Darkness.
An endless tortured scream.
I awoke to the sound of my own voice. Maybe voice isn’t the right word as it was more the sound of my own bloodcurdling and tortured scream. The dogs were alertly stationed before me, growling and barking as if an intruder had burst into the house, invading their territory. The cats were nowhere to be seen, and I can’t say that I blamed them.
Once again, I was bathed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as though I had just finished running a marathon. This was becoming ridiculous. I had only managed one decent night’s sleep out of the past four, and it was beginning to take its toll. This time the nightmare had taken on even more intensity. It was obvious that Ariel was trying to tell me something; I was certain of it. Doubtless, she had been trying to do the same in the last dream as well.
After calming the dogs, I immediately retrieved my Book of Shadows and recorded the still vivid details of this latest nightmare. By the time I finished, fatigue once again overtook me, knocking the second wind from my sails and leading me into a restless sleep.
The next morning, Felicity was dressed and waiting for me when I arrived at the hospital. Her doctor had released her earlier, and she was more than ready to remove herself from the premises. She had been fortunate in some respects as her injuries could have been far worse. Other than the miscarriage, she sustained only two cracked ribs and some minor bruises.
My fiery-tressed wife demonstrated her stubbornness and resolve in her refusal to be pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, though she did allow me to carry her overnight bag for her. I left Felicity sitting on a bench at the main entrance while I rode up in the elevator and then brought my truck down through the spiraling corkscrew of the parking garage. Moments after I left her, I exited the concrete structure, quickly zipped around the block, and brought the truck to a halt directly in front of the bench.
“I should have known you would be ready to leave,” I told her after I turned onto the street.
“I hate hospitals,” she answered. “You know that.”
“Well, you must have at least gotten some rest.”
“What makes you say that?”
“No heavy accent this morning.”
“I don’t have an accent.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, leave me alone,” she returned with a slightly annoyed tone then returned to the original subject. “I didn’t need to stay overnight. I feel fine.”
I pushed the truck forward and turned left onto Kingshighway. “I’m glad you feel fine, but what did the doctor say?”
“He said I was okay,” she acknowledged. “I just need to take an iron supplement for a while.”
“What about the ribs?”
“He told me they’d be sore for a week or so,” she went on. “But they’ll heal up okay.”
I veered right toward the on-ramp and sped up, merging with the highway traffic. We rode along in silence for a few moments, Felicity staring out the side window.
“How are you with the whole miscarriage thing,” I gently queried. “I mean mentally.”
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied, her voice flat. “I’m kind of in shock I guess. I’m not sure if it’s really sunk in yet.” She let out a long sigh and continued staring out the window. A few moments passed, and she turned to me once again. “I don’t know that I really felt all that pregnant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, I know I had the morning sickness and all…” She fumbled as she searched for the words to explain her feelings. “But that was only once. I don’t think I was pregnant long enough for it to really sink in. I don’t know. I hope I don’t sound callous. I’m sure I’m not making any sense to you.”
“You don’t sound callous,” I reassured her. “And I think I understand.”
“I’m depressed about it,” she announced after another long pause. “I just don’t think I’m going to go off the deep end or anything. What about you? How do you feel about all of this?”
“I’m disappointed,” I told her, “and a bit depressed. Mainly, I’m pissed at Devon.”
“Did you ever hear how his surgery went?”
I changed lanes then glanced over at her. “Haven’t heard a thing.”
“Have you talked to Ben?”
“Not since he dropped me off at my truck yesterday afternoon,” I outlined. “Something’s going on with him and Allison. He was real quiet.”
“Like what?”
I explained the incident I had only partially witnessed as well as Ben’s abnormally introspective demeanor that followed. Felicity agreed with my theory that Ben’s dedication to his job, combined with the extra hours he had been working, might be putting a strain on his relationship with Allison. Since she knew Ben as well as I did, she also agreed that we would have to wait for him to come to us.
We exited the highway and continued up the tree-lined streets toward our home.
“They’re going to charge R.J. with the murders,” Felicity finally announced in a depressed tone.
“We don’t know that,” I responded. “Like I told you last night, a lot depends on what they find in his apartment.”
“No. I can feel it,” she insisted. “They’re going to charge him, and he’s not the one.”
“I know,” I told her. “But the police can’t make their decisions based on the ethereal feelings and gut reactions of a couple of Witches.”
“Then we need to find something that they CAN base their decisions on.”
I looked over at her. She wore a determined expression combined with a creased brow, which told me the wheels were already turning beneath her auburn mane. I had kept the second nightmare a secret from her, as I didn’t want her to worry. Now that the third one had forced its way into my life, I suspected it might be time to fill her in. I thought maybe, if we worked on it together, we could decipher the clues I felt Ariel was attempting to give me.
“So, I think I could use your help with…” I looked back to the road as I turned down our street and quickly changed my train of thought. “What the hell?!”
The street in front of our home had become a small circus of news vans and media personalities. Tall telescoping booms extended from the vehicles, pushing dish antennas skyward in competition for the best angle and location. Camera-toting video technicians, burdened with battery belts and miles of cable, lounged against the vans in a state of detached boredom while nearly half a dozen on-air talents milled about expectantly.
“We really don’t need this,” I expressed my thought aloud as we approached.
“Tell me about it,” Felicity agreed. “You think they’ll go away if we just ignore them?”
“I doubt it,” I mused sardonically. “They’re television reporters. They don’t pick up on things as fast as your average household pets do.”
Intent on not being driven from my home by the tenacious reporters, I swung the truck into our driveway and sped past them around to our garage in back of the house. They sprang immediately into frenetic activity, adjusting neckties or primping coiffed hair, as they motioned testily for their apathetic cameramen to follow them.
“So what do we do now?” Felicity asked as the garage door automatically slid shut behind us. “We can’t sit in here forever.”
“No, we can’t,” I agreed. “Why don’t you go in and call Ben. Let him know what’s going on. While you’re doing that, I’ll go out front and ask them to leave.”
“Ask them to leave?” she echoed. “You don’t really think that’s going to do any good do you?”
“Of course not, but it can’t hurt.”
She answered me with a familiar roll of her eyes before opening her door and stepping out of the cab. “Whatever.”
The throng of TV journalists was shuffling about in my driveway like a directionless herd of cattle. Some of them focused their attention on the front of the house while others craned their necks in an attempt to see where
