Crone’s Moon argi-5

by M. R. Sellars

  What was even more surprising was that it made perfect sense to my tortured brain. It was my ground- my connection with the earth- slamming on the brakes as it attempted to shunt the energies harmlessly away. In order to stop this, I was going to have to complete that ground for the both of us and hold it fast. Unfortunately, that was an almost impossible task for me in my current state. Still, I had little choice but to at least try.

  I seized on everything I had, reaching deep within myself for the strength to make it happen. I fought to push aside the stabbing pain in my head long enough to visualize a shaft of light extending from myself and deep into the center of the earth. But, just as I feared, each time I would form the vision in my head a fresh lance of agony would pierce me, and I would falter, losing both the connection and the supernatural skirmish in the process.

  At some point, I think I let out a scream. I wasn’t sure because I don’t know that I actually heard it. I couldn’t tell you if it was born of pain, frustration, fear, or even a combination of all three. All I know is that whether I heard it or not, I definitely felt it deep within my soul.

  I would have assumed that it was only in my mind, but for the fact that behind the deeply felt wail, I did hear Ben cry out my name. A split second later, I felt his hand briefly clamp onto my shoulder, and at that moment, a sizzling electrical pop reported in my ears. Ben’s hand immediately jerked away in combination with his expletive-ridden yelp.

  In that instant I knew what had to be done. This had grown beyond what I believed it to be. It was no longer a case of me, or even Felicity, stepping across the threshold into the world of the ethereal. The ethereal had come to us. Felicity may have stepped into its domain first, but it was on this side of the veil now. It was a physical manifestation, and it was making itself right at home. If I was to deal with it, I had to approach it as the unwanted houseguest it was.

  The arc that occurred between Ben and me was the clue I needed. I was on the right track when I had tried to ground; I just hadn’t taken it far enough. I knew now that this could be brought to a screeching halt. All I needed to do was treat it like household electricity- I had to short it to ground and blow its fuse.

  “G-g-gr-n-n-d-d,” I stammered as I pushed myself out of the chair and fell to my knees next to Felicity.

  “WHAT?” Constance yelped.

  “G-Ground!” I managed to spit the word out once again, this time without dividing it into a stream of stammered consonants.

  Using the arm of the chair for leverage, I pulled myself to one knee and slipped my right arm in behind Felicity’s denim-covered knees. I forced myself to release my grip on her hand and worked my left arm partially behind her upper back as she continued to buck and tremble.

  “What are you doing?!” Ben shouted at me.

  I didn’t take time to answer him. I pushed myself upward and tried to pull Felicity along with me, but the awkward angle immediately worked against us. I lost my balance and fell forward, stumbling into the chair, barely catching myself against the opposite arm with my hastily extracted left hand.

  I pushed back, breathing heavily as I concentrated on keeping myself from being sucked completely under by the preternatural riptide that was now tearing through my living room. I quickly pulled my right hand free and grasped my petite wife by both wrists then pulled her upward. For her to tip the scale at one hundred five pounds, she had to be fully clothed, soaking wet, and have rocks in her pockets; but at the moment she may as well have weighed ten times that much. She was dead weight with an attitude, and it was taking everything I had just to get her up out of the chair.

  “ROWAN!” Ben bellowed again. “What the hell are you doing?!”

  “Get back, Benjamin,” Helen ordered. “Give him some room.”

  I threw my gaze in his direction as I dragged Felicity to her feet and steadied her body against mine. His face was a contorted mask of concern, as were Constance’s and Helen’s. The three of them were frantically moving about, trying to find a way to help but afraid to touch either of us after witnessing the severe jolt Ben had taken. Still, Ben was moving in on me with total disregard for himself, obviously willing to be bitten again if that was what it took.

  “Benjamin,” Helen declared again. “Move away! I think I know what he’s doing. Give him room!”

  “G-Ground!” I repeated, forcing the word out past my teeth as my jaw repeatedly clenched and released.

  Ben shot a glance at his sister, then at me, but backpedaled as she had ordered. I stooped quickly and planted my shoulder into Felicity’s waist while slipping my arm around the backs of her thighs. She was still trembling spastically as I brought myself upright with her body folded over my shoulder. The combination of her weight and the violent jerking sent my sense of balance on hiatus, and I stumbled as I aimed myself toward the front door.

