“Is he okay?” Cally was asking from somewhere above me.
A male voice I recognized as R.J. weaved its way between the others. “What’s going on?”
“Oh no…” Shari’s voice began a different sentence.
“…is he okay?” Her twin sister Jennifer finished it.
I was surprised that I was able to understand any of the words, much less make any sense of them, considering that they were all speaking at once. However, I was at least able to pick out those few fragments. I blinked hard and willed my eyes to adjust to the dim light of the hallway. It still seemed darker than it had before the seizure had overtaken me, but as clarity returned, I found myself staring at the reason.
Everyone but Nancy was huddled in a tight circle above my prone body, blocking out what little illumination there was within the corridor. I felt a quick wave of claustrophobia but managed to suppress it as I focused on their faces.
“Rowan, are you okay? What just happened?” came Ben’s voice once again, firing the words in a rapid staccato.
“I’vff fallen and I canth geth up?” I croaked the first thing that popped into my head. My tongue was filled with a series of sharp pains, and I took notice of the fact that when I spoke my pronunciation was thick and blunted.
“Jeez, Row,” my friend admonished as he screwed up his face. “This ain’t the time to be crackin’ jokes. What’s goin’ on here?”
“Aye,” Felicity added. “Ben’s right.”
“Thorry,” I told them as I pushed myself up on one elbow and used my other hand to massage my jaw where it had impacted the floor.
I opened my mouth and touched my fingertips to the end of my tongue. When I pulled my hand away, it was wet with saliva-diluted blood.
“You’re bleeding,” Cally gasped.
“I think I bith my tongue,” I said.
“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Ben spoke again as he offered me his hand. “That still doesn’t explain what just happened.”
“I donth know,” I answered as I gripped his forearm. “Buth I think I know whath an epilepthic seizure feelth like now, and ith not pleathant.”
Everyone in the group shuffled back as I stood. I didn’t have to exert myself much as Ben did most of the work, levering me upward with a steady pull. Felicity stepped forward the moment I was upright and touched her hand carefully to my face, moving it from side to side as she inspected it. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard a frantic voice calling out in the distance. I listened hard, but my ears were met only by the ambient noise of the house.
“Was it some kinda Twilight Zone thing?” my friend asked.
“I donth know. Maybe. Probably.”
“Well shit, white man, what DO you know?”
“I know my fathe hurths.”
“I’m not surprised,” he returned. “You tried to dent the floor with it a minute ago.”
“Aye, into the bathroom with you then,” Felicity ordered with a slight nudge then directed her attention to the others as she assumed command. “Shari, do me a favor and grab some salt and a glass from the kitchen, please. Cally, you go check on Nancy. The commotion may have disturbed her, and she shouldn’t be alone if she’s awake. The rest of you go on back to the dining room, and I’ll see to Rowan.”
“I’m fthine,” I objected.
“Aye, so you say, but I’ll be the judge of that, Rowan Linden Gant,” she returned.
“So, was it one of those visions or something?” Ben threw out the question.
“In a minute, Ben,” Felicity instructed him as she made a shooing motion with her hand. “Let him at least rinse his mouth out with some salt water, then. Go ahead with everyone else, and we’ll be along shortly.”
The group split apart, and Cally headed up the stairs. Shari hurried several steps ahead of the rest of us on her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. As Felicity took my arm and started guiding me along, I heard the faint voice again. This time, I could actually make out the words, and unless I was mistaken, the disembodied vocalization was calling Ben’s name.
“Didth you hear that?” I asked as I halted and cocked my head sideways.
Felicity continued for a half step past my sudden stop, then looked at me. “Aye, hear what?”
Again, tinny words floated into the air, “Helllloooo! Benjamin! Talk to me!…”
I slowly turned back to my friend who was bringing up the rear. Without a doubt, the sound was coming from his direction.
A look of embarrassed realization washed across his features as he stared back at me then down at his hand and muttered, “Dammit.”
I followed his gaze then gave him the answer to his earlier question. “Thtell her I think ith’ll be fine.”
As Felicity and I continued down the hall, he had his cell phone pressed against his ear and was both apologizing to Helen and explaining what had just transpired.
*****
I spit a mouthful of salt water into the washbasin for the fifth time. The first go around it had been bright red, but this time it had only a slight pinkish tinge. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand then poured the rest of the solution down the drain and twisted on the faucet. After rinsing out the basin and washing my hands, I took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet.
Felicity offered me a hand towel, and I took it. She reached up and pulled the free strands of her hair away from her eyes as she stood over me and inspected my face once again. With extreme care, she tenderly pressed the tips of her fingers around my cheekbone until she hit a spot where I winced noticeably.
“Aye, nothing broken, but you’re going to have a bruise,” she announced as she cocked her head to one side. “Tongue.”
“What?” I asked.
“Show me your tongue, then,” she directed.
I opened my mouth and did as she told me; I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere to argue. She leaned a bit closer and squinted for a moment then nodded. I closed my mouth and peered back at her.
