Harm none argi-1
Page 34
Murderous grey eyes bore down on me through the murky surroundings, smoking with the same fire they had displayed earlier. Ariel’s athame flashed once again as my attacker prepared to plunge it downward. My vision continued to stretch forth in a tunnel-like fashion then slowly began to fade.
Before I could close my eyes, the blade jerked out of its killing arc and followed a harmless trajectory away from me. At the same instant, the dull thrashing of water distantly entered my ears and was joined by a muffled explosion.
A dark rain spattered the surface of the water above my face and mixed lazily into milky spirals-cloudy helixes of vermilion in the dim moonlight. A second blunted thump sounded, followed quickly by a third, then a fourth. Three more showers of the thick crimson rain sprinkled wildly across the water’s surface. The hand around my throat spasmed twice then fell limp. The weight pressing down on my chest shifted heavily and slid sideways.
Cool air rushed forcefully into my lungs, flowing down my throat in a thick gulp as I suddenly broke the surface. I gasped gratefully, sputtering and choking on the lake water I had sucked in, and blinked rapidly to clear the debris from my eyes. I began flailing angrily as I felt a large meaty hand entwine itself with the front of my shirt in a viselike grip then relaxed when I realized I was being pulled out instead of being pushed back in.
Felicity, Deckert, Mandalay, and two of the officers gathered in a loose semicircle around me as I laid gasping on the bank. Ben’s large hand was still tightly gripping my waterlogged shirt, shaking me.
“Rowan?! Rowan?! Are you all right?” his concern-laden voice urgently met my ears.
I looked around the worried faces of the group then back to his. “Little girl?” I croaked.
“She’s fine. The other coppers are with her,” he smiled down at me. “There’s an ambulance on the way.”
Telltale distant warbling was growing louder as emergency vehicles raced to converge on us. I struggled to sit up, only to find they weren’t going to allow it. Ben and Felicity both pressed me back down gently.
“Stay put,” my wife ordered softly. “They’re coming for you too.”
I didn’t protest, I just continued biting off large chunks of the night air and swallowing them hungrily. Again, I focused on Ben’s face.
“Hey, Tonto,” I choked out between breaths, “you shoot the bad guy?”
“Yeah, Kemosabe,” he grinned. “Yeah, I shot the bastard.”
“Next time,” I wheezed, “don’t take so damn long.”
CHAPTER 28
“Ben was telling me you got a call from that muckity-muck up in Seattle,” Deckert posed and then took a hearty sip of beer. “What’d he have to say?”
He, Ben, and I were seated around the patio table on the back deck of my house. A little more than a week had passed since that night at Wild Woods Park, and I had coaxed them over for a day of barbecue and relaxation. We all desperately needed the chance to decompress from the pressure of the maniacally whirlwind investigation, as well as the intensity of its abrupt ending.
“He wanted to give me the reward he’d been offering,” I answered, carefully trimming the end from a Cruz Real #19. “Everyone’s firmly convinced that Roger was responsible for his daughter’s murder, so he wanted to pay up. How he got my name, he wouldn’t say.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I gave him a list of charities. Environmental Defense Fund, Nature Conservancy, World Wildlife Fund and the like.” I set a wooden match alight and touched the fire to the end of my cigar. “I told him if he really wanted to do something for me, that he should split the reward between them in the names of his daughter and the other victims.”
“In other words,” Ben interjected, waving his own cigar in my direction, “ya’ turned it down.”
“I like to think of it as redirected,” I expressed.
Allison, Felicity, and Mona, Detective Deckert’s wife, were leisurely roaming the perimeter of our large backyard. Every now and then they would pause to admire the last fitful colors of summer that still bloomed in our various wildflower gardens.
Benjamin Storm Junior was giggling with the unencumbered innocence of youth as he tumbled and rolled in the center of the yard. Our dogs let out excited, puppyish yelps, tails wagging and ears perked, as he chased them about in a wild game of tag.
The domestic Saturday afternoon scene was kind and familiar. I longed to lose myself to the relaxed feeling of security but knew deep down that it was a place I could only visit. I would never again be allowed to live there.
Ariel Tanner’s death had forced me to deal with a question I had denied without even knowing it. The question of what my purpose within this lifetime was to be. The answer was one that I had only now begun to come to terms with.
It was only a matter of time before something evil would knock upon my door again, and I knew it. I hoped I would be prepared to face whatever it turned out to be.
