Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  I picked the bottle back up and rolled it in my hand until I could inspect the label. Its claimed flavor was ‘Berry’. No indication as to what kind of berry except for maybe the color. I hated to tell them this, but it certainly didn’t taste like blueberries to me. In fact, it came across more like weak lemonade with a tablespoon of salt and a pinch of sugar added.

  “Not really,” I finally said. “But I guess I should anyway. It probably couldn’t hurt.”

  “What about you, Felicity?” she asked as she tugged open the refrigerator.

  “Not yet,” my wife answered, her voice heavily underscored by a Celtic lilt. “Thank you.”

  “This is fucked up,” Ben suddenly blurted.

  He had been standing here in the kitchen, observing us in complete silence for the past several minutes. At the moment, his hand was unconsciously working at the muscles on the back of his neck.

  “This just ain’t even right,” he added after a moment.

  “You’re acting like this is all new to you,” I told him.

  I knew my voice sounded flat, matter of fact, and emotionless, but it was only because of the exhaustion. It seemed like a struggle even to talk.

  “Jeezus, white man!” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen you two do weird shit before, but this was way outta the freakin’ box!”

  “What, the stigmata?” I asked, referring to the wounds that had marred Felicity’s skin but were now all but completely gone. The only evidence of them having existed being tiny, pinkish scars which were themselves fading away almost as quickly as they had appeared.

  “That’s a start,” he replied.

  “You’ve seen that happen to me before,” I told him, languidly holding out my arm. “Remember the Monogram of Christ?”

  I referred to a series of puckered wounds that had appeared on my body, each in the shape of the aforementioned symbol and each in conjunction with the death of one of Eldon Porter’s victims. They had healed themselves into non-existence just as Felicity’s were now doing, but their memory was fresh. Especially after what had been witnessed here tonight.

  “Yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “And that freaked me out then too.”

  While I had my arm extended, Constance stepped past Ben and filled my hand with a fresh bottle of the sports drink.

  “Thanks,” I acknowledged, then turned back to my friend and shrugged. “Sorry about that.” My apology was more out of reflex than any kind of heartfelt remorse.

  “Well, what I’m really talkin’ about is the friggin’ la-la shit flyin’ around here.” He thrust the index finger of his free hand at himself. “I mean I felt it. Me.”

  “And your point?” Felicity asked, her voice a tired mumble. She was resting her head on the table, using her crossed arms as a makeshift pillow, with her face pointed toward the back wall. She didn’t even bother to lift her head when she spoke.

  “Well excuse me, ‘Samantha’,” he retorted, making a sarcastic reference to the old TV sitcom. “Maybe this is old hat for you two, but I damn near got electrocuted by your happy asses.”

  “Do I look…” Felicity began to reply, but the rest of the sentence was an unintelligible murmur.

  “What?” Ben asked.

  Felicity turned her head and pressed the other cheek against her arms so that she was facing him even though her eyes remained shut. Then, still with a tired mumble, she repeated, “Samantha was blonde. Do I look blonde to you?”

  “Dammit, Felicity!” he barked. “This is serious!”

  “I think everybody is aware of that,” Constance interjected. “But just look at them, Ben. They’re both exhausted. You aren’t going to get anywhere by arguing.”

  My friend ignored her observation and pressed on, aiming his query at Felicity. “So after all this shit, do you at least remember somethin’?”

  “Aye, I remember hurting,” she muttered. “I remember that somebody hurt me.”

  “That doesn’t get us anywhere now does it?” he snapped.

  “Give her a break, Ben,” I made a tired appeal.

  “Hey,” he replied in an annoyed tone. “You’re the one that absolutely had to do this right now, so don’t come down on me for askin’ a question.”

  “I’m not coming down on you, Ben,” I replied. “I’m just saying lighten up a bit.”

  “I’m just doin’ my job.”

  “Back off, Storm,” Constance told him. “Give her some time.”

  Ben shifted a hard glare quickly onto Agent Mandalay and then snarled, “Yeah, well maybe I just haven’t got as much patience as you.”

  “Chill out, Storm,” she returned, shooting him a puzzled expression. “This hasn’t been easy on any of us, least of all Felicity and Rowan.”

  Ben started to reply, a wave of anger flooding his features as his lips parted but then caught himself before any words escaped. He closed his mouth and stood staring at her as he worked his jaw, then without saying anything simply stalked through the kitchen and out the back door, giving it a healthy slam in his wake.

  “Damn,” Mandalay muttered as she looked after him and then turned to me. “You say you know what’s eating him?”

  “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “But I can’t talk about it, Constance.”

  “Well he needs to get a handle on it,” she said. “He’s not stable.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Just an FYI,” she continued. “Jurisdiction for this case is technically still in the hands of the local authorities, and once we prove that this is a murder, the lines are going to get blurred even more. The Bureau will stay involved because of the circumstances, but Albright is going to step up, I’ll guarantee it. When she does, I’m not going to be able to cover for him anymore.”

  “Do you think she’ll kick him off the Major Case Squad again?”

