Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (41 page)

I stared into the distance, trying to pin
significance on the newly identified sound. Somewhere in the back
of my head, I was being told that it was supposed to mean
something. But, that meaning was eluding me.

I turned back to my wife, and her eyes were
wide with the rampant fear. As I started to take another step, her
face suddenly contorted into a pained grimace, and her body
stiffened.

All at once, Ben and Constance started
yelling. I heard them, but I really wasn’t paying attention, so it
took a moment for me to realize that their shouts were directed at
me.

I didn’t really understand what they were
saying, and I didn’t have time to find out because I was running as
fast as I could directly toward the farmhouse.

F
our months had passed
since I had even seen Brittany Larson’s autopsy report, but here I
was running through the darkness, speeding toward The Ancients only
knew what, and that document was the reason. It had suddenly become
as clear in my mind as if I had only just read it. And, of all the
horrors it outlined, the one that came immediately to the forefront
was the cause of death: suffocation.

What was standing out even more than the one
word conclusion was the why: the technical jargon of the postmortem
that explained what had brought about the fatal asphyxia. And, what
it all boiled down to was that she had been electrocuted to the
point that she could no longer breath.

Everything meshed in that instant. In
relation to the electrocution, the bizarre ethereal seizures and
the metallic taste in my mouth had been a given for some time. But
now, the sound of the small engine made perfect sense. I knew that
it could be only one thing. A generator.

I ran toward the house, my skin crawling with
each footfall. I didn’t even want to imagine what I might see upon
entering, but I knew I had no choice.

I couldn’t keep my mind from flashing on the
fact that eight months ago I had done almost exactly the same
thing. I had recklessly run into an abandoned building in an
attempt to save a member of my coven from death at the hands of
Eldon Porter. But, in the end, Millicent had died anyway.

This time around, I simply could not accept
that outcome.

Kimberly Forest’s life was not the only one
hanging in the balance. The simple fact of the matter was that
there were three lives at risk. If Kimberly died, Felicity would
follow her beyond the veil in total, with no way to return. The
strength of the connection between them made it an inevitability we
had both foreseen.

And the third life, well, that would be mine.
Being unable to save Millicent had turned me into an emotional
wreck. I knew without a doubt that losing my wife would kill
me.

I veered off the gravel drive and aimed for
the front of the house, driving myself forward with all that I had.
Even with the electric buzz crackling in my ears, I could hear the
sound of another set of feet pounding behind me. Intermixed with it
all was Ben’s angry voice demanding that I stop. I suspected he
would overtake me very soon, and my only saving grace thus far had
been the miniscule head start.

The house’s porch occupied a space that was
carved from the front corner of the building. I reached the foot of
the stairs just ahead of my friend, whipping quickly around a
wrought iron support trellis in an attempt to dodge him. The
maneuver bought me a few scant seconds.

I took the concrete steps two at a time,
vaulted myself onto the landing and burst through the front door
with absolutely no regard for safety or stealth. I simply didn’t
have the luxury.

As I shouldered through the door, I found
myself standing at the entrance of what appeared to be a living
room. The space spread out before me, roughly a 16-by-20 rectangle.
At the far end of the room was a doorway on the left wall. However,
that was pretty much all that I managed to see before a large hand
clamped onto my shoulder and yanked me back outside.

I stumbled backward, off balance and unable
to compete with the force Ben was applying. He thrust me back
forward at an angle, driving me away from the doorway and into the
wall face first. I knew he was angry, and the severe lack of
gentleness he used in planting me here was testimony to that fact.
However, I didn’t care. We would have to sort it out later.

“Dammit, Ben!” I screamed.

“Shut up!” he barked.

I twisted to look over my shoulder, trying to
wriggle away. I could see that he had placed himself between the
opening and me. He was holding me against the wall with one arm,
and the other was extended stiffly toward the doorway with his
weapon aimed. His eyes were searching, and the way he was postured
made me realize that he was just as intent on shielding me as he
was in keeping me from re-entering the house.

He spoke quickly, still not looking away from
the open door. “Jeezus, Rowan, Felicity’s all seized up back there!
What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

“Stopping this bastard!” I spat, still
struggling to break away. “Let me go!”

“Leave this to us, Rowan! Backup’s
comin’.”

“There’s no time!”

“Didn’t you hear me?!” he demanded.
“Felicity’s all
Twilight Zone
or somethin’!”

“Dammit, Ben, he’s killing them!” I shot
back. “They can’t take anymore!”

“Jeezus H… You mean…?” His response came as
what I was trying to tell him finally broke through. Still, his
voice held an edge of indecision, as if he were weighing all
options in relation to what I’d just said.

“HE’S KILLING THEM, BEN!” I repeated,
screaming at him.

“Dammit, stay here!” he shot back.

My friend pushed away from me and immediately
disappeared through the open door. I knew he was violating one of
the most basic of police procedures by entering the dwelling
without backup, but he realized there was no choice. Even so, now
four lives were in jeopardy.

I twisted away from the wall and started
toward the opening myself, but for some reason, I hesitated at the
door. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or not, but I
stood there watching as my friend systematically worked his way
inward, firearm positioned and ready.

There was no way I could simply stand by and
watch. We had wasted enough time already, and I feared that it had
been too much. I started to step across the threshold once again
and felt myself inexplicably stop, unable to press forward.

My brain was in overdrive, rifling through
every option it could assign to the scenario.

I considered running back to Felicity and
trying to hijack the connection from her, just as she had done with
me. It would most likely mean trading my life for hers if Ben was
unable to stop this monster from killing Kimberly, but that was
something I was more than prepared to do. I even went so far as to
start in that direction, but by the time I reached the bottom of
the stairs, my grey matter was telling me it wouldn’t work. I
hadn’t been able to seize the connection from her even when I had
myself halfway together. There was no way I was going to be able to
do it when I was this close to panic.

