by Catie Rhodes
“Because she left the room,” Wade said.
“What a joke.” Nash shook his head at me.
Wade let go of the door and slapped him on the back of the head. The blow landed with a hollow thud. “She’s still learning her abilities.” Wade leaned close to Nash's face and stayed there until the other man turned away.
I stepped back onto the church’s steps. Beyond the cats was a marsh with thick pine trees sticking out of it. A hundred yards into the swamp, a mound of dry earth rose out of the murky water. On it stood a complete replica of the Mace crypt, all the way down to the name over the door.
“Tick tock, Peri Jean. Running out of time,” Nash snapped. “Let’s get the treasure.”
“Get on out there.” I pointed at the crypt replica. “It’s in that little building.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not going out there.” Nash turned away from us.
The cats milled around between us and the edge of the swamp. I had to get past them to get to the treasure. While I watched, one of the cats faded away and reappeared in another spot. Another cat did the same trick.
I took a closer look at the cats and opened my second sight. I could see through them. They’re ghosts. Maybe I could control them with my black opal. I gripped the stone in my hand, concentrating on its power flowing up my arm until the stone itself grew hot.
“Spirits, I command you to leave this place.” I said the words in a good, strong voice.
The cat nearest us flickered but came back more solid than it started out. It meandered toward us, swaying in a graceful, deadly dance, it tail raised and its gold eyes boring into us. It stopped at the steps of the church and screamed like a woman.
I remembered the part of Adam’s drawing that showed the big, black cats. They’d all had their heads raised. The part of the drawing above the cats had been one of the missing pieces. Back in the eighteen hundreds, when Reginald Mace hid the treasure for his son William to find, not too many things, other than birds, would have been flying the skies.
“I’m going to call the ravens.” I spoke to Wade, keeping my gaze off Nash.
“Might work. The panthers are ghosts. In mythology, ravens are responsible for escorting deceased souls into the afterlife.” He put his weight against the church door. The wood screamed in protest.
“Ain’t you afraid you’ll break the door down?” I waved my hand at the church.
We grinned at each other.
“The two of you are so right for each other.” Nash watched us, unsmiling. “White trash all the way.”
Wade popped him on the back of the head. “Better be nice to her. She’s the only reason you’re alive.”
I stood on the edge of the stone porch and craned out until I could make out the pink, cloudless sky. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, going deep inside myself, searching for the part of me that brought Orev back to life.
It was hidden deep inside me where old memories go to retire. I latched onto it and pulled. The black opal burned on my chest. In the distance, I heard the ravens cawing. I opened my eyes. Their flapping wings almost turned the pink sky black, and the sound of the wings beating the air drowned out everything else.
The cats paced nervously, tails whipping and stares trained on the sky above. It looked just like Adam’s drawing. The first raven darted down and sunk its talons into the back of one of the cats. The cat whipped its head and yowled, but the raven never stopped pulling at the air with its wings.
I watched, mouth open in disbelief. The raven would never lift the cat. I’d made a mistake, called my feathery friends to their death. Just then an even more transparent cat began to lift out of the one in front of us. The raven bore it away, the animal still yowling as it went. One by one, the other six cats were carried away, some yowling, others limp like kittens when their mothers carry them by the scruffs of their necks.
Orev landed on the steps a few feet from me. The bird cocked its head at me and then turned toward the copycat Mace crypt. He took awkward, rocking steps toward the crypt and glanced back at me. He was right. Time to finish this. I followed him to the edge of the water and stared across its murky depths.
Something big moved under the surface, rippling the floating branches and moss. It moved toward the crypt and stopped at the little island. A pair of white hands slapped onto the earth and began clawing their way up. A bald head emerged from the water, followed by shoulders clad in sopping black material. Grasping at branches and roots, whatever this thing was climbed onto the dirt and walked to stand in front of the crypt. Raising one water-wrinkled hand, he beckoned me.