  “Maybe not. It really depends on the need for manpower, would be my guess. With the victim being the Mayor’s daughter, you can bet everyone is going to be pulling duty. A lot of it is going to depend on him.”

  “Maybe he can redeem himself in her eyes then. He’s a good cop, Constance.”

  “I know he is, Rowan. That’s the problem. That’s what I mean when I say it depends on him. If he keeps acting like he did just now and doesn’t get some help, getting kicked off the MCS will be the least of his worries because he’ll probably lose his badge altogether.”

  That was something I already suspected but really didn’t want to hear.

  “Helen is still out there, isn’t she?” I asked after a moment.

  “Yeah,” she replied, craning her neck to peer out through the atrium. “I think she’s been through about half a pack by now.”

  “Let him talk with her. I think she knows what’s going on with him. She’ll get him back on track.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure, yeah.”

  “I hope you’re right, Rowan.”

  “Me too.”

  * * * * *

  “Listen, Row…” Ben began and then paused.

  The forlorn chirp of a single cricket sounded in the wake of his abandoned sentence and then fell silent as well. We were standing at the railing of the deck, looking out into the darkened backyard. The dogs were snuffling about on the lawn, disappearing into the shadows and then reappearing as they wandered into the dim furthest reaches of the outdoor lights.

  We had spent many a night out here throughout the course of our friendship. Some of them good and some of them we’d both rather forget. Some simply passing time with a cigar and a drink. Others, pondering horrors I had channeled and trying to get a handle on a case.

  Once again, here we were, and I think we both knew that this particular night would be one of those we’d rather forget but simply wouldn’t be able to help but remember in painfully graphic detail.

  It was pushing three in the morning. I had put Felicity to bed, and after Helen checked in on her, both she and Constance left. There didn’t seem to be much else we could do for the time being, a
nd everyone desperately needed some rest.

  The carbs in the sports drink had kicked in, giving me not exactly a second wind, but enough energy to at least get up and move. I had pulled down a pair of tumblers and filled them each with ice and a healthy measure of Royal Salute before heading out the back door to check on my brooding friend.

  He had simply shot a quick glance at me when I sat the drink on the railing next to him but remained silent. It had taken all of five minutes before he finally spoke.

  “It’s okay,” I told him.

  “No it isn’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “I acted like a fuckin’ asshole in there.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You did.”

  “You don’t have to agree with me so fast, Kemosabe,” he offered with a slight grin.

  “It’s okay,” I replied. “You definitely acted like an ass. But, I think I’ve probably done the same to you.”

  “Yeah, you have.” His grin spread a little wider. “So, how’s Firehair?”

  “She’s okay,” I replied, and then took a sip of my drink. “She crashed awhile ago.”

  “I guess I’ll apologize to her later.”

  “It’s all good. She’s got pretty thick skin.”

  “Yeah, she’s a tough one,” he agreed. “That’s a fact.”

  My friend looked down at the drink I had poured for him then picked it up and twisted the tumbler back and forth in front of his face. After a moment, he set it back down, this time a full arms length away.

  “Thanks, but that’s prob’ly the last thing I need right now.”

  “No problem. I understand,” I returned, paused, then asked, “So what now?”

  He huffed out a heavy breath. “We keep our mouths shut and hope for a break.”

  “Not much of a plan,” I observed.

  “Tell me about it,” he replied. “But there’s no way we can confirm she’s dead, so runnin’ off at the mouth’ll just cause problems.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  We grew quiet again, listening to the ambient sounds of the night. Tires squealed in the distance, and the sound of a roaring engine droned along behind it, eventually fading to nothingness.

  “So, where are you staying?” I finally asked.

  “Whaddaya mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

  “We didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, Ben,” I explained. “I know about you and Allison.”

  He rubbed his hand across the lower half of his face and sighed heavily through his nose. “How’d ya find out?” he asked. “I run off at the mouth while I was trashed?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “When you passed out, I called your house. I didn’t want Allison to worry when you didn’t come home.”

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “Guess I shoulda told ya’. Felicity know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Mandalay?”

  “I didn’t figure it was my place to tell her.”

  “Thanks.”

  I shrugged. “No problem. You’d do the same for me.” I paused for a moment, searching for the right words, then said, “You’re going to want to talk to her, though. She’s returning a favor…” I let my voice trail off.

  “Yeah, I know.” He gave a short nod. “And I owe her an apology too.”

  “Probably,” I agreed. “So you never answered my question. Where are you staying?”

  “‘Nother copper in homicide has some rental property down on Tennessee,” he told me. “It was vacant, so he’s lettin’ me have it on a week-to-week.”

  “You know, you could have come here. We have a guest room.”

  “Naahh.” He shook his head as he uttered the negative. “I think I need some space right now.”

  “As long as you don’t withdraw too much.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “So how is Ben junior handling it?”

  “About as well as can be expected I guess.”

  “What about you? You doing okay?”

  He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Apparently not as okay as I thought I was.”

  “I’m sure it’s a big adjustment,” I offered.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “So, I know you’ve got Helen, but if you need another ear…” I let my voice trail off.

  “Yeah, I know. I appreciate it, white man.”

