walled off so that coming inside trapped the customer in a tiny booth with the door to the parking lot behind them and a narrow window looking into an office in front of them. The office was empty. I rang the silver bell at the window.

  Shuffling footsteps rewarded my impatience. A cadaverous man wearing black skinny jeans and a frayed T-shirt advertising a punk rock band popular when my daddy was a teenager appeared at the opposite end of the office. His hair, cut into a Mohawk and about a foot tall, vibrated like a tuning fork as he walked toward me.

  How much hairspray did this guy go through to get his hair to stand up like that? When Mohawk was five feet away from me, his natural odor broke through the lemon-scented cleaner. Maybe a better question was how often he showered. I almost had to put my hand over my nose.

  Mohawk’s musk smelled earthy and a little skunky. It reminded me of the smell I always associated with water moccasin snakes. I feared snakes, especially after having a shapeshifting acquaintance bite me. Cold runners chased down my back. I took a step away from the counter, my heart picking up speed.

  Mohawk leaned his arms on the counter and stared at me. A faint pattern, like a faded tattoo, ran up both arms and disappeared into his sleeves. His eyes were a woody brown with no white and a not-quite-round black pupil. His head bowed out behind his ears, the same way a viper snake’s did.

  “Peri Jean Mace.” He dragged the end of my name out in a long sssssss. “My servant found you. Was it through the woman calling herself a private investigator?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He smiled. The site of his human teeth, flat and small, relieved me until something flashed and I saw fangs. His mouth opened wide, and he hissed at me.

  The hag, trembling in fear of its master, hissed back, the sound so loud I thought it would blow out my eardrums. I yelped and backed into the door.

  Mohawk pointed one long skinny finger at me. “Why do you live?”

  I took deep breaths until my mind settled. “I want to buy your servant’s contract on my life and his freedom.”

  Mohawk’s forked tongue ran out and tested the air between us. He frowned and shook his head. Tested the air again. I wanted to scream worse than I’ve wanted to scream in a long time. How many of these things had I walked past and never noticed? Mohawk feinted at me like a snake striking. That time I did scream. He liked that. It made him laugh. “Nothing at this establishment, including your passenger, is for sssale.” His eyes flicked to the monster on my shoulder. “Kill her.”

  The rider’s hands tightened around my throat, and its will snaked into me and ordered me to give up. I tugged the arms away from my neck. The hag didn’t struggle much. It probably figured this was its only chance to get out from under Mohawk.

  I tried to sound tough. “Mister, I don’t have time to pull your pud and stick my tongue in your ear. Everything in the whole fucking world is for sale.” I widened my stance and met his flat gaze, stomach writhing with nausea.

  Mohawk ran his tongue out again. Confusion twisted his features. He leaned forward and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. I knew I recognized that smell. You’re a witch of the Gregorius line. Are you not?”

  Priscilla Herrera’s maiden name was Gregory, and I’d heard Cecil use every possible variation of the name as his surname. Was Gregorius where it started? Maybe. I hoped so. Because it sounded like the magic running through my veins might help me for once in my life. I nodded slowly. Mohawk reached underneath the counter. Behind me, something clicked. I turned and saw he’d thrown the bolt, locking the door. Panic shot through me. I grabbed the door and yanked on it. Mohawk snickered at my back. I turned back to him, edges of my vision gray. I fought not to faint. Mohawk might eat me while I was unconscious.

  “The price to buy out the contract on your life and for the rider’s freedom is this: I want to sire a get from you.” He pulled a yellow legal pad in front of him and began scribbling on it.

  Icy pinpricks danced over my skin. A lightness spread through me. I leaned against the door to keep from spilling onto the floor.

  “It’s been a long time, centuries, since I’ve had a half-human
get. But I’d think the same terms would still work.” His tongue flickered out as he wrote.

  I shook off the shock and made myself form words. “No. I’m not doing that.” My voice sounded flat and directionless in the small enclosure.

  Mohawk stopped writing and slowly raised his head. “Yes, you are. It won’t leave lasting damage. You’ll be able to go on to have as many children as you like. I’ll raise our child. You’d never have to see him or her again.”

