Wrong Turn

by Catie Rhodes

  Contents

  Series List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Last Exit Excerpt

  Let’s Stay In Touch

  About the Author

  Wrong Turn

  Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers #10

  Copyright © 2018 Catie Rhodes.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: Long Roads and Dark Ends Press

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover artwork by Book Cover Corner

  Content Editing by Word Webber Press

  Copy Editing by Julie Glover

  Proofreading by Deborah Digrispino

  ISBN Ebook: 978-1-947462-19-9

  ISBN Print: 978-1-947462-18-2

  First Printing, 2018

  Rhodes, Catie.

  Wrong Turn/ Catie Rhodes. — 1st ed.

  Visit the author website: www.catierhodes.com

  Series List

  Forever Road (Book #1)

  Black Opal (Book #2)

  Rocks & Gravel (Book #3)

  Rest Stop (Book #4)

  Forbidden Highway (Book #5)

  Rear View: Prequel (Book #6)

  Crossroads (Book #7)

  Dead End (Book #8)

  Dark Traveler (Book #9)

  Wrong Turn (Book #10)

  Last Exit (Book #11)

  Wrong Turn

  Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers #10

  Catie Rhodes

  1

  The house, a white brick ranch with pretty turquoise shutters, didn’t look like a witch’s house. But the hemlock and henbane growing in the flower beds hinted we’d found the right place. I parked my truck a little way down the block and left the engine running. Too hot to do otherwise.

  Tanner, sweat beading his forehead, fiddled with the truck’s air conditioner until he had it running full blast. He gave me a smile.

  I smiled back, but fatigue wavered behind my eyes. I took a sip of Vietnamese-style coffee. It was sweeter than I liked, but I hoped the combination of sugar and caffeine would keep me rolling just a little longer. The two days spent driving from Archer City, Texas, to Natchitoches, Louisiana, had me whipped.

  It wasn’t just the drive that had kicked my ass. My hot boyfriend had kept me awake most of the night. I reached across the truck and tucked his hair behind his ear. He grabbed my hand and planted a sweaty kiss on it. I took another sip of the sweet coffee mixture. Come to think of it, it was a nice change from my usual strong, bitter coffee.

  Summervale Carnival had a yearly engagement here. They had invited Sanctuary to join in as long as we kept it on the down low. Nobody else wanted to come to humid north Louisiana at the end of August, but Cecil voted us all down. Sitting in front of this witch’s house, I suspected his ulterior motive for this visit to sportsman’s paradise.

  Across the truck, Tanner held his condensation-beaded plastic cup of Vietnamese coffee to his forehead. "Why are we here?"

  "Cecil didn’t say any more than I told you—this Queenie woman might have a solution for getting rid of the scar tissue spell." The scar tissue spell had been placed on me in infancy. It kept me from accessing the full measure of my witching abilities. Eventually, it was going to get me killed.

  "What are we waiting for?" Tanner adjusted the air-conditioned vent until it blew directly in his face. The livid red streaks decorating his broad cheekbones worried me. The humidity in this part of the Southeastern US didn’t agree with my California-born boyfriend. He’d already puked once.

  "Cecil said he’d be here at one." I lit a cigarette and picked at the lighter’s safety label with my fingernail.

  Tanner put his hand over mine to still my restless fingers. "Look at me."

  I blew out a long breath but did what he said. More than just my lover, Tanner had grown into my closest confidant. We talked naked in the dark of night. We spent the miles driving from place to place talking on phones. Hours-long conversations about everything and nothing. Now Tanner fixed me with his gaze. Jewel green, sexy, and wild.

  "Whatever Queenie the Witch says won’t be all bad. If it is, you and I will find another way."

  I wanted to believe him, but nothing ever came easy for me. There was no reason to believe this would be any different.

  Someone tapped on my window. I turned to see my great-uncle Cecil wiping sweat from his face with a plain white handkerchief. He motioned me to follow him and walked toward the witch’s house.

  "You can stay in the air conditioning." I opened my truck door.

  Tanner grabbed my arm. "How could you think I’d want to stay?"

  As close as we’d gotten, I didn’t feel comfortable having Tanner hear me get bad news. One day he’d get tired of the bad news and head out for greener pastures. I wanted to put that off as long as possible. There was no way to tell Tanner that without making him mad, so I shrugged and said, "Come if you want."

  He reached for the door handle, and the relief I felt shamed me. How had I let myself turn into such a wimp? Cecil raised his eyebrows when he saw Tanner trailing behind.

  "I didn’t tell Queenie there’d be three of us," he said in a low voice when we reached the porch.

  "Do you think she’ll be upset?" I had never even heard of Queenie until Cecil told me I’d be meeting with her.

  "Hell if I know," Cecil stage whispered. "Last time I spoke with her, she and her husband were running house repair scams in the Deep South. That’s been thirty, thirty-five years ago."

  This visit with Queenie the Witch was beginning to worry me. "Why do you think she can even help?"