Orev cawed at me and stared with his beady little eyes like I ought to know what to do. I didn’t. The black opal blazed to life on my chest, and the burn of magic awakened in me. I still didn’t know what to do.
“My guess is there’s a bridge.” Wade said from beside me. “Maybe invisible.”
I faced him. “What about the church door? Those monsters?”
“There was a board designed to go over it.” Wade knelt on the ground next to Orev and stared into the bird’s face.
“Damn thing was right there in plain sight.” Nash joined us. “Only took him half an hour to see it.”
Orev cawed at the water.
“The blood.” The voice, high and froggy, came from across the water.
Orev approached me. Caw. My hand twitched. An image of a hand dripping blood over the water came into my mind. My stomach clenched at the idea of more pain, but I pulled my pocketknife out and pricked my finger. A ruby drop appeared. I dribbled it into the black water.
The surface of the water vibrated, and a rumbling came from beneath our feet. Behind us, stones fell off the church and thudded to the ground. The water swirled as something came toward the surface. White stone broke the water and formed a narrow path out to the crypt. Water sluiced from between the stones and back into the swamp.
“This is it.” I squeezed Wade’s arm.
“I’m coming,” he said.
“All of you,” the helium-voiced monster called from across the water.
“I’m not going over there.” Nash backed away from us, eyes wide and wild.
“All or none,” came the whining voice.
“If my friend dies because you won’t move your ass, I promise you will die screaming.” I leaned close to Nash and stared into his eyes.
“Better go, Chucklehead.” Wade started across the path. “I don’t think she’s playing with you.”
I followed Wade’s sure steps across the water. After several seconds, I heard Nash's light footsteps behind me. Wade stopped in front of the thing guarding the crypt. This close, I could tell his damp garment was a suit with a sodden red tie hanging limply in the front. His skin was even worse than it looked across the swamp. He looked like an albino prune. He smiled at us, and I almost screamed.
My eyes adjusted a little, and I wished they hadn’t. The thing before me was bald with black, shining eyes. When it opened its mouth to speak, its teeth looked like ivory needles. “One of the Blood, the one who Sees and Hears, the one destiny called forth, have you brought back my kindred?” The voice grated on my nerves like concrete over glass.
I took my bag off my shoulder, dropped it on the ground, and knelt to dig around inside. Wade knelt next to me.
“Give me the mini treasure chest.” He spoke in a low voice and held his hand out for it. I did, and he set it in the dirt and drew a circle around it with one finger. “Now place the spelling stones around it.”
“Return my kindred to the stones, daughter of Priscilla.” The thing’s voice vibrated in my ears.
The memory of Priscilla doing the original spell came into my head easily. I barely had to try to remember it. I hovered over the spelling stones and traced the shapes carved into them with my thumb. Priscilla’s words came to me as though she stood next to me, whispering them in my ear.
“Entity trapped within this box, I am the one who has the Blood and the one who Sees and He
ars.” I squeezed my already wounded finger, biting back my grunt of pain. Blood dripped on the mini chest.
The air changed again, swirling around me, ruffling my clothes, its touch feathery and hot. The abomination standing in front of me sighed.
“Today you are free, home in the dark outposts, rewarded for a job well done.” I upended the vial of oil Mysti probably spent hours making over the chest. The mini treasure chest didn’t so much burn as it incinerated, blackening and turning into a pile of ash in a second. The stones jittered against the dirt.
“Now make your sacrifice to me.” The needle-toothed thing stood over me, radiating eagerness.
“Sacrifice?” Wade stared at the thing.
“This witch must pay the debt owed to me by her ancestor. It was promised.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
“Hair. A lock of your hair. And the blood.” Its voice rattled against my skin, crawling like smoke to scrape at my nerves.
I took the athame out of my bag and grabbed a lock of my hair.
“Peri Jean, don’t.” Wade gripped my wrist. “It can contact you any time once it has part of you.”