  I swallowed sour spit and threw out what I thought was my trump card. “The doctor said I can’t have children.”

  Mohawk tilted his head and sighed, the way someone would at a cute puppy who’d done something naughty. “Come now. We both know a good healer could fix that.”

  All the strength left my body. I slid to the floor. My vision blurred, and the room tilted. I woke to someone patting my face. Mohawk’s long fingers were smooth and freezing cold. When had he let himself out of the office? Wait a minute. There was no door.

  The better question was how he’d gotten out of the office. The only way I saw was through the tiny hole people were supposed to use to slide their credit card to him. I let out a little yelp and scuttled away from him, pressing myself into the farthest wall, which was actually only a couple of feet away. He sat back on his heels.

  “Is it the conception you fear? I promise you’ll remember it as the best night of your life. No human man will ever compare.” His eyes, that odd, woody brown, bored into me.

  “I won’t,” I whispered. Mysti’s words came back to me. Don’t take the first offer. With great effort, I got control of myself and sat up straight. “There has to be something else.”

  Mohawk stood and offered me his hand. I didn’t want to take it but feared making him angry. As soon as our flesh touched, a wave of lust unlike anything I’d ever felt washed over me, buckling my knees. I nearly fell back down. Mohawk smiled. “Nothing this easy. Nothing you’ll enjoy so much.”

  There was no way. Not even if he promised all my wishes would come true. I shook my head.

  He pressed his lips together. “Fine. You’ll retrieve an item for me.”

  I relaxed. That was all?

  Mohawk gave the glass separating the enclosure from his office a tug. It swung open. He climbed back through to his stinky office, only his climbing was more like slithering. He dropped gracefully to the floor.

  “What do I have to find?” I might not want to agree to this either.

  “A book.” His tongue flitted out again to test the air. “Millennia ago, I was worshipped as a god. I wrote on the walls of caves to instruct the faithful. Those worshipers found new gods or died out, but my word survived. Hundreds of years later, my word was found again by new initiates. These had knowledge of writing. They recorded my wisdom into three tomes.” He paused to dig under the counter. While he fumbled around, ideas of how those religious sects must have risen and fallen flitted behind my eyes, the images horrific.

  Mohawk tucked something into his jeans pocket. “When their time was near finished, I directed them to hide the books in three separate places, so the right person or people might find them. One of the books made its way to Texas, where its foolish user lost it. You’ll locate it and return it to me.”

  Nobody had to tell me this book caused evil. Retrieving the book and helping to pass it on contributed to whatever got done with it. But I was locked in this room with a monster, my choices laid before me. I could allow myself to be killed. If I died, so would Wade. I could beget offspring with this thing. I wasn’t sure my sanity would survive the conception. Even if I refused to find the book, it wouldn’t stop the evil in the world.

  If I agreed to find the book, how much danger would I be in? I tried to weigh the possibility against the monster standing in front of me. My mind wouldn’t cooperate. It was still too busy imagining the horror of being intimate with Mohawk. Then the right question came to me. “Why can’t you get the book yourself? You’re more powerful than me.”

  Mohawk must have seen the decision on my face, for he smiled. “When the time comes, I’ll give you all the information you need to find it.”

  I nodded. Mohawk held out his hand for us to shake. I let him take it. In a flash, before I could react, his spine bent at an impossible angle, and he bit my hand. Too late, I tried to pull away. He held me fast.

  “A symbol of our contract.” His tongue flicked out. This time I did yank my hand away. I spun and began to kick the glass door, ready to break it to get away from him.

  “Stop that,” he barked.

  I stiffened at the tone of his voice and stopped kicking.

  “Come back over here.” He tapped the counter.

  I wanted to retaliate in some way, but a lifetime of brawls had taught me to admit when I couldn’t win so I could live to fight another day. I shuffled back to the counter and tried to ignore the smirk on his face. He grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close enough to see the pattern running underneath the skin on his face. “Our deal is final. If you back out, you’ll be collected as a slave.”

  I wanted to be damn clear where I stood with this monster. “So the hag is free. The contract on my life is null and void.”

  He rolled his eyes but nodded.

