Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  Ben suddenly exclaimed, “Goddammit, Felicity! NO!”

  But he was too late. The next thing I heard was the grating sound of the van’s side door as it began to quickly slide. I twisted to grab for my wife, but she was too far out of my reach. The door continued moving by sheer momentum, as she shot through the second she could fit. It locked back in the open position with an angry thump that I could barely hear over Felicity’s impromptu war cry.

  “TÚ SAIGH!” My wife spewed forth a hateful sounding line of Gaelic. “Umarlaid! Nach bu tù an t-urra isg!”

  Constance immediately kicked her door wide and bolted from the van in pursuit of the red-haired banshee. I was just pushing myself back up from the console as Ben levered the van into park, yelling back to me, “Stay here!”

  He jumped out of his own door, and I heard the commotion grow outside.

  “STOP! Federal Officer!” Constance was screaming.

  “POLICE!” Ben bellowed behind her.

  Their official demands were underscored by Felicity as she continued to wail, “Tù saigh! Teasd!”

  This time I recognized all three of the Gaelic words, ‘you’, ‘bitch’, and ‘die’.

  I scrambled toward the open side door and rolled out onto the pavement, pushing myself up and forward the moment my feet hit the asphalt. I knew I should follow Ben’s instruction and stay with the vehicle, but I couldn’t keep my legs from driving me along behind them.

  The odd angle of the van at the mouth of the driveway allowed at least some of the light from the headlamps to project up the gravel expanse. In the furthest reaches of the diminishing luminance, I saw a tangle of fiery auburn curls flash as my wife literally tackled the woman.

  The suspect had had enough time to turn and see the screaming redhead running at her, especially since stealth had been a non-issue for Felicity. Still, even though she took a hard swing at her, my wife was short enough to duck it as she came in low and drove the woman to the ground, tumbling to the gravel with her.

  Felicity was still shrieking, her voice a hoarse blend of unintelligible epithets and unearthly tortured sounds. She had landed on top, but the larger woman was fighting back immediately. She already had a handful of my wife’s hair and was yanking her head back hard as she struggled to get away. Felicity responded by releasing her grip around the suspect’s waist and flailing her arms out, impacting the heel of her fist hard against the woman’s chin.

  Ben and Constance were rapidly approaching them, with me bringing up the rear. I wanted desperately to jump into the fray and rescue Felicity, but logically, I knew that was the last thing I should do. I simply remained out of the way behind my two gun-wielding friends and fought to keep myself from responding to the gut reflex that was demanding I take action.

  The woman was stunned by Felicity’s blow but still managed to swing her own fist, glancing her knuckles against my wife’s upper cheek. Felicity’s head snapped, and she fell back. She was no longer on top of the woman, but she remained undeterred by the punch. She continued scrambling about and flailing her fists as the woman pulled her by the auburn mane.

  My wife twisted, pulling up to her knees and forcing her shoulder up from beneath. With a quick lunge, she fell forward and drove her elbow hard into the woman’s side as she was rolling toward her and trying to gain footing.

  Before any more blows could be thrown, Ben and Constance were upon them, weapons drawn.

  “POLICE! STAY DOWN!” my friend bellowed.

  The woman rolled back and held her free hand out in plain view. Felicity continued to punch, and the suspect threw her arm back up to protect herself from the unbridled attack. Mandalay took up a cover stance, and Ben quickly holstered his weapon then skirted around to pull Felicity off the woman.

  I watched as he wrapped a large hand around the suspect’s wrist and bent it back, breaking her grip on my wife’s hair. My friend immediately took Felicity by the arms and started pulling her up. The woman tried to take a last swing at her, and Constance moved in closer, screaming, “STOP!”

  My wife wasn’t listening either.

