the top of the railing as if the gesture could make it all go away. With a quick snap of my head I exclaimed, “Gods! They always sound so terrified that it…I don’t know…I really can’t describe it…I…I…Dammit!”
“Calm down, Rowan,” Helen instructed. “Take a breath and relax.”
I did as she told me and forced myself to settle. Finally I said, “All I can say is that their terror just fuels mine, and that just makes my panic grow.”
“A natural response.”
“Doesn’t make it any more pleasant…anyway, then, of all things, I start praying. As frightened-and I mean flat out petrified-as I am, I don’t cry like the others. I don’t moan. I don’t whimper…I just start to pray.”
“To whom are you praying?”
I knew exactly why she asked the question. She was fully aware that my personal leanings didn’t fit with the generally accepted concept of prayer. The fact of the matter being very simply that I was a Witch, a card carrying Pagan. I was a practitioner of magick and follower of an alternative religious path commonly known as Wicca. The idea of me praying was about as far left of center as it could get.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. God I guess, believe it or not…Yeah…I know…doesn’t make much sense, does it? Me, a devout Pagan praying to God.”
“It is not as if you do not believe in a duality of Godhead, Rowan. As I understand it, in your path you have both a God and a Goddess.”
“Yeah, but I get the feeling it’s not that God I’m praying to.”
“Perhaps in this nightmare you are not yourself, but rather someone else.”
“I gave that some thought,” I replied.“But, usually in the dreams I’m myself. It’s when I have a waking vision that I actually channel the dead and take on their memories and such.”
“However, I recall that you have spoken to the dead in your dreams. Correct?”
Helen was truly one of the few individuals with whom I could discuss these things without being looked upon with a jaundiced eye, as evidenced by what she had just said to me. I suppose it was her Native American heritage that made her so open to the idea that I really did communicate with those who had departed this realm.
The truth is, I sometimes had trouble believing it myself. Witches aren’t what you read about in fairy tales or Shakespearean plays. Practicing magick and following a Pagan religious path, while an alternative to the societal norm, didn’t automatically make you some kind of psychic medium. In fact just about any other Pagan could tell you that I, and those like me, were an anomaly. While the mental exercises that come with the territory may have enhanced some type of latent ability I had always possessed, Witches, in general, simply didn’t go around talking to dead people.
Why did I get to be so lucky? Who knows? All I can say is that “why me” had become a personal mantra over the past few years.
I gave Helen a shallow nod after considering her response to my explanation. “Yeah, but I’m obviously not doing a lot of speaking to anybody in this one.”
“This is true.”
I waited a moment then added. “Well, there is one thing I know for sure, and that’s what I’m praying for.”
“And, that would be?”
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but what I’m praying for is that this time it won’t be me. As selfish as that sounds, I want her to hurt someone else and not me.”
“Her?” Helen asked, cocking her head to the side once again and raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” I replied with a shrug then dug into my pocket for a lighter. “It’s like the arousal and callousness with the footsteps. I just have this overwhelming sense of a female presence in connection with the terror and pain. There’s definitely a woman at the root of it, but I couldn’t begin to tell you who she is.”
She clucked her tongue then gave her head a shake, looking at me with an expression that said she had reached a conclusion she was not yet ready to share. Not in direct terms, anyway.
“I do not believe that is entirely true,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean perhaps you do not know for certain who she is, but you have a definite suspicion. That suspicion is exactly why you are here talking to me now.”
I huffed out a heavy breath as my response. I was feeling only a small amount of relief at unloading the painful information to begin with, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take things the direction Helen was now heading. Of course, her high-powered perception was the very reason I sought her out; it just wasn’t always comfortable being under the polished surface of her lens.
Pressing on, I tried to bypass the inference. “Yeah, well…anyway, to answer your earlier question, that’s when I wake up…and, my heart is pounding in my chest; thudding against my ribcage so hard I can literally hear it. Just exactly like in the nightmare.”
“And, is that always how it ends?”
“Pretty much. Most of the time, anyway.” I nodded. “There’ve been a few times when it went a bit further. I’ll hear a creak of an opening door, and then the footsteps will actually make it into the room with me. Then, the wailing and crying of the others gets louder, but that’s pretty much it. It’s never progressed beyond that point. Not yet, anyway.”
“And, you never see her? The woman?”
“See? No. Feel, yes.”
“Does she feel familiar?”
“Can’t say for sure. Maybe.”
“Are you certain of that?”
I lifted my shoulders then allowed them to drop. “Yeah. Okay. She feels familiar.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Helen pursed her lips and nodded as she made the noise. “And, how often did you say this is recurring?”
“Never less than twice a night since it started, and that was right at a week ago today. Last night was the worst yet. I can remember waking up five times in a total panic, but there may have been more. I’m not sure. That’s pretty much why I called you this morning. It just keeps getting worse…Oh, and I’m not sure if I said thanks for fitting me in by the way.”
“Of course, Rowan,” Helen replied. “That is never a problem.”
“Well, I took a chance. I wasn’t sure if you would be taking some time off after your father’s funeral or not.”
Her father’s recent passing had been another of the reasons I had endured the nightmare as long as I had.
“We all grieve in different ways, Rowan,” she said, leaving the sentence to stand on its own as an explanation. “Speaking of gratitude, I appreciate that Felicity and you came to the service. I am certain that my brother did as well.”
“It’s the least we could do…and, I’ll take your word for it about Ben. We haven’t really spoken lately.”
“Because of the investigation? I know he has been very busy.”
“That’s my guess. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
“I would not be too concerned. As I said, we all grieve in different ways. Delving into his work is simply Benjamin’s way.”
“I hope you’re right,” I returned. “Either way, thanks again for fitting me in.”
“Well, keep this between the two of us, but even had I taken time off, I would have managed something for you. I have learned that when you feel the need to call me, it is not to be taken lightly.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”
“It was, in a manner of speaking.”
She didn’t embellish her reply and that wasn’t unusual, so I didn’t press the point. Since I seemed to have been moderately successful in diverting the topic from her earlier succinct insinuation, I finally relaxed a bit. Seizing the opportunity, I relit my cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully then gave the business end a quick inspection to make sure the glow was relatively even. Satisfied, I stuffed the lighter into my pocket and leaned back against the rail.
“So,” I spoke after an extended pause. “What do you think about the nightmare, Doc? Anxiety? Chemical
