by Catie Rhodes
My chest throbbed as a tide of grief bigger than I could handle surged through me. I sank to my knees and watched King carry Memaw toward the hospital. Unshed tears built a lump in my throat. I clutched at it like someone choking to death. King, his back to me, shouted for someone to help him, but nobody did. They were too busy running for their lives. A shadow fell next to mine. I turned to find my grandfather, George Mace, standing next me, his ghost solid as a real person.
“Might shoulda listened to your Memaw, hon.” He lit a Kool cigarette and watched the outlaw biker carry his dead wife to the hospital. “This right here was why my wife wanted you to just ignore what you was, to pretend to be normal. She always said it would do nothing but hurt you, said her family would do nothing but corrupt you. Look how it’s all turned out.” He waved one muscled arm at the mayhem in front of us—me trying to save Dean on the stage, yelling at Wade to help us, him obeying, his head hung in grief. “You think all this ugliness is what she wanted for you?”
I stared at the ground and shook my head. Why did this, the only time I’d ever spoken to George Mace, have to be him rightfully chewing me out?
“Its too late for you, little darlin’.” George’s voice took on a familiar cadence, but I didn’t understand why I recognized it. The grief took up most of my attention. “You got yourself in a mess. You could save a lot of people if you’d just give up.”
My head popped up. I stared at my grandfather. Something about him had changed since he first came over to me and started talking. I stared hard at him, trying to see what it was.
“My Leticia loved you, child. Gave her life so you could live.” He thumped his cigarette away. It bounced on the asphalt, a shower of red sparks rising from it. “But you did all you were supposed to do, which was find the family treasure, put that mystery to rest. Your purpose is served. Don’t you want to honor your Memaw by knowing when it’s time to quit?”
It hit me what was different about George. His shoes. When he first came over to me, he had on roach stomper cowboy boots. But they’d changed to a pair of lace up ankle boots. It was the Coachman in the guise of my grandfather. Cheater. I’d show him. I called on the mantle and got only a ping of power.
The George Mace thing took another step toward me, its creased jeans and pearl-snap cowboy shirt melting into its skin and Victorian era garb appearing in its place.
“You’re nothing, Peri Jean Mace,” the Coachman chanted. “Nothing but a loser and a failure. You’re alone now, truly alone, and you’ll die alone. But not until after I eat your power and your soul.” His mouth opened wide.
I wanted to scream, but all I could do was moan in pain and fear. Then I remembered my special trick. The one the Coachman didn’t like me doing. I sent my consciousness into his nasty mouth and pushed myself toward his secrets, praying I’d find the one that would rid me of him forever.
I run down the narrow, haunted corridors of the Coachman’s mind, his heavy footsteps pounding behind me. The sound of Zora crying comes from somewhere near. I take a sharp turn toward it. A wooden door held shut with a padlock too ornate and pretty to be of my time blocks in my way. I grab the lock and yank on it.
“Zora in here. Come get Zora now.” The little girl’s high-pitched voice comes through the heavy wood, traveling along our connection.
I reach for the mantle but remember I am mired in scar tissue. What now? I am trapped. Aren’t I? Zora begins to cry again. The hell I’m stuck. I gather my energy and push through the scar tissue, reaching for the mantle with all my effort. Its power meets me like an overeager puppy. It will snap the padlock. It will—
A force far stronger than anything I knew how to fight hurled me out of the Coachman’s memories. I came to on the forest floor, freezing cold and unable to move. My eyes flashed open, and I sucked in a deep breath.
I had failed again, except for one thing. I knew now where the Coachman had Zora’s life force. All I had to do was figure out a way to get it. Easy as learning Latin.
Wade elbowed Mysti out of the way and gathered me into his arms, squeezing so hard I thought my ribs would crack.
“I found where he’s got Zora,” I said into his ear.
“What’s she saying?” Mysti shrieked from behind Wade. “Put her down so I can hear.”
Wade put me back on the ground, and I panted for a few seconds before I spoke.
“He’s got Zora’s spirit behind a padlocked door in his mind. That’s why she’s limp. He’s taken her spirit and stored it away.” Each word felt like razors in my throat, and I didn’t feel my magic at all. Had the Coachman taken it for good?