  She was still screaming at the top of her lungs, spewing Gaelic curses, mixed with colloquial Irish, and even a spate of English profanities. Ben was yelling at her to calm down as she struggled, still trying to swing. He managed to get her up to her feet, but before he could back away, Felicity bucked, using him for leverage as she kicked her leg out and brought the back of her sneaker hard into the prone woman’s chest.

  She was already swinging her other leg around, taking a second kick and aiming for the suspects face when my friend wrapped her in a bear hug and jerked her away. My wife continued twisting in his arms, kicking her legs against him and screaming as he carried her to the side.

  Seeing that Ben had Felicity somewhat under control, Constance immediately stepped in between them, Sig Sauer stiffly aimed at the suspect on the ground.

  “On your stomach! Nose to the ground!” Mandalay yelled to be heard over the continuing commotion. “NOW! Let’s go!”

  The woman was still trying to catch her breath after the kick Felicity had landed into her chest. Still, she did as she was told, rolling slowly over.

  “Extend your arms to your sides, palms upward,” Constance directed.

  I took a moment to look off to the side. Felicity was face down on the grass herself. She was still screaming, but her curses were now directed at Ben as he held her down and applied handcuffs to her dainty wrists.

  The scene was surreal. The darkness surrounded us, with only the distant light of the van’s headlamps casting any illumination whatsoever. Wherever their dimness fell, oblique shadows were moving in angry, stilted motions. There was something very disconcerting about the whole thing, and I knew there was more to it than just what I could see in the physical plane. As I stared at the tableau, I began to get a very bad feeling.

  I shook off the sensation and started toward my wife. I could hear Constance behind me, barking orders to the suspect. “Spread your legs, toes pointed out.”

  Ben had finished restraining Felicity, and he turned away from her, stepping past me without even acknowledging my presence. He now had his weapon back in hand and stiffly aimed forward at the suspect.

  I glanced over at them and saw him give Constance a quick nod. She re-holstered her weapon and then quickly reached beneath her jacket and produced a pair of handcuffs. She moved in swiftly, lowering herself down and placing her knee in the suspect’s upper back.

  “Left hand in the small of your back, palm down,” she ordered. “Now.”

  The suspect complied, and in a deft motion, Mandalay slapped the metal restraint around the woman’s wrist.

  I turned and kept stumbling toward my wife who had ceased her screaming but was still cursing at Ben in at least one language. Without warning, she suddenly stopped and turned her face toward me. I was still a few steps away, but I halted dead in my tracks as our gazes locked. There was no mistaking the intensity of the fear I saw in her face, and a second later I heard the rushing buzz of electricity in my ears. She didn’t have to say a word for me to know that she was hearing it too.

  The hair on the back of my neck began to rise and was followed by the follicles along my arms rotating upward as well.

  I started toward Felicity but then hesitated. Something unseen drew my eyes away, and I looked up at the lights of the house farther up the gravel driveway. Behind the ethereal crackle there was another sound. Muffled, but distinctly there. It had most likely been there the entire time but had remained unnoticed in all the commotion. I concentrated, listening as hard as I could and realized that it was a small gasoline engine droning along.

  I stared into the distance, trying to pin significance on the newly identified sound. Somewhere in the back of my head, I was being told that it was supposed to mean something. But, that meaning was eluding me.

  I turned back to my wife, and her eyes were wide with the rampant fear. As I started to take another step, her face s
uddenly contorted into a pained grimace, and her body stiffened.

  All at once, Ben and Constance started yelling. I heard them, but I really wasn’t paying attention, so it took a moment for me to realize that their shouts were directed at me.

  I didn’t really understand what they were saying, and I didn’t have time to find out because I was running as fast as I could directly toward the farmhouse.

  CHAPTER 41:

  Four months had passed since I had even seen Brittany Larson’s autopsy report, but here I was running through the darkness, speeding toward The Ancients only knew what, and that document was the reason. It had suddenly become as clear in my mind as if I had only just read it. And, of all the horrors it outlined, the one that came immediately to the forefront was the cause of death: suffocation.

