Dead End (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 8)

by Catie Rhodes

  “Fuck!” he screamed and dropped to retrieve them.

  Tubby ran back to us. “Which one?” he asked, meaning did I want him to grab Hannah or Wade.

  “Her. Now.” Wade pointed to Hannah. Without another glance at me, Tubby helped her to her feet. She was so dazed from Wade’s punch, she let Tubby drag her to the car without protest.

  “I can’t leave you,” I said to Wade. Reaching deep, I searched for my magic, but I’d used it all to trying to burn Hannah’s parasitic rider. All my magic did was give me a weak ping. It reminded me of a car with a dead battery.

  “Does anybody see them?” King’s roar came, the proximity of it bringing new waves of fear.

  “I got ’em,” Trench Coat yelled. “They’re back here.” He finally fished one of the shotgun cartridges out of the overgrown grass and loaded one of the shotgun’s barrels.

  “Go now,” Wade yelled.

  A shout of refusal tried to beat its way out of me, but I knew he was right. “I’ll be back for you.”

  He shook his head. “This is it. Goodbye.”

  Trench Coat snapped the shotgun shut and raised it. Leaving Wade was betrayal, the worst kind. I howled my rage as I ran.

  The boom of the shotgun came from behind me. Pellets peppered the dirt around me, but none found its way home. I rounded the burned-out mobile home. The car sat where we’d left it.

  Tubby sat in the driver’s seat staring straight ahead, Hannah next to him. Her eyes were fixed on some point in the distance. I opened the back door. Corman popped up like a jack in the box, pointing his gun at the back of Tubby’s seat.

  “Surprise,” King’s son yelled.

  Suddenly I knew how I’d get Wade back alive. I raised the pistol and pointed it at Corman’s forehead. “Move.”

  He snorted. “I’ll shoot Tubman. And Hannah.”

  I let the gun drop a bit, like I was thinking about it. Then I pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked in my hand, the force of its discharge surprising me, no matter how many times Wade had forced me to practice. Corman fell backward on the seat, screaming, hand gripping his arm. I snatched his gun away and climbed in on top of him. Tubby started the car and sped back to where we’d gotten inside, dirt fanning from the back wheels and kicking up a cloud of dust thicker than any smoke screen.

  “Now call your father.” I pushed the both guns’ barrels into Corman’s forehead. “Tell him I’ll trade you for Wade. Alive.”

  Corman just stared at me.

  “Do it. Do it. Do it.” I screamed the words in his face, enjoying the way his eyes, already squinted in pain, fluttered every time I yelled.

  The car careened onto the main road, engine roaring. Corman took out his phone, punched a few buttons, and began speaking.

  7

  Bullfrog’s doughy face showed no expression as he loaded Corman into the paneled van marked with the imprint of a well-known power tool brand. The pain had set in, and Corman yelped every time Bullfrog yanked him. I clenched my teeth, and my hands curled into fists as I imagined Wade screaming in pain somewhere behind us.

  Tubby, seeing the expression on my face, snatched one of the pistols from me and marched over to Corman. “Get in without making another sound or I will shoot both your feet and your hands. Give you bullet stigmata.”

  Corman, trembling all over, climbed into the van. Bullfrog followed and used zip ties to bind his ankles and wrists.

  Hannah watched the whole show open-mouthed. She didn’t even flinch as Bullfrog put a hand on the back of her neck and forced her into the van, giving her the same treatment with the zip ties as he’d given Corman. Tubby climbed into the van and held one hand out to me. I took it and let him pull me inside. We sat against the van’s wall facing our prisoners. Tubby put his arm around my shoulders. At first, I pulled away but then I leaned my head on him and wept as though it would cure the hollow sense of loss growing in my chest.

  “Go ahead and cry,” Corman crowed. I raised my head to glare at him, and he curled his lip in a sneer. “Wade’s a dead man. And you caused it.”

  Sobs wracked my body. Having heard Corman’s side of a six-word conversation with King Tolliver, I was ready to believe Wade was already dead. King had said for Corman to tell us he was coming to kill us all.

  “Shut up.” Tubby pointed his pistol at Corman.