“Thank goodness for small favors. Maybe this little girl’s parents won’t kill us.” Mysti held her hands up to the sky.
Then it hit me. We’d given Zora to Brad and told him to run. Camp wasn’t that far away. Someone should have come to check on us by now. We ran down the trail, all of us hurting too bad to go really fast. I text messaged Dillon, still unable to understand why she and Finn hadn’t come. I got no answer.
Griff, who’d been walking in front of me with his head hung, suddenly stopped. I ran into his back. We both grunted. I peeked around him and groaned.
Kenny had a long gun trained on Brad, who still held Zora in his arms. Brad trembled from head to toe, his eyes rolling wildly.
“YOU AIN’T COMING INTO CAMP.” Kenny put his finger over his rifle’s trigger guard.
Wade drew his pistol and let it hang by his side. I’d watched him use up all his ammunition. All he had was a couple of empty magazines. I guess Wade figured Kenny didn’t know that.
“Can’t your bullshit wait?” I gestured at Zora’s unconscious form. “We’ve got Finn and Dillon's little daughter.”
“She’s dead,” Kenny crowed. Gladness and triumph rolled off him in waves. It pissed me off. I wanted to knock him down and jump up and down on his chest.
“She is not dead. Look at her.” Mysti shook her head for emphasis. Her sane delivery contrasted so sharply with Kenny's that the situation took on a blurry sense of unreality. I rubbed my temple and shook my head, trying to rub some sense back into myself. I didn’t feel any better.
“Don’t matter anyway.” Kenny crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. A slight tic in his eye was the only indication he might be scared of us. “The ones of us whose last name ain’t some form of Gregg took a vote. The Greggs, Gregsons, whatever you want to call ’em, is done in Sanctuary. It’s mine now. We throwing them out tonight.”
My mouth fell open, and a zillion arguments ran through my head. “You can’t—”
“You got five seconds to put down the gun.” Wade interrupted me. The tone of his voice kicked my heart into overdrive. He may have sounded bored to anybody else, but I knew this tone of voice. It was the one he used before he got wild-eyed and went on a rampage. If he did that, Kenny might shoot him. Kill him. I took careful steps toward Wade. There was no way I could stop him if he lost control. He was too big for that. But I might be able to talk him out of whatever he thought he wanted to do.
“Wade, look at me.” I stared at his broad back, for once scared enough not to think about his body pressed against mine, his mouth on mine. “Get away from Kenny.”
Kenny raised the gun to his shoulder. Nausea gurgled in my stomach, and sour spit rolled into my mouth.
“Wade?” My voice shook.
Wade glanced back at me and winked. I shook my head at him. He grinned, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Wade took three fast steps, grabbed the gun, and yanked it away from Kenny. The smaller man’s eyes widened until they took up most of his face. He shuffled several steps backward, hand out behind him, reaching for help that wasn’t coming.
I came around Wade, adrenaline churning, and kicked Kenny in the chest. He fell on his ass in a rustle of leaves and the pops of branches breaking.
“Hey!” Kenny grabbed for me.
“Better be sure, Kenny. I’ll whup your ass righteously.” I had both fists up but didn�
��t think I could win a fight against a grown man. Someone came to stand next to me, but I didn’t dare take my stare off my opponent.
“You better be more sure than you’ve ever been in your life.” Brad spoke loudly, still clutching the too-still toddler. “My brother-in-law and I will beat you until there’s nothing left.”
Wade advanced on Kenny. He held the rifle loose in his hands. “Get up. Start walking. Or I will kill you now.”
Wade’s quiet voice sent chill bumps racing up my back. When super pissed, Wade talked like this, like he was saving his energy to do maximum damage. I stared at Kenny, hoping he knew the kind of madman standing in front of him.
Kenny curled his lip. “Fuck you.”
Wade’s brows and mouth drew inward, his eyes expanding. He shoved the gun at me, knocking me several steps backward. I’d have gone down had Griff not righted me. Wade grabbed Kenny by the scruff of his neck and slung him. The man pitched forward several steps, tripped, and sprawled to his knees. He caught most of the fall with his hands and grunted in pain. Wade straddled him, grabbed both ears, and twisted them. The man howled.