“My partnership with your ancestor was amicable and will be so with you.” It smiled again. “You’ll owe no debt to me unless you choose to.”
Icy fingers scratched their way up my back. How would this thing contact me? And how often? I had a feeling asking questions would only prolong the misery and come to the same end.
I grabbed a hank of my hair and sawed at it, pulling hard enough for it to hurt my scalp. I sighed in relief when it broke free. The thing in front of me held out one wrinkled, waterlogged hand. I dropped the hair into it, careful not to touch.
“The blood.” The hand hung in front of my face.
I tried to work my already cut finger to make the blood start again. The thing hissed. “No. Fresh blood.”
I slashed another finger and let drops of blood patter into the thing’s hand. They fell over my hair. After too many seconds, the thing closed its hand.
“Now the words.” Its voice dropped to a whisper.
What words? My panicked mind scrabbled over snippets I remembered from Priscilla’s spell book. Nothing made sense. Just as my mind reached the apex of its hysteria, the words came to me, again almost as though they were being whispered in my ear.
“Guardians of darkness, friends of chaos, leave my stones and return to your home. This ends our business together.” The stones jumped in the dirt. One of them flipped over. Black smoke came from them and swirled around the monster who now had a direct link to me. The door to the crypt clicked open.
“The riches are yours.” The thing showed its needle-pointed snake teeth and gestured at the crypt.
NASH SHOVED ME ASIDE. He caught me off guard, and I fell against Wade. He yanked Nash backward and dumped him on the dirt.
“Don’t do that again,” Wade said. “I’m here to help Peri Jean. If whupping your ass looks like the way I need to help, I’m going to do it.”
Wade took my arm and guided me into the crypt. Nash crowded behind us.
The inside of this crypt was a mirror of the one in Piney Hill Cemetery. The vestibule was empty, but candlelight beckoned us deeper into the structure. A familiar wild-haired figure sat next to an open treasure chest.
Reginald Mace, who’d hidden the treasure and started this mess, stood from where he’d been sitting on the floor. He studied all of us, his gaze finally settling on me. The black opal came to life on my chest. The ghost intended to talk.
“Priscilla Herrera said the one to come for the treasure would be a descendant of both of ours.” He came toward me. “And you are.”
The draining feeling of the ghost pulling my energy to power his manifestation made my vision waver. I wouldn’t be able to hear him much longer. I concentrated on the warmth of my power and held on as tight as I could.
He held out his hand to the open treasure chest. I peered inside. All the speculators and documentaries who said the treasure was worth billions of dollars had been wrong. There was a black leather pouch lying in the treasure chest and a handful of jewelry next to it.
Nash leaned forward to take it. The door to the crypt opened, and he flew backward, out of the crypt. The sound of him hitting the ground outside made me smile.
“Go on, see what’s in it.” Wade elbowed me.
I opened the black pouch. Diamonds sparkled back up at me. There weren’t many, but between those and the jewels, there was more money in this room than I’d probably ever see again in this lifetime. Wade snapped his fingers and pointed at the ghost whose lips were moving.
I concentrated hard, using the last of my energy to hear his words.
“This is what I wanted to accomplish…go to my rest.” The ghost walked toward the back wall, went through it, and faded from sight.
“Let’s go,” I told Wade. “No telling how long we’ve been here. I still need to meet Michael Gage.”
We walked out and stopped dead in our tracks. The thing who now had my blood and hair had lifted Nash off the ground with one hand. Nash's legs pumped as though he was running a hundred yard dash. His wild, rolling eyes dominated his colorless face. The thing squeezed, and the sound of bone and tendons crackling in Nash's neck reached us several feet away. Nash's mouth dropped open and a sick moan escaped.
I winced and drew closer to Wade. Would the thing kill us now? What use did it have for the treasure?