  "Because Queenie always knew where to find the Wanderer." Cecil spoke out loud now, voice sharp with impatience.

  Cecil hadn’t yet explained who, or what, the Wanderer was or how he might help. When pressed, he’d only say, "The Wanderer just knows. If anybody can help, it’s him." But what if I didn’t want his kind of help?

  Hinges whined as the front door swung open. "Cecil Paul, are you and these young folks just gonna stand out here and argue, or are you going to ring my doorbell?"

  Cecil’s lips cracked into a grin, spreading wrinkles across his face. He turned and held out his arms. "Queenie! Sugar, you look just the same."

  The two embraced, laughing. I studied Queenie. Black hair shot with liberal white threads. Face as wrinkled as Cecil’s. Crepey skin hanging off skinny arms. Either it hadn’t been three decades, Cecil’s eyesight was failing, or Queenie didn’t look the same at all.

  I pushed away the less-than-nice thoughts. Queenie had agreed to help, even though she didn’t know me from a frog on the porch. Tanner took my hand, twining his fingers through mine. I glanced at him for reassurance. He winked and squeezed tighter.


  Cecil and Queenie broke their embrace. Cecil, still squeezing her arms, said, “Thank you so much for making time for us.”

  Queenie mock frowned. “For you? Anytime.”

  Cecil gestured at me, pride shining in his eyes. "This is my great-niece, Peri Jean Mace."

  "Leticia’s granddaughter?" Queenie cocked her head and studied me like a cut of beef she might be considering in a butcher shop.

  I nodded.

  "I suppose you’ll do." Queenie's dark eyes sparkled with humor, and she grabbed me in a hug and squeezed with a strength I hadn’t suspected. She let go of me and took in Tanner.

  "Tanner Letts, ma’am." He held out one deeply tanned hand.

  Queenie stared at it for several beats, making no move to take it.

  Cecil said, "Tanner is Peri Jean’s…ah…friend. He’s a trusted member of Sanctuary. He decided to join us at the last minute."

  Queenie nodded and took Tanner’s hand. Instead of shaking it, she turned the palm up and traced one of the lines. She raised her eyes to Tanner’s. "Passion. Loyalty. You’re a catch."

  His sun-browned cheeks flushed, and he cast his eyes down. Queenie let go of Tanner and held open the door for us. We filed inside and stood in the entry hall. An old wall mirror threw my reflection back at me. I winced. The humidity had turned my black hair into ropy clumps that looked like something out of a painting of Medusa.

  Queenie closed the door and led us through a spacious living room where a huge TV showed a peaceful ocean scene. The plain beige carpet and tasteful furniture could have been in anyone’s home. Not what I expected at all.

  Queenie motioned us into the dining room. "This is where I work."

  She went straight to the oblong dining room table and straightened the black tablecloth covering it. A tuxedo cat jumped onto the table and meowed. Queenie gave the cat a pat and went to a shelf of different colored candles.

  I took one step into the room. Queenie’s considerable power rushed out in warning. It swirled around me, testing, probing. My black opal necklace, which magnified my gifts and warned me of magic nearby, shot painful electric jolts into my chest. I stopped right inside the door. Cecil, oblivious, sat at the table. The cat hissed at him.

  Tanner stopped next to me. "What is it?"

  I shook my head, keeping an eye on both Queenie and the cat. She turned, holding a virgin purple candle, and gasped. She spoke in a harsh, unfamiliar language to the cat. It jumped off the table and came to rub against my legs. The black opal’s pings softened to a bearable level. The magical force lost its menace and welcomed me inside.

  "Faustus thinks every person of power is a threat. He likes us to have all the power." Queenie sat the purple candle on the table and two vials of oil next to it. "Since we’re working for you, dear, you’ll need to dress the candle."

  I moved to the table, taking slow steps to keep from tripping over Faustus, who trilled at me. I’d spent enough time with my raven familiar, Orev, to understand Faustus was laughing at me. Little rat-turd muncher. I held my left hand over each of the two vials of oil, testing to see which one had the magic that fit mine, and picked up the one on the right.

  "We’re contacting the Wanderer?" I needed to know so I could set my intent before I rubbed on the oil.

  Queenie nodded. "I’ll contact him on your behalf."

  I picked up the candle and the oil and walked to a table that had several animal skulls on it. Placing my hands on the table, I drew on the energy of the bones, the wood, and the magic of the beeswax Queenie had made the candle from. The lights flickered. Intent set, I cleared my mind of everything else and rubbed the oil from top to bottom to draw things to me instead of push them away.

  "Someone taught her well," Queenie said to Cecil.

  "It wasn’t me." But the pride on his face said he took credit for me anyway.

  "Oh, I know that. You were always too busy chasing women to learn the old ways." Queenie took the candle back to the table and motioned me to follow.

  For the first time, I noticed only three chairs around the table. Suddenly I understood Queenie's reaction to Tanner. She’d set up the table for three participants. Three as a number held great power. Now she’d have to add a fourth person. It might throw off the balance of what she had planned.