As usual, my gut was repeatedly offering the
same suggestion— go back up the stairs and run into the house.
However, the small shred of logic I still possessed kept rejecting
the idea. It knew that doing so was likely to get me shot. Still,
even that was a risk I was willing to take.

Somehow I knew it wasn’t the logic that was
stopping me. It was something else. And, that ‘something else’ was
becoming very insistent that I listen.

The sound of the engine was still droning in
my ears, creating a backdrop for the incessant electric crackle.
The meanings behind the two sounds had already started making me
physically ill, and I could feel my sanity slipping as the panic
continued threatening to take over.

I reached up and covered my ears with my
hands, trying to listen to the ‘something’ that wanted to tell me
what to do. I pressed my palms hard against the sides of my head in
an attempt to drown out the torturous sound of the engine. I
squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to concentrate as I struggled to
ignore the noise that simply would not go away.

My skin was beginning to burn with the
prickly sensation of unrelenting gooseflesh. I could feel static
surrounding me, and random muscles in my body were beginning to
spasm. For one brief moment, I even found it impossible to take a
breath.

What seemed an eternity was truly no more
than a few brief seconds, but in that time, my frustration level
grew beyond containment. I was fighting to concentrate, to ground,
and simply to keep my sanity. Unfortunately, I feared that I was
losing them all.

I wanted to scream, to literally shout out a
demand for the drone to be quiet so that I could think. I was on
the verge of making the desire a reality when the ‘something’
reared back an ethereal fist and planted it between my eyes.

Realization didn’t creep in— it sucker
punched me.

I dropped my hands and listened, tracking the
sound of the engine as it hummed into the night. I twisted quickly,
focusing right and then left. The echoing sound seemed to be coming
from the other side of the house, but I couldn’t pinpoint an exact
direction.

A quick glance told me that on my right,
there was lawn and darkness. I took a step forward and looked to my
left. There was more lawn and a large tree. Beyond them, I could
see illumination from what appeared to be a dusk-to-dawn light high
atop a pole. And, behind that was a large shed, bordered by a
walkway. I didn’t even bother weighing the options. I was already
moving to the left, so I just kept going.

I darted around the corner and ran between
the side of the house and the tree, skirting quickly around a
cinder block well housing. As I came out of the shadows, the light
seemed overwhelming, casting a harsh glare across the back of the
house.

I kept moving, rounding the second corner and
continuing along the walkway at a fast jog. My head kept swiveling,
eyes searching frantically for the generator. The drone of the
engine was growing louder, so I knew I was on the right track.

On my right was a screened-in porch. The
walkway ran parallel to it for two-thirds of the length and then
made a quick diagonal turn, leading up to a single stair and door.
On my left was the shed. It ran the full length of the walkway and
beyond, ending a few feet past the corner of the porch.

I picked up my pace and then suddenly
stumbled as an ethereal spasm hit my leg, causing me to jerk
uncontrollably. I fell hard on the concrete walk, raking my hands
against the rough surface. A stab of pain bit into my knees, but I
gritted my teeth and pushed myself back up.

The spasms were coming more frequently now, and that only
served to heighten my fear. My connection with Kimberly Forest was
nothing compared to Felicity’s, so I could only imagine what they
were going through. The one positive thing I was able to attach to
the convulsions was that as long as I was experiencing them, it
meant that they were both still alive.

The decibel level of the small engine
increased with each unsteady step I took until I reached the corner
of the oblong shed, whereupon it leapt dramatically. I shot a
glance to my left. The large shed was blocking most of the light
from the dusk to dawn sentry; however, enough was filtering into
the expanse of the backyard to reveal a smaller wooden shed some
forty to fifty feet away. My eyes caught a flash of motion, and I
saw a flat rain cap flapping in the air where it was hinged atop a
vertically mounted exhaust pipe.

I immediately raced for the small structure,
limping and stumbling the entire distance as I struggled to deal
with the spasms. I was only a few feet away when my entire body
froze. I felt my heart jump as I struggled to breathe. My jaw began
to clench and blood filled my mouth as I gnashed my already
tortured tongue.

With a hard jerk, I fell face first onto the
lawn.

I
purposely tensed my body
and snapped my head back. I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to the
unearthly torture that was ravaging me. I pushed myself up and for
a moment, simply knelt in one place. My brain was a tangle of
scattered impulses, and I suddenly realized that I couldn’t
remember where I was or even who I was.

Confusion had overtaken me, and I was
frightened. I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I was afraid. I
shook my head, furtively glancing about. There was a loud noise
thrumming in my ears, and it was making my head hurt.

Something in the back of my brain kept
telling me that I was supposed to be doing something important,
something that couldn’t wait. I just had no idea what it was. I
tried to concentrate, but the noise was pounding in my head, and it
wouldn’t let me think. I knew that if I was going to be able to
remember, the noise had to stop. My eyes fell on the shed, and
something told me that it was the source. If I could make the noise
stop, then I would remember what I was supposed to do. I just knew
it. I pulled myself to my feet and started moving.

My left hand was twisted into a tight claw,
my own fingernails digging deep into my palm. My forearm was hugged
against my chest and was shaking violently. My right hand was
threatening to do the same thing. I didn’t know what was happening
to me, but I knew I didn’t like it at all.

I stumbled against the small shed, and the
noise was now louder than ever. The smell of exhaust was thick in
the air as I leaned against the structure, and warmth seeped into
my body from the wooden walls.