Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (20 page)

This wasn’t the time for sacrifice, and I
knew that.

What I didn’t know was how I was going to
make it all stop. Felicity was hell bent on finding an answer, and
because of that, she was now caught up in a vortex of her own
creation. She had plunged directly into this on purpose, and now I
was not only fighting an overwhelming ethereal force, I was pitted
against her willful determination as well. The fact is, her
doggedness was probably feeding whatever it was she had connected
with.

Out of pure reflex, I reached for her hand
and clasped my fingers around her gnarled fist. I felt the thread
of pure agony arc along my nerve endings as it raced up my arm and
exploded through my body. My teeth began to involuntarily gnash as
my jaw grew tight, and the sensation of holding onto a bare
extension cord ripped into me just as it had the day before.

Amidst it all, however, was a new and
different feeling. At first I thought it was my imagination.
Nothing more than my senses thrown off kilter by the intensity of
what was now happening. But, when the feeling struck for a second
and then again for a third time, I knew it was more than a phantom
sensation. It was real.

It came first as a tug. Next, it was a sharp
jerk pulling against my arm and flowing through to the base of my
skull as if some internal wire connected them to one another. Then
it became a fierce pull, undulating in time with my on-again
off-again connection to the earth.

What was even more surprising was that it
made perfect sense to my tortured brain. It was my ground— my
connection with the earth— slamming on the brakes as it attempted
to shunt the energies harmlessly away. In order to stop this, I was
going to have to complete that ground for the both of us and hold
it fast. Unfortunately, that was an almost impossible task for me
in my current state. Still, I had little choice but to at least
try.

I seized on everything I had, reaching deep
within myself for the strength to make it happen. I fought to push
aside the stabbing pain in my head long enough to visualize a shaft
of light extending from myself and deep into the center of the
earth. But, just as I feared, each time I would form the vision in
my head a fresh lance of agony would pierce me, and I would falter,
losing both the connection and the supernatural skirmish in the
process.

At some point, I think I let out a scream. I
wasn’t sure because I don’t know that I actually heard it. I
couldn’t tell you if it was born of pain, frustration, fear, or
even a combination of all three. All I know is that whether I heard
it or not, I definitely felt it deep within my soul.

I would have assumed that it was only in my
mind, but for the fact that behind the deeply felt wail, I did hear
Ben cry out my name. A split second later, I felt his hand briefly
clamp onto my shoulder, and at that moment, a sizzling electrical
pop reported in my ears. Ben’s hand immediately jerked away in
combination with his expletive-ridden yelp.

In that instant I knew what had to be done.
This had grown beyond what I believed it to be. It was no longer a
case of me, or even Felicity, stepping across the threshold into
the world of the ethereal. The ethereal had come to us. Felicity
may have stepped into its domain first, but it was on this side of
the veil now. It was a physical manifestation, and it was making
itself right at home. If I was to deal with it, I had to approach
it as the unwanted houseguest it was.

The arc that occurred between Ben and me was
the clue I needed. I was on the right track when I had tried to
ground; I just hadn’t taken it far enough. I knew now that this
could be brought to a screeching halt. All I needed to do was treat
it like household electricity— I had to short it to ground and blow
its fuse.

“G-g-gr-n-n-d-d,” I stammered as I pushed
myself out of the chair and fell to my knees next to Felicity.

“WHAT?” Constance yelped.

“G-Ground!” I managed to spit the word out
once again, this time without dividing it into a stream of
stammered consonants.

Using the arm of the chair for leverage, I
pulled myself to one knee and slipped my right arm in behind
Felicity’s denim-covered knees. I forced myself to release my grip
on her hand and worked my left arm partially behind her upper back
as she continued to buck and tremble.

“What are you doing?!” Ben shouted at me.

I didn’t take time to answer him. I pushed
myself upward and tried to pull Felicity along with me, but the
awkward angle immediately worked against us. I lost my balance and
fell forward, stumbling into the chair, barely catching myself
against the opposite arm with my hastily extracted left hand.

