Blood Moon argi-9

by M. R. Sellars

  “I don’t know,” I offered with a sigh. “Like I said, I guess we just take it as it comes.”

  She snorted. “That’s not much of a plan now, is it? You know you can’t function like this.”

  “Why not?” I asked, giving her a shrug. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing for several years now.”

  “I know,” she replied, casting her gaze at the floor and letting her voice drop. “But…”

  I waited for the rest of the sentence; however, she simply allowed the quiet to close in.

  “But what?” I finally asked.

  She audibly took in a deep breath then looked up at me. “I wonder if maybe I’m asking too much of you then.”

  “How so?”

  “You haven’t any control over this… I know that. Maybe I shouldn’t be asking you to fight it. Maybe you should just let it happen.”

  “That’s an unexpected about-face,” I replied.

  “Maybe that’s how it has to be.”

  “I really don’t see that as an option.” I shook my head to punctuate the statement. “Besides, the way I remember it, this was a mutual decision. I don’t want this happening to me any more than you do.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit there was a time when I thought I had no choice but to accept it as my fate, but now I just don’t know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead as I breathed a heavy sigh of my own. “Right now, all I can say is I’m tired, sweetheart. I’m just…tired.”

  “I know… But when you don’t fight it… When you let them in it isn’t as bad. Not like this…”

  “I’m not so sure that’s true.”

  “I am…” she replied, nodding. “I’m not saying it’s good when you let them in. It isn’t… I’ve grown to hate it… But now it seems to be worse when you fight them, and I’m afraid it won’t get any better.”

  “Maybe it will, in time. Let’s just give it awhile,” I said, trying to soothe her. “If I ignore her long enough maybe she’ll finally get the message and leave me alone for good.”

  “And what about the next one? And the next?”

  “If this works then maybe there won’t be anymore.”

  “Do you really believe that then?”

  “I have to hope it will work out that way,” I answered, avoiding any commitment that might come back to haunt me.

  “But you know it won’t, don’t you?”

  I wanted to say no, but I had a sick feeling that she was correct. Besides, it didn’t matter any longer. Even if I gave in to the urge and lied, my hesitation had already told her the real answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “Go on, take a shower then. I’ll heat up that tea.”

  *****

  With the exception of a lingering fatigue, the rest of my day was uneventful. Felicity made it a point to never allow me out of her line of sight, but I could definitely think of worse things to endure. In fact, it was nice to actually spend some time together instead of being cloistered away in our separate home offices. Of course, it would have been more enjoyable if it hadn’t been obvious that she was expecting me to once again start bleeding profusely at any moment.

  However, by evening, she had relaxed considerably and so had I. The irritated spot on my neck remained sore, and the ethereal thump in the back of my head was still making itself known, but provided they didn’t get any worse, those were both things with which I could easily cope.

  Under the circumstances, everything was fine.

  The only thing I couldn’t explain is why, when I went to sleep that night, I dreamt of a moonlit lake, the bank of which was blemished with the corpse of a single black swan.

  CHAPTER 8:

  “Gant Consulting,” I said into the handset as I leaned back in my chair. “This is Rowan speaking.”

  I had grabbed the phone on the first ring. Customarily I didn’t get to it before the second at least, and usually not even before the third. But business wasn’t exactly booming right now, so when the bell began to peal I hadn’t been deeply involved in anything that needed my undivided attention.

  Truth be told, the lack of work was a good thing at the moment. I’d awakened this morning with the haunting vision of the dead swan still flashing in my head, and it hadn’t yet faded. If anything, it had intensified. That was bad enough in itself, but the imagery was also coupled with an odd, jittery sensation that had only grown worse as the day wore on. Dealing with those aggravations was keeping me more than a little preoccupied, so concentration definitely wasn’t one of my strengths right now. In fact, I’d been having enough trouble staying focused on the game of solitaire that was now sitting idle on my screen. If real work had been involved, I would be worthless.

  “Yo, white man,” Ben’s voice buzzed from the earpiece in response to my businesslike greeting.

  I pulled off my glasses and laid them on the desk before allowing the chair to rock all the way back on its springs. I reached up and began massaging the bridge of my nose with my free hand as a quiet sigh escaped. On top of the nervous agitation, yesterday’s dull headache was still living somewhere around the base of my skull, and it had been randomly sending out raiding parties to the front of my brain all morning. I seriously doubted it was a coincidence that one of those infiltrators had just now managed to dig in and set up a forward base camp right behind my eyes.

  To be honest, I couldn’t say I was all that surprised to hear my friend on the other end of the line. In fact, more than once this morning I had almost been the one to dial the phone. I kept telling myself it would just be to see if he had the name of Annalise’s attorney for me yet; but deep down I knew better than that, which is why I never followed through. I couldn’t help but harbor a conscious fear that there was an underlying motive for me to make the call and that if I did so, I would fall into the trap of talking to him about his current homicide investigation. In my mind it was a tossup as to which one of us would be first to broach the subject, but I definitely didn’t want it to be me. If I did it, then that just meant I had caved, and the spirit world would have gained yet another foothold in my life.