  The other man simply laughed. “You’re not gonna shoot me in here. Even you’re not that crazy.”

  Sirens blared in the distance. “Five-oh coming,” Bullfrog called from the front seat.

  “Just keep the speed steady and act right,” Tubby returned.

  A couple of Burns County Sheriff’s cars, followed by a volunteer fire truck raced past, heading toward the Six Gun Compound. A white unmarked sedan followed. Dean. Maybe Dean could get Wade.

  I took out my phone and called him.

  He picked up on the first ring. “You get Hannah? Everybody all right?”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “You just passed us.” My breath hitched on the last word. “We’ve got Hannah, but they’ve got Wade. He needs medical attention.”

  Dean drew in a breath. He didn’t like Wade when we were dating, and he probably didn’t want to help him now. “I’ll look for him, but don’t be surprised if…” He trailed off. It was just as well. I knew what he meant.

  “Get him if you can, okay?” I winced at the pleading in my voice.

  “I will. And I’ll keep my end of the bargain. My official understanding of this situation is that Six Guns have gone to war with another motorcycle gang. You and your people get out of sight and stay there.” He hung up without waiting for my answer.

  Bullfrog drove the speed limit all the way to Gaslight City and pulled into the alley behind Silver Dreams Antiques and Dottie’s Burgers and Rings. He cut the engine. “End of the road, kids.”

  Tubby got out and unlocked the back door of Silver Dreams Antiques. I sniffed for the heavenly scent of Dottie’s greasy spoon cooking. Tubby caught me and shook his head. “She retired a coupla months ago. Sold the building to my development company.” He held open the door and motioned me inside. I stared back at the van.

  “What about Hannah and Corman? We have to put Hannah in a circle as fast as possible in case the hag has tricks I haven’t anticipated.” My phone began to ring, but I ignored it, waiting for Tubby’s answer. He shook his head and waved me off. I took my phone out. Mysti. Last we talked, she and Griff were on an important job. I answered. “You okay?”

  Highway sounds came over Mysti’s end of the call. They seemed to have an echo. “Are you okay? I got a call from Wade Hill last night insisting I come to Gaslight City to help you with Hannah. I’m sitting in my car in front of the museum, which is closed. Where are you?”

  I walked out of Silver Dreams and skirted around Tubby and Bullfrog wrestling Corman out of the van.

  “Where’re you going?” Tubby let go of Corman, letting him fall on the nasty asphalt and chased after me.

  “Wade called Mysti into this. She’s at the museum.” I hurried out to the sidewalk, ignoring the curious stares from passersby, and raced down the block toward Mysti’s car. As I drew close, I realized two people sat inside with her. A man who wasn’t Griff, and a shadowy figure in the back seat. The man twisted in his seat and stared out the window at me. I gasped.

  What was my Uncle Cecil doing here? He told me he’d never set foot in Gaslight City. He feared it with an almost religious fervor. A shadow moved in the backseat, and my cousin-by-marriage, Dillon, leaned forward and waved.

  Tears closed my throat. My family was willing to go against their core beliefs to help me? And there sat Mysti in the driver’s seat, faithful as ever. The rush of gratitude brought me back from the edge. Maybe everything could be made okay. I launched myself at them. Cecil managed to get out of the car and hold his arms open to me.

  I grabbed him in a hug, already sobbing. “They got Wade,” I choked out. “Shot him. I had to leave him or they’d have gotten
me, Tubby, and Hannah too.” I wept harder.

  Cecil stroked my back. “All right, all right. Settle down. Let’s get off the street. Out of sight.”

  I swallowed my tears and swiped a hand across my face. “See the sign that says Silver Dreams?” As I asked, Bullfrog’s white van exited the alley. He and Tubby must have gotten Corman and Hannah inside the building. A shadow appeared in one of the upper windows. I made out Tubby’s face. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching us. “Go in the alley and park there.”

  A few minutes later, we were in what used to be an upstairs storeroom and breakroom for the antique store. That is, before a nasty spell cast by a bad witch got hold of Silver Dreams’s owner, and she killed Memaw and then killed herself. Tubby’d moved a scarred but heavy table, probably a castoff from the former antique store, into the kitchenette and pulled mismatched folding metal chairs around it. Someone had made coffee. Cecil was the only one drinking it.

