fuckin’ thing off.”
“Then maybe the battery died,” I tried again. “Or maybe she left it in her car.”
“Yeah, well I hope you’re right, but I wouldn’t lay money on it.”
“Yeah, me too.”
My friend withdrew his own cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. After a pair of aborted attempts, he tossed it over into my lap.
“Friggin’ little ass buttons,” he complained. “Try ‘er again. She’s three.”
I peered at the backlit screen and thumbed the button to backspace out of the several numbers he’d managed to fumble into the device with his oversized digits. Once cleared, I stabbed three and hit the send button.
The phone at the other end rang a trio of times and was followed by a click and Constance’s digitally recorded greeting as it switched over to voice mail. I thumbed the end button and began stabbing in Felicity’s cell number.
“Still just voice mail,” I announced as I tucked the device back up to my ear.
My wife’s phone mimicked Mandalay’s in that it switched almost immediately to the pre-recorded voice mail announcement.
I ended the call without leaving a message then folded the cell back on itself and placed it on the console between us.
“Same thing with Felicity’s,” I said aloud.
“We’re almost there anyway,” he replied.
He slowed a bit as we approached the intersection at the head of my street then veered into a shallow turn, clipping the curb and barely missing the stop sign. As he aimed the vehicle along the pavement, I looked up through the windshield, and my heart skipped into the pit of my stomach. In the distance were two sets of flickering light bars atop what were most likely Briarwood patrol cars. Even though we were still almost a block away, I knew immediately that they weren’t there on a routine traffic stop.
By the time we came to a halt behind them and in front of my house, there was a new set of frantic lights coming toward us from the opposite end of the street. I looked quickly up to my front porch, where an officer stood speaking into his radio, then back down to the rapidly approaching emergency lights.
I could tell by their configuration that they belonged to either an ambulance or a life support vehicle.
CHAPTER 25:
Agent Mandalay’s sedan was parked on the street in front of the house with one of the Briarwood squad cars positioned immediately behind it. The other patrol vehicle was occupying a space against the curb across the street from them. I shot a glance up the driveway, searching for any sign of Felicity’s Jeep but found none. Of course, it was entirely possible that she had pulled completely behind the house-or into the garage for that matter. While I hadn’t thought she would come here, the present level of activity was more than enough to tell me that maybe I had been wrong.
Even from the street, the entire scene felt strange. There was a tickle in the center of my brain that sent a cold shiver shooting down my spine. It continued to repeat until a ripple of gooseflesh marched across the back of my neck, and even then it didn’t totally subside.
I could only describe what I was feeling as an overall sense of violation, and I knew that it was coming from the ethereal wards I had placed around the house, just like any other Witch would do. Now, those preternatural shields were howling out an alarm that only I could hear, and what they were telling me was that someone uninvited had intruded upon my space.
The feeling wasn’t one of just any intrusion either, so I was fairly certain that it wasn’t the police officers I was being warned about. I was, however, firmly convinced that whoever it was that Felicity had now become was in large part responsible for the uncomfortable prickling sensation.
I looked up and saw that the life support vehicle was only a half-block away now, but I didn’t intend to wait for it. I slammed the passenger door on the van and started toward the house only a half step ahead of Ben.
I tried not to pay attention to the gawking neighbors as we ran across the yard and up the front steps, but I couldn’t help feeling their stares. This was far from the first time we’d had the front of our house painted with the multi-hued lights from emergency vehicles. In fact, Felicity and I had actually become somewhat well known on our block because of incidents such as this, though that celebrity was really more infamy than fame. Owing to that, I figured the nearby residents would all be used to this sort of thing by now.
Still, it had been a couple of years since the last episode, and a lull of that length was bound to allow some of their curiosity to return. I suppose that was the reason why several of them were now peering at the show from behind the fogged glass of their storm doors. In fact, there were even a few onlookers, who apparently lived on a side street, who were braving the chilly night just to come up the block and watch from the corner.
As we hit the porch, Ben flashed his badge and identified himself then gave the officer a cursory explanation that I was the homeowner. The cop gave him a nod then pulled open the door and called out to the officer inside as he ushered us in.
The first thing I noticed as we entered the house was the sweet odor of Felicity’s favorite perfume. It was strong, almost to the point of cloying; the scent lingered on the air even heavier than it did whenever she first sprayed it on. The problem was I still didn’t see her anywhere.
The second thing was a muffled ruckus coming from both of the dogs barking and whining. Their boisterous clamor was coupled with the hard scrape of frenzied pawing somewhere deeper into the house.
“Is my wife here?” I asked immediately. “Is she okay?”
“Your wife would be a Ms. Felicity O’Brien?” the officer waiting inside the door asked.
“Yes. Where is she?”
“Calm down sir,” the officer replied. “She wasn’t here when we arrived.”
“Do you know if she was here at all?” Ben asked.
“Oh yeah,” a weak female voice came from the dining room. “She was here all right.”
Ben and I both turned toward the source of the words.
Agent Mandalay was sitting in the dining room looking at us. If ever there was an expression that said “splitting headache”, it was the one glued to her face at this very moment.
She was leaning forward with one elbow resting on the surface of the table and her forehead clasped in her hand. The other hand was occupied with holding a dishtowel to the side of her head, just above and behind her ear. Even so, she couldn’t hide the blood that stained both her hand and neck.
“Jeezus!” Ben exclaimed as he rushed toward her with me close on his heels.
“Glad you two could join the party,” she quipped, voice still thready.
“What the hell happened?” Ben appealed.
Before my friend had even finished the question, I heard the storm door open and heavy footsteps entering the house.
“Over here,” the police officer’s voice sounded behind us.
A second later a new voice entered the mix. “Excuse me. Coming through.”
An ordered commotion broke out around us as two paramedics entered the dining room and elbowed us out of the way to close in around Constance. One of them was already donning latex gloves as he asked her what had happened.
I didn’t hear her answer as her low voice was drowned out by the polite but firm words of the other paramedic addressing Ben and me. “We’re going to need for you to give us some space.”
Ben pulled me to the side as he reluctantly stepped out of the way himself, but he remained on the periphery watching silently with deep concern behind his dark eyes.
“This way sir,” the Briarwood police officer said as she took me by the arm and guided me back toward the living room.
Now, not only was I feeling like an intruder had been in my home, I was feeling like one myself. My frustration level was rapidly climbing. I still didn’t know where my wife was; Constance had been injured somehow,