“I will pull your ears off your head if you ever disrespect me again.” The low, dangerous growl held no more reason than an animal’s. I took my eyes off Wade and nudged Griff.
“We’ve got to get him out of here,” I whispered. “Or he’s going to kill Kenny.”
Griff nodded, marched over to Kenny, and kicked him.
“Griffin!” Mysti screamed.
Griff ignored her. He leaned down to speak to the top of Kenny’s head. “Get up and walk with us into camp. You’re going to talk to Cecil about what happened here and the vote you’ve taken.”
Wade gave Kenny’s ears another good twist. “I don’t know what he’d do, but I’d kill you as a traitor."
“Sanctuary ain’t a safe place anymore because Cecil’s too old to keep things in check, and I ain’t got nowhere else to go.” Kenny's voice came out all wobbly and snotty. He was crying, actually crying, after he’d pulled a gun on us. Griff kicked Kenny again, teeth bared with effort. I wanted to turn my gaze away from the ugly scene but knew I couldn’t. I took a deep breath, went to the other side of Kenny, and crouched down.
“Kenny? You can’t just banish people because you feel like it. You have to be civil, willing to compromise.” I tried to pretend I was Mysti, to keep my voice calm and non-confrontational. “Maybe it’s time for you and the Gregg family to part ways. But you gotta talk to Cecil.”
Kenny turned to me and spat in my face. It stunned me so much I just sat there, the glob of saliva sliding down my cheek. All hell broke loose. Wade lifted the man by his ears. Kenny kicked and flailed, and one kick caught me in the chest. Griff yanked me out of the way and tried to pull the man away from Wade.
“Wade, look at me,” Griff yelled. “Look at me now.”
Wade didn’t drop the man but turned his dark eyes on Griff.
“Do you want to kill this man? Do you think what he’s done is punishable by death?” Griff stared unflinchingly into Wade’s face, several inches shorter and many pounds lighter, but not afraid. “Is this who you are?”
Wade dropped the man on the ground in a heap. Kenny's hands went straight to his ears, moaning and feeling them for damage. I imagined they’d be big as Mickey Mouse’s ears by the next day, but they were still intact. Wade stood over Griff, his face set and hard. The two men glared at each other for several seconds.
“Thanks,” Wade muttered to Griff. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”
Griff relaxed and patted Wade’s arm. Then he squatted next to the injured man, who cowered away. “Get up now and walk with us, or I’m going to turn that giant loose on you.”
We started walking. The white paint on the RVs peeked through the trees as we neared the park. Someone stood at the end of the path waiting.
A woman I’d seen but not spoken to sprinted toward us. She took in the sight of Wade hauling Kenny along by one arm and seemed to relax. She spoke to me. “You Peri Jean, ain’t you?”
I nodded but kept my distance. After the show with Kenny, I wasn’t sure what to expect from these people.
“You gotta do something. Anita and a couple of other nut-cases is trying to kick the rest of the Greggs out of camp.”
I rushed forward, worry knotting inside me. Kenny’d had a gun for us. Anita was crazier than him by a mile. What if she’d hurt Cecil? Or someone else in my family? I broke out in a run, hand clutching my aching gut and ignoring Wade’s shout to wait for him.
A small crowd stood in front of Cecil’s motor home, all of them shouting. I shoved my way to the front.
A man about my age held out one thick arm to block my way. “This ain’t your fight, witch. You need to just leave camp.”
Still fighting exhaustion from the Coachman’s most recent attempt at draining me, I reached deep inside myself. The small effort rocked me. I dug deeper until I latched onto to Orev’s thread. Trouble. Danger. The man and I had a glaring match while I waited.
The sound of wings flapping came from all around us. The caws grew louder until they surrounded us, drowning out the shouting and name-calling. The ravens landed, one by one, on the ground until their black-feathered bodies hid the fallen, drying pine needles littering the ground.
The first human scream cut through the bird noises. “It pecked me. One of these devil birds pecked me.”