  What was standing out even more than the one word conclusion was the why: the technical jargon of the postmortem that explained what had brought about the fatal asphyxia. And, what it all boiled down to was that she had been electrocuted to the point that she could no longer breath.

  Everything meshed in that instant. In relation to the electrocution, the bizarre ethereal seizures and the metallic taste in my mouth had been a given for some time. But now, the sound of the small engine made perfect sense. I knew that it could be only one thing. A generator.

  I ran toward the house, my skin crawling with each footfall. I didn’t even want to imagine what I might see upon entering, but I knew I had no choice.

  I couldn’t keep my mind from flashing on the fact that eight months ago I had done almost exactly the same thing. I had recklessly run into an abandoned building in an attempt to save a member of my coven from death at the hands of Eldon Porter. But, in the end, Millicent had died anyway.

  This time around, I simply could not accept that outcome.

  Kimberly Forest’s life was not the only one hanging in the balance. The simple fact of the matter was that there were three lives at risk. If Kimberly died, Felicity would follow her beyond the veil in total, with no way to return. The strength of the connection between them made it an inevitability we had both foreseen.

  And the third life, well, that would be mine. Being unable to save Millicent had turned me into an emotional wreck. I knew without a doubt that losing my wife would kill me.

  I veered off the gravel drive and aimed for the front of the house, driving myself forward with all that I had. Even with the electric buzz crackling in my ears, I could hear the sound of another set of feet pounding behind me. Intermixed with it all was Ben’s angry voice demanding that I stop. I suspected he would overtake me very soon, and my only saving grace thus far had been the miniscule head start.

  The house’s porch occupied a space that was carved from the front corner of the building. I reached the foot of the stairs just ahead of my friend, whipping quickly around a wrought iron support trellis in an attempt to dodge him. The maneuver bought me a few scant seconds.

  I took the concrete steps two at a time, vaulted myself onto the landing and burst through the front door with absolutely no regard for safety or stealth. I simply didn’t have the luxury.

  As I shouldered through the door, I found myself standing at the entrance of what appeared to be a living room. The space spread out before me, roughly a 16-by-20 rectangle. At the far end of the room was a doorway on the left wall. However, that was pretty much all that I managed to see before a large hand clamped onto my shoulder and yanked me back outside.

  I stumbled backward, off balance and unable to compete with the force Ben was applying. He thrust me back forward at an angle, driving me away from the doorway and into the wall face first. I knew he was angry, and the severe lack of gentleness he used in planting me here was testimony to that fact. However, I didn’t care. We would have to sort it out later.

  “Dammit, Ben!” I screamed.

  “Shut up!” he barked.

  I twisted to look over my shoulder, trying to wriggle away. I could see that he had placed himself between the opening and me. He was holding me against the wall with one arm, and the other was extended stiffly toward the doorway with his weapon aimed. His eyes were searching, and the way he was postured made me realize that he was just as intent on shielding me as he was in keeping me from re-entering the house.

  He spoke quickly, still not looking away from the open door. “Jeezus, Rowan, Felicity’s all seized up back there! What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Stopping this bastard!” I spat, still struggling to break away. “Let me go!”

  “Leave this to us, Rowan! Backup’s comin’.”

  “There’s no time!”

  “Didn’t you hear me?!” he demanded. “Felicity’s all Twilight Zone or somethin’!”

  “Dammit, Ben, he’s killing them!” I shot back. “They can’t take anymore!”

  “Jeezus H… You mean…?” His response came as what I was trying to tell him finally broke through. Still, his voice held an edge of indecision, as if he were weighing all options in relation to what I’d just said.

  “HE’S KILLING THEM, BEN!” I repeated, screaming at him.

  “Dammit, stay here!” he shot back.

  My friend pushed away from me and immediately disappeared through the open door. I knew he was violating one of the most basic of police procedures by entering the dwelling without backup, but he realized there was no choice. Even so, now four lives were in jeopardy.