“So, what’s the verdict, ‘Doc O’Brien’?”
“You chewed on it pretty good, that you did,” she answered. “Still bleeding a bit, but not too bad.”
“Yeah. I figured as much.”
“Your speech has cleared up.”
“That’s a plus.”
“Aye, it is. So what did happen out there?”
“Like I told Ben.” I shook my head as I spoke, “I don’t know. It just hit me out of nowhere.”
She took a step back and crossed her arms, regarding me silently for a long moment before speaking again. “So, are you thinking it might have been Randy trying to communicate with you?”
“Don’t know. Maybe,” I answered. “There was that whole thing back at the M.E.’s office.”
“Aye, I wondered about that.”
“You and me both.”
“What really bothers me is that you still seem to be well-grounded, then. You shouldn’t be affected this way.”
“You won’t get any argument from me there. This is kind of weird too. Usually I ‘see’ something or get sucked into an empathic experience; even if it is usually pretty obscure.”
“So?”
“So there’s been none of that this time. Just a nondescript scream and now this seizure thing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it’s something else then?”
I shrugged. “Believe me, I’m just as confused by this as you.”
“Aye, but remember, you did start out with one of those headaches this morning.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
“Did you have any nightmares to go with it?”
“Never really got to sleep.” I shook my head. “So there was never much of a chance for one.”
“How is that, by the way?”
“What, the headache?”
“Aye.”
“No better I’m afraid. Actually, a bit worse I think.”
She stepped forward and swung open the right side of a tri-fold mirror over the sink. After a q
uick glance, she closed it and moved on to the center. A moment later, she was twisting the cap from a plastic bottle and shaking some of the contents into her hand. She tilted the container back and let the pills rattle back into it, deftly retaining three rust-colored tablets in her palm. She shoved the heavy dose of ibuprofen into my hand then filled a glass halfway with water and held it out to me.
“Go ahead, then, take them.”
“You know this won’t do anything for this kind of headache,” I said in a puzzled tone.
“Aye, that I do.” She closed her eyes as she nodded. “But they aren’t for that. They’re for your face. It will be hurting soon enough, and you don’t need that on top of the headache.”
“Oh, yeah, okay.”
I popped the trio of pain pills into my mouth and took the glass of water from her. Unfortunately, the medicine was only midway down my throat when, for the fourth time this morning, a bloodcurdling scream pierced my skull.
CHAPTER 10:
The ibuprofen tablets lodged sideways in my throat as I involuntarily jerked at the sound. I sputtered and gagged for a moment, then thumped my chest hard with my free hand, forcing the lump of pills to continue along their way. With a quick gasp, I wheezed in a lungful of air. My eyes were watering, and I coughed to expel the water that had ventured down the wrong pipe.
I looked up, fully expecting Felicity to be gazing back at me and wondering why I was suddenly choking. Instead, I found that she was wearing just as startled an expression as I’m sure was plastered to my features. On top of that, she was looking toward the open door. Before either of us could utter a word, a second cry echoed through the house sounding vaguely like the word “no.” As it faded, it became an anguished sob, supported on all sides by sympathetic words uttered softly by a second voice.
“Aye, that would be Nancy, I’m afraid.” Felicity turned to me and spoke in a hurried voice as she rested a hand on my shoulder, “Are you okay, then?”
The earlier stampede was already being repeated as everyone came back up the hallway, passing by the bathroom on the way.
“I’m good,” I choked out as I coughed once again. I was still sitting on the toilet lid and leaning against the washbasin. I motioned at the door with one hand. “Go. I’ll be along in a minute.”
I didn’t have to tell her twice. In fact, she was already moving in the direction of the doorway as I answered her. I watched her go and then pushed myself upward. My muscles were already feeling the leading edge of soreness from the convulsive attack they’d endured. I rinsed out the glass and set it to the side before taking a handful of the cold water running from the tap and gingerly splashing my face. I lingered for a moment at my eyes, letting the coolness soak in as I rubbed. They felt tired and gritty, and that was only one of the many unpleasant sensations coursing through me.
I dried my face with the hand towel and stood for a moment, my expressionless countenance staring back at me from the vanity mirror. My cheek was already swelling noticeably, and my eyes were bloodshot. I desperately needed a shave, and my goatee could have stood a trim as well. It seemed as though every time I looked into a mirror lately I would see just that many more grey hairs.
“Hell gettin' old, ain’t it?” Ben’s quiet voice came from behind me as he voiced the observation.
I glanced over my shoulder at him then back to the mirror. “Do you need to get in here?”
“Nah,” he replied. “Just checkin’ on you.”
“Old,” I muttered with a sigh as I gazed back at my less than flattering reflection. “I’d be inclined to agree with you, but the problem is, according to my driver’s license I’m only forty.”
“It’s not the years, Kemosabe…”
I finished the cliche bromide for him. “…It’s the mileage. Yeah, I know.”
“Cheer up. You got a few left in ya’, white man,” he said.
