by Rhys Astason
Rob started to shake his head but stopped as the pain exploded across his face.
"Yeah, well," Walt continued, "the old fucker was completely insane. Had all these notes and drawing about witches and alien body snatchers." He shook his head. "No doubt he offed his wife. He took notes about that. I think he even saved some body parts."
Walt snorted. "Aliens and witches. Only someone completely insane would be stupid enough to believe in that shit."
"Walt," a low gravelly voice chimed in from the darkness. "You go get Rob's truck." Sheriff Sam Turner walked into sight. "It's that a way, right Rob?" He pointed vaguely behind himself.
"Yes, sir," Rob answered.
"Then get to it, boy," Turner said to Walt. "What you waiting for? A formal invitation?'
Walt glared at Rob, then ducked his head and hurried away before Turner could scold him any further. Turner turned to Rob.
"You all right, son?" He asked, his eyes studying Rob closely. Rob nodded. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. Poor Rumhilde totally lost contact with reality."
A car screeched to a stop, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and watch the older blonde woman jump out and run towards Nancy.
"That must be the mom," Turner said without really asking.
Rob nodded. "Professor Wallenstein."
"I guess I'll go check on your girl, then," Turner said. He was moving towards Nancy when he turned back to Rob. "You did real good, son. Real good." He tipped his hat at Rob and walked away.
Rob smiled. A real one this time. Suddenly all the aches and pains were dulled and he was rather proud of himself. True, he hadn't wanted to hurt Rumhilde, but the universe worked in mysterious ways that always seemed to balance out.
Air whooshed out of his lungs as steel like arms gripped him tightly.
"Thank you," Professor Wallenstein cried before smattering kisses in his bruised swollen face. "Thank you for saving my daughter. I don’t know…" she chocked down a sob.
Rob wheezed painfully but managed to lightly pat the distraught woman on her back.
"You saved my baby," she sniffed wetly. "I can't thank you enough."
"I—"
"We had no idea Gustav was the murderer," she continued. "None of the signs pointed to him. He was so quiet. So polite and seemed like such a gentle giant of a man."
"Well—"
"To think you were our primary suspect," she said with a watery chuckle.
Rob looked up surprised.
"When you barged into our house with that bizarre story about the glowing deer…" She shook her head. "We were sure you were targeting our coven. That's why Nancy was spying on you."
Rob froze.
"She read up on you and your web sites, watched some of your shows…"
Rob stopped listening at that point. His eyes drifted to Nancy, still on the gurney. She sent him a small wave but his universe was slowly collapsing on itself. The connection they'd shared had been fabricated because their coven had thought he was a murderer. It had all been a lie.
He looked away.
"I can't thank you enough," Professor Wallenstein said, her voice trailing off as she looked at Rob.
"No problem," he said in a flat tone.
"Well," she offered in a hesitant tone as she stared at him quizzically, "if you want some help with that glowing doe of yours—"
"I don't think that matters anymore," Rob replied getting up from the porch. He gave Wallenstein a cursory nod before walking towards Walt who was pulling up in his truck.
"I can't believe this ol' gal is still running, Bob," Walt said with a smirk after climbing out of the truck. "Are you using some of that mumbo jumbo magic of yours?"
Rob ignored him and raised his hand in a silent demand for the keys.
"Well, I don't know about that, Bo—" Walt met Rob's cold gaze. "Rob. I don’t think the Sheriff is quite done, here." He dropped the keys in Rob's hand.
"You know where I live," Rob replied. He walked around Walt and opened the door.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Walt said. "You've had a trauma—"
Rob slammed the door shut and ignored Walt. He stared at the steering wheel for what felt like a lifetime, then he put the key in the ignition, the truck in gear and pulled out of the long dirty driveway heading home.
Chapter 9
Rob packed the last of the orders, finishing up by placing the shipping labels on the packages before putting them out for the daily pickup. He looked at the pile of boxes. It was a good day. There been a lot of those in the last three months.
“Nothing like some press coverage to boost sales," he said, shaking his head.
Cold Hard Facts had definitely received a boost from the Rumhilde incident, especially when it turned out that the 'Gentle Giant Famer' had turned out to be a serial killer. Ten bodies and they were still counting. All in the span of two short months.
It turned out that Gustav Rumhilde had slowly but surely descended into madness. Killing his wife had been the catalyst and after that he went about 'saving the world' by killing those he deemed aliens masquerading as magic users. The police in three states were still trying to figure out how he'd gotten away with it for so long.
Rob's name being attached as the 'Hero of Boydon' had given Cold Hard Facts, the website and the show, an incredible boost. Several local affiliates from throughout the state had actually paid for the rights to rebroadcast some of the old shows and the station was now hounding him to make new ones.
