“Someone’s van is blocking the driveway, so I couldn’t drive around,” she replied then looked over to Ben. “How much has he had to drink?”
Obviously it didn’t escape her notice that my tongue was no longer in complete synch with my brain. I couldn’t honestly say that I was oblivious to that fact either, but given the analgesic effect the bourbon seemed to be having on my migraine, I didn’t really care.
Ben held his hands up in front of himself as if surrendering. “Listen, Firehair, before this get ugly, he called me. I’m innocent here…”
“Thangs a lot, Sheef,” I mumbled.
“You’re just pissed ‘cause I said somethin’ first,” he replied.
“Yeah, well whad I actually thing is pritty funny that you’re ‘fraid of ‘er.”
“ Cac capaill,” my wife almost snarled the words. “Will you two just stop? You’re both acting like a couple of little boys caught stealing from the liquor cabinet.”
“Like I said, it was his idea,” Ben quipped.
“ Damnu, don’t even go there,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.
“I’m just sayin’ he’s the one who’s snockered, not me…”
“Obviously. So stop worrying about passing blame around. I don’t doubt that he called you, but that doesn’t make you innocent either, and it definitely doesn’t explain what’s going on then.”
“I’m self medicaning,” I slurred.
“I see that,” my wife snipped. “Why? What happened?”
“Headaig,” I said.
“Is that all?”
“An’ the swans…”
“Swans?”
“Yeah, the den swans.”
As fast as I had thought the alcohol was working a few moments ago, it seemed to have shifted into high gear now. My face was actually beginning to feel numb, and for the first time since this all started, my head didn’t hurt in the least. Of course, the apparent tradeoff was the fact I was no longer able to focus my eyes or successfully convey a complete thought to anyone but myself, and even that was suspect.
Out of reflex I raised the fresh tumbler of bourbon, but before I could get it anywhere near my lips I heard Felicity yelp “stop!” followed by something else.
My brain didn’t really register the rest of the sentence, but it seemed as though Ben understood without question because he quickly snatched the glass from my hand and upended it over the sink.
I simply watched him pour the liquor down the drain, then looked at my hand, then back to the drain. For some reason I flashed on the fact that Ben had referred to me as snockered. He was correct. I was flat out drunk and I knew it. However, for some reason the word he had chosen to describe my state of inebriation now struck me as hilarious. I started to giggle and soon found that I couldn’t stop.
“Gods,” Felicity spat. “How much has he had, Ben?”
“Just one,” my friend replied, taking my arm and leading me over to the breakfast nook where he guided me into a seat. “It was stiff, yeah, but still just the one, and I’ve seen him drink a hell of a lot more without gettin’ like this.”
Even though I was almost completely unable to communicate with them, I still seemed to be able to understand what they were saying, but only if I made it a point to pay close attention, which was getting harder and harder by the second. I doubted I would remember any of this in the morning, but for now, I was convinced that I was at least following along, be it a half step or so behind.
“Something else is wrong then…” my wife muttered.
“Listen,” Ben said. “Since he’s obviously in no shape to tell ya’ I guess I’d better. He told me he did the bleedin’ thing again today.”
“Again?” she barked. “Like last night?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said.”
“And you let him drink alcohol?”
“What am I, his goddamn babysitter? How is this my fault all of a sudden?”
She ignored the question and aimed her gaze back in my direction. “Gods, Rowan! Why didn’t you call me?”
I heard the question clearly, but even if I had been able to make my mouth work, I couldn’t answer because I was too busy passing out.
CHAPTER 12:
I held my head between my hands and imagined that if I stayed that way, maybe, just maybe, my brain wouldn’t burst through my temples and try to escape. The one semi-comforting thought that kept going through my head was that I had a very good imagination. Now, I just needed to remember where I put it.
I was squeezing my eyes tightly shut in a bid to keep out the unnatural glare from the overhead track lighting of the kitchen, but it still shone through with a vengeance. In truth, the level of brightness was nowhere near what my retinas seemed to believe it was, but it wouldn’t have mattered if I were sitting in a pitch-black room. I would still be overwhelmed. That was just part of the price one paid for stupidity.
“Rowan?” my wife’s voice blasted into my ears.
The last time I had chanced opening my eyes, she was sitting across the table from me at the breakfast nook, and judging from the relative direction of the sound she hadn’t moved. I was fairly certain she wasn’t speaking any louder than normal, but once again my warped perceptions were starkly contrasting with reality. To me it sounded like she was yelling directly into my ear from no more than six inches away.
“What,” I grunted, wincing at the movement necessary to form the word.
“I’m just checking,” she replied. “You seemed to be drifting off again… Why don’t you drink some more coffee? It might help.”
She had already forced me to drink her family recipe hangover remedy followed by what seemed like a gallon of water before placing the cup of java on the table and demanding I down that as well. I had taken a sip, but that was about it. I wasn’t exactly thirsty at the moment.
