Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  “Yeah,” I agreed, pushing out a heavy sigh.

  The high seven had now progressed into a solid eight and seemed to be on the climb. It was still nothing by my usual standards, but it was definitely enough to let me know it was there. I looked past Constance and noticed the door had been left ajar, which explained why I could still hear the drone of the radio talk show wafting in from the nurses station. It seemed a bit louder now, and it was starting to annoy me.

  “I wish they would…” I began.

  Before I could finish the thought, a light rap of knuckles sounded against the door, and it slowly swung inward. Ben followed it and came cautiously through the opening.

  “Hey, Kemosabe,” he said.

  “Yo, Tonto,” I replied, teeth chattering slightly.

  He strode over and gave Constance a light squeeze on her shoulder, but that was as far as he took the semi-public display of affection.

  “We’re takin’ a break upstairs,” he said. “So just thought I’d come down and check on ya’.” He looked me up and down then said, “No offense, Row, but you ain’t lookin’ so good.”

  I was certain he had a valid point. The solid eight had very quickly advanced to a twelve with little ceremony or warning, and it was still on the move. I grimaced but brushed off his comment and went straight for a question of my own. “How’s the interview going?”

  He shook his head. “Right now, it ain’t.”

  “I thought the victim was stable and alert?” Constance said.

  “Yeah, he’s stable, I guess,” he replied. “And he’s awake, but I’m not so sure about alert. They got ‘im pretty drugged up, not that I can fault ‘em for that. He’s pretty tore up. But that ain’t the real problem.”

  “Then what is?” Constance asked.

  Ben hadn’t closed the door, so it was now hanging wide open. It wouldn’t have mattered except that someone had again turned up the volume on the radio out at the nurse’s station, and the frenetic talk show was now blaring through the opening. However, I still couldn’t make out what was being said because it seemed the host and all of the guests were stuck in a free-for-all with no regard for any type of order.

  Ben shook his head in disgust and then proceeded to explain, “Fuckin’ bitch did somethin’ to his eyes, which is prob’ly why he was wanderin’ in the middle of a street when they found ‘im. Doc says he might regain part of his vision, but right now they’re all bandaged up.” He shrugged and then added, “And, of course, on toppa that she cut off all ‘is damn fingers.”

  “What’s that…” I started then shook my head and changed course mid-sentence while nodding at the door. “Ben, could you please shut that?”

  He gave me an odd glance then stepped over and pushed the door closed as he said, “Yeah, sure.”

  The blare of the talk show didn’t stop. If anything, it became a little louder still.

  “Is something wrong, Rowan?” Constance asked.

  “That damn radio,” I said. “I wish they’d turn it down.”

  “What radio?” she asked.

  “You can’t hear that?” I replied, giving my head a shake.

  Ben backed her up. “There ain’t a radio playin’, white man, trust me. This is the quietest floor in the whole damn place.”

  The twelve had now become an eighteen, and a sharp stab of pain lanced from the base of my skull and directly into my frontal lobes. I winced and closed my eyes as my whole body tensed, which in turn set off the pain in my abdomen once again. Even under the warmth of the multiple blankets I became ice cold, and I felt the intense prickling of every hair on my body standing to rapt attention.

  “Jeezus, Row, you definitely ain’t lookin’ good now,” Ben observed. “I think we need ta’ call the nurse.”

  “Why the fingers?” I asked, pushing the question out through clenched teeth.

  I didn’t quite understand why I so desperately felt the need to know the answer, but it was more than a mere curiosity. It had literally taken on an unearthly urgency. For some reason, in my mind, it seemed as if my very life depended upon hearing it.

  “‘Cause she’s a goddamn sadistic bitch, I guess,” Ben answered from the hip with a healthy shot of sarcasm chasing the words. “Who the fuck knows? Hang on, I’m gettin’…”

  “No,” I pressed, cutting him off while squinting my eyes together as the eighteen ramped up to a twenty-two. I literally growled the demand, “I mean why do the fingers matter now?”

