The scene was surreal. The darkness surrounded us, with only the distant light of the van’s headlamps casting any illumination whatsoever. Wherever their dimness fell, oblique shadows were moving in angry, stilted motions. There was something very disconcerting about the whole thing, and I knew there was more to it than just what I could see in the physical plane. As I stared at the tableau, I began to get a very bad feeling.
I shook off the sensation and started toward my wife. I could hear Constance behind me, barking orders to the suspect. “Spread your legs, toes pointed out.”
Ben had finished restraining Felicity, and he turned away from her, stepping past me without even acknowledging my presence. He now had his weapon back in hand and stiffly aimed forward at the suspect.
I glanced over at them and saw him give Constance a quick nod. She re-holstered her weapon and then quickly reached beneath her jacket and produced a pair of handcuffs. She moved in swiftly, lowering herself down and placing her knee in the suspect’s upper back.
“Left hand in the small of your back, palm down,” she ordered. “Now.”
The suspect complied, and in a deft motion, Mandalay slapped the metal restraint around the woman’s wrist.
I turned and kept stumbling toward my wife who had ceased her screaming but was still cursing at Ben in at least one language. Without warning, she suddenly stopped and turned her face toward me. I was still a few steps away, but I halted dead in my tracks as our gazes locked. There was no mistaking the intensity of the fear I saw in her face, and a second later I heard the rushing buzz of electricity in my ears. She didn’t have to say a word for me to know that she was hearing it too.
The hair on the back of my neck began to rise and was followed by the follicles along my arms rotating upward as well.
I started toward Felicity but then hesitated. Something unseen drew my eyes away, and I looked up at the lights of the house farther up the gravel driveway. Behind the ethereal crackle there was another sound. Muffled, but distinctly there. It had most likely been there the entire time but had remained unnoticed in all the commotion. I concentrated, listening as hard as I could and realized that it was a small gasoline engine droning along.
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.
CHAPTER 41:
Four 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.
