Dark Traveler

by Catie Rhodes

  The mantle rolled over and woke up. It was ready to kick ass. Its power, my birthright, had been passed down through my family for no telling how many generations. Because of a spell put on me in infancy, I did not yet have full control of the mantle’s power. But I was still a damn powerful witch and spirit medium.

  I gently gathered the massive, shining power, coaxing it through the spell blunting it. My vision wavered at the edges. Pinpricks of magic stung at my skin. Still I let the power unfurl further, let it fill me.

  I looked for the shadow again. It had backed away like a bull preparing to charge. It flew at me.

  This time, I met it with a blast of power strong enough to knock me backward a few steps. The mantle’s magic slammed into the shadow. I didn’t so much hear the impact as I felt it. The air rippled against my skin. In a strong voice, I said, “Go rest. There’s nothing left for you here.”

  The shadow backed away, slowly turned, and zipped into the dark night sky, becoming one with the inky expanse. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to gather myself.

  Slowly, the sounds of the carnival came back. I became aware of a few people staring at me. I glared until the last of them, a middle-aged man who thought it was his job to teach me a lesson by staring me down, turned and left.

  Nearby, the bell on the strongman high-striker dinged. I’d argued against adding a high-striker, thinking modern people wouldn’t pay to do something so silly. Seems I’d underestimated the pull of testosterone. I shook my head and walked toward my tent. Break time was over.

  A familiar male voice raised in outrage. “That’s not right. I hit that thing harder than that.”

  I stopped in my tracks, swallowed hard, spun around, and started walking toward the voice.

  The game-runner, an unfortunate runaway named Early Ramey, shrugged. “Just a game, mister.”

  I crowded a little closer, heart slamming so hard I could barely breathe, and stood on my tiptoes. I didn’t see the head of long black hair. My mind was probably playing tricks on me. Jadine’s upcoming nuptials had me thinking of lonely days and nights stretching into infinity. The alone part wasn’t the kicker. It was knowing that the perfect man, one I already loved, had slipped right through my fingers.

  Then the familiar voice spoke again, and I locked eyes on the speaker. I’d been looking for the wrong man, the old Wade Hill. The one a few feet away was a different version altogether.

  “But I’m trying to win a bear for this little girl here.” Wade’s voice hadn’t changed any over the months since I’d last seen him, but he sure had. His black hair, which had reached down to the middle of his back the last time I saw him, had been cut very short.

  The conservative cut was probably to compensate for where Wade’s hair had been shaved around his head wound. The scar from the bullet that almost killed him looked a decade old instead of only a few months. Wade’s sister and niece must have known something about healing too. Wade’s beard, which had been a bushy mess hanging to his collarbone, was trimmed to hug the shape of his face. The lack of facial hair showed off a strong jaw and sexy, pouty lips. The broad shoulders and narrow hips were the same as ever—hot, hot, hot. I started toward him.

  A hard hand closed around my upper arm and dragged me out of the dirt thoroughfare. I yelled, “What the hell?”

  Whoever had ahold of me said nothing and kept on dragging me. They’d caught me off balance and had the upper hand.

  I struggled anyway, elbows flailing, and yelled, “I’ll beat the skin off your bones, shit brains.”

  No answer. I was jerked into the narrow space between two tents.

  Fist cocked, I spun to face my attacker. The blond woman, many inches taller than me, wore skin-tight blue jeans, a black lace see-through shirt, and a wide belt made of metal hoops.

  She put her hands up in response to my threat. “Don’t you remember me?”

  I dropped my hands and shook my head.

  “Makes sense. We only met for a minute, and you were exhausted.”

  But we’d met. I cocked my head and tried to place the full lips and square jaw. There was something about the hair. It reminded me of an angel’s halo.

  She got tired of waiting and said, “Wade’s sister, Desiree.”

  I got pissed again. “You made him leave without saying goodbye to me.” Fury and hurt at the way Wade had left, with just a Dear John note, came roaring back. I stomped forward and gave Desiree a hard shove, intending to go out there and speak to Wade, to try to figure out if there was still anything between us.

