Dark Traveler

by Catie Rhodes

  “Oscar read my mind. He knew I was thinking about Wade.” My voice shook.

  Hannah said nothing. She stood in the spot where I’d left her, fingers twitching, too shocked to move.

  I kept talking anyway. “Oscar shouldn’t have known what I was thinking. I broke the connection he forged with me when I killed the coven that summoned him a couple of months ago.”

  Hannah shook herself. “Maybe he read your mind because that’s what ghosts do.”

  She might have been right. I took the stang out the dirt, breaking the circle, and said, “I guess they do.”

  But Oscar knowing my thoughts teased at the edge of my brain like a fish who nibbles at the bait but won’t take the hook. My gut said there was something to it. I just didn’t know what.

  Hannah and I spent the next couple of hours cleaning out my tent. We burned more white sage incense to get rid of any spiritual filth Oscar left behind. I used my homemade spiritual cleanser on the table, chairs, and my stang. I checked my phone's clock often, counting down the minutes until Miss Ugly returned.

  Hannah gestured at the bowl of holy water holding Oscar’s runes. “What do I do with this?”

  I walked over to her, hand out, and peeked into the bowl, sort of the way you look in the toilet bowl before you flush. The symbol on one of the runes glowed fire, distorted by the moving water. It winked out almost as soon as I noticed it. I gasped and almost dropped the bowl. Hannah clapped both her hands to the bowl’s sides to keep it from falling.

  “What happened?”

  “One of the runes was glowing red. Same as when we were talking to Oscar.” Stress squeezed my ribcage. This had something to do with Oscar knowing about Wade. I didn’t know why I thought that other than my gut said so. It all fit together, but my mind couldn’t grasp the connection.

  I dressed the runes with my special banishing oil just to make sure I’d closed the door between me and Oscar.

  Sounds of people arriving and setting up around us drifted through the tent’s thick material. I checked the time. Only a few hours until dark.

  Hannah put her hand over my phone's display. “Stop looking. You’re only making it worse.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know what I’m going to do when Miss Ugly comes back.” I pushed the phone into my pocket.

  “What are you more afraid of? Dying and changing into new energy or being killed?” That scary emptiness had come back to Hannah’s eyes.

  A few months earlier, a chthonic being had preyed on both of us, scratching open our shadow sides. Hannah’s had been a darkness leading to self-destruction because of what Michael Gage did to her. Mine had been a lack of fear of death because I secretly hated my life. Those who don’t fear death take chances because life has no true hold. Now that Hannah had asked the big question, the unspoken hung between us.

  My answer came out in a near whisper. “Being slaughtered for food.”

  “You won’t feel it anymore once your heart stops beating,” she whispered back.

  “Should I give up?” The idea pissed me off. I didn’t back down to anybody or anything. It was my nature. My eyes locked on Hannah’s, and the answer was there. No. Don’t give up. Fight to the death but don’t fear it.

  I took a deep breath. My mind stopped running in circles. “I have to find out what she thinks I stole. That’ll at least buy me time.”

  Hannah nodded. “And I’m here to help.”

  “Sure is quiet in here.” Tanner’s rough voice came from the tent’s flap.

  Hannah and I moved away from each other as though we’d been caught doing something forbidden. And I suppose we had. It’s a given for humans to fear death. Those who don’t are looked upon as mad or unbalanced.

  Tanner wore a thin white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up enough to display dark forearms corded with muscle. His suntanned skin stood out against the white. Those intense eyes pegged me from across the room.

  “Hey. What’s up?” My libido was one thing that was up. Whore, I said to myself. It hadn’t even been a full day since seeing Wade and having Desiree give me the facts of life. How could I turn the corner on Wade so quickly? Because it’s been a done deal for months now, answered a less judgmental part of my brain. And I had been lonely a lot longer than that.

  Tanner tweaked a part of me that had lain dormant for too long. He wasn’t pretty the way Dean had been, but he wasn’t rugged the way Wade had been either. Tanner’s odd leonine features made him someone people looked at twice but maybe shied away from. He had an inner badassery. It showed in the way he moved, in the fierce gleam of his eyes. But there was vulnerability too, in the way he’d tuck his hair behind his ear or glance down at his worn shoes.