“I don’t know, Ben. I’m feeling like a bad re-tread right now.”
“So, like maybe you need to do that groundin’ thing you and Felicity are always talkin’ about,” he offered. “Ya’know, so the creepin’ ooga-boogas can’t fuck with ya’ so much.”
“That’s the other problem,” I said. “I’m already doing that.”
“For real? You ain’t just sayin’ that to get me off your ass?”
I guess I’d lied to him about my condition too many times for him to take my word for it right off the bat.
“Yeah, for real. You can ask Felicity if you want.”
He pondered my answer for a moment before speaking. “So, that’s not a good thing then, huh?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”
“So, whaddaya gonna do about it?”
I tucked the hand towel across the bar on the wall then turned to face him and leaned back against the vanity. “I don’t know,” I told him as I shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Can’t you cook up a potion or wear some garlic around your neck or somethin’?”
“What was that you told me earlier?” I answered. “I think it was, ‘you’ve been watching too much TV.’ Besides, garlic is for warding off vampires.”
“Does it work?” He grinned back at me.
I couldn’t help but allow myself a small chuckle. “I don’t know, Chief. I’ve never met one.”
The sobbing noises that were filtering down the corridor had diminished for the moment. They had actually been sliding up and down the scale ever since they began, and this appeared to be one of the low points. More soft voices, including the unmistakable Celtic brogue of my wife, could be heard joining the first in an attempt to shore up the explosion of grief. I needed to get out there myself, but I didn’t know that I was ready to face it; not quite yet, anyway. I felt a bit selfish, hiding away and wallowing in my own problems, but there was far more to this than just Randy’s death. And, since I was at the center of it, I was bearing a disproportionate load that was getting heavier all the time.
A small tickle had been working on the back of my head for a good part of the morning, and it was now resurfacing. This time it bypassed its normal annoyance stage and leapt directly into a nagging question.
I furrowed my brow and pursed my lips for a moment as I mulled the query over. I wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered, but for some reason it was begging an answer.
“You got that look,” Ben announced.
“Excuse me?”
“You know, that look like you’re confused about somethin’.”
“Maybe a little puzzled.”
“Okay, so spit it out.”
“I don’t really know if it’s important.”
“Yeah, so spit it out anyway.”
“Okay. You wouldn’t happen to know where Porter is originally from would you?”
“Not off the top of my head, why?”
“Because of some of the choices he’s made lately,” I explained. “Using the page from Hexen und Hexenmeister for one. The nail for another.”
“I thought the nail was pretty obvious,” he said.
“On the surface, yes, but he could have guaranteed that we could ID the body in a lot of other ways. The nail has symbolism of its own…” I let my voice trail off.
After a moment, Ben spoke up. “Okay, so you wanna enlighten us mortals?”
I was so caught up in pondering the query that I just gave him an offhanded answer. “Witches aren’t immortal, Ben.”
“Yeah, whatever. You wanna fill me in please? What about the nail?”
“What?”
“The nail, Rowan. You’re obsessin’ about the nail, and I’m kinda lost.”
At some point while I was staring off into space, he had retrieved his notebook from his pocket, and he now appeared poised to record any pearl of wisdom I may utter. I was afraid he was about to be disappointed by a cheap, plastic imitation.
“Oh, that. Nails are a major component of Witch jars and have been long thought by certain cultures to act as a deterrent to magick
al forces and WitchCraft. Kind of a protective talisman of sorts.”
“Do I wanna know what a Witch jar is?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a version of the talisman. I can give you details if you want them.”
“Is it important?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem to know a lot today.”
My reply was laced with sarcasm. “Thanks a lot.”
“Just an observation.” He shrugged then continued. “Okay, so anyway, two plus two equals what? Thirty-seven?”
I furrowed my brow deeper and shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m tryin’ to figure out where you’re headed with this. You’re just talkin’ about nails and the Hex Meister book. What’s that got to do with where Porter comes from?”
“Like I said, the whole nail mythology fits in very well with particular cultures, such as the Pennsylvania Dutch. Add in the book which is German…”
The distance-muted jangle of a telephone floated down the corridor and came to us through the doorway.
“So what you’re sayin’ is that you think Porter might be from Pennsylvania.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s just a thought.”
“And it tells us what?”
“That’s what is puzzling me. I don’t know.”
“I see.” He flipped his notebook shut with a frown and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Well that was a waste of time.”
“Cut me some slack, will you, Ben,” I stated. “You’re the one who asked.”
He held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been a long one for all of us I guess.”
I heard R.J. pick up the phone on the fourth ring and answer it with a solemn “Harper residence.”
Ben glanced up the hallway from his position leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, then looked back at me, and cocked his head toward the front of the house.
“Looks like they’re gettin' ready to bring ‘er back this way,” he told me. “Guess we’d better make an appearance.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “You’re right.”
“Hey, Rowan.” A young man with long dark hair poked his head around the side of the door. “How are you doing?”
The Law Of Three argi-4 Page 9