by Catie Rhodes
“You’ve drained me, kept me fighting myself all day,” I said aloud to the creature.
It shrugged its bony shoulders and curled its tail around its gnarled feet. I wanted to get angry with it, hurt it again, but I couldn’t even do that. Priscilla Herrera appeared behind me in the mirror.
It was funny how things changed. A year ago, I’d have gasped and spun around, terrified at having a ghost at my back. Now I nodded a greeting in the mirror at my triple-great-grandmother.
She spoke to my back. “I am energy. You may draw from me at any time. I’ll show you.” She came around to stand in front of me. At this angle, she was transparent and radiated cold like an open chest freezer.
She put one cold finger in the spot between my eyes. “Now pull, just like you pull on the gift of power that I gave you. And don’t let your passenger drink.” Her voice sharpened on the last words, and I knew if I failed to perform, she’d berate me.
I focused on the feel of her ghostly fingers and let my senses move beyond, into Priscilla’s form. The room went away. A ball of energy turned and burned in front of my eyes, sparking every once in a while, limitless as the energy inside me. I watched it for several seconds, awed by its beauty. I let my own ball of energy move toward Priscilla’s. It inched forward, almost too tired to move. The two balls finally touched. A flash pulsed behind my eyes. I saw in that second all of Priscilla’s knowledge. It flashed by too quickly for me to grab. But the energy hovered right there.
“Now pull. Just as you’d access your gift.” Priscilla’s voice pushed its way out of my mouth.
I connected to the spark the next time it lit up and held on for dear life. The energy stores I’d expended over the day with the fights and the worry began to refill. The hag rolled over inside me, straining to get its nasty claws into the energy so he could grow even bigger. I used the mantle to block myself from him. He howled and thrashed around, scratching at my most tender insecurities. I steeled myself as best as I could.
Priscilla’s energy, now part of mine, whispered in the most hidden parts of my brain. “Well done. Now we can talk. When I lived, I called things like the one inside you cauchema.” The word rolled off her tongue like an exotic song. “You know that Cauchema’s goal is to kill you and eat your energy before moving on to the next victim. You must expel it and then force it into its next host before it weakens you further.”
I interrupted. “But what about the agreement I made with Sol and Bub?”
“Cauchema tricked you all. It never plans to agree on a suitable host. In truth, any host is suitable.” She paused as though I might argue. I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to get rid of the thing. “Do not think about the way you’ll do this. Control your mind. Cauchema is waiting to outsmart you or turn you against yourself.”
I laughed, high and hysterical. “I can’t plan anything because I don’t know what to do.”
Priscilla’s impatience swam behind my eyes. “Pay careful attention to those around you. They’ll tell you how without knowing. I’ll influence them.” She disconnected so quickly my ears popped. Whatever we’d done left behind the scent of ozone in the small room.
The wall between my nasty passenger and me tumbled. Much as I wished I could keep it up, it would drain too much energy. I’d have to tough it out. My specialty. The rider and I glared at each other in the mirror. It snarled, showing its tiny, spiked fish teeth. I flipped it the bird.
The smell of cooking meat drifted up through the old floorboards. How long had it been since I’d eaten? My stomach growled to let me know it had been too long.
My phone buzzed with a text message from Tubby. “Got you a burger.”
I went in the bathroom, washed my face, and walked down the stairs, amazed at how refreshed I felt. The pool hall was more full of smoke than usual. A familiar voice belted from the jukebox. Chase Fischer. Tears sprang to my eyes. It was the one album he’d managed to make. Of course Tubby had a copy on his jukebox. He might have been a shithead, but he’d loved Chase in his way.
Love mattered because we all screwed up a lot. We did and said things we wished we could take back. Without love, there’d be no chance for redemption. Tonight I had a chance to make things right and to settle some scores. It might kill me, but there was no more worthy cause than fighting for those I loved.
“Death would be peaceful for you,” the hag crooned. I rewarded it with the magical equivalent of an ear twist and sat at the bar. Tubby put my hamburger in front of me and wiped his greasy hands on his stained apron. “I remembered the way you like it. Hot sauce and tomatoes. A deviled egg on the side.”