  “If you still want to see my shop, I just finished setting it up.” He licked his thin, bow-shaped lips. My inner tramp wondered what those lips would feel like pressed to mine. Or on my body. I pushed the thought away.

  “Sure.” I glanced at Hannah, silently inviting her.

  She shook her head. “I’d better get over to the face painting tent. See ya, Tanner.” She brushed past him and walked out without a backward glance.

  “So it’s just us?” Tanner’s eyes darted around the tent, never settling on anything for long. He fingered a hoop hanging from his belt.

  I came closer. “Unless you’d rather wait until it’s not.”

  “No.” His laugh sounded like a dry bark. His smile was more genuine. He motioned me to follow, and I did.

  Tanner’s tent, the red and white striped one Shelly turned up her nose at, was wedged between a lady who read Lenormand cards and a guy who sold handmade animals made out of wire. His specialty was scorpions. Both vendors, husband and wife, called greetings to me.

  Tanner held open the flap of his tent for me to pass through. My shoulder brushed him. Electric attraction spiked through me. Shelly had been right. There was something between us. The big question was whether I wanted to do something about it. The answer didn’t come, so I stepped into the tent and looked around.

  Tanner had arranged his wares in a collection of glass cases I recognized as belonging to Kenny Johnson, Sanctuary’s unofficial security team and gofer. I walked slowly in front of the cases, taking in the items. I had no idea what purpose any of them had. This was something I could talk to Tanner about so we could break the heavy silence between us.

  “Cecil said you locate magical items.” I raised my voice on the last word to let Tanner know it was a question.

  “Well, the items sort of find me. Might as well do something with them.” He crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn’t help noticing the bulge of his biceps underneath the thin white linen of his shirt. Then I noticed his hands. Scarred just like mine. A fighter. Was that the source of his financial problems? I turned back to the glass case.

  “What’s this?” I pointed at two stacks of weathered two-dollar bills.

  I didn’t hear Tanner’s footsteps on the dirt floor of his tent, but suddenly he stood next to me. His scent invaded my nose, and his body heat kissed my skin.

  “Which one?” His voice had more sharp burrs than it had a second ago.

  “The two-dollar bills. What do they do?” I tapped the glass.

  Tanner leaned across me and pointed to the stack on the left. “The ones on the left are bad luck.” He moved his finger over a few inches. “The ones on the right are good luck.”

  I pivoted slightly so we were facing. This close, his eyes mesmerized me. Animal passion lurked in their sparkling depths. “Why both kinds of luck?”

  “Just depends on who the person is and what they believe. Some people consider two-dollar bills bad luck. But some consider them good luck.” Tanner pulled out his wallet and showed me a bill compartment, empty except for a lone two-dollar bill. We exchanged a smile, but I glanced away quickly, still feeling guilty over even being attracted to Tanner. Was I really this fickle?

  “Wanna know why I put the bad luck ones on the left?” Tanner lowered his chin, never takin
g his eyes off mine. The nostrils on his barroom brawl nose flared.

  I nodded, afraid I’d say something really stupid if I spoke.

  Tanner tapped the glass over the left-hand stack of bills. “Centuries ago, left-handedness was considered evil. So I put the bad luck bills on the left side as a private joke.”

  I smiled and walked to the end of the counter. Tanner followed, explaining the uses of white heather, acrylic-encased four-leaf clovers, evil eye talismans, and the meanings of a small selection of Catholic medals. The pile of dimes near the end intrigued me. I leaned close to the glass, trying to pick up magical vibrations.

  “Mercury dimes. Or Winged Liberty Head dimes.” Tanner still hovered close enough for me smell the soap he used. “Some people drill a hole in a dime and string it around their ankle as sort of a magical metal detector. If the coin turns black, it means somebody’s doing bad spell work against them.”

  “Does it work?” I thought not since my black opal didn’t react to them.