  Of course, it really didn’t matter who started it. The end result would be the same either way and could easily invoke a repeat performance of yesterday’s events, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. While I wasn’t willing to place all the blame on Ben, Felicity had made a valid point-he and his case just might be a corporeal trigger. Unfortunately, the fresh stabs of pain inside my skull at this particular moment went a long way toward being a smoking gun where that theory was concerned.

  “You still there?” my friend asked.

  His tone told me I had paused far longer than I thought. I rocked forward in my chair and managed to spit out, “Hey, Ben… Yeah, I’m here.”

  “This a bad time?” he asked, trying to interpret the verbal cue. “You busy?”

  “No, not really,” I replied. “It’s just… Nothing… Don’t worry about it. So, how are you this morning?”

  “Not bad I guess. Better’n yesterday. I actually got some sleep last night. How ‘bout you?”

  “Fine,” I told him. “I’m doing fine.”

  I could feel my body tense as a fresh wave of foreboding swept over me. If he didn’t pursue the previous day’s events any further everything should be okay. But I knew it wasn’t very likely he’d stop now. He had a motive for the contact, he always did, and exchanging simple pleasantries was never it. I tried pretending that maybe this call was for the express purpose of giving me the information on the attorney and nothing more, but unfortunately, I wasn’t having much success where suspension of disbelief was concerned.

  As expected, his next question made it a moot point to even continue trying.

  “So how’s your neck?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Any Twilight Zone or other weird shit to report?” he asked.

  “No,” I lied again and then added a bit of
truth to reinforce the statement, “Not that I’d be reporting it if there was.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why, Ben. I’m pretty sure we’ve already beaten this conversation to death.”

  “Yeah, okay, but really? Nothin’ happened?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  He paused for a moment then said, “You’re lyin’. I can tell.”

  “Okay, Columbo. So what if I am?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I ain’t that short and I dress better.”

  “But you smoke cigars and drive a piece of junk,” I offered, hoping to divert the subject.

  “Okay, enough with the comedy routine. So seriously, how’s your neck?”

  “Like I already said, just fine.”

  “Bullshit. You’re still lyin’.”

  “You know, for someone who always tells me to stay out of things and let you do your job, you sure sound like you’re trying to drag me into the middle of this one. Just like yesterday.”

  “Nope, I ain’t. Just concerned about ya’ is all.”

  “Well, I’m fine, so don’t worry so much.”

  “Ya’ don’t sound fine.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “Says you… Did ya’ at least let Firehair know? I mean about your neck hurtin’ yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah,” I replied. The words came out on the heels of a low snort that I couldn’t manage to contain. “She knows all about it.”

  “Uh-huh, see, I knew you were lyin’.” His voice actually sounded like it held a note of concern. “What happened, Row?

  “I’d really rather not discuss it, Ben.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Look, it was no big deal and it’s over. But since we’re on the subject, I guess I should tell you this much-Felicity doesn’t think we should be playing in the same sandbox for a while. She’s decided you’re a negative influence.”

  “What? How’d I get ta’ be the friggin’ bad kid all of a sudden?”

  “She seems to think you’re a trigger for the latest ethereal crap raining down on my head.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so. What’s worse, I’m inclined to agree with her.”

  “Why me?”

  “Short version is you’re a cop who’s willing to listen to me and the spirits know that, so they’re more likely to screw with me when they think I have your ear. That’s our theory anyway.”

  “That’s fucked.”

  “Yeah, but like I said, right now I have to agree with her.”

  “Great… So this means what?”

  “Basically, until I get a handle on controlling this, you and I need to keep some distance between us while you’re working a case.”

  “You seen the violent crime and homicide stats for Saint Louis, Row? I’m always workin’ a case. Usually more’n one at a time.”

  “Yeah, well it’s not like we’re married or anything, you know. I think we’ll survive.”

  “Uh-huh, yeah,” he grunted. “But you know what I’m sayin’. I ain’t so keen on ghosts screwin’ over our friendship… So how do we fix this?”

  “ We don’t.” I shrugged out of reflex. “It’s something I have to deal with. Of course, if it doesn’t work out then I guess the theory is wrong.”

  “What then?”

  “Honestly? I really wish I knew. But I guess then we’ll be able to have a beer at the same bar.”

  “Yeah, friggin’ wunnerful. Damned if ya’ do, damned if ya’ don’t.”

  “Yeah, story of my life. And, it’s not exactly turning out to be my week so far, if you know what I mean.”

  “Uh-huh… Well since I’m gettin’ the blame, don’tcha think you should tell me what happened ta’ make you two come up with this landmark theory?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Rowan…”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself,” he grumbled. “Just tell me this, are ya’ sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, Ben, I’m okay.”

  “You know I’m just askin’ ‘cause I’ve seen this shit go south with you before.”

  “Who’s lying now?” I blurted the question without thinking.

