But today that simply wasn’t the case. For all intents and purposes, outwardly I was just fine. Of course, that determination really was dependent upon your particular point of view. I was certainly stressed, but for a change, the cause behind it was definitely grounded in the here and now, as opposed to the preternatural ether.
The simple fact was that, after all the years of inescapable chatter, the silence filling my head at this very moment was, to say the least, unnerving. Hearing the tortured souls of the dead had become my norm, so their glaring absence was an alien concept as far as I was concerned—especially here, in a place where they normally gathered as if they were attending a morbid party being thrown in their honor.
In a very real way, the unbreakable quiet had taken with it not only their voices but my own identity as well. I was no longer “The Witch” who helped the police. I was just some guy going through the motions and trying to pretend nothing had changed, when in fact, almost the exact opposite was true; nothing was the same. This minor personal epiphany made me realize that when Miranda had said she could make the voices stop, she had not been making an offer for the purpose of bribing or even baiting me; she had been issuing a clear and explicit threat.
And now, obviously, she was making good on it.
However, as bad as this oddly foreign experience seemed to be, it was actually the least of my tortures at the moment. The worst actually had an unseen manifestation, which took the form of a sinking hollowness in the pit of my stomach. But, unlike its ethereal cousins that normally plagued me under circumstances such as these, this one was of my own making. My rampant fear regarding the horrific vision Ariel had guided me through was now fueling my reservations about allowing Felicity to go forward with standing in for me as a conduit. If the added fuel wasn’t bad enough, explaining the process to Doctor Kingston was fanning the flames even more. And, quite simply, every last bit of it was starting to make me feel physically ill.
“So let me see if I understand, Mister Gant,” the county M.E. said, summing up the explanation I’d just tried to give her. “What you’re telling me is that you somehow psychically connect with the immortal soul of the deceased and then proceed to conduct a pseudo-forensic interview about the crime. Correct?”
“Close, but not exactly.” I scrunched my face and gave my head a tentative sideways dip. My anxiety was competing with everything else for my undivided attention, not to mention that I was already struggling to explain a nebulous concept to someone who was likely a skeptic. So, getting my point across definitely wasn’t coming easy for me this morning. I shrugged and told her, “Something of that sort would be ideal, of course, but I’m afraid it just doesn’t happen that way.”
“Then how does it happen?”
“Well, you were right about the connection part. But once that’s done, I really just turn into an observer. What I see generally doesn’t make much sense, but I watch anyway and try to remember whatever I can. Usually that’s fairly easy. It’s the forgetting that I have problems with. But anyway, I also listen… And then afterwards, when it’s over, it all comes down to me trying to shove a bunch of really bizarre puzzle pieces together.
“If it works the way it’s supposed to, I pick up enough clues to actually make them fit and form at least a partial picture. And, if I’m lucky, that picture fills in some blanks for the police, which in turn helps solve the crime.”
“You make it sound fairly simple.”
“Believe me, it isn’t. I wish it was.”
“So you still get these clues from the spirit of the deceased though, right?”
“Sometimes yes. Other times…well…it’s pretty hard to explain, but the victim definitely plays a role in it, yes.”
“So you’re saying it’s a ‘had to be there’ kind of thing,” Doctor Kingston said, boiling down the ambiguity of my answer to a simple phrase. However, her tone didn’t sound at all mocking, which was a bit of a surprise given some of my previous experiences, in particular with persons of the scientific ilk.
I nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“I see,” she replied, leaning back in her chair. A crease formed across her forehead, and it was obvious that she was carefully digesting everything I’d told her thus far. Finally she said, “So what if it doesn’t work like it’s supposed to?”
“Best case scenario, I just don’t get anything,” I told her.
“That implies there is also a worst case scenario,” she prompted.
I shrugged. “There always is with just about everything, isn’t there?”
“Can you give me an example?” Doctor Kingston asked.
Under the circumstances, I really didn’t want to start down that path. I was having enough trouble going along with this as it was. Dredging up the things that could go wrong certainly wouldn’t help.
I tried to circumvent the question while still reassuring her and at the same time myself. “It’s nothing that you would need to be concerned about.”
“But what about you?” she pressed.
I lied, not that I expected it to go unnoticed, but I gave it a shot anyway. “Not really.”
As expected, she looked at me with something akin to suspicion. “Are you absolutely certain about that?”
“I take it we’re coming back around to something you’ve heard?” I asked.
She acknowledged with a dip of her head. “Yes, I’ve been privy to a few stories.”
I shrugged. She obviously wasn’t going to let up, so I had no choice but to address her concern, like it or not. “Then maybe it would be easier for me to answer you if you share what you’ve heard,” I said. “Then I can tell you if it’s legitimate or unfounded.”
“All right then,” she said. “I’ve been told by an extremely reliable source that while doing this sort of thing you have experienced maladies ranging from violent seizures to an apparent cardiac arrest. Spontaneous hemorrhaging and the sudden appearance of stigmata-like wounds were also mentioned.”