  I wasn’t finished. The deal had to be certain. I didn’t trust this thing any further than I could throw him. “And all I need to fulfill my end is get your book. You know it’ll have to wait, right?”

  “Yes. I’ll be in touch at a later date.” He dug in his pocket and held out a small, white envelope. “The rules of my establishment. Breaking them will result in fees.”

  I took it. My hand shook so hard the paper rattled. Mohawk reached under the counter. The door buzzed and unlocked. I spun on my heels, slung it open, and charged into the parking lot.

  I hurried to Mysti’s car and scrabbled at the door. My breath came in harsh gasps, my vision strobing along with my pounding heart.

  Mysti bailed out of the car, Dillon right behind her. In unison they assaulted me with questions. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Dillon snatched the hand Mohawk had bitten. The puncture wound was shallow and had already stopped bleeding. But Mohawk had achieved his purpose. It would leave a scar on my olive skin.

  I gently pulled my hand away. “I’m fine. I just didn’t expect to see someone like that.” Shivers jittered through me.

  My passenger’s hissing voice woke up. “I am pleased and honored you succeeded in freeing me. Now we can negotiate our separation. If I don’t kill you and eat your essence.”

  “If I die, I’m taking you with me,” I said aloud. Mysti’s and Dillon’s faces fell in shock.

  Hannah slowly climbed out of the car and stood a short distance away with her arms crossed over her chest, fear evident in her posture. “The man inside’s not a human being, is he?”

  I shook my head.

  Mysti echoed my head shake. “You and Peri Jean will both see them everywhere now that you’ve been ridden by one of them. They all feed off the human race in one way or another.”

  My rider hissed at her implication. “Nasty witch. You should burn her where she stands. You have the power.” My anger ignited, and I saw an image of me with a maniacal expression on my face, hands around Mysti’s throat.

  The world wavered around me. I didn't know how I’d survive too many more hours of the constant needling from this thing. The way it played with my emotions tired me out in ways a hard day’s work couldn’t.

  Mysti came near and put her arm around me. She pulled back immediately. “You’re freezing and shaking all over.”

  “You want me to get you coffee?” Dillon tugged at me.

  I shook her off. “I need to smoke. I’ll join y’all in a minute.”

  “Yes, let’s have a talk.” The rider’s excitement raised the hair on the back of my neck.

  I took off walking toward an alcove. The rider had promised to negotiate with me about finding a new host now that I’d secured his freedom
. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he didn’t uphold his end of the bargain.

  “Are you really okay?” Mysti called after me.

  I held up one hand and spoke without turning. “Will you take my witch pack into the room?”

  “I’ll do it,” Mysti yelled. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  I waved again and kept walking. Two vending machines hummed in the alcove. One offered generic soft drinks. The other had a small selection of candy so old they were covered by a frost of spiderwebs. I leaned against the wall and put both hands over my face, so exhausted I wanted to cry. “Tell me how to get rid of you.”

  The rider’s mood had brightened. The light of it seeped through my body, and I enjoyed a second wind. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Hate to say this, but we’re going to have to break up.” I clamped a cigarette between my teeth and lit it.

  “It doesn’t have to be all negative. Now that I’m free, we can work together.” The hag’s voice went faster and faster. “You’ll have power beyond your wildest dreams. I’ll…”

  I broke in, sick of listening. “You promised Sol and Bub we’d negotiate a new host for you if I secured your freedom.”

  The hag hissed its displeasure. “Few will be as good as you.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Are you saying you won’t transfer to another host?”

  “I’m saying the likelihood of you finding a suitable one is slim. You are suitable to me.” The cold avarice in the rider’s voice sent shivers through me.

  My stomach tightened into a stinging ball as the gravity of the situation unfolded in my mind. I certainly couldn’t call Sol again to enforce the bargain. Not after I already owed Mohawk a hide-and-seek expedition. Owing another favor was not the answer. Bub had encouraged the hag and me to work out our differences. That left using magical force. Maybe. But only if I had a chance to rest soon. Fatigue had me feeling as though the simple act of walking was a strongman test. The hag chuckled. It knew my dilemma.