Tubby still cared enough to remember. Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them back, realizing what a shitty friend I was. I knew next to nothing about Tubby’s preferences, except for the unsavory ones. If I survived this night, I’d learn more about him. Be kind and considerate when he needed it.
“Thanks for remembering.” I ate the deviled egg in three bites and moaned in pleasure. I bit into the hamburger. Better than I’d expected from Tubby. I became so intent on enjoying the greasy sandwich that when Tubby spoke again, I almost dropped it.
“Ever time I boil eggs, I think about something Bullfrog used to say when we were growing up.” Tubby leaned on the counter, putting our faces close together so I’d hear him over the din of noise.
“Mmm?” I wiped hamburger juice off my face. Memaw would have swatted my behind for pigging down this food like an ill-mannered hooligan.
“Bullfrog claimed you could put a frog in a pot of cold water, and if you increased the heat real slow, the frog wouldn’t realize he was in danger and would boil to death.” Tubby handed me more napkins. Behind Tubby, a shadow moved.
I focused long enough to see Priscilla Herrera standing next to Tubby, her hand on his arm. Chill bumps had formed on Tubby’s arm at the point of contact. Priscilla’s words came back to me. She’d said her idea for getting rid of the hag would come from my friends. Quickly, I pushed the thought away before the hag latched onto it and set my mind to ignore Priscilla. At the moment, the monster was focused on my gluttony, enjoying my filling belly, and pushing me to eat more, to get overfull.
“Don’t tell me y’all tried it.” I took the last bite of hamburger just in case Tubby was getting ready to tell a grody story. Tubby raised his eyebrows and shrugged. So those two jerks had tried it. Poor frog. They might not be beautiful, but they served a purpose in the great wheel of mother nature’s cycle. “How’d it go?”
Tubby laughed. “Well, we caught the biggest bullfrog we could find. Got him in the boiling pot and turned on the stove real low. Water didn't even get very hot before that bad boy come jumping out and latched itself onto Bullfrog’s face.” Tubby squeezed his eyes shut and giggled. He opened them again and fanned his face. “Looked like that space movie with Sigourney Weaver. You know the one I mean?”
I did, so I nodded, giggling in spite of myself and trying hard not to think about what Priscilla wanted me to get from this.
“That ain’t the best part.” Tubby, into his story and laughing so hard he could barely talk, put both hands over his face. “Bullfrog started stumbling around the kitchen, knocking shit down, and hollering, ‘Get it off! Get it off!’”
It might have just been the stress or the fear of not knowing what was next, but Tubby’s antics tickled me. I threw my head back and laughed, pounding the bar with one fist.
Tubby clapped me on the shoulder and walked away. I waited for everybody else to finish eating. When conversations started back up, I stood on the bar and began to speak. Nobody argued with my plan. I told them to be ready at midnight, went back upstairs, and took my long overdue nap. I jerked awake, full of worry and regret, but I forced myself to shake it off.
We pulled out at midnight on the dot. The dark highways leading out to the Six Gun Revolutionaries’ compound seemed to stretch out forever. The ten-mile drive felt like a million miles by the time Tubby pulled his beat-up pickup off the highway and cut the he
adlights. Hannah and I climbed out. Bullfrog climbed out of the bed of the truck and brushed off his pants. He’d refused to squeeze into the cab, citing that Hannah and I made him sick.
“I’ll go ahead and make sure the security camera’s taken care of.” He slipped into the darkness.
Mysti, Brad, and Griff parked behind us and met us halfway between the cars. The darkness was so complete, all I could see were the whites of their eyes.
“You ready?” Stress tightened Mysti’s voice. The contents of the bag she held rattled together. Fresh spirit bottles, seasoned with urine and fingernail clippings. The gross contents made the ghosts think they were still alive and attracted them to the bottles. Brad carried a bag of salt in case things got out of hand.