  "Queenie, Tanner won’t be upset if he can’t participate in the ritual," I said quickly. "He knows he’s gate-crashing."

  Queenie gave me a wink. "No, sweetie. If I understood Cecil Paul correctly, this is serious stuff we’re discussing. Your lover needs to hear whatever is said."

  My cheeks flamed because Queenie had hit on why I almost didn’t want Tanner here. Letting him in on too much personal business solidified his spot in my life. And I wanted to keep it loose and easy. Every little merge tangled things further, made it harder and more painful for one of us to change our mind and leave. But Queenie was already dragging a chair away from the wall. Tanner hurried to help her, placing it exactly where she told him.

  She took an object covered with black lace out of a cabinet behind her chair and placed it on the table. Next to it, she set the purple candle and motioned for me to light it. Queenie and I sat at the same time.

  She pulled the black lace away to reveal a black crystal ball. "My power is much like what I feel coming off you, Peri Jean. By that, I mean I won’t be conducting a traditional ritual. Instead I’ll use both your power and mine to tell me what you want to know."

  I nodded to let her know I understood and agreed.

  Satisfied, Queenie turned to Cecil. "I’m afraid I’ll need you to explain why you need the Wanderer. He doesn’t like being disturbed for frivolous reasons, and if I facilitate such a thing, the responsibility will fall on me."

  Again I speculated on who this person—or creature—was. And I questioned the wisdom of hunting him down.

  Before I could tell Cecil we needed to get out of this place and leave this nice lady to her TV programs, he launched into the story of how I came to have a spell covering my magical core. Queenie listened with her faded brown eyes fixed on Cecil’s face, nodding every few sentences. When he stopped talking, she sat in silence, her wrinkles arranged into a frown. She started to speak a couple of times but shook her head.

  "So Leticia is the one who chose this for Peri Jean?" Queenie looked me over again, as though seeing me for the first time.

  I nodded. "From what I understand, yes."

  Queenie nodded again. "I’m sure she had her reasons. Why don’t you tell me your reasons for wanting the spell removed."

  "Two different times I’ve dealt with a spirit called the Coachman. In life, he was a man named Oscar Rivera. " I paused to take a calming breath. Just thinking about Oscar made my chest tighten.

  Queenie drew back from me, face set in distaste.

  "You know him?" I asked.

  "Heard of him." The distaste stayed on her face.

  "Both times, he almost killed me because I couldn’t access my full power." I stopped because I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  Cecil spoke up. "This is her destiny, Queenie. The challenges intended for her will come whether or not she’s ready." He leaned forward. "In addition, she may not be able to pass our family’s power on to the next generation without full control of it."

  "And that’s the really important thing." Queenie raised what eyebrows she had left and gave Cecil a not-very-nice smile.

  He leaned back in his chair. "This power has been in our family for millennia. It’s important that it continue. Is it not important to you that your family’s power continue?"

  Queenie appeared to think that over, but she wasn’t really considering. She was gathering her energy. It moved in the air, cooler and sharper than my power. Reality rippled around Queenie. Tendrils of it moved near her sagging ears. She put her hands on the black crystal ball and took a deep breath.

  "Put your hands on the ball, Peri Jean." Her voice had gone guttural.

  I leaned forward and did as she asked.
Soon as my fingers touched the black sphere, Queenie’s power sang in my fingertips, testing me, pressing against what little bit of Priscilla Herrera’s mantle I had access to.

  "Now Cecil Paul." Her voice rang deeper with more power.

  Cecil wiped his hands on his dress pants and put his fingertips on the ball. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The power stabilized to a low hum.

  "Now Tanner Jackson Letts," Queenie commanded.

  Tanner jerked next to me. Queenie knew his middle name. He took a deep breath and put his fingers on the ball, throwing me a nervous glance. Power vibrated around the woman’s little old lady shell, greater and more terrible than anything I had in my arsenal. Just went to show things aren’t always what they seem.

  Queenie’s strong voice cut into my thoughts. "Cecil Paul, join me in thinking of the Wanderer, in remembering all we know of him."

  Both elders leaned their heads forward in concentration. A low hum came from Queenie.

  Threads of bright light shot through the black sphere like rainbow lightning. Different colored threads touched each person's fingers. When it got to my fingertips, a light shock carried through my body. It tried Cecil again, but came back to me. The shock grew more intense.

  "Don’t pull away," Queenie said. "Just let it test you."

  The light shot power into my fingertips over and over again until an ache spread up my arms. My black opal grew warm on my chest, then hot enough to burn. It would leave a red mark. My raven familiar, Orev, cawed outside Queenie’s house. Faustus hissed in response. I opened my eyes to find Queenie staring at me.

  "You are the one," she said and took her fingers off the black sphere. The rest of us followed suit. Queenie picked up the swath of lace and draped it back over the black ball. She stood from her seat and blew out the candle.