I pushed back, breathing heavily as I
concentrated on keeping myself from being sucked completely under
by the preternatural riptide that was now tearing through my living
room. I quickly pulled my right hand free and grasped my petite
wife by both wrists then pulled her upward. For her to tip the
scale at one hundred five pounds, she had to be fully clothed,
soaking wet, and have rocks in her pockets; but at the moment she
may as well have weighed ten times that much. She was dead weight
with an attitude, and it was taking everything I had just to get
her up out of the chair.

“ROWAN!” Ben bellowed again. “What the hell
are you doing?!”

“Get back, Benjamin,” Helen ordered. “Give
him some room.”

I threw my gaze in his direction as I dragged
Felicity to her feet and steadied her body against mine. His face
was a contorted mask of concern, as were Constance’s and Helen’s.
The three of them were frantically moving about, trying to find a
way to help but afraid to touch either of us after witnessing the
severe jolt Ben had taken. Still, Ben was moving in on me with
total disregard for himself, obviously willing to be bitten again
if that was what it took.

“Benjamin,” Helen declared again. “Move away!
I think I know what he’s doing. Give him room!”

“G-Ground!” I repeated, forcing the word out
past my teeth as my jaw repeatedly clenched and released.

Ben shot a glance at his sister, then at me,
but backpedaled as she had ordered. I stooped quickly and planted
my shoulder into Felicity’s waist while slipping my arm around the
backs of her thighs. She was still trembling spastically as I
brought myself upright with her body folded over my shoulder. The
combination of her weight and the violent jerking sent my sense of
balance on hiatus, and I stumbled as I aimed myself toward the
front door.

“Door. Get… The… Door…” I managed to chatter
through my aching jaw.

Ben was already there, whipping it open and
rushing through ahead of us to hold the screen door. I threw myself
at the opening and thudded against the doorframe on the way
through. I careened forward and staggered onto the porch, just
barely catching myself before we tumbled down the front stairs. I
steadied myself against a support pillar and grabbed the
handrail.

Nothing happened.

Not even a tingle.

I couldn’t believe it. I knew that I had to
be correct. If I wasn’t I had no idea what I was going to do. I
looked down at my hand incredulously and realized immediately that
the functional metal handhold was coated in plastic— a measure I
had paid extra for in order to prevent rust and alleviate the need
for painting. Now, it was my bane as it completely insulated me
from the metal, negating the ground I was seeking. I instantly
despised myself for the decision.

I had to find another piece of non-insulated
metal to come into contact with, and I had to find it now. I looked
toward the driveway at Ben’s van but discounted it immediately. The
rubber tires were once again an insulator between the metal and
earth ground. I whipped my head to the right and made my
decision.

Still gripping the rail, I pushed off and
started down the stairs as fast as I could without losing what
little balance I had left. I could feel something warm and wet
against my shoulder, and I knew without looking that yet another
wound had to have appeared on Felicity’s pristine skin. I was
gripped by the sudden fear that the wounds went deeper than merely
the surface.

I hit the sidewalk and continued to my right,
tripping over the grooves in the decorative flagstone walk as I
hurried toward my new goal. I could hear Ben, Constance, and Helen
behind me, but I didn’t have time to acknowledge their presence. My
vision was beginning to tunnel, and I could feel my own hands
beginning to curl into fists as my physical connection with
Felicity fought to drag me under.

I continued to stumble forward and eventually
lost my footing then fell heavily to my knees. The momentum of my
crash carried me forward, and Felicity slid from my shoulder onto
the grass. She was still seizing. Even in the darkness, I could see
that fresh wounds had appeared on her arms and new, wet stains were
spreading across her shirt.

I pushed up onto my hands and knees and
looked ahead of myself. The dim, cylindrical vignette that had
become my vision stretched out before me, appearing as an
unfathomable distance with my objective well at the far end. I knew
it couldn’t possibly be that far away, but my heart began to sink
as I struggled with my now clubbed fists to pull Felicity back
up.