I let out a heavy sigh in the wake of the comment. As the memories conjured by it began to overtake my brain, I muttered, “Well, unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t deny any of that.”
“So then you can see my concern?” she pressed.
The question didn’t register. My attention had already taken a hard right turn and was now well off course, speeding headlong through a darkened tunnel of foreboding. I knew she had said something to me, but since the words didn’t connect, I simply grunted what I thought might be an appropriate response. “Yeah…”
“All of those things sound fairly serious to me. So for my own peace of mind, what I really need to know is if they are something that could possibly happen today if I were to allow you to go through with this?”
The question echoed past me as I stared through her at the wall. Again, the words were nothing more than noise rattling in my ears, with no meaning or reason.
The painful memories that were now assaulting me had already been in the back of my mind; they always were. However, I purposely kept them locked away. That tactic seemed to work for the most part, until someone would come along and manage to let them out, that is. Just like was happening right now.
With them now on the loose and running unchecked through the front of my brain, my anxiety received an unwanted boost that felt like it all but stopped my heart. I couldn’t keep myself from extrapolating the experiences and applying them to the current situation. Unfortunately, in each of these mental simulations, I was not the subject, Felicity was.
The hole in the pit of my stomach was growing. I could feel it expanding through my gut as the bile churned and gnawed around the edges.
I felt a thump against the back of my leg but ignored it. A moment later it came again, a bit harder. Through my self-imposed fog, I finally realized it was the toe of Felicity’s tennis shoe. She hadn’t assaulted me with a full-fledged kick, but the force of the second thud told me it wasn’t merely an accident either; it was definitely on purpose and mean
t to get my attention. I slowly glanced over at her and saw that she was staring at me with more than a little concern in her eyes.
“Rowan?” she said. “Are you okay then?”
Doctor Kingston was speaking almost simultaneously. “Mister Gant, is something wrong?”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I stuttered in apology, turning back to her. “Sorry… Just… Ummm… What was the question again?”
She gave me a cautious stare and then paraphrased her earlier query, “Should I be concerned that you might experience some sort of life-threatening reaction if I let you go through with this?”
“Well…” I began with a heavy sigh. “I really don’t think it’s anything to worry about in this case…” I forced myself to say the words, even though I didn’t believe a single one of them myself.
“Are you certain?” she pressed. “No offense intended, but you don’t sound particularly convinced.”
I reached up and rubbed my forehead. The onslaught of images set loose by my unrestrained imagination was still ravaging my brain. And now, the endless loop of the vision depicting my battered and emaciated wife was playing over the top of them in vivid, contrasty hues. The acute distress they caused was consuming me in violent waves, and I could no longer maintain the calm charade.
“Mister Gant?”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, shaking my head. “I just… I just…”
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“What?” I asked. I understood her words, but anything resembling a coherent response escaped me. I looked over at my wife then over to Ben. They were both staring at me with worried expressions.
“You okay, Kemosabe?” my friend asked. “Somethin’ change all of a sudden? You goin’ Twilight Zone?”
Panic set in.
I felt the room starting to close in around me, and my chest tightened as a low hum began pulsing against my eardrums. I glanced quickly between all their faces once again then said, “I’m…I’m sorry. I think…I…I just need to get some air.”
I pushed up from the chair and turned. Then I stumbled around the piece of furniture as I aimed myself at the door. I heard the hollow drone of both Ben and Felicity calling out my name behind me, but I was already putting distance between them and me at an increasingly rapid pace. Less than a half minute later, I was standing in the middle of the parking lot with my eyes closed and the heels of my palms pressed against them while I tried to recapture my breath.
CHAPTER 21
It wasn’t very long before I heard a pair of voices engaged in a hesitant conversation. They were coming from a point that sounded to be several feet behind me, and both of them were just barely audible over the traffic on the nearby highway. However, they were still clear enough for me to recognize as Ben and Felicity.
I knew, of course, that my sudden rush out of the building couldn’t be ignored. So at the very least I’d fully expected my wife to follow after me. The fact that Ben joined her was no big surprise at all. He’d been down this road with me several times himself.
I had only just begun to find my breath, and my heart was still hammering against my ribcage as it threw its frenzied tantrum. The horror projecting inside my skull remained clear and inescapable; it didn’t matter whether my eyes were closed or open. I was honestly beginning to wonder if this was all just another part of Miranda’s plan to remove me as a threat. To torture me into submission by leaning on the weakness I had so blatantly displayed to her over and over again. It was just like something she would do, and she would enjoy every minute of it.
I sensed someone standing next to me and heard a quick series of shuffling noises, but I didn’t open my eyes. I had a good feeling I knew who it was without even looking, and when the light breeze shifted allowing me to catch a hint of familiar perfume, my suspicion was instantly confirmed.