  Hannah had been bound to a chair and placed a safe distance from the table. She growled through her teeth at us. Tubby stood a short distance away holding a paper towel soaked in alcohol to a spot where she’d bitten him.

  Mysti, chalk in one hand, held out a worn, cloth-bound book. “Peri Jean, get up and help me. It’s time to put Hannah in a protective circle.”

  I slowly got up from my place at the table and took a long shuddering breath, the kind that come after a long bout of crying. The tears had left my cheeks dry and raw. Wade had known he wouldn’t come back and helped anyway. The vise of grief tightened again. Was this the prophecy in his sister’s card reading coming to pass? If so, she’d been right. Getting involved with me had ended Wade, the best man I’d ever known.

  I came close to Mysti but ignored the book. “What did Wade say when he called you to come here and help me?” I choked out, ready to bawl again.

  “If we don’t get him back, I’ll tell you. But let’s do this right now.” Mysti’s tone left no room for me to argue. She pushed the book at me again. This time, I took it.

  The book’s weight caught me off guard. I nearly dropped it. As I fumbled, the magic of this book seeped into my fingers. My black opal heated, and the mantle crouched inside me, ready for action. A breeze from nowhere moved my hair. Mysti watched me with her mouth open in shock. Magic was like a muscle, and I exercised mine almost every day. It had grown stronger than when we were last together.

  She put on her professional witch face and started giving orders, which was what she did best. “Wade said to use this exact pentacle. It’s supposed to terrify spirits you seek to control. Hopefully, that and the mojo bag he gave you can keep this hag in place until we banish it.”

  The book’s print, handwritten and red-tinted, seemed to vibrate. I glanced up at Mysti, silently asking if she’d seen the same thing. Her pinched face gave me my answer.

  She said, “I’m going to draw the circles, but you’re going to have to give me instructions. This is not my kind of magic.”

  Our work went slow. I told her how to spell the Four Names of God and directed her in drawing the grid in the middle of the circle. Hannah’s growls and hisses increased as the circle took shape.

  Mysti glanced at Tubby. “Help us pick up Hannah’s chair and put her on top of the circle before I close it.”

  “She done bit me. You can’t expect me to…” Tubby let out a frustrated grunt and stood.

  Mysti went back to her witch bag and withdrew a black satiny sack. She approached Hannah. Seeming to know what was about to happen, Hannah whipped her head side to side. Mysti slid the bag over her head with enough expertise that I guessed this wasn’t a cherry popping experience for her.

  Tubby counted off, and the four of us picked up the chair and lugged it into the circle. Hannah screeched like an animal the entire time. Mysti whipped the bag off Hannah’s head and leapt away from her.

  The monster inside Hannah was either angry or distressed. Hannah's eyes bugged out and rolled in their sockets. The skin underneath her eyes had darkened. Spittle flecked the corners of Hannah’s cracked and dried lips. She yowled again, sounding more animal than human.

  Tubby backed away, face waxy. “She gone batshit. Ain’t seen no evidence of a troll or nothing on her shoulder.”

  I walked away from the group to a far wall where a mirror hung. I took it off the wall, walked back to where everyone else was, and called to Cecil. “Papaw.” My great-uncle turned to me. “Will you hold this up where Hannah’s reflected in it?”

  He put aside his coffee and took the mirror from me. He stood several feet from Hannah, maybe afraid she’d spit on him if he got close enough. I walked back to Tubby, took his hand, and concentrated on Hannah. He needed to believe in what we were dealing with or he’d be more hindrance than help.

  Hannah’s image in the mirror flickered, and a dark shadow took shape on her shoulder, its skin the color of a cancerous mole. Its size had increased to the point it looked like a baby gorilla squatting on my friend. The hag hissed at us, but the sound came out of Hannah’s mouth. Tubby jerked his hand from mine. He backed away, mouth open, shaking his head.

  “No,” he muttered and turned to Cecil. “That ain’t real.”

  Cecil shrugged like someone who’d seen it all twice.