  I twisted away from the wall and started toward the opening myself, but for some reason, I hesitated at the door. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or not, but I stood there watching as my friend systematically worked his way inward, firearm positioned and ready.

  There was no way I could simply stand by and watch. We had wasted enough time already, and I feared that it had been too much. I started to step across the threshold once again and felt myself inexplicably stop, unable to press forward.

  My brain was in overdrive, rifling through every option it could assign to the scenario.

  I considered running back to Felicity and trying to hijack the connection from her, just as she had done with me. It would most likely mean trading my life for hers if Ben was unable to stop this monster from killing Kimberly, but that was something I was more than prepared to do. I even went so far as to start in that direction, but by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, my grey matter was telling me it wouldn’t work. I hadn’t been able to seize the connection from her even when I had myself halfway together. There was no way I was going to be able to do it when I was this close to panic.

  As usual, my gut was repeatedly offering the same suggestion— go back up the stairs and run into the house. However, the small shred of logic I still possessed kept rejecting the idea. It knew that doing so was likely to get me shot. Still, even that was a risk I was willing to take.

  Somehow I knew it wasn’t the logic that was stopping me. It was something else. And, that ‘something else’ was becoming very insistent that I listen.

  The sound of the engine was still droning in my ears, creating a backdrop for the incessant electric crackle. The meanings behind the two sounds had already started making me physically ill, and I could feel my sanity slipping as the panic continued threatening to take over.

  I reached up and covered my ears with my hands, trying to listen to the ‘something’ that wanted to tell me what to do. I pressed my palms hard against the sides of my head in an attempt to drown out the torturous sound of the engine. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to concentrate as I struggled to ignore the noise that simply would not go away.

  My skin was beginning to burn with the prickly sensation of unrelenting gooseflesh. I could feel static surrounding me, and random muscles in my body were beginning to spasm. For one brief moment, I even found it impossible to take a breath.

  What seemed an eternity was truly no more than a few brief seconds, but in that time, my frustration level grew beyond containment. I was fighting to concentrate, to ground,
and simply to keep my sanity. Unfortunately, I feared that I was losing them all.

  I wanted to scream, to literally shout out a demand for the drone to be quiet so that I could think. I was on the verge of making the desire a reality when the ‘something’ reared back an ethereal fist and planted it between my eyes.

  Realization didn’t creep in— it sucker punched me.

  I dropped my hands and listened, tracking the sound of the engine as it hummed into the night. I twisted quickly, focusing right and then left. The echoing sound seemed to be coming from the other side of the house, but I couldn’t pinpoint an exact direction.

  A quick glance told me that on my right, there was lawn and darkness. I took a step forward and looked to my left. There was more lawn and a large tree. Beyond them, I could see illumination from what appeared to be a dusk-to-dawn light high atop a pole. And, behind that was a large shed, bordered by a walkway. I didn’t even bother weighing the options. I was already moving to the left, so I just kept going.

  I darted around the corner and ran between the side of the house and the tree, skirting quickly around a cinder block well housing. As I came out of the shadows, the light seemed overwhelming, casting a harsh glare across the back of the house.

  I kept moving, rounding the second corner and continuing along the walkway at a fast jog. My head kept swiveling, eyes searching frantically for the generator. The drone of the engine was growing louder, so I knew I was on the right track.

  On my right was a screened-in porch. The walkway ran parallel to it for two-thirds of the length and then made a quick diagonal turn, leading up to a single stair and door. On my left was the shed. It ran the full length of the walkway and beyond, ending a few feet past the corner of the porch.

  I picked up my pace and then suddenly stumbled as an ethereal spasm hit my leg, causing me to jerk uncontrollably. I fell hard on the concrete walk, raking my hands against the rough surface. A stab of pain bit into my knees, but I gritted my teeth and pushed myself back up.