Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read online

  Since realizing that, neither of us had really treated this event as much more than a severe aggravation. In a way it seemed as though we were both under the influence of a psychic anesthetic. I suppose that was a good thing, but I couldn’t help wondering when it was going to wear off or if it was simply going to keep us numbed forever. I couldn’t really say which option frightened me the most. I did know, however, that neither of them was particularly appealing as far as I was concerned. But as worrisome as that could be, it was actually one of the least important thoughts assaulting my grey matter at the moment.

  What truly puzzled me was my earlier queasiness over the thought of blood when placed in juxtaposition to the apparent nonchalance I felt about it now. Normally I walked a line somewhere in between the two reactions—affected by the sight of it, yes, but not repulsed. This sudden shift to one extreme and then the other had me perplexed. The more I rolled it around inside my skull the more it gnawed at me, and that wasn’t good. After chasing the thought around in a circle for several minutes, I finally told myself that I needed to leave it alone, especially since it was most certainly some kind of cryptic message from the spirit who was doing this to me in the first place. Dwelling on it was just going to give her reason to press the issue to the next level. After what she’d already done, that was something I definitely didn’t want happening.

  I turned my head to glance directly at Felicity as she continued moving the washcloth down my bare arm. In its wake were diluted streaks of the sticky fluid forming mottled trails across my skin.

  “I think it would probably be easier if I just jumped in the shower,” I said, looking down at how much blood was still left to remove.

  “You’re right,” she replied. “But I wanted to see if I could find that wound. I guess I just got carried away.”

  “You didn’t and you won’t,” I told her. “You’ve already looked at my neck, and if it was still there you would have found it by now.”

  “I just want to be sure.”

  “I understand, Felicity, but if it was there I’d be bleeding all over you,” I countered. “And, obviously I’m not. It disappeared, so that should tell you something right there.”

  “Oh? And what should it tell me?”

  “That it wasn’t real in the first place.”

  She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “So I suppose all of this blood is just a figment of my imagination then?”

  “You know what I meant,” I replied. “It was real but it wasn’t. It was just there to get my attention. Nothing more.”

  “Well, by the Gods, it got mine,” she replied.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” I said as I fidgeted.

  “Be still, I want to have another look,” she ordered then gave the washcloth a quick rinse. After a moment she let out a sigh and added, “Maybe I should have just gone ahead and called nine-one-one so they could check you out.”

  I shook my head in quick response and started to speak.

  “I said be still,” she admonished in a distant tone as she pressed the fingers of her free hand upward beneath my jaw to expose my neck.

  I cocked my head to the side so as to allow her better access then said, “It was already over the minute it started, Felicity. Calling nine-one-one would have just raised questions we can’t answer. Like, why I’m covered in blood but don’t have any injuries for one thing.”

  “You should probably still see a doctor.”

  “And what do I say? I’m a pint low but I don’t know where it went?”

  “There’s still a spot here that looks irritated,” she said, apparently ignoring me again. “I’m pretty sure that’s where it was.”

  “Was,” I repeated. “Like I just told you… It’s not there anymore. Besides, I’ve been rubbing my neck all morning because of the pain. I’m not surprised it looks irritated.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not really? What’s that mean?”

  “It means it isn’t hurting like it was earlier,” I explained. “It just burns a little I guess. But like you said, it’s irritated.”

  “Well…” she murmured, gingerly pressing her fingers around the spot on my neck as if she expected it to erupt once again. “I don’t see anything else, and you aren’t cold anymore.”

  “See… It’s over… So, can I just go ahead and take a shower?”

  “I suppose… But I’m none too happy about this.”

  “Trust me, honey, I’m not falling all over myself about it either, but what’s done is done.”

  “What if it happens again?”

  “We deal with it, I guess.”

  “And what if I’m not there to stop it?”

  “You mean the bleeding?” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising both eyebrows. “And why not then?”

  “Like I said, the spirit just wanted my attention. It’s not like she would let me bleed out or anything. I’m no good to her dead.”

  “I think you’re giving her too much credit, Rowan.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if she was that smart she’d know I’m about ready to put her arse in a shoebox with a pound of salt and bury her in the back yard.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It wasn’t a joke.”

  I shook my head. “Do you really want to take that chance? You know what happened the last time either of us tried a binding.”

  “On each other, yes. What about on them?”

  “You can’t seriously plan on binding every spirit that tries to communicate with me.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Felicity…”

  “Damnú, I’m serious, Rowan,” she said, tossing the cloth into the sink then turning and leaning back against the vanity next to me. “What do we do about this?”

  “I don’t know,” I offered with a sigh. “Like I said, I guess we just take it as it comes.”

  She snorted. “That’s not much of a plan now, is it? You know you can’t function like this.”

  “Why not?” I asked, giving her a shrug. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing for several years now.”