A shrill beat jarred his attention back to the present.
"This is Rob."
"Hey, Rob, it's Larry."
Rob smiled. "What can I do for you, Larry?"
"Funny you should ask," Larry said. "I'm headed up to the university this week and I even found that darn camera the kids keep losing. Do you still want me to take pictures of that corrosive bird poop for you?"
Rob paused. "Well, I'm not sure if there's going to be another show, Larry."
"Oh," Larry said. "That's really too bad 'cuz we all miss your show, Rob. But I understand, you now being famous and all."
Rob snorted lightly. He didn’t have the heart for it anymore and he knew it. He would have closed the website if it weren't for the boost that his distributors were getting from all the new sales. And he hated disappointing his friends.
"You know what, Larry? Why don't you take the pictures then you can show me when you get back? Maybe that will be the inspiration I need. How does that sound to you?"
"That sounds great, Rob. I'll take the best dang pictures you've ever seen."
"I know you will, Larry."
"Later, gator. Larry out."
"Bye," Rob said, snapping his phone shut and heading for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and eyed the bright green soda can. He wasn't much in the mood for soda but maybe the sugar would help him figure something out. Larry deserved that much.
A sharp knock on the door had him kicking the fridge door closed after he grabbed the soda. He wondered if he forgot a label again. He opened the door expecting Mildred, who had been his go-to mailperson for over five years, to scold him in her stern motherly fashion.
Instead, he was floored by the person standing in his doorway.
“Hey, Rob,” Nancy said with a small wave and an unsure smile.
The sight of her brought back a rush of different feelings. She looked great. Cute as a button, in fact. There was no sign of the bruising or the trauma she had gone through in that old red barn. She had a different glow about her. It must be that California air.
“How are you doing, Nancy?"
“Good, good.” She fidgeted, waiting for him to invite her in.
He nodded and leaned on the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Visiting from L.A. then?” he asked.
She bit off a sigh and bit down hard on her lip. “Yeah," she finally said.
They stood looking at each other and wondering what to say.
"Heard things were starting to work out for
you there," Rob said.
"You heard that? You asked mom?" Her eyes lit up, hopeful.
Rob shook his head. "Grapevine. You are still big news at the Early Morning Diner."
"Oh," she said, her eyes dropped down. "Yeah, things were actually okay in L.A."
The silence between them grew heavy and uncomfortable.
"Say," she said, "did that annoying deputy actually knock up a waitress?"
Rob snorted and nodded. "How did you hear that?"
"Oh, mom said something about it. He kept visiting me in the hospital and I was only there for a day and half so it was kinda creepy—"
Rob looked down and then back up again. “Why are you here, Nancy?”
"You never returned my calls," she blurted. "You never visited at the hospital."
"You were only there for a day and a half," he pointed out. Rob waited for several long seconds, then sighed. "Professor Wallenstein explained everything," he said. "That night."
She cringed.
"Don't worry, I understand," Rob said. "It makes perfect sense actually. You being you and me…" he took a deep breath. "No harm, no foul." He figured if his head bobbed up and down enough times, it would become a truth for the universe and he might actually believe it.
Another blanket of silence fell between them
“I came back to see you," she said. "I… I miss you. A lot.” She raised her hand in a feeble effort to explain. "I know how things looked. I'm so sorry about everything, but there was something that night at the mall. Something…The connection was real, Rob. It was real on my end.
"You didn't give me a chance explain," she finished feebly. "I just want another chance."
"What about Hollywood and being an actress?" he asked. His posture relaxed, somewhat, and his hands slid into the pockets of his jeans.
"It was starting to be everything I wanted," she confessed. He stiffened. "Away from here and all the baggage that entailed, but it wasn't what I needed," she finished quickly. "I finally get that. My baggage makes me who I really am. I liked that girl and I really like her with you."
Something within him finally unlocked. Maybe it was the earnest plea in her beautiful brown eyes or the way she bit down on her lip when she was nervous or the way her hair was pointing in several different directions at once. His lip twitched and the universe righted itself.
Well, it was about to.
Rob pushed off the doorway and moved to stand toe to toe with Nancy. His hand reached up slowly, telegraphing his intent.
She waited.
His thumb caressed her cheek and he leaned forward to gently capture her lips.
It wasn't earth shattering. Mountains didn't move. Angels didn't weep. But the universe did align.
Rob pulled away and smiled. Nancy smiled back.
"I can read auras now," she said.
Rob stopped. "Yeah?"