  Constance’s urgent voice barked, “I just hit the call button.”

  A high-pitched peal suddenly began issuing from the vitals monitor as an alarm started to sound. For some reason, even though only a portion of the telemetry was actually connected to me, the tone was swiftly followed by another, and then another, until it cascaded into an unscored symphony of electronic noise. Through my watering eyes, I could see frantic movement on the other side of the glass.

  The door to the room flew open and bodies dressed in scrubs piled in through the opening, barking orders as they shoved Constance and Ben out of the way.

  “Dammit Ben,” I groaned.

  “Jeezus Row…” he huffed as he backpedaled out of the way.

  “Why? Why the fingers?” I demanded once more, forcing the words out with everything I could muster.

  “The guy’s a deaf-mute,” my friend called to me as he was being pushed out the door. His confusion about my curiosity was evident in his voice as he added, “He can’t communicate with us, and we can’t communicate with him.”

  Twenty-two jumped straight to fifty, light bloomed in a harsh explosion of contrast, and the radio blared as thousands of dead, screaming voices poured directly into my skull.

  When simple magick works, it works well. When simple magick fails, it fails big. However, this sudden collapse of SpellCraft wasn’t just a catastrophic failure; it was flat out epic, and I was at the center of it all.

  CHAPTER 31

  “You had some of us worried for a little while, Rowan,” Constance said.

  “Yeah, I kind of got that impression,” I replied.

  Ben snorted and then quipped, “Not me. It was all them. I knew you were fine.”

  “Liar,” I sighed.

  “Yeah, okay. So maybe I was worried just a little.”

  “Uh-huh. Just a little. Sure.” I answered him with a sarcastic grunt and then said, “Thanks though. I appreciate the concern.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s all good.”

  I let out another labored sigh then closed my eyes and attempted to will myself to relax. I hadn’t been having much luck with that exercise so far, and I wasn’t expecting to now, but that didn’t keep me from trying.

  The somewhat overestimated crisis itself had ended almost as quickly as it began, probably even quicker, in fact. Even so, it was nearly an hour before Ben and Constance were allowed back into the room with me; and that only happened once it had been decided that my shivering had somehow caused abnormal readings to feed back through the monitors, thereby falsely setting off the alarms. Since various and repeated checks of my vitals showed they were as normal as they could possibly be given my current physical condition, that was the only explanation that seemed to fit the minds of the medical professionals tending to me.

  Of course, I knew better. There was definitely something else going on. While I certainly wasn’t an expert, I doubted that it was my shaking or that there were system anomalies causing the alarms. My money was on the fact that a door between the worlds of the living and dead was once again propped wide open. I even had the familiar pounding headache and background drone in my ears to prove it, both of which were ailments I had never imagined I would be glad to have back.

  Until now, that is.

  Still, I just let the doctors and nurses believe their faulty conclusion. It would be better for everyone concerned if I left it that way.

  “Are you still feeling okay, Rowan?” Constance asked.

  “Okay as can be expected, I guess.�
�

  “Do you want to try sleeping now? I can make Storm shut up if you want me to.”

  “Hey!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m not the one yammerin’, you are.”

  “Don’t worry… You’re both fine…” I said.

  At the moment I was reclined farther back in the bed than I had been earlier. The intensity of the spasms I’d experienced had apparently caused a bit of concern as well, in particular regarding the status of my incisions. That in turn had led to an examination of the wounds just to be sure nothing had torn. Along with that came an unscheduled change of the dressings. This was the first time I had seen the injuries—that I could remember anyway. From the quick glimpse I caught of the jagged rows of staples, it was obvious that I would be sporting some pretty serious scars. Of course, there really wasn’t anything new about that, so it was really the least of my concerns.