  Tanner shrugged and winked. I knew the wink. People bought our wares, paid us for séances and witch work, because they wanted to believe. “People also buy them for SATOR work. You know, from Germanic folklore. The dimes are also used for money-drawing spell work.”

  Tanner stopped talking. We stared at each other, and the silence got big again. Every beat of my heart boomed in my ears. He broke the stare and moved to the last glass cabinet. This one contained only two items, a brass cornucopia and an ankh so old I couldn’t even tell what kind of metal it was made of.

  “Right now, these are my high ticket items. The cornucopia was supposedly hexed by an otherworldly being. It’ll fill with whatever its owner needs at the time.” He smiled at me. “And before you ask, I don’t know if it works. The price for using it is too high.”

  I bet I knew the kind of creature who had turned it into magical item. Those dark beings seemed to be everywhere now that I knew about them. They’d been around since the beginning of time, using people for amusement, and most never even knew they walked among us. I shivered.

  Tanner frowned at my shiver, reached out a hand like he might touch me, but then dropped it. “The ankh belonged to a powerful sorceress or sorcerer. It’s a gateway to the divine.”

  “What do you mean?” I leaned close to the glass, black opal shocking me with magic.

  “Supposedly it can be used to cross into…” Tanner paused and frowned, seeming to search for the right word. “Other realms. I discovered it in a pawnshop. The pawnbroker sold it to me for a song. He was scared of it. Said one of his employees had taken it in back to catalogue it, and the guy went missing. They never found any trace of him. He was just gone, and the ankh was lying there on the floor.” Tanner fingered a hoop hanging from his belt again. Up close, it looked sort of like a keychain, but the pieces of metal on it weren’t keys. Was this the thing Shelly mentioned, the shovel that found stolen items?

  We were at the end of the display. Tanner still stood close, almost hemming me in. I should have pushed around him and left. But I didn’t want to. The metal on the hoop jingled as he fingered it.

  “What’s that?” I pointed at the hoop.

  “Nine irons amulet. Good luck and protection.” Tanner stood so close now the shadow of whiskers on his upper lip, dozens of black dots, were visible. “Items similar to it have been found in Viking ruins, but they were also popular in the 1800s. This one’s new, but the blacksmith made it from reclaimed iron.” He unbuckled his belt, slid off the amulet, and handed it to me.

  I bounced the amulet in my hand, testing the weight. Heavier than it looked, its magic crept up my arm. Each piece of metal on the hook was attached by a hole at its top end.

  “Know what they represent?” Tanner lips curved into a smile.

  I shook my head. His hand closed around mine, linen of his shirt brushing against my arm. Chill bumps rose on my skin.

  If Tanner noticed, he didn’t let on. He used a finger to lift the circle-shaped piece of iron. “This is a pan. Heat it to ward off enemies. The saw and axe protect you from evil spirits.” Tanner’s voice rolled over the descriptions like sultry dark coffee. Something imported with a sensuous bite. His light touch resonated in every part of my body. Sweat broke out on the nape of my neck. He touched another two items and raised his eyes to mine. “The plow coulter and plowshare soothe sleepless children.” He moved his finger again. “The shovel and spade will help you recover lost or stolen property.”

  “That makes sense. They can dig up whatever you’ve lost or stolen.” As soon as I spoke, I regretted it. My logic sounded stupid. But Tanner smiled and nodded. I searched his eyes, his posture, for signs he was interested. He turned his attention back to the amulet of nine irons. The next charm was a cross.

  Tanner held it between his thumb and forefinger. “This is to bless holy water and keep spirits away.” The final charm was a horseshoe nail. Tanner tapped it. “For good luck.”

  We were so close I heard his inhales and exhales, felt the puffs of humid breath on my overly sensitive skin. Our eyes met again. This time I was the one who glanced away, Wade’s face foremost in my mind. The way he lit his cigarettes. The tattoos on his arms. The way he’d told me he loved me a few times.

  I turned away from Tanner, still hyper aware of him at my back, and focused on a framed picture he’d set on the edge of the glass cabinet. The casual picture, taken on rocky terrain and overlooking hills spreading into the distance, showed a shorter-haired Tanner. He posed next to a pretty blond woman. Two dark-haired girls stood in front of them, obviously their children. One of the girls, a teenager, must have been born when Tanner was pretty young, or he was a lot older than he looked.