I suddenly felt an icy hand pressed against
my shoulder. Startled, I swung my head to the side and glanced up
into the smiling face of the Dark Mother.

I twisted my head away, daring not to look
any longer for fear of giving in and answering her beckoning call.
Looking to the opposite side, I slammed my right hand hard against
the ground, forcing it to spasm and uncurl. I quickly pushed my
left fist into the palm to hold it open then managed to work it
around Felicity’s trembling wrist as it closed tightly of its own
accord. With a guttural scream, I physically threw myself forward,
my left arm thrust in front of me as far as I could reach.

When my hand contacted the warm metal of the
chain link fence, I was instantly deafened by the cacophonous snap
of an electric arc.

Hot, white light flashed, and then my world
faded to black.

O
nce again we were
gathered in the kitchen— all of us except for Helen that is. A
self-described chain smoker, once she was convinced that Felicity
and I were okay, she had sequestered herself on our back deck for a
nicotine fix.

I knew she was blaming herself for what had
happened; she had told me as much. I tried to convince her
otherwise, but I didn’t have much luck. Unfortunately, at the
moment, I simply didn’t have the energy to force the subject. In
the end, we agreed to talk it out at a later date. Still, I hated
that she was going to brood over it until then. I knew she would
too because that is exactly what I would do if I was in her
place.

I felt myself sinking in the chair, probably
looking much like Ben had only a few hours before. I was exhausted.
My body chemistry was so out of balance I felt like I had been on a
weeklong drunk and was only now starting to sober up. If I had any
electrolytes left in my system, they were probably cringing behind
some obscure internal organ in hopes they wouldn’t be obliterated
as well.

I tipped a bottle of bright blue sport drink
toward the ceiling and drained the remains in a trio of gulps. I
was unimpressed by the taste, but then, they were Felicity’s
choice, not mine. Normally I wouldn’t go near them except to move
them aside when reaching for something else, but my current state
demanded more than plain water.

“Do you want another one, Rowan?” Constance
asked as I sat the plastic bottle on the table in front of me and
sighed.

I picked the bottle back up and rolled it in
my hand until I could inspect the label. Its claimed flavor was
‘Berry’. No indication as to what kind of berry except for maybe
the color. I hated to tell them this, but it certainly didn’t taste
like blueberries to me. In fact, it came across more like weak
lemonade with a tablespoon of salt and a pinch of sugar added.

“Not really,” I finally said. “But I guess I
should anyway. It probably couldn’t hurt.”

“What about you, Felicity?” she asked as she
tugged open the refrigerator.

“Not yet,” my wife answered, her voice
heavily underscored by a Celtic lilt. “Thank you.”

“This is fucked up,” Ben suddenly
blurted.

He had been standing here in the kitchen,
observing us in complete silence for the past several minutes. At
the moment, his hand was unconsciously working at the muscles on
the back of his neck.

“This just ain’t even right,” he added after
a moment.

“You’re acting like this is all new to you,”
I told him.

I knew my voice sounded flat, matter of fact,
and emotionless, but it was only because of the exhaustion. It
seemed like a struggle even to talk.

“Jeezus, white man!” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen
you two do weird shit before, but this was way outta the freakin’
box!”

“What, the stigmata?” I asked, referring to
the wounds that had marred Felicity’s skin but were now all but
completely gone. The only evidence of them having existed being
tiny, pinkish scars which were themselves fading away almost as
quickly as they had appeared.

“That’s a start,” he replied.

“You’ve seen that happen to me before,” I
told him, languidly holding out my arm. “Remember the Monogram of
Christ?”

I referred to a series of puckered wounds
that had appeared on my body, each in the shape of the
aforementioned symbol and each in conjunction with the death of one
of Eldon Porter’s victims. They had healed themselves into
non-existence just as Felicity’s were now doing, but their memory
was fresh. Especially after what had been witnessed here
tonight.