  “I know,” she replied, casting her gaze at the floor and letting her voice drop. “But…”

  I waited for the rest of the sentence; however, she simply allowed the quiet to close in.

  “But what?” I finally asked.

  She audibly took in a deep breath then looked up at me. “I wonder if maybe I’m asking too much of you then.”

  “How so?”

  “You haven’t any control over this… I know that. Maybe I shouldn’t be asking you to fight it. Maybe you should just let it happen.”

  “That’s an unexpected about-face,” I replied.

  “Maybe that’s how it has to be.”

  “I really don’t see that as an option.” I shook my head to punctuate the statement. “Besides, the way I remember it, this was a mutual decision. I don’t want this happening to me any more than you do.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit there was a time when I thought I had no choice but to accept it as my fate, but now I just don’t know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead as I breathed a heavy sigh of my own. “Right now, all I can say is I’m tired, sweetheart. I’m just…tired.”

  “I know… But when you don’t fight it… When you let them in it isn’t as bad. Not like this…”

  “I’m not so sure that’s true.”

  “I am…” she replied, nodding. “I’m not saying it’s good when you let them in. It isn’t… I’ve grown to hate it… But now it seems to be worse when you fight them, and I’m afraid it won’t get any better.”

  “Maybe it will, in time. Let’s just give it awhile,” I said, trying to soothe her. “If I ignore her long enough maybe she’ll finally get the message and leave me alone for good.”

  “And what about the next one? An
d the next?”

  “If this works then maybe there won’t be anymore.”

  “Do you really believe that then?”

  “I have to hope it will work out that way,” I answered, avoiding any commitment that might come back to haunt me.

  “But you know it won’t, don’t you?”

  I wanted to say no, but I had a sick feeling that she was correct. Besides, it didn’t matter any longer. Even if I gave in to the urge and lied, my hesitation had already told her the real answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “Go on, take a shower then. I’ll heat up that tea.”

  * * * * *

  With the exception of a lingering fatigue, the rest of my day was uneventful. Felicity made it a point to never allow me out of her line of sight, but I could definitely think of worse things to endure. In fact, it was nice to actually spend some time together instead of being cloistered away in our separate home offices. Of course, it would have been more enjoyable if it hadn’t been obvious that she was expecting me to once again start bleeding profusely at any moment.

  However, by evening, she had relaxed considerably and so had I. The irritated spot on my neck remained sore, and the ethereal thump in the back of my head was still making itself known, but provided they didn’t get any worse, those were both things with which I could easily cope.

  Under the circumstances, everything was fine.

  The only thing I couldn’t explain is why, when I went to sleep that night, I dreamt of a moonlit lake, the bank of which was blemished with the corpse of a single black swan.

  CHAPTER 8:

  “Gant Consulting,” I said into the handset as I leaned back in my chair. “This is Rowan speaking.”

  I had grabbed the phone on the first ring. Customarily I didn’t get to it before the second at least, and usually not even before the third. But business wasn’t exactly booming right now, so when the bell began to peal I hadn’t been deeply involved in anything that needed my undivided attention.

  Truth be told, the lack of work was a good thing at the moment. I’d awakened this morning with the haunting vision of the dead swan still flashing in my head, and it hadn’t yet faded. If anything, it had intensified. That was bad enough in itself, but the imagery was also coupled with an odd, jittery sensation that had only grown worse as the day wore on. Dealing with those aggravations was keeping me more than a little preoccupied, so concentration definitely wasn’t one of my strengths right now. In fact, I’d been having enough trouble staying focused on the game of solitaire that was now sitting idle on my screen. If real work had been involved, I would be worthless.

  “Yo, white man,” Ben’s voice buzzed from the earpiece in response to my businesslike greeting.

  I pulled off my glasses and laid them on the desk before allowing the chair to rock all the way back on its springs. I reached up and began massaging the bridge of my nose with my free hand as a quiet sigh escaped. On top of the nervous agitation, yesterday’s dull headache was still living somewhere around the base of my skull, and it had been randomly sending out raiding parties to the front of my brain all morning. I seriously doubted it was a coincidence that one of those infiltrators had just now managed to dig in and set up a forward base camp right behind my eyes.

  To be honest, I couldn’t say I was all that surprised to hear my friend on the other end of the line. In fact, more than once this morning I had almost been the one to dial the phone. I kept telling myself it would just be to see if he had the name of Annalise’s attorney for me yet; but deep down I knew better than that, which is why I never followed through. I couldn’t help but harbor a conscious fear that there was an underlying motive for me to make the call and that if I did so, I would fall into the trap of talking to him about his current homicide investigation. In my mind it was a tossup as to which one of us would be first to broach the subject, but I definitely didn’t want it to be me. If I did it, then that just meant I had caved, and the spirit world would have gained yet another foothold in my life.