  She shoved back, harder than I’d expected. I stumbled backward and sat down in the dirt. Second time in one night someone had pushed me onto my ass. My face flamed, first with humiliation, then with anger. I moved to get up.

  Desiree stepped forward to tower over me. “Just listen, okay? Then if you want to fight, we can.” She held out a hand to help me up.

  What the hell. First the giantess knocked me down, now she wanted to help me up. The two of us gave each other catfight eyes. But the fight drained out of me as quickly as it had come. I’d need to go through Desiree to get to Wade. The first step was listening to what she had to say. I nodded my agreement and let her pull me to my feet.

  Desiree watched me closely, maybe making sure I wasn’t going to sucker punch her. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded heavy and tired.

  “Wade said he told you about the reading, the one forbidding you two to be together. Is that right?” She crossed her arms over her flat stomach and stood with her feet at shoulder width.

  I nodded again. “Your reading predicted great tragedy if we got together. In other words, you,” I said, pointing one finger at her, “advised him to keep his dick in his pants when it came to me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

  I crossed my arms and mirrored her stance. Desiree was taller and heavier. Worse, she probably knew how to fight as well as me. She’d beat my ass. But I was pissed enough to give her a good contest. I loved Wade, even after his weird exit from my life, and still wanted to take a chance with him.

  “Your reading might be wrong.” I raised my eyebrows.

  Anger flashed behind Desiree’s blue eyes, and her fist curled. “No, ma’am. My reading ain’t wrong. Too much of it has come true.”

  The fruit punch burned sour in my stomach. “Like what?” I squeaked.

  “Like my brother getting shot helping you rescue that girl.” She licked her lips. “You saved his life, like you were supposed to. He loved you more than ever. The next thing is y’all would have a child together. Then my brother would die.” Her voice broke, and she put her hand to her mouth and said nothing for several seconds. When she looked back up, tears brimmed in her eyes. She rubbed her index finger underneath one before it had a chance to ruin her makeup. “And another man would raise his child.”

  I shook my head, still not ready to believe. “But that’s just one fate. Each person’s fate changes every day, with every choice you make.” That was what Mysti Whitebyrd told me, and I wanted to believe it.

  She pressed her lips together. “Did yours? You been fated all your life to take on your ancestor’s magic, to be a leader to your family. That change when your memaw had that spell put on you?”

  I flinched. Wade had told her about the spell blocking me from accessing the full measure of Priscilla Herrera’s mantle? That hurt worse than if Desiree had doubled up her fist and busted my nose. A lump worked its way up my throat. I swallowed against it, unable to speak.

  Desiree’s reading couldn’t be right. Wade and I had a special connection. He always knew just what I needed, just how to help me. And I understood his sudden rages and how he sometimes got sad over nothing.

  Desiree dropped her fighter’s stance and came forward. Hands out, beseeching. “This man who’ll raise my brother’s child will be the way for you to gain access to all your power without losing yourself, but you’ll make the wrong person mad. Hell, maybe you already have. And Wade’
ll die trying to save you.”

  “No. You’re wrong,” I whispered, tears streaking down my face. This didn’t sound like bullshit. It sounded so real. But Mysti’s words kept coming back.“That doesn’t have to happen. Our fate changes in response to the choices we make. Things could turn out good for me and Wade.”

  She hooked one arm around my neck, dragged me to the edge of the tent, and pointed. “If that loyal, sweet man out there was your brother, would you want to risk it?”

  I thought about it. Part of me wanted to claw out this bitch’s eyeballs. How dare she come between me and the man I loved? Another part of me cringed at the thought of getting together with Wade for real, enough to make a baby, and then losing him.

  The bell on the strongman high-striker dinged. Wade’s happy shout floated back to us.

  Desiree smiled. “Thank goodness. That’s my grandbaby he’s trying to win something for. He’s got her pretty spoiled.”

  This woman had a grandchild? She didn’t look old enough. I had always calculated Wade’s age at maybe five years older than me. How much older was Desiree?