I wasn’t actually ready to talk to anyone just yet, even my wife, but I suspected that soon I wasn’t going to have much choice in the matter. I suppose I could have simply turned and started walking away, but I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to put off the inevitable forever. And running down the road like a madman with a petite redhead in hot pursuit wasn’t going to solve anything for either of us.
Still, right now, I needed to think. Unfortunately, what I needed to think about wasn’t what kept replaying through my mind.
“I’m sorry, honey…” I finally muttered. “Pretty dramatic exit, huh?”
“Aye, I’d give it a weak five,” Felicity answered softly, with an audible shrug in her voice. “Honestly, you were fairly subdued in the drama department.”
“I’m glad you’re able to joke about it,” I said. “Because I’m not.”
“I’m sorry…” she said. “Are you okay then?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
I could hear her measured breathing as she waited for me to embellish upon the comment. After a long pause she reached out and placed her hand softly against my arm and simply held it there. When I still remained quiet, she elected to probe for a more complete answer. “Headache? Voices?”
“No…” I said. “Gods, if only that’s what it was. Then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.”
“What is it then?”
I paused for a moment and then simply said, “This.”
“This?” she asked.
I lowered my hands and opened my eyes. The blurred image of my wife was no more than a foot away, staring back at me with what appeared to be concern and curiosity twisting her face. She gently rubbed her palm against my arm then brought up her other hand and offered me my eyeglasses.
“You dropped these,” she told me. “How they didn’t end up scratched I’ll never know.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking them from her and slipping them onto my face.
Her pale countenance came sharply into focus, wide eyes fixed firmly upon mine. The previously fuzzy expression of inquisitive disquiet creasing her face was now crisp and clear.
She waited a moment and then verbally pushed me once again, “You said ‘this.’ What did you mean?”
“This,” I repeated, shaking my head and gesturing back toward the building. “This place. This situation. You. All of it.”
“What about it then?”
I shook my head. “I can’t let you do it, Felicity. I just can’t.”
While she still held concern in her eyes, the curiosity in her face seemed to morph into something resembling slight annoyance. “Aye, Rowan, we just had this conversation. I told you that you cannot make this decision for me. And, we’ve already discussed…”
“I know,” I said, cutting her off. “I know. But, trust me, I have a valid reason.”
“All right then, tell me. I’m listening.”
“It’s not that simple,” I objected.
She sighed heavily. “I’m not someone off the street who’s unaware, Rowan. You aren’t alone in this. I understand… I believe… Talk to me.”
“I know that, honey. But this is…” I let my voice fade as the necessary words hid from me.
“Caorthann,” she urged. “I’m not blind. I know this has something to do with what you’ve been keeping from me… The thing you saw in that last vision that you won’t say. The thing that’s eating away at you.”
“Yeah…” I whispered. “It does.”
“And that’s what I was really after you to tell me this morning,” she added.
“I know you were.”
“Obviously whatever it is you saw has something to do with me… And whatever that is, it terrifies you.”
“It does,” I agreed.
“Tell me then.”
“Felicity…”
“No…” she interrupted. “No excuses. You told me this morning you were afraid that Miranda would take me away from you. Well, you need to know that I’m afraid too because right now she’s taking you away from me…”
I sighed and looked past her for a moment. There was more than mere sentiment in her word
s. She had a valid point. Miranda was dividing in order to conquer, and I was letting her. I drew in a deep breath then brought my gaze back to meet my wife’s and unburdened myself, just as she wanted. “Ariel showed up in that vision.”
“You mean Ariel Tanner?” she asked.
I nodded.
“But you haven’t connected to her across the veil in years,” Felicity continued. “I assumed her spirit had moved on.”
“I know, me too,” I agreed. “But apparently that isn’t the case.”
“What did she say then?” Felicity pressed.
“It’s not so much what she said,” I told her. “It’s something that she showed me.”
“Something about me, I assume?”
“Yes,” I almost whispered. “She showed me you…or, what little is left after Miranda pushes you out of your own body.”
“Aye, and that’s what has you so troubled?”
“Shouldn’t it?” I asked.
“Rowan…” Felicity shook her head as she breathed my name. “You know the future is not set.”
“But I also know that the things Ariel showed to me before actually did come to pass.”
“Not true,” she contended. “They happened, yes, but not exactly as you’d seen. You changed them. Because of the one possible future Ariel showed you, you were able to change the outcome. You saved a little girl’s life if you remember.”
“I know,” I said. “And now I’m trying to save yours.”
“By stopping me from doing this,” she observed softly.
“Yes.”
She stared off to the side for a moment then shook her head and looked back into my eyes. “Aye, but what if you aren’t saving me?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if this is exactly what Miranda wants? For you to give in to your fears and keep me from finding a way to stop her.”
“I considered that. But what if it’s the other way around? What if she’s just luring you in? She’s the one who’s blocking me, Felicity. You know that.”
“Aye, I do,” she said with a nod. “But we can’t know for sure which path to take if all we do is stand here worrying over the outcome.”
Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 19