“I still can’t get over that glamour thing.” Carl leaned back in his chair, cradling his beer bottle. “I mean I was lost! I couldn’t find anybody, and the woods just kept getting darker and thicker no matter which direction I went. Seemed like it went on forever. Next thing I know, everything clears up, and I’m on the other side of the freakin’ park hearin’ all this screamin’. It was weird. Just plain weird.”
From the descriptions provided by Ben, Carl, Agent Mandalay, and the other officers, I had come to the conclusion that they were all most likely affected by a Spell of Misdirection — a glamour of sorts. The closer they had come to the small clearing, the more disoriented and confused they became. The illusion of the thickening woods obscured the clearing and led them farther away with each step. Agent Mandalay had simply stumbled into the ritual circle entirely by accident. The amount of energy and concentration Roger Henderson had to have expended in order to affect and maintain such a massive phantasm was almost certainly the reason he had not detected my presence in the park until it was too late.
“Mandalay is the one who caught the worst of it,” I volunteered. “Whatever she was seeing, it definitely wasn’t pretty.”
“That reminds me,” Ben spoke up. “I meant ta’ ask you… If he could do all that shit, then why was he botherin’ ta’ drug his victims? Why didn’t he just eenee meenee hocus pocus ‘em?”
“It’s just a guess, but there are a couple of reasons I can think of off-hand.” I drained the last of my own beer before outlining the ideas. “One would be the unpredictability. An aware mind isn’t fooled by illusions and wouldn’t fall into a trance. Another would be that even if he were able to hypnotize his victims, so to speak, the sharp physical pain of the flaying would have snapped them out of it. Drugging them was his safest bet to keep them quiet and immobile.”
They both thoughtfully nodded acceptance of my explanation. Moving my chair back, I stood and checked the burning coals in the fire pit. A fine coating of whitish-grey ash had formed across half the surfaces of the briquettes. Randomly, the ash had fallen away to reveal a fiery red-orange glow. A small tremor ran the length of my spine as my mind fleetingly focused on the memory of the cancerous grey-red combination of Roger Henderson’s violent eyes. I must have stood staring into the pit a moment too long as I was snapped back to reality by the sound of my friend’s voice.
“Hey, white man. You okay?”
“Huh?”
“You’re kinda starin’ off into space, guy,” Deckert intoned. “Something bothering you?”
“No. No, just daydreaming.” I shrugged off their mildly concerned queries and then changed the subject. “The fire needs a few more minutes. I’m dry, anyone else need a beer?”
“Yeah,” Ben answered, then drained the last remnants from his bottle.
“Count me in,” Deckert added.
I gathered the empty bottles and disposed of them in the recycle bin before opening the door of the plant-filled atrium and proceeding into the kitchen. Allison, Felicity, and Mona had chased me out of this area ea
rlier and between the three of them, had quickly prepared the food that was to be grilled. Fresh herb scents filled the kitchen and helped me to ease back into the pleasant reality at hand.
I was just opening the refrigerator when the front chime demanded attention. Momentarily placing the beverages on hold, I carefully picked my way through rapidly scattering felines and tugged open the heavy oak door.
“I hope I’m not intruding.” An apologetic statement issued from a somewhat casually dressed Special Agent Constance Mandalay. “I noticed Deckert’s car and Storm’s van in the driveway.”
“Not at all,” I said, holding the door open wide and motioning to her. “Please come in.”
She entered hesitantly and waited in silence while I shut the door. When I turned around, what faced me was a much-subdued version of the hard-nosed femme fatale that had originally confronted me at the Major Case Squad command post. She shuffled nervously and studied the pattern of the hardwood floor between quick glances at me with schoolgirl eyes.
“Listen, Mister Gant,” she finally sputtered, racing to get the words out before they could flee, “I just wanted to apologize for my attitude toward you during the investigation.”
“Rowan, please,” I appealed calmly. “My friends call me Rowan. And there’s no apology necessary, Agent Mandalay.”
“Constance,” she echoed my sentiments. “My friends call me Constance… And I still want to say I’m sorry… I treated you poorly, and I’ve no excuse… Except maybe for ignorance.” She stumbled over the words, and her large eyes glistened as she choked back what might have been a tear. “What… What I saw that night… I… I don’t know if I could ever tell anyone… I don’t know if I could face it again. I… I just feel that if it weren’t for you, I would be dead… If not dead then insane at the very least. I owe you for that, and I just wanted to tell you all this in person… I just needed to say… Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome,” I granted. “I’m just glad that you’re all right.”