  She snorted at the look on my face. “Thanks for the compliment. But I’m older than Wade by thirteen years. My oldest son has a baby, and that’s her out there.”

  We stared at each other. Of all the ways I’d foreseen myself getting into a fistfight over a man, a confrontation with the man’s sister never occurred to me.

  “So what are we gonna do?” The mirth went out of Desiree’s face. “I guess I can’t stop you if you’re really determined. But, Peri Jean, he’s finally getting over you.” She stepped close enough for me to read the sadness on her face. “I know I’m being unfair. It’s always us women who make the sacrifices, and it sucks. I see how sad you are, know you love my brother, and it breaks my heart. I know we’d love each other as sisters-in-law, but I’d rather have my brother.”

  Another tear tracked down my face. The bell on the high-striker rang again. One more, and he’d have his pick of the stuffed animals. I had to make up my mind soon, or Wade would come looking for Desiree and make my decision for me.

  There was always a possibility Desiree was wrong. But her specific predictions scared me. Jadine saw the future. When she got specific like this, she was rarely wrong. Maybe Desiree had a similar gift. She must’ve had some powerful magic to heal Wade from his gunshot wounds. Why not the gift of accurate precognition too?

  “Do you love him enough to let him go?” Desiree came close enough to put her arm around me. I wanted to elbow her in the ribs, maybe break a few.

  “What’s going on here?” Hannah stood in the opening between the tents.

  Shelly, my great-aunt by marriage, stepped up next to Hannah, bleached blond hair fluttering in the hot wind. Shelly’s dark eyes, cold as a rainy January day, focused on Desiree. She curled one hand against her side as though searching for a weapon.

  I put my arm around Desiree, and she gave me the saddest look I’d ever seen. It said more than words ever could have. We’d have liked each other. We’re the same kind of woman. I broke her gaze and spoke to Hannah. “This is Wade’s sister. It’s all right.”

  I stepped to the edge of the space between tents, leaned out, and watched Wade.

  He now had Desiree’s granddaughter seated on his shoulders. “Hold on,” he yelled and lifted the mallet.

  Desiree stood next to me, a soft smile on her face. “I remember when Wade was born. Mama and Daddy were just drunks. So I got to hold him all I wanted. I’d dress him up and take him places, pretend he was my baby.” She laughed. “I can only imagine what people thought about a thirteen-year-old saying she had a baby.” She put her arm around me again. “How I wish things were different, Peri Jean Mace.”

  I still didn’t know if they couldn’t be. But the thought of things ending up like Desiree said ripped open my emotions and salted them for good measure. I pushed my hand over my mouth as if that would quell the ache.

  “I just want Wade to have a chance to enjoy his own grandchildren like I’m doing now.” Desiree watched her brother slam down the mallet.

  The bell dinged the third time. The finality of it made me want to scream and tear at my hair. My voice wobbled when I spoke. “Get him out of here. He knows all of us. He’ll recognize somebody and know I’m here.”

  Desiree stepped around me but turned back to speak one last time. “I think he already does. He had that look on his face when he insisted we come here tonight.” She shrugged. “Sometimes we can’t resist tempting fate.” With that, she walked off, hips swinging in those tight jeans.

  More than one man turned to get a second look at her. She reached Wade and lifted her granddaughter off his shoulders. The three of them picked out a huge, pink bear with a purple bow tie.

  Wade stuffed the bear under one thick arm and took the little girl’s hand. She tugged him toward the main part of the carnival, yelling and pointing.

  Desiree turned back to look at me one last time. I swiped the tears off my face and stood up straight. She nodded, turned, and walked away.

  Shelly took my arm and spoke in her brisk Northern accent. “Let’s get away from these prying eyes. This isn’t anybody’s business but ours.”

  Hannah nodded and led the way to our row of tents. Face set and on the edge of angry, she threw one glance toward Wade and Desiree. Neither saw the look she gave them. Good thing. It might have made them mad enough to fight.

  2

  Hannah went inside the face painting tent where she worked every time the carnival was open. I followed with my head hung low. Nobody needed to see my makeup tracked all over my face.