Nancy nodded. "Something weird happened that night. Besides me almost being killed that is. Something about that barn and that doe—"
"You saw the doe?"
"Yeah," she answered. "Didn't you?"
Author Notes
All of the incantations that Rob performs are purely a figment of my whimsical mind. It is not intended to be realistic in any way, shape or form. In fact, any semblance of realism is purely accidental on my part. However, I found the Spiritualist Séance Invocation at an awesome Ouija website, Ouija Magic which cites the Weekly Newspaper. Since I couldn't find the original, I'm citing it as they did.
* From "The Spirit Speaks! Weekly Newspaper" 1901
Excerpt from Water of Life
Water of Life by Rhys Astason (available now)
Camp Audie Murphy
American Federation, Joint Forces Command
On the coast of The Republic of Oman
0530 GST
Master Chief Petty Officer Jackson Monroe hated running. That hadn’t always been the case but after twenty years in the Federation’s Navy, time had finally caught up with him in the form of a solid hour of pure pain. Eighteen months ago, regardless of terrain, an hour of running would have been nothing. Hardly enough to break him into real sweat unless he pushed himself racing his Raider teammates, the Wolf Pack. But he had been whole then.
His new reality was a bluish tint to his face because his overworked lungs simply refused to process the lifesaving oxygen any faster. It was probably due to the fact they were now burning with fiery vengeance, his lower back was screaming with every movement, and his left knee felt like it was about to crumble into dust if he took another step. His whole body felt like it would burst into flames at any minute. The only good thing was that his right knee felt fine. Actually, the titanium joint and attaching rods felt nothing. Never would.
Jackson hit the sandy beach portion of the hardest trail on the base and slowed down his pace to a light jog. He couldn’t complain. This leg wouldn’t blind him with agony if half of it got blown off. It was a good leg. The best that the American Federation Military could provide which meant it was the best prosthetics available in the world. He had been lucky. Eighteen months ago, he had only lost a leg. Several of his teammates had lost a whole lot more.
“Morning, Master Chief.”
“Morning, Chief.”
“Chief.”
Jackson looked up in time to see the arrogant smiles from three members of Special Warfare, Raider Six, the Dragons, run past him. The fuckers had lapped him even though they had started at least twenty minutes later. It would be all over Camp Murphy by the time he got back. It didn’t matter that they were fifteen years younger, on the active duty roster and had use of two completely non-mechanical legs. He was never going to live this down. If nothing else, the other chiefs would skewer him over an open fire for making them look bad.
“Over the hill,” one of them said loud enough to carry over the breaking surf.
“Assholes,” Jackson muttered under his breath, coming to an abrupt stop on the hard sand. He gave up the ghost and leaned forward, hands resting on his thighs. He rubbed his very human aching knee, ignoring the water that rushed against his shoes and silently cursing at the metal that was now his other leg.
He looked up at the retreating backs of the Dragons, so eager to go spread the gossip that they had lapped Master Chief, the Ball Breaker of Camp Murphy. Jackson wondered what the blazes drove him to run this course. He hated sand as much as he now hated running.
“Good morning, Master Chief.”
Oh yeah. Now he remembered.
That smoky voice hit him right in the groin every single time he heard it. He straightened and turned, meeting sparkling green eyes that were alight with mischief.
Today she was actually within an arm’s reach. With the whole bloody beach to walk on, she was just a hairs breadth from intruding in his personal space and brushing against him. His breath stalled in his throat. Close enough so his hands could rip open the offending wetsuit and finally feel the softness underneath. Where his lips could finally taste the skin he had been dreaming about for over six months.
She sent him that naughty grin he now considered as belonging solely to him even if it couldn’t possibly be true. The one that hinted she knew exactly what he was thinking about and made so many promises that his cock twitched in anticipation. This flirtation had been going on since they’d met. But flirtation was all it could ever be. Cold harsh reality slammed into him like a freight train.
Gracen Ellison was simply too pretty, too young…and too commissioned.
“Morning, Captain,” he replied, his voice sounding harsh even to his own ears.
The moment shattered.
Something flashed across her eyes. Regret? Anger? He had just reminded both of them that whatever they were doing was against regulations. Her smile tightened imperceptibly, something he wouldn’t have recognized a few months ago, but now it was as clear as a bell. She gave him a small nod, bordering on brusque dismissal before trotting up the beach with her surf board tucked tightly under her arm and
heading up the wooden steps towards the parked cars.
I’m such an asshole.
He followed her to apologize. To kiss her senseless. Anything to take away that bruised look from her eyes and bring back the promising, smoldering look that he loved.
“What the hell are you doing, Jackson?” came the irate voice behind him.