  “No problem. So… At the risk of prying, is this something you two are going to be able to work out?”

  He was just about to answer me when Felicity’s terrified scream shattered the newfound calmness of the night.

  CHAPTER 21:

  Just as I had witnessed less than two days before, the audible signal of distress served as a trigger, sending my friend’s hand immediately to his sidearm. His now alert gaze swung instantly in the direction of the scream. I’m not sure which one of us began moving first, but I just barely made it to the back door in front of him. In either case, the dogs had overtaken us, and we were both stumbling over them as they yapped wildly at the door. I pushed through to the interior of the house, immediately on the heels of the boisterous canines, and my friend was at my back, physically urging me ahead at a quickening pace.

  The dogs had left us in their wake, and I could now hear them whining; the high-pitched noise was interspersed with low growls, and that punctuated the now random barks. Advancing through the kitchen, I caught fleeting glimpses of our cats, fur puffed out in panic, as they darted in opposing directions, two of them literally bouncing from one another before continuing to individual hiding places.

  I hooked through the kitchen doorway, into the dining room, and then continued through, my arc leading me down the hallway to our bedroom. I hit the door at as close to a dead run as I could manage in the short distance. The dogs were already scratching at the barrier, yelping and growling as they sought to protect their mistress from the unseen intruder.

  Felicity was already splitting the darkness with a third scream. Of all the noises and exclamations I had ever heard coming from her, this had never been among them. This was something entirely new and beyond horrifying. At this moment, it frightened me more than anything in recent memory. It was a sound that made me painfully aware that blood could in fact run cold.

  I could feel Ben at my back as I burst through the door and stepped into the darkened room. My gaze fell immediately to the bed but found only rumpled sheets partially illuminated by the swath of light that was projecting inward from the hallway. I reached to my side and slapped the light switch on the wall just above the headboard. Brightness leapt onto the tableau, and I brought my eyes up as my ears centered in on the terror-stricken shriek, which was only now beginning to trail off.

  Felicity was cowering in the opposite corner, back pressed into the wall next to the bathroom door, hands holding either side of her head as she rocked in a frantic rhythm. Crimson trails were trickling down her arm from her bloody left hand, and an obvious smear blemished her cheek. I launched myself forward, swiveling around the end of the bed and dropping to my knees in front of my wife.

  “Felicity?!” I called as I reached out and placed my hands on her trembling shoulders.

  My touch proved only to elicit a new round of screams as she began flailing her arms and slapping at me blindly. Her eyes were fixed directly ahead, unblinking and dilated. Upon catching a glimpse of the glassy stare, I was convinced that she wasn’t even walking in this world.

  “FELICITY!” I called again, grabbing at her wrists as I attempted to defend myself against her unconscious attack. “FELICITY! It’s me! Rowan!”

  Her head snapped back, and she centered her unfocused stare on my face. Her arms stopped flailing, but she continued to tremble and rock. She sat wordlessly— looking through me more than at me.

  I reached out and slowly started to brush back her hair. She flinched and I hesitated.

  “It’s okay, Felicity,” I cooed softly. “It’s me. It’s Rowan.”

  Slowly, I pushed my hand along the side of her cheek, lift
ing her auburn locks, and inspecting her milky skin. I could see no wound on her face, only the smear of crimson.

  I continued whispering to her as I took her left hand in mine and turned the palm to face me. Deep gashes were cut into the tips of her index and middle fingers, and they were still oozing thick blood.

  “What happened here?” I asked her softly but got no answer.

  The dogs were trying to nose their way in for their own first hand inspection, and I could still feel Ben standing behind me.

  I began to notice that the room seemed colder than usual, especially since at this hour of the morning the electronic thermostat would still have the air conditioner switched off in energy-saving mode.

  I watched Felicity’s expression slowly change, recognition dawning in her eyes as she awakened from the dream state. She swallowed hard, and tears began to silently stream across her cheeks. I slipped my arms around my wife and pulled her close as she began to sob, rocking in harmony as I rubbed her back.

  I heard Ben shuffle and then step past me into the bathroom. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing until I heard him slowly mutter, “Jeezus H. Christ.”

  I continued slowly rocking Felicity but turned my head in his direction and looked up. He was staring at us, and we locked gazes for a moment before he turned away. When I followed his line of sight, I saw the object of his exclamation.

  On the large mirror hanging above the double vanity smeared blood reflected in upon itself. Opaque red lines arced in deliberate, if smudged, patterns literally forming what appeared to be a map.

  Below it, in unfamiliar, back-slanted writing were the words, FIND ME.

  * * * * *

  “You never should have done that binding…” I said, a note of sadness filling my voice.

  I had just finished rinsing my wife’s wounded hand with peroxide for a second time and had now patted it dry. She was still wearing the oversized t-shirt she had been sleeping in, and it was covered with smears and spatters of blood down the left side. I had helped her pull on a pair of jeans and slip her feet into tennis shoes with the intention of taking her to the emergency room, but she would have none of that. She hated hospitals almost as much as Ben and adamantly refused to go even though I was sure she needed stitches. So, it was left up to me to play doctor.