  Shelly stayed next to me, a maternal hand on my back, and led me toward the back of the tent where there was a separate room set up for privacy.

  In her mid-sixties, Shelly had a body as nice as mine and dressed to show it. Tonight’s outfit was a loose salmon tank top, which showed off firm arms and allowed occasional peeks at her surgically enhanced boobs, a pair of tight, white Capri pants, and high-heeled sandals.

  Something more sinister lurked under Shelly’s high-gloss outer shell. If my suspicions were correct, Shelly and Cecil had dropped the dime on Shelly’s first husband to the cops and got him killed. She’d been on her own since she was thirteen and always had one scam or another going.

  Most nights she wandered the carnival, talking to random men and leading them back to our special corner. But some nights, she hung out a sign offering “love advice.” She always had a long line.

  Finally in the safety of the back room, I flopped down in a metal chair, put my hands over my face, and let the shame roll over me.

  “How much did y’all hear?” My voice sounded muffled behind my hands, and I felt like a teenager having a tantrum, so I dropped them.

  “Enough to get the gist.” Shelly’s clipped accent made it sound like she was telling me off, but I’d learned it was just her way of talking.

  Hannah nodded agreement. She held a lighter to the tip of one of her long, skinny white cigarettes. She handed it to me and lit another one. The novelty of watching Hannah smoke after all the times she’d bitched about me doing it took away some of the sting of Desiree’s rebuke.

  Smoldering cigarette in one hand, Hannah fixed her gaze on me. I didn’t see much sympathy in it, but I saw understanding. “You knew it was over anyway, right?”

  I nodded, tears burning my eyes and a sob building in my throat.

  “Hon, I get why you’re upset. Really I do.” Shelly softened her voice. “But just liking someone, even loving them, doesn’t make them the right person for you.”

  I hung my head, already sick of this conversation even though it had only just started. Shelly had no idea who was the right person for me and who wasn’t.

  Shelly leaned forward, squinting at my face. “Oh, but I do know who’s right for you. You forget, I give love advice.”

  Shelly claimed to be an empath, capable of seeing a couple’s compatibility. Privately, I wondered if
it was a scam. Cecil had told me his wife had a scam for every occasion. He even warned me not to let myself get pulled into any of them. I’d taken his advice seriously and stayed away from Shelly’s booth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Shelly might have told me to give up hope on Wade months ago. Or not. Shelly Gregg was a grifter all the way down to her bone marrow.

  “I can see that speculative look on your face. Even through all that raccoon makeup. What I do isn’t just a scam.” Shelly held her cigarette to her mouth and took a casual drag. “I introduced Dillon and Finn. Finn’s aura showed that he was about to meet someone. We stopped in this little town in Alabama. I met Dillon in a coffee shop. Knew she was the one right away, even if she was too young for Finn. I introduced them. Finn tried to wiggle out of it, but…” Shelly shrugged her thin shoulders and smiled. It made her look fifteen years younger.

  What was this supposed to have to do with Wade and me? I tried to keep a look of polite interest on my face.

  Shelly gave me a shrewd wink. “What this has to do with you is that I saw your aura, and I saw Wade’s. There’s a strong connection there, but not the lasting kind.”

  Rage built in my chest. I didn’t want to let it out at Shelly. We had a good relationship so far. It wasn’t worth it to sour it over Wade. After what Desiree told me, I was scared to get within ten feet of him. But I still didn’t want to let the idea of him go.

  Shelly watched me. I’d have sworn she knew exactly what was going on in my head. She was that good at reading people. “Just keep an open mind. Don’t let old wounds cripple you.”

  That went against my beliefs. The wounds I’d survived had taught me things, made me stronger. I held on to them to keep me from repeating the same mistakes. “The past is my armor. I have to keep it close so I’ll never forget.”

  “Learning from mistakes is one thing. Carrying them around like luggage full of souvenirs is quite another. Forget him.” Shelly flicked ashes off her cigarette and blew them away, staring at me the whole time. Her meaning couldn’t have been more clear. Clear Wade out of your mind, out of your heart.