Wade leapt up on the picnic table, fierceness boiling in his dark eyes. “Go back to your campers. Go home now. Leave here.” He shouted his words over and over.
More screams answered him as more birds took a bite of human flesh.
People left one by one, sometimes in couples, all with wide eyes, many rubbing wounds, until only Anita was left. She held a pistol in each hand and had backed my family against Cecil’s motor home. They stood in a row, Cecil, Jadine, Finn, and Dillon. Zander stood on the ground, shoved behind his parents, clinging to their legs. Tear stains streaked his chubby cheeks. The ravens stood silent now, waiting to see what had to happen next. It was my call.
Cecil’s and my talk about Sanctuary rang in my ears, as did all the hints he’d dropped, all the ways he’d tried to pull me in. My family wanted me. They wanted me to help them run Sanctuary. Did I want them? I stared at their faces, stared down the fear in their eyes. No decision came.
“You can’t make me leave, you damn thug,” Anita screamed. “Cecil is gonna listen to our demands. Me and Kenny have tried to do this the nice way.”
Something awoke inside me, something outside anger. This part of me viewed all this clinically. It didn’t matter how Anita and Kenny had done things. They were outsiders, not family, and I knew what Cecil wanted done. I spun slowly until my gaze locked on Orev’s. I nodded toward Anita. The birds converged on her.
She screamed, spinning around and around, trying to slap them off. Soon all I could see was flapping black wings. She dropped both pistols in her frenzy. Wade rushed in to snatch them but got right back out of the way.
Birds bit chunks out of Anita’s skin. One hovered over her face, clawing at it. Anita screamed, hysterical and in pain. I watched the scene, my emotions like still water. This had to be done. Anita had to be shown what I’d tolerate. I counted to ten, my serenity horrifying me. I shouted, “Enough.” The birds flew off Anita and away. Their forms darkened the sky for a few seconds, and then they were gone.
Anita sat on her ass between the campers, sobbing and shaking, face and arms bleeding. Dillon stepped around her as though she didn’t exist. “You get my baby?”
I nodded. “Bradley?” I yelled, never taking my eyes off Dillon's face, still scary calm.
Brad rushed forward with poor little Zora. He held her out to her mother.
Dillon let out a primal howl of rage and grief. She clutched her child to her chest and sobbed, falling to her knees. I wanted to help her but was too scared of her fists to do it. She’d have to get over the shock, and then we’d talk.
J
adine, using her cane, picked her way to Dillon's side. She put one hand on her shoulder and bowed her head. Dillon cried herself out in the same frank way she conducted the rest of her business. Finn and Zander ran to join her, both of them trying to get a look at Zora. Dillon hunched over her protectively. Finished, she turned to me, eyes blazing.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dillon's shriek echoed over the park.
“I can fix it. I promise.” I kept a safe distance from all of them. Getting hit or spit on again didn’t much appeal to me.
“The Coachman’s got her little spirit, doesn’t he?” Cecil’s voice came from several feet away. He trudged to us, his shoulders rounded, and his head down. “Got whatever makes Zora herself locked away.”
I nodded. “She’s in his consciousness. I saw her. She communicated with me.”
Dillon stared at me through her tears, question on her face.
“It’s true.” The weird calm finally let go of me enough to give her an encouraging smile. “She’s alive. I couldn’t get her this time, but I think I can with one more chance.”
Cecil came to stand next to me and hugged me to his side. “Proud of you for getting her back.”
Anita, over her shock, slowly got to her feet and crept away from us. Griff met her and pointed at the picnic table where they’d sat Kenny, who still held his sore ears. Anita opened her mouth to argue but Wade came over, fist already doubled up. She sat.
“How are y’all going to get back into the Coachman and get my daughter back?” Dillon glared at first me, then Mysti.
“If we can find those runes, I’ve got an idea.” Mysti stepped forward. “If it fails, I’ll come up with another plan.”
Cecil put his arm around Dillon. “I have an idea for getting the runes. We will get it settled. Now wouldn’t you like to take Zora home? Get her cleaned up?”
I didn’t think this would work, but Dillon clutched Zora to her and grabbed Zander’s hand. “Come on, Finn.” The four of them left us without a backward glance.