  Tubby’s phone rang. He answered and left the room speaking in a low voice.

  Dillon approached me and held out her hand. We went through the routine again. She leaned forward and squinted at the passenger. “Damn, that thing’s ugly.”

  I held out my hand to Mysti. She shook her head. “I see it for the same reason you do. I’ve already got the dark outposts in me.” She looked at me as though I should have known. I hadn’t. She dismissed me. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”

  Mysti went into the kitchenette, dug in her purse until she found one of her homemade tea bags, and set about making herself a cup of tea. Tubby came back into the room and pulled a stool next to my chair.

  He leaned his head near mine and spoke into my ear. “That was my contact in the sheriff’s office. Six Guns are claiming a gas stove blew up. They told the fire department and the sheriff’s people to get the fuck off their property.”

  I didn’t care what lie the Six Guns used to get the authorities off their property. Only one person mattered. “Wade?”

  Tubby shook his head. “My contact never saw him. Said King had a short conversation with Sheriff Dean, and they all just turned around and left.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet, and my skin went hot and then cold. Of course Dean just left. He didn’t care what happened to Wade. One dead member of the Six Gun Revolutionaries was one less problem for him. He'd hired his biker exterminator, and it was me. He’d be happy as long as he didn't get shit on his shoes. I was running from a human tornado, outlaw style, and I was just as disposable as the people I’d come to do away with. The magnitude of it crushed against me. I could almost feel its pressure on my skin. I caught Cecil watching me. He tipped his chin in a nod, one I understood. You can do this. I pulled myself together.

  “Where’s Corman?” Having not heard him since I came into the building, I worried he might have bled out or died of shock.

  Tubby jerked a thumb at the stairwell leading back into what had been the store. “Downstairs. Tied up and stoned. Bullfrog gave him some hillbilly heroin.” He giggled.

  I didn’t quite know what to do about Corman. If Wade had been here, we’d have healed him and kept him out of the way so he’d be a good trade. I didn’t have Wade’s powers. Maybe I needed to call Doctor Longstreet or see if Tubby knew someone with medical training. Then it hit me that the Six Guns were probably just letting Wade bleed and hurt. Thinking about Wade made me want to cry again. I turned my focus to Mysti. She’d have answers. Mysti sat down at the table, stirring her tea. It smelled like burnt pubic hair. Only Mysti would drink something that smelled so awful.

  I tried to wait until she took the first sip but didn’t quite make it. “What did you mean ab
out being able to see the hag because you have the dark outposts in you?” I leaned away from the awful smelling brew, and my back bumped into Tubby. He put his hand on my hip. I didn’t bother to make him move it.

  Mysti glanced at Tubby’s hand, frowning. “When you were looking for the Mace Treasure, I told you that sometimes things from the dark outposts make their way over here.”

  Tubby spoke up. “Yeah. I remember you saying that. I figured it was vampires or werewolves. Not gargoyles.”

  Mysti stared into her tea. “I don’t like those terms to describe the things I see. They’re the product of scared people trying to explain what they don’t understand and are not wholly accurate.” She bit her lip frowning. “But we do need to find terms you’ll understand to talk about this.” She gestured at Hannah.

  A low growl came from Hannah’s chest. It turned into a wail like a lost cat might make and went on and on. Dillon pushed her chair back from the table and said, “I’ve had enough.” She walked over to Hannah, rolling her neck on her shoulders.

  “Don’t get close,” I called after her. “You get bit, you’ll still have your kids to take care of while it heals.”

  Dillon ignored me but stopped several feet from Hannah. Her growls increased, chest pumping air with each one. Dillon fixed her eyes on Hannah’s face and said, “Be quiet.”

  Dillon's trick worked on a lot of people. I’d seen her take jewelry, get out of paying bills, and even get her kids free medical care. Hannah took a deep breath, and her eyes seemed to clear. Then she let out a sound I’d never heard come out of a human. It sounded like a train’s whistle. The walls shook, the windows shook. Hannah snapped the zip ties holding her arms together, leaving bloody strips on her wrists. Dillon backed away, the confidence that made her seem older than her twenty-two years gone.