“As a show of our lasting friendship, Peri Jean Mace, I have some information for you.” The thing held Nash out like an offering. “This will be my thanks for you honoring your ancestor’s bargain. Do you accept?”
I swallowed, dry sides of my throat rubbing together, and nodded.
“You’ve made a bargain with this one to exchange the treasure for your friend’s life. He plans to murder you before you get to the exchange and keep the treasure for himself.” The monster’s black eyes flashed red for a second. Where his hand connected to Nash's skin began to smoke. “There’s only one way to deal with betrayal.”
Nash's eyes widened and popped out of his head. His skin bubbled and liquefied. It slid off him like a layer of cheese and fell to the ground, glistening.
“No!” I rushed toward Nash, knowing already it was too late. Hannah’s location was forever lost to me.
The rest of Nash melted and puddled on the ground, blood sizzling and boiling. I slid to a stop in front of it. No, no, no. I clapped my hands over my face and howled out my grief. Poor Hannah.
“I’m sorry.” I choked out the words. The horror of what Hannah’s last moments would likely be occurred to me. I clenched my fists and screamed for her. How could this have happened? How could everything I suffered through come down to this?
The thing grabbed me and forced me to the ground. “You didn’t need him. See the information you wanted, witch. Reach inside you and see it here.” Its fetid breath heated my skin, and I tried to recoil, but it held me in place over the pile of blood and liquefied guts, so close the metallic stench from it made me gag.
Then, something inside me blossomed, opening to petals full and ripe. A veil lifted from my eyes. I saw what Nash had known.
The thing pulled me away from the mess and said, “There are many ways back home.”
It was the last line from Reginald Mace’s message to his son William, written more than one hundred years ago and left for me to decipher. I stared at the closed door of the church. It was the only way I knew to get back where we belonged. The ground rumbled again, and more stones fell off the church. The path we’d used to cross the swamp disappeared back under the water.
“You’re no longer safe here.” The thing’s voice garbled into a guttural squeal on the last word. More stones fell off the church and rolled away from it. “Go now. I can no longer protect you.”
The church’s roof cracked and caved in. The stained glass windows blew outward, glass shards sparkling in the light. A rumbling came from the earth at
our feet. I felt the disturbance in the part of Priscilla Herrera I’d taken on. It was bad.
The needle-toothed thing shrunk in on itself, fattening and lengthening at the same time. Its bones rearranged themselves with a wet pop. The black suit rent open across the back and fell off to expose coarse black hair. Its hands grew into hoofs. The thing’s greedy black eyes stared at us, full of intelligence and knowing. It squealed and jumped into the swamp, pedaling furiously.
The swamp simmered like water does right before it boils. Steam rose from it. Its wet, fishy smell intensified and became rank.
There are many ways back home. The voice in my head belonged to Reginald Mace. It finally made sense.
“Come on.” I tugged at Wade and took him back into the crypt. I stopped at the opening where William Mace’s body would have gone. On this side of reality, there was no nameplate, only a forked holder with a bell attached to it.
The bell must ring three times.
I picked up the bell and jingled it three times. The stone covering the opening faded. I clambered inside and held out one hand to Wade. He crawled inside with me and pressed close to me. The slab underneath us fell away, and we both fell, screaming.
We floated somewhere between realities, existing in a darkness where nothing mattered, and came to rest in a dark, dank place.
The sound of a horn honking outside let me know we were back in our world. I took the flashlight out of my pocket and clicked it on. We both lay sprawled inside the broom closet at the Mace Carriage House. I opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, first glancing at the clock on the stove. A half-hour remained until Hannah’s time ran out, and I had a mess to fix.
My only chance of besting Michael Gage was to fool him into thinking nothing was amiss until I could get the jump on him. Nash’s absence would be a red flag to the contrary. What could I do? My mind went back to the spells I’d seen in my new grimoire. The answer came. I only hoped I could pull it off.
Heart slamming against my injured ribs, I took out my cellphone and made a call.
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