  Now, however, due to all that extra activity, the pain in my gut was even further agitated than before. It was vying hard for my attention, and without a doubt, winning; but I still wasn’t ready for the dump of painkiller into my veins just yet. I had a pretty good idea that once I did cave in and press the button, the ensuing nightmare would be taking on a whole new level of intensity. To me, that much was a given.

  Unfortunately, that conclusion also left me in a quandary. On the one hand, I wondered if the horror of the darkened dream might bring answers. On the other, I questioned whether or not they might be answers I didn’t really want. Still, under the circumstances, I knew it was eventually going to happen whether I liked it or not. I only hoped that I would be prepared for whatever it was I would see.

  The stretch of impromptu quiet finally came to a close when Ben elected to offer a personal observation. “Ya’know, if I didn’t know better, I woulda thought you were goin’ all Twilight Zone on us earlier. I mean, that’s kinda what it looked like.”

  I opened my eyes and rolled my head toward him. “Actually, I was, sort of.”

  “Whaddaya mean?” he asked. “I thought ya’ said Miranda had ya’ all locked outta that or somethin’?”

  “She did,” I agreed then tried to shake my head. “But she doesn’t anymore.”

  “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’m leaning toward good.”

  “Okay… So, you seein’ anything out there in la-la land now?” he asked.

  “No. Not yet but I suspect it’s coming soon.”

  “Okay, so, not tryin’ ta’ be an ass or anything, but how do ya’ really know ya’ got your Witch-fu back?”

  “Trust me,” I sighed. “I know.”

  “Do you know how it happened?” Constance asked.

  “Ben broke a spell,” I replied.

  My friend shook his head and huffed, “Yeah, right.”

  I answered the objection. “I’m not kidding.”

  “Okay, ya’ wanna explain how the hell I managed that? You’re the Witch, not me.”

  “Actually, it was both of you,” I said. “Constance told me the victim upstairs had my name carved into him.”

  “Yeah, well that’s an understatement. Poor bastard’s prob’ly gonna hafta change his name ta’ Rowan after this ‘cause of all the scars he’s gonna have.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “I don’t follow,” Ben pressed. “We already know the bitch is a fuckin’ psycho, and she’s fixated on you an’ Firehair.”

  “True, but that wasn’t just some sociopathic act on Miranda’s part,” I explained. “Was it just Rowan, or was it my full name?”

  He shrugged, “Both, I guess. Some spots it was just Rowan. But wherever it’d fit it was first, middle, and last.”

  “I figured as much. That means there was a very specific purpose behind her doing that. She was naming him after me. Literally turning him into a living poppet. An effigy of me, actually.”

  “Okay,” Ben grunted. “So what you’re sayin’ is she made ‘erself a real, live Rowan doll ta’ torture by proxy.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay, but I still don’t see what that’s got ta’ do with me ‘n Constance breakin’ a spell.”

  “The poppet wasn’t just for her to torture, Ben. He was part of a larger piece of SpellCraft.”

  “Keep goin’, I’m listenin’…”

  “It’s simple really. You told me that he was both deaf and mute, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she picked him specifically because of that. Then once he had been named as me, she also took away his sight and, by cutting off his fingers, his ability to even use sign language. In effect, she did everything necessary to render him unable to communicate, at least in the short run. She isolated him from the outside world in every way possible.”

  Constance spoke up with a questioning note in her voice. “So if I understand what you are saying, what she did was some type of magick to keep you from communicating with spirits like you normally do?”

  “Exactly. It’s called sympathetic magick. She made me blind, deaf, and mute as far as ethereal communication was concerned. I have to give her credit, it was an inspired move. Sick and twisted as all hell, but definitely inspired… And in this case, it obviously worked pretty damn well. It probably still would be if he’d never escaped and ended up here.”

  Ben shook his head. “Okay, that makes sense I guess… Well, ya’know…sorta… I mean at least as far as anything with you ever makes any kinda sense to the rest of us normal people… But I still don’t get what Constance and I had ta’ do with makin’ it go away.”