I nodded, afraid my voice would shake if I spoke. This summoning, one without the protection of a circle, was the riskiest we’d ever attempted. I thought the risk necessary. We needed the ghosts to leave the place they were summoned so they could scare the life out of the greatest number of Six Guns.
Hannah sidled up beside me. “Do your best. That’s all you need to worry about.” She squeezed my arm and went to stand near Tubby, holding out her hand for a cigarette. He handed it to her and lit it for her.
“Where’s this graveyard, Tubman?” Griff gripped his grave dowsing rods in his fists.
“Been a long time since I been to it, but I think it’s just off the back gate over there.” Tubby gestured at the closed gate, where Bullfrog stood with his arms crossed over his beer baby.
We walked to the gate. I took out the Hand of Glory, which now glowed a sickly green, and knocked three times. The gate’s lock clicked open. Tubby led the way in, the beam of his flashlight bright in the complete blackness.
He pointed the flash at the woods and took careful steps, branches cracking beneath his feet. He found the path and motioned us to follow. We picked our way through the brambles and into a cleared area. A few leaning tombstones skirted the edges of the space. According to Tubby, these were King’s ancestors who first settled here in the early eighteen hundreds. The rest of the ground was full of unmarked graves.
“All right. We gonna go find this cabin.” Tubby took Hannah’s arm and pulled her along between him and Bullfrog. I watched her back, expecting her to give me a nervous glance over her shoulder. She didn’t. That Hannah is dead, I reminded myself.
I searched for the mantle and found its shifting power deep within me. The rider dug its talons in deep. I winced at the discomfort and walked toward the marked graves. These were the oldest spirits here. They’d be the hardest to raise.
I lit my candles and dropped to my knees, raised my arms over my head, and called my magic. Power came from the dirt and the water beneath the dirt. It came from the slight breeze drying the sweat on my face. It seeped out of the trees, making their spicy scents stronger. But mostly it came from me. The candle flames jetted and hissed. Everything was ready. I didn’t need a magic spell to call the dead. This was what I was made to do.
I let my power drift down into the dirt and found the used-up remains lying in a rotted wood coffin. This had been King’s great-great grandfather. I saw the line of fate and DNA connecting them and latched onto it. Then I said the words, the only words I needed, “Rise now.”
The dirt moved underneath me, and I got out of the way. Spectral bones edged out of the dirt, inch by inch, until there was a translucent hand. I grasped it, cold throbbing through my arm, and pulled it to the surface.
Brad came near with the bottle and the summoning incense. The ghost went into the bottle without any urging. I moved to the next grave and the next. Then we needed Griff and his dousing rods to find the unmarked graves for us. We collected souls until all but one of the spirit bottles were full. I saved back that spirit bottle for something I’d need to do later.
I turned to Mysti. “This is it, sister. Y’all get as far away from this place as you can.”
Mysti swallowed hard, lips trembling, and shook her head. “No. I can’t leave you. You’re my student and my friend.”
Griff and Brad appeared on either side of Mysti. I’d already told them to drag her away if necessary, and they’d agreed.
“Thank you all.” I choked on the last word. This could be the last time we were together. I wanted to say something meaningful but couldn’t quite figure out good enough words for these people who’d given me a chance and loved me when they didn’t have to.
Brad came forward first and wrapped me in a hug. “You be careful,” he murmured. “Come back to us.” Mysti and Griff came nearer and wrapped their arms around Brad and me.
“We don’t have to leave.” Griff’s voice shook.
“Please do. This is no longer your fight.” A selfish, scared part of me wanted them to insist on staying, but they didn’t. I cupped Mysti’s face in my hands and pulled her close. “Do what I say, this one time.” Her hot tears ran over my hands. She nodded. I let go of her. My friends, some of the truest I ever had, said their final goodbyes and faded into the shadows. Mysti’s sobs floated back to me. I stood alone in the cemetery until I heard the car start and drive away. Then I called the number Tubby had given me for the leader of his meth militia.
“This’s Don.” The nasally twang almost puckered my eardrum.
“Where are you?” My voice trembled with fear, but I didn’t have time to be afraid. Tonight was for keeps.