  Of course, it really didn’t matter who started it. The end result would be the same either way and could easily invoke a repeat performance of yesterday’s events, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. While I wasn’t willing to place all the blame on Ben, Felicity had made a valid point—he and his case just might be a corporeal trigger. Unfortunately, the fresh stabs of pain inside my skull at this particular moment went a long way toward being a smoking gun where that theory was concerned.

  “You still there?” my friend asked.

  His tone told me I had paused far longer than I thought. I rocked forward in my chair and managed to spit out, “Hey, Ben… Yeah, I’m here.”

  “This a bad time?” he asked, trying to interpret the verbal cue. “You busy?”

  “No, not really,” I replied. “It’s just… Nothing… Don’t worry about it. So, how are you this morning?”

  “Not bad I guess. Better’n yesterday. I actually got some sleep last night. How ‘bout you?”

  “Fine,” I told him. “I’m doing fine.”

  I could feel my body tense as a fresh wave of foreboding swept over me. If he didn’t pursue the previous day’s events any further everything should be okay. But I knew it wasn’t very likely he’d stop now. He had a motive for the contact, he always did, and exchanging simple pleasantries was never it. I tried pretending that maybe this call was for the express purpose of giving me the information on the attorney and nothing more, but unfortunately, I wasn’t having much success where suspension of disbelief was concerned.

  As expected, his next question made it a moot point to even continue trying.

  “So how’s your neck?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Any Twilight Zone or other weird shit to report?” he asked.

  “No,” I lied again and then added a bit of truth to reinforce the statement, “Not that I’d be reporting it if there was.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why, Ben. I’m pretty sure we’ve already beaten this conversation to death.”

  “Yeah, okay, but really? Nothin’ happened?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  He paused for a moment then said, “You’re lyin’. I can tell.”

  “Okay, Columbo. So what if I am?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I ain’t that short and I dress better.”

  “But you smoke cigars and drive a piece of junk,” I offered, hoping to divert the subject.

  “Okay, enough with the comedy routine. So seriously, how’s your neck?”

  “Like I already said, just fine.”

  “Bullshit. You’re still lyin’.”

  “You know, for someone who always tells me to stay out of things and let you do your job, you sure sound like you’re trying to drag me into the middle of this one. Just like yesterday.”

  “Nope, I ain’t. Just concerned about ya’ is all.”

  “Well, I’m fine, so don’t worry so much.”

  “Ya’ don’t sound fine.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “Says you… Did ya’ at least let Firehair know? I mean about your neck hurtin’ yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah,” I replied. The words came out on the heels of a low snort that I couldn’t manage to contain. “She knows all about it.”

  “Uh-huh, see, I knew you were lyin’.” His voice actually sounded like it held a note of concern. “What happened, Row?

  “I’d really rather not discuss it, Ben.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Look, it was no big deal and it’s over. But since we’re on the subject, I guess I should tell you this much—Felicity doesn’t think we should be playing in the same sandbox for a while. She’s decided you’re a negative influence.”

  “What? How’d I get ta’ be the friggin’ bad kid all of a sudden?”

  “She seems to think you’re a trigger for the latest
ethereal crap raining down on my head.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so. What’s worse, I’m inclined to agree with her.”

  “Why me?”

  “Short version is you’re a cop who’s willing to listen to me and the spirits know that, so they’re more likely to screw with me when they think I have your ear. That’s our theory anyway.”

  “That’s fucked.”

  “Yeah, but like I said, right now I have to agree with her.”

  “Great… So this means what?”

  “Basically, until I get a handle on controlling this, you and I need to keep some distance between us while you’re working a case.”

  “You seen the violent crime and homicide stats for Saint Louis, Row? I’m always workin’ a case. Usually more’n one at a time.”

  “Yeah, well it’s not like we’re married or anything, you know. I think we’ll survive.”

  “Uh-huh, yeah,” he grunted. “But you know what I’m sayin’. I ain’t so keen on ghosts screwin’ over our friendship… So how do we fix this?”

  “We don’t.” I shrugged out of reflex. “It’s something I have to deal with. Of course, if it doesn’t work out then I guess the theory is wrong.”

  “What then?”

  “Honestly? I really wish I knew. But I guess then we’ll be able to have a beer at the same bar.”

  “Yeah, friggin’ wunnerful. Damned if ya’ do, damned if ya’ don’t.”

  “Yeah, story of my life. And, it’s not exactly turning out to be my week so far, if you know what I mean.”

  “Uh-huh… Well since I’m gettin’ the blame, don’tcha think you should tell me what happened ta’ make you two come up with this landmark theory?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Rowan…”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself,” he grumbled. “Just tell me this, are ya’ sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, Ben, I’m okay.”

  “You know I’m just askin’ ‘cause I’ve seen this shit go south with you before.”

  “Who’s lying now?” I blurted the question without thinking.