  “Sometimes…” I began then paused and qualified my impending statement “Not always, but sometimes…breaking a spell can be as simple as just knowing that it exists and how it was done.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah… No shit.”

  “And that’s what happened here?” he asked.

  “Yeah. That’s what happened.”

  “But didn’t you already know she was doin’ this?”

  “I knew she was blocking me, but I didn’t know it was a spell. As soon as I was clued in as to how she was doing it and put it all together, the wall she’d built began to crumble.”

  “I hesitate ta’ ask…” he began.

  I finished the question for him. “Why haven’t I been able to do the same thing with her connection to Felicity?”

  “Well… Yeah…”

  “Believe me, I wish it were that simple. But like I said, it doesn’t always work like that.”

  “Friggin’ wunnerful…” he muttered.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “Okay, but just ‘cause we helped, that doesn’t mean either of us is gonna start goin’ all la-la or anything, right?”

  “No more than you normally do,” I replied.

  “Yeah, Row. Funny. Just fuckin’ hilarious. You’re a real comedian, ain’t ya’?”

  I felt myself wince, and then I sighed heavily. “I suppose that depends on who you ask.”

  “Yeah. Well don’t quit your day job.”

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “The computer genius gig,” he replied. “‘Cause in case ya’ don’t remember, I officially fired ya’ from the other one. It was too close this time. My nerves can’t take it anymore.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m serious, Row.”

  “Well, I don’t know that you have the authority to pull that off,” I told him.

  “I think my L. T.’ll back me up.”

  “Yeah, well you can both tell it to the voices in my head. Besides, the Major Case Squad apparently has competition.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “I heard the Feebs are tryin’ ta’ recruit ya’.”

  “I’m afraid I told him, Rowan,” Constance interjected. “Sorry.”

  “Not necessary. I’m glad you did. I wasn’t really planning to keep it a secret.”

  Ben waited a moment then asked, “So, ya’ gonna do it?”

  “Right now, I honestly don�
�t know.”

  “Ya’know I’d hafta start callin’ you a Feeb too, right?”

  “Why? You haven’t called me a Feeb in years,” Constance objected.

  “Not to your face,” Ben replied.

  “Oh really?”

  “B’sides, that’s different. I’m datin’ you. I ain’t datin’ Row.”

  “And believe me, I’m thankful for that,” I grunted. “Well, don’t worry. The ‘Feeb’ thing has already gone into the con column on my list. I don’t need anymore nicknames.”

  “You’re starting to sound pretty tired, Rowan,” Constance announced.

  “Yeah…I am.”

  She nodded. “And you also sound like you’re hurting again.”

  “It’s not really that bad,” I breathed through a quick wince.

  “Now who’s a liar?” Ben chided.

  “Guess that’d be me.”

  “Why don’t you just go ahead and hit the morphine,” Constance said, telling more than asking.

  “So you’re pushing narcotics now?” I gibed, although my thin chuckle was cut short by another spate of sharp pains.

  “It’s there for a reason, Row,” she told me.

  “Yeah…I know… I think maybe I’m getting close,” I admitted.

  “Ya’ oughta just go ahead, white man,” Ben told me. “You layin’ there sufferin’ for no reason ain’t gonna help anything.”

  “Okay… Okay…” I sighed then lifted my hand into both their lines of sight and made a somewhat exaggerated show of mashing my thumb down on the button. As the pump kicked on with a quick, soft hum I asked, “Happy now?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted and then took a quick glance at his watch. “Don’t worry. You won’t miss anything. I’ve gotta run back upstairs anyway.”

  “What for?” I asked as the first fingers of dullness started to massage my brain.

  “Gotta see if there’s an ID on the vic yet. No prints ta’ work from, and unfortunately, there hasn’t been anyone matchin’ his description reported missin’. Hell, hasn’t even been anyone who’s a deaf-mute reported missin’ at all.”

  “Miranda is using someone else’s body,” I sighed.