“Waiting on you by the truck, just like Tubby said.”
“Come inside the gate. It’s time.”
18
The meth army and I took the final curve, walking as softly as possible. King’s house, still smoking from the fire, came into view. I’d been smelling it for the last several minutes. Now the smell overpowered me. I wanted to cough but pushed a hand over my mouth.
Don, who’d been creeping along next to me, didn’t have the brain cells left to do that. He coughed several times, then gagged.
I turned to him, just about to cuss him, when the first voice rang out. “They’re here. Let’s light ’em up boys.”
A gunshot cracked the night. Because I wasn’t stoned out of my gourd, I hit the ground. The meth heads did not. They started shooting, hurrying toward the danger.
“Stay here,” I hissed at them. They did as I said but kept shooting. I took one of the carefully sealed bottles from my otherwise empty backpack and used my pocket knife to break the seal. The awful smell of death and piss floated out. I winced away from it.
“Rise,” I whispered. The wind picked up, and a glowing wisp rose from the bottle. “Take form,” I breathed. A human form took shape. This must have been someone the Six Guns decided to take out. One side of his head was caved in. I poured a little more power into him until he looked solid. Then I said, “Go.”
More spirits rose from the bottle. It took major juice to do it, but I made them look almost, but not quite, solid. The effect would have won awards in a horror movie. I sent the spirits to find the men shooting at us. The first scream came before I’d even gotten to the second bottle.
Ignoring the screams, fighting fatigue, I continued my task until more dead than living walked the grounds of the Six Gun Revolutionaries’ compound. Gunfire and screams came from the darkness. One man ran past us, his hair standing on end. A motorcycle started up and took off, only to crash in a rattle of metal a few seconds later. It burned bright. The guy who’d been riding it screaming high and pure for at least a minute.
“Jesus,” Don said next to me. The firelight allowed me to see him clearly for the first time. High cheekbones stuck out of his emaciated face. His white goatee and scraggly grayish hair put his age over forty. “Do me and my men go in now? Kill the rest of ’em?”
My body stiffened, and I swallowed hard. I’d never get used to this. Ever. I forced myself to nod but couldn’t form the word kill. “Do whatever Tubby said. Okay?”
“What about those, uh, ghosts?” Don listened to the screams with wide eyes.
“Don’t let them scare you
or make you hurt yourself. At dawn, they’ll go back where they came from.”
Don got up and motioned to his little army. They disappeared into the dark. More gunshots started up.
I took out my phone and called Tubby.
He answered on the first ring. “You’re at King’s house.” His voice was dead and flat. "Go back to the burned-out mobile home and take the path running in front of it. Follow it ’til it ends.” He hung up.
I stared at the phone. Did this whole situation have Mr. Cool rattled? Sure sounded like it. I got up and started walking, still pondering the way Tub’s voice had sounded.
The ground next to me crunched, and a figure stepped out of the darkness. I held up my flashlight, and Dillon squinted at me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed. “I told you to stay with Cecil and the guys from Sanctuary. They’re your ticket out if things go south for me.” The Sanctuary crew was my escape plan, and we’d outlined it down to where we’d stop for coffee if we needed it. None of those plans included Dillon coming to find me here. I’d wanted to keep my people as safe as possible.
“Put the light down.” She raised one arm to ward off the brightness.
I kept the light where it was. “Who’s going to take care of your kids if you get killed tonight? Go back.” I pointed at the trail behind her.
“I owe you the world, and I am gonna help you.” She shook her finger at me. “We are family, and you will accept my help.” She edged in close enough for me to see the anger on her face. Her words from earlier came back. My refusal of their help was taken more as insult than heroism. I threw my arms around her and thanked her, all the while begging the universe to spare her any harm.
We marched down the trail in front of the old mobile home. It wound deep into the property, away from the electric lights set up near King’s house and the Six Guns’ clubhouse. After a walk so long I was sure we’d somehow gone the wrong way, I saw the glow of the lamplight through the trees and held out my arm.