  “Door. Get… The… Door…” I managed to chatter through my aching jaw.

  Ben was already there, whipping it open and rushing through ahead of us to hold the screen door. I threw myself at the opening and thudded against the doorframe on the way through. I careened forward and staggered onto the porch, just barely catching myself before we tumbled down the front stairs. I steadied myself against a support pillar and grabbed the handrail.

  Nothing happened.

  Not even a tingle.

  I couldn’t believe it. I knew that I had to be correct. If I wasn’t I had no idea what I was going to do. I looked down at my hand incredulously and realized immediately that the functional metal handhold was coated in plastic- a measure I had paid extra for in order to prevent rust and alleviate the need for painting. Now, it was my bane as it completely insulated me from the metal, negating the ground I was seeking. I instantly despised myself for the decision.

  I had to find another piece of non-insulated metal to come into contact with, and I had to find it now. I looked toward the driveway at Ben’s van but discounted it immediately. The rubber tires were once again an insulator between the metal and earth ground. I whipped my head to the right and made my decision.

  Still gripping the rail, I pushed off and started down the stairs as fast as I could without losing what little balance I had left. I could feel something warm and wet against my shoulder, and I knew without looking that yet another wound had to have appeared on Felicity’s pristine skin. I was gripped by the sudden fear that the wounds went deeper than merely the surface.

  I hit the sidewalk and continued to my right, tripping over the grooves in the decorative flagstone walk as I hurried toward my new goal. I could hear Ben, Constance, and Helen behind me, but I didn’t have time to acknowledge their presence. My vision was beginning to tunnel, and I could feel my own hands beginning to curl into fists as my physical connection with Felicity fought to drag me under.

  I continued to stumble forward and eventually lost my footing then fell heavily to my knees. The momentum of my crash carried me forward, and Felicity slid from my shoulder onto the grass. She was still seizing. Even in the darkness, I could see that fresh wounds had appeared on her arms and new, wet stains were spreading across her shirt.

  I pushed up onto my hands and knees and looked ahead of myself. The dim, cylindrical vignette that had become my vision stretched out before me, appearing as an unfathomable distance with my objective well at the far end. I knew it couldn’t possibly be that far away, but my heart began to sink as I struggled with my now clubbed fists to pull Felicity back up.

  I suddenly felt an icy hand pressed against my shoulder. Startled, I swung my head to the side and glanced up into the smiling face of the Dark Mother.

  I twisted my head away, daring not to look any longer for fear of giving in and answering her beckoning call. Looking to the opposite side, I slammed my right hand hard against the ground, forcing it to spasm and uncurl. I quickly pushed my left fist into the palm to hold it open then managed to work it around Felicity’s trembling wrist as it closed tightly of its own accord. With a guttural scream, I physically threw
myself forward, my left arm thrust in front of me as far as I could reach.

  When my hand contacted the warm metal of the chain link fence, I was instantly deafened by the cacophonous snap of an electric arc.

  Hot, white light flashed, and then my world faded to black.

  CHAPTER 20:

  Once again we were gathered in the kitchen- all of us except for Helen that is. A self-described chain smoker, once she was convinced that Felicity and I were okay, she had sequestered herself on our back deck for a nicotine fix.

  I knew she was blaming herself for what had happened; she had told me as much. I tried to convince her otherwise, but I didn’t have much luck. Unfortunately, at the moment, I simply didn’t have the energy to force the subject. In the end, we agreed to talk it out at a later date. Still, I hated that she was going to brood over it until then. I knew she would too because that is exactly what I would do if I was in her place.

  I felt myself sinking in the chair, probably looking much like Ben had only a few hours before. I was exhausted. My body chemistry was so out of balance I felt like I had been on a weeklong drunk and was only now starting to sober up. If I had any electrolytes left in my system, they were probably cringing behind some obscure internal organ in hopes they wouldn’t be obliterated as well.

  I tipped a bottle of bright blue sport drink toward the ceiling and drained the remains in a trio of gulps. I was unimpressed by the taste, but then, they were Felicity’s choice, not mine. Normally I wouldn’t go near them except to move them aside when reaching for something else, but my current state demanded more than plain water.

  “Do you want another one, Rowan?” Constance asked as I sat the plastic bottle on the table in front of me and sighed.

  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, ge
tting 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, and 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.