  So this was Tanner’s problem. An ex-wife demanding alimony and child support. Maybe college for the older girl. If Tanner didn’t pay, police could get involved, raid Sanctuary. I turned back to Tanner, almost relieved to be able to walk away from him before I made a fool of myself.

  He stared at the picture, eyes glossy. “My wife and daughters. They died in a car crash eighteen months ago.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I never go anywhere without a picture of them.” He choked on the last word and turned away from me.

  My cheeks heated at my uncharitable thoughts. I’d discovered his secret, though not how he’d become poverty stricken, and now I regretted it. Tanner stood stock still, his back to me. I didn’t know what to do, or if I should do anything. I tiptoed toward the door.

  When I got there, I blurted, “Thanks for showing me your shop,” and nearly leapt out.

  8

  I trudged toward my tent, awash with regret. Running off like that couldn’t have been more insensitive. But what else could I have done? Men usually didn’t want to hang their emotions out in the wind for all and sundry to analyze and try to fix.

  Then why had he lost his cool in front of me? Maybe he felt guilty about whatever attraction he felt to me just like I felt guilty over my attraction to him. Tanner’s wife wouldn’t be back. But that didn’t mean he’d gotten over her. He might never move on.

  If he was stuck on his dead wife, didn’t that let me off the hook with Tanner? Nothing would ever happen. Wade Hill could remain front and center in my emotions, the great love who got away. Tanner Letts could be an amusing piece of eye candy I never made a move on.

  Good. That’s settled. I smiled to myself, ignoring the sharp pang of disappointment way down deep where I hid the real me from the world.

  A few feet away, Finn stood fast-talking a young couple. He was likely using his telepathic abilities to swindle them. I gave him a knowing wink just to show myself there was nothing to be disappointed over.

  Finn’s dark eyes settled on my face. Light fingers tickled my brain as he rummaged through my thoughts. I tried to push away the thoughts of Tanner, but a smile broke out over Finn’s gaunt face and he gave me a lewd wink. I showed him my middle finger and ducked into my tent. What I saw stopped me cold.

  A man squatted i
n front of the old, shabby painted buffet where I kept my magical implements out of sight. His cowboy boots, so worn the only color they had was the dirty strips of duct tape holding them together, stuck out beside my séance table. I recognized those boots.

  I quickly sifted through my memory and placed them from the previous night, right before Miss Ugly attacked for the first time. The man I’d caught coming out of my tent. He’d hurried away when I called to him.

  His walk had seemed familiar last night. The way he knelt seemed familiar tonight. I studied the back of his mostly gray hair. His emaciated shoulders moved underneath his T-shirt as he rummaged in my cabinet. Still unable to place him, I took out my cell and texted Finn. One word summed up the situation. “Intruder.”

  Then I blocked off the man’s exit. I kept a set of brass knuckles in my back pocket while I worked. The most I’d had to do so far was show them to a nitwit who tried to leave without paying. Now I slipped them onto my fist, ready to fight. “The fuck are you doing in here?”

  The man spun around. Even from the distance between us, I could see his eyes were bloodshot. The deep, dark quarter moons underneath them looked like something on a corpse. But he wasn’t dead. He might have been close, but not just yet.

  He smiled, showing teeth that had a line of black between each one. That was when I knew him. Tim. My ex. The man who beat me until I miscarried our child because he thought I owed him money.

  When I’d last seen him, he’d had a rock-n-roll messiah mane of hair with a matching beard. The beard had been so soft and shiny under my fingers. I glanced at his hand to see if he still wore the ring that had hurt so bad the night he beat me. It was there, gleaming in the dim lights of my tent. My stomach tightened, and bile crawled up the back of my throat.

  “Get out,” I said from between clenched teeth.

  Tim stood, glancing at the brass knuckles on my fist, and raised both hands. The chemical smell of his sweat hit me. “Hey. ’Member me?”