“I’m getting there,” she expressed with a nervous sigh. “The nightmares were bad at first, but I’ve been okay the past couple of nights. I’m not afraid to go to sleep any more. With a little luck, I should be off administrative leave by the end of next week.”
“Just don’t push yourself,” I advised. “Go back when you’re ready. Not before.”
“I know.”
Timid silence filled the room around us, broken only by the sound of Salinger as he leapt heavily onto the coffee table and studied the new human in the room.
“So, how do you like your steak?” I posed, adding my words to the void.
“Excuse me?”
“How do you like your steak?” I repeated. “They’ll be going on the grill in just a few minutes, and I’ll need to know how you want it cooked.”
“No. I couldn’t stay,” she protested. “I’m sure Deckert and Storm would just as soon I fall off the face of the earth after the way I acted. Especially Storm.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve known Ben for…”
“Hey, paleface!” We heard Ben’s jovial voice booming from the kitchen and growing closer as he ambled through the house in our direction. “What happened to those beers?”
Ben came to a sudden halt as he rounded the corner into the dining room and noticed Agent Mandalay standing across from me. Their eyes locked for a moment, and I could easily sense the fluid apprehension that flowed between them. The only sounds to be heard were the distant voices of Allison and Felicity drifting in from the kitchen.
“I was just asking Constance how she wanted her steak done,” I expressed calmly.
Their gazes remained fixed a moment longer, faces expressionless. As if on cue, the heavy tension whirlpooled down an unseen drain, and Ben’s face spread into a welcoming smile.
“Hey, Allison,” he called over his shoulder, “better wrap up another one of those potatoes.” He turned his gaze back to us before continuing. “Another friend just showed up.”
Agent Mandalay’s face broke into a relieved grin, and she glanced back to me. “Medium rare,” she answered in an easy, comfortable tone. “I like my steak medium rare.”
EPILOGUE
Eight robed figures stood somberly in the large clearing, bluish light illuminating them from the rotund globe of the full moon. Surrounding the small circle were five freshly planted trees, straight and carefully spaced. Even to a casual onlooker, it was obvious that great care had been taken in the placement and rooting of the saplings. To a brother or sister of The Craft, it would be readily apparent that walking a particular, familiar path between the five trees would form a large Pentacle.
An auburn-tressed woman, long hair spiraling in a brilliant cascade down her back, moved lithely about the group carefully touching a flame to colorful candles appointed at four stations of the circle-yellow to the East, red to the South, blue to the West, and green to the North. She moved as if floating, adding her low, solemn voice to the rest as each of the four towers was hailed.
The woman moved fluidly back to the center of the small gathering, taking a position next to a bearded man, his own long, brown hair flowing loosely about his shoulders. The man lifted a brightly polished athame to the sky and scribed a perfect Pentacle in the still air. As he lowered the ceremonial knife, the coven members joined in a thrice-repeated chant.
The red-haired priestess once again touched flame to a candle-this time white-in the center of the circle then turned and placed a gentle kiss on the lips of the priest. As they parted, a young man with long, dark hair raised a small horn to his own lips and blew hard into the end, sending a single wailing note to resound from the hillsides. As the note faded on the still, night air, the young man lowered the horn and announced to the gathering, “The horn is sounded for Ariel.”
The other members answered him in unison, “So be it.”
The priestess looked about the solemn group and closed her bright green eyes. “That today, Ariel is not with us, here in the Circle, saddens us all. Yet, we should try not to feel sadness but joy, for is this not a sign that she has fulfilled this life’s work? She is now free to move on, and we should not fear, for we shall meet again. That will be our time for further celebration.”
“Let us send forth our love and good wishes to bear her across The Bridge,” the priest proceeded on from the last words of the priestess. “May she return at any time she wishes and be here with us. May she also guide the unfortunate victims who shared her death as they move along their new paths. I ask the God and Goddess to bless these five trees we have planted in honor of the lives that have ended and the new lives that will begin. Blessed Be!”
“So mote it be!” The chorus rang out from the coven members, sedate but strong.
In the shadows, unnoticed by choice, a translucent glimmer of a young strawberry-blonde woman clad in a white lace gown stood watching the group. Her hair wafted gently about on an ethereal breeze, a sparkling halo hovering around her petite figure. She smiled as she felt their energy join and rise into a powerful cone. Still, a small teardrop escaped her eye. The coven’s mellifluous chant filled her ears as she turned and crossed over The Bridge.
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