I carefully moved my left hand around and pressed my index finger against the center of my forehead, right between my eyes. I spoke slowly and deliberately. “Bullet. Right here. Maybe. Coffee, I really don’t know…”
“Try it anyway,” she instructed. “I’m saving the bullet for when you really screw up.”
I wasn’t really in the mood for sarcasm, even if it was a joke, but I was also in no shape to argue. Of course, there was also the fact that as far as any sort of defense was concerned, I didn’t have a leg to stand on. So, rather than complain, I simply tried to respond in kind.
“Shoot me anyway,” I said. “You have my permission.”
“Aye, don’t believe for a minute I didn’t think about it,” my wife quipped. “But then I decided it would be better if you suffered for a while. Now drink some coffee then.”
Obviously I wasn’t going to be able to match wits with her in my present condition, so I figured I should just do as I was told before she decided to physically help me with the task like she had done with the family remedy. I opened one eye just long enough to wrap my hand around the mug she had placed before me several minutes earlier then carefully lifted it to my mouth. The coffee had cooled enough not to burn my tongue, but it was still to the high side of warm, which was a good thing in my book. I took a gulp and swallowed hard then took a second before settling the cup back onto the table.
“You absolutely sure we don’t need ta’ take ‘im to the hospital?” Ben asked from across the room.
“He’ll be fine,” Felicity replied.
“You sure about that?”
“Aye. He’s just hung over.”
“Well I gotta say it’s the worst hangover I’ve ever seen on one drink.”
“Have you ever given blood?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Remember how they tell you not to drink alcohol for at least twenty-four hours afterwards?”
“Yeah,” he replied. A second later when he spoke up, the spark of realization was instantly apparent in his voice. “Crap. I didn’t even think about that.”
“Obviously, he didn’t either,” she said then gave my leg a no
ne too gentle nudge beneath the table with the toe of her shoe.
“I had other things on my mind,” I grumbled.
“I had a friend in college who would sell plasma, then take the money and go to the bar,” Felicity continued for Ben’s edification. “Cheaper, quicker drunk. But she would get so dehydrated that she’d have these massive hangovers. In this case, I’m sure the aspirin didn’t help much either.” Just to punctuate the statement she kicked me under the table again.
“You can stop that anytime you want,” I told her as I shuffled my legs back.
“I’ll let you know when I’m finished,” she quipped.
“And, for your information,” I added, “The aspirin helped my headache.”
“Really? I didn’t notice. I mean, since you’re sitting there holding your head and all.”
“It helped then. Not now.”
“That was only about an hour and a half ago, Rowan.”
“Okay, so they didn’t last.”
“Apparently,” she snipped, the sardonic bite still sharp in her voice. “I wonder if the bourbon had anything to do with that?”
“Give me a break, will you?” I appealed.
“You think I’m not?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, I did notice that you’re being pretty calm about all this. You haven’t screamed any Gaelic at me yet.”
“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ll gladly do that while I’m beating you later. I’m just waiting until you can feel it, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time.”
“Yeah, that sounds more like you. Thanks for the reality check.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay, if you two are through with the pissin’ match, or foreplay, or whatever the hell,” Ben interjected, “I got a question.”
“What’s that?” Felicity asked.
“I understand about the hangover, but what about the whole bleedin’ thing? Shouldn’t we take ‘im to the hospital for that?”
“No,” I said. “It wouldn’t do any good.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“There’s nothing they can do about it,” I told him. “In case you’ve forgotten, it doesn’t exactly have an earthly explanation.”
“Yeah, so?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” Felicity said. “That’s exactly how I felt yesterday, but then I had to face the facts… What would he tell them? He can’t exactly walk in and say he’s running low on blood. If he tells them he’s been bleeding, they’ll want to know from where, and he doesn’t have a wound to show for it. Give them the real reason and he’ll end up in a psych ward. Make something up and at best they would run a bunch of tests that won’t give them any real answers but would surely raise a few questions, which would just mean more tests with no answers.”
“Yeah, okay, I see what you’re sayin’. So then what do we do?” he asked.
“Not we, me,” I answered. “The bleeding is nothing more than a knock at the door. It’s a way for the spirits to get my attention. I just have to stop ignoring them and it will be all good.”
“I thought you already had.”
“After the second incident, yes, I did,” I explained. “And I haven’t bled since.”
“Yeah, well you’ll pardon me if I don’t take that as hard evidence that you won’t again.”
“I’ll be fine, Ben.”
“Jeezus, are ya’ listenin’ to yourself? It ain’t like we haven’t heard that one before, and look at ya’ now.”
“You know, I could do without this whole tag team beat up Rowan thing you two have going on.”
“Yeah, well get used to it. It’s for your own good.”
“You do realize there’s nothing I can do to stop all this, don’t you? I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve tried and it didn’t work, so why are you taking it out on me?”
“We’re just concerned,” Felicity offered, her voice actually taking on a bit of softness for a change.
“What Firehair said,” Ben agreed. “I’ve been tellin’ ya’ that all along.” He let out a heavy sigh before continuing. “Okay, so let me ask ya’ this. What if goin’ ahead and listenin’ to ‘em doesn’t work?”