  “I’m fuckin’ serious as a heart attack, Row,” he replied. “You think I’m not worried about ya’?”

  The tone of his voice was sincere, but I could read something else beneath the words. Ben was nothing if not a loyal friend, and while he didn’t usually pull punches and could occasionally be hard to read, he always had our best interests at heart, even if it didn’t necessarily seem like it at the time. However, none of that stopped him from being a cop with a murder to solve, and I knew it.

  “I don’t doubt that you are,” I told him. “But I also think you have an ulterior motive.”

  “Jeezus, Row…”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “What? Are ya’ some kinda lie detector now?”

  “Depends. Are you lying?”

  “Okay… Fine… Yeah… I admit I’m curious what you might’ve come up with on this case if ya’ went all la-la land, which it sure looked like you were gonna do yesterday. I’ve been through this kinda crap with ya’ a few too many times. I guess I’ve gotten used to gettin’ your opinion when the weird shit pops up. So sue me.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself, aren’t you the one who always tells me the cops were catching the bad guys long before I showed up?”

  “Yeah, I am,” he replied. “And we’ll keep doin’ it too. But I’m also the guy who told you a good cop’ll use whatever legal and reasonable means he has at his disposal to catch those bad guys.”

  “So now I’m ‘Rowan Gant the investigative tool’, am I? Nothing more than a means to an end?” I offered the questions in a rhetorical tone.

  I suppose I should have been hurt by what he’d said, but deep down I really wasn’t. Given everything the two of us had been through together, of all people I could easily see the logic in what he was saying. Still, my reaction was knee-jerk, and I knew I didn’t sound terribly pleased.

  “Yeah, well you’re bein’ a tool,” he grunted then his tone turned serious. “But yeah, in a way you’re definitely an investigative resource. But you can leave out the ‘nothing more than’ bullshit. First and foremost you’re my friend, Row, and this ain’t all about the case. I really am worried about you’n Firehair bein’ safe.”

  His sentiment was obviously unfeigned, and the emphasis he placed on the word safe was so clear that I truly felt bad for having put him on the spot.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, a bit of embarrassment creeping into my voice. “I’m just a little touchy about all this right now.”

  “No shit,” he returned, an obvious gloss of sarcasm on the words. “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Well, in my defense this isn’t exactly easy. Just because I’m quitting doesn’t mean they are.”

  “Pretty rough, huh?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain, Ben. But, remember how you felt when you quit smoking cigarettes?”

  “Yeah. Hell, I had the shakes and everything. It sucked big time. That what this is like?”

  “Kind of. But multiply it by about ten, and then imagine someone constantly trying to force you to smoke, and you really want to, but can’t. That’s pretty much how I’m feeling right now.”

  “So the Twilight Zone is really fuckin’ with ya’ big time, eh?”

  “Yeah. A bit of an understatement, but yeah, that’s about the best way I can explain it.”

  “So you’re goin’ through all that, and you’re still sittin’ there tellin’ me you’re okay,” he admonished.

  “I am,” I replied. “It’s just something I have to deal with. Sure, it would probably be easier to just let it happen and be done with it, but I can’t do that.”

  “Yeah, I guess Firehair would have your ass, wouldn’t she?”

>   “Surprisingly, no. She actually suggested I go ahead and give in.”

  “Do what? Felicity? Are we talkin’ about the same person?”

  “Yeah, Ben, I know. After yesterday she thinks maybe it’s worse on me when I fight it.”

  “Worse? Jeezus H. Christ, Row… You sure you don’t wanna just tell me what happened?”

  “Maybe some other time, Ben.”

  “Okay, so then tell me this: If Firehair is okay with you goin’ to the Twilight Zone, why are ya’ puttin’ yourself through the bullshit?”

  “The way I feel right now, I’m starting to wonder that myself. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, I guess if ya’ ain’t gonna give me details then I’m gonna hafta take your word for it.”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Just sit tight and we’ll see what happens.”

  “You realize I’m not so good at that, right? The just sittin’ by part, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know, but that’s about all we can do right now. So anyway, can we maybe change the subject? Constantly talking about it really isn’t helping, you know. It’s kind of like offering me a cigarette.”

  “Yeah…yeah, no problem… Actually, I did have another reason for callin’. I got that info you wanted on Devereaux’s attorney.”

  “Great. I was afraid you might have forgotten about that.”

  “Didn’t forget, but it wasn’t exactly high on the priority list until about half an hour ago.”

  “Half an hour ago? Why?”

  “‘Cause that’s about when a process server showed up downstairs with a subpoena for me from Devereaux’s mouthpiece. Kinda brought it back around, ya’know.”

  “Subpoena? For what?’

  “Deposition,” he grunted. “They wanna grill me for a while. The bottom-feeders do this crap all the time. Tryin’ ta’ find somethin’ they can twist and use to get their client off. Technicality, or whatever… It ain’t unusual. But, I should warn ya’…they’re prob’ly gonna ask me about Firehair and the whole thing at that motel with Lewis.”