“Then I guess I keep bleeding until you stop whoever is doing this.”
He sighed. “Not exactly what I wanted ta’ hear.”
“Trust me, Ben, I’m not very excited about it myself.”
“Okay…” He harrumphed. “So the way I see it, right now we’re pretty much on the same page. So far you aren’t tellin’ me anything we don’t already know.”
“Sorry… Sometimes that’s how it happens, you know that.”
“I ain’t complainin’,” he countered quickly. “I’m just thinkin’ out loud. Besides, it goes both ways. I also got nothin’ for ya’ to look at, so it’s kinda mutual. Anyway, unless I missed my guess, as far as the hocus-pocus goes, we’re at a dead end unless ya’ go all Twilight Zone again. Right?”
“Yeah, I think that pretty much sums it up. Why?”
“It’s been a very long and very weird afternoon, white man. I’m just gettin’ it straight in my head. So, Firehair, you got my cell number, right?”
“Aye, of course I do,” Felicity answered. “Why?”
“In case Beefy the Vampire Snack over there starts bleedin’ again. Because, if we ain’t takin’ ‘im to the hospital or somethin’, then I’m gonna get outta here. I promised Constance I’d take ‘er ta’ dinner and I’m already forty-five minutes late.”
“Just blame it on me,” I said.
“Oh, I plan to, Kemosabe,” he returned. “I definitely plan to.”
*****
When the phone started ringing this time, I was awake. In fact, I had been out of bed for almost two hours, already showered, and was working on a fresh cup of coffee when the obnoxious peal of the bell rattled through the house.
Fortunately, this time I didn’t feel the need to plug my ears or hide under a pillow. A good eight hours of uninterrupted sleep had turned out to be far better medicine than the aspirin with a bourbon chaser. While pain free wasn’t an accurate description by any means, I was once again dealing only with the familiar dull thud hanging out in the back of my head. As annoying as that could be, it was at least bearable-and even something I could ignore if need be.
On the flip side of that coin, however, just prior to the initial ring of the phone, I had felt an icy chill run the length of my spine. While I certainly wasn’t one for believing that anything and everything was some type of sign, I had definitely learned to recognize when something was truly meant to get my attention. The way the hair stood up on the back of my neck following the sensation, I was certain this was one of those times.
I stepped over to the kitchen phone and glanced at the caller ID box. Under the circumstances I fully expected to see Ben’s name and cell number displayed, but instead the digits were completely unfamiliar. I furrowed my brow as I scanned the LCD and saw that the call appeared to be coming from the federal government. With a hard frown I snatched up the handset, cutting it off mid-peal, and then placed it against my ear.
“Hello?” I said.
The voice of a slightly cheerful but still businesslike woman answered. “Good morning… Is Miz Felicity O’Brien available?”
“I’ll have to check. May I tell her who’s calling?”
“Yes. This is Doctor Jante with the FBI,” she replied.
My outlook on the day took a sudden turn, and it definitely wasn’t a good one.
Tuesday, March 14
10:04 A.M.
FBI Field Office
Saint Louis, Missouri
CHAPTER 13:
Felicity and I were cloistered away in the conference room to which we had been ushered shortly after arriving downstairs. I looked at my watch as I continued about my self-assigned task of wearing a ten-foot long stripe in the carpet. Fifteen minutes had elapsed since the door closed behind our escort on her way out, leaving us
alone to inspect the four walls of the windowless room.
I shot a second look at the timepiece just to be sure I’d read it properly because to me it felt more like an entire hour had gone by. Of course, given that I’d already spent over two months waiting for this meeting and had for all intents and purposes given up on it ever happening, a few more minutes shouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately, I was having an enormous amount of trouble convincing myself of that fact.
“Rowan, that’s the tenth time you’ve looked at your watch in the past five minutes,” my wife voiced her observation. “We’re actually here early as it is. Just relax.”
She was parked in a chair on the opposite side of the conference table from me, watching quietly as I ambled back and forth. While my personal display of nervous energy was far more overt than hers, she wasn’t exactly at ease herself. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she had removed her visitor’s badge and was absently twisting it between her fingers as she fidgeted.
“I’ll relax when this is all over,” I told her. “And, I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re only early by Felicity time. They’re actually four minutes late.”
“Four minutes isn’t really late.”
“Like I said, Felicity time. In real time if you arrive on schedule you’re already fifteen minutes late,” I said, reminding her of my personal philosophy where such was concerned.
“You could have stayed home, you know,” she told me.
I stopped mid step and looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You’re kidding, right?”
I resumed pacing and covered the last few steps before pivoting to head back to the opposite end of the table. I glanced in her direction again and added, “Actually, I think I would have been a lot more comfortable if you had stayed home.”
“I’m sure,” she replied. “But if you remember correctly I’m the one they asked to come down here. Not you.”
“Yeah,” I spat. “I’m still not clear on that one myself. I asked Ben to get me access to Annalise. Not you. Not us. Just me.”
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