M Sellars - Harm none

“Dammit Ben!” I turned to him. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“Hey!” He held his hands up defensively. “She told me you wanted her ta’ look at ‘em.”

“It’s not his fault, then,” she stated, deftly laying the photo she was studying on to a stack then looking up at me. “That’s what I told him.”

“Well forget it,” I exclaimed and started reaching for the grisly prints. “I don’t want you looking at these things.”

“NO!” Felicity angrily snapped, grabbing my wrist and forcing my hand away. “I didn’t ask you what you wanted!”

“Wh-wh-what?” I stammered, surprised by her sudden outburst.

“I’m not letting you get away with it this time, Rowan,” she stated, an emerald fire of determination blazing in her eyes as she held my gaze. “You’re always trying to protect me. I know why you do it…” Her voice softened. “But I’m a grown woman, not a child. I saw what this experience did to you this afternoon, and I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and watch it tear you apart. I’m going to help.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” I pleaded.

“And you do?” she shot back. “You yourself admitted that Ariel ripped through your defenses and almost took over. We both know that something like that could kill you.”

“Excuse me?” interjected Ben, who had remained quietly neutral until this point. “Whaddaya mean, kill ‘im?”

“If a spiritual entity,” Felicity explained, turning her attention to him, “manages to take control, especially in the case of something such as this, and plays out the last moments of its physical life, it will repeat the event with the channeling host.”

“Are you tryin’ to tell me that Ariel Tanner’s spirit or somethin’ would kill him?” Ben asked, still confused.

“Not on purpose,” she continued. “But if she was in control of his physical body and re-experienced her death, the shock could kill him, yes.” She returned her gaze to me. “You didn’t bother to tell him that did you?”

“I didn’t think I would need to worry about it,” I answered sheepishly.

“Jeezus H. Christ!” Ben exclaimed. “This is fuckin’ nuts! All I’m tryin’ to do is solve a murder here, and I got some kinda weird ass Twilight Zone episode going on around me.”

We both turned to look at him as he threw up his hands in exasperation and fell back in his chair. After a moment, he again leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. He quietly looked from my face to Felicity’s then down at the table.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ve always figured you two for a coupl’a tree-huggin’ agnostics or somethin’, which I got no problem with. You know that. But, I don’t really know much about this whole Wicca-slash-WitchCraft thing, and ta’ be honest, I’m not sure if I wanna know any more.” He paused as if trying to pick his words carefully. “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but this mornin’ I saw some stuff that I can’t explain. Right now I’m willin’ ta’ accept it. But, I also saw my best friend rollin’ around on a floor clawin’ at his chest like he was havin’ a coronary or some shit like that. Now,” he pointed a finger at me and brought his gaze up to meet mine, “YOU start bein’ straight up with me if there’s some kinda risk involved.” He then shifted his attention to Felicity. “And YOU. Watch his back or whatever you Witches do. Okay?”

“You can count on it,” she told him, her face spreading into a smile.

“Yeah,” I added, “you’re right.”

“Okay,” he said, relaxing and settling back in his seat. “So R.J. and company are s’posed to be here in about half an hour. You palefaces wouldn’t happen to have a slab of buffalo or somethin’ around here would ya’? I’m starved.”

Ben had demolished a plate of sandwiches by the time the doorbell rang. At the sound, the dogs immediately shifted into territorial protection mode and yelped riotously. The cats, which had been entertaining themselves in a free-for-all wrestling match, scattered. Salinger, our Himalayan, was the only feline left to be seen, and he was perched well out of reach on the exposed rafters of the living room.

When Felicity and I remodeled our house, we had vaulted the ceiling in an effort to create a lofty, open feel. The cats had discovered the rafters and learned, to their great delight, that they afforded both a safe haven and a bird’s eye view of everything that happened in the room. Salinger sat upon them now, intently studying the scene below. It was clear he thought something interesting was about to happen.

I answered the door as Ben assisted Felicity in setting out platters of freshly made sandwiches and honey cakes along with a large thermal carafe of iced chamomile tea, as it had inherent calmative properties. We wanted the surroundings to be as comfortable and hospitable as possible for this group.

To Wiccans, the death of a brother or sister of The Craft is supposed to be considered a graduation, an advancement to the next level of learning, and therefore treated not as a time of sorrow but as a time of celebration. I assumed the members of the group would be of roughly the same age as R.J. Because of this, I suspected that this was the first time any of them would be dealing with the crossing over of a fellow Witch. This fact, combined with the circumstances of Ariel’s death, was likely to bring on grief as opposed to happiness.

Once the necessary questioning was finished this evening, Felicity and I would be taking it upon ourselves to offer counsel to this leaderless coven and help them along their path.

Swinging the door open, I was greeted by a small huddle on my front porch. Apparently, Ariel’s coven believed in safety in numbers, and they had elected to descend upon us as a group. Turning, I commanded our two boisterous canines to sit. They immediately planted themselves where they stood, though Quigley, the Australian cattle dog, continued to whine quietly. With the commotion settled, I returned to the task at hand and pushed the screen door open with a smile.

“Rowan Gant?” a young brunette queried.

“That’s me,” I answered. “Come on in.”

I held the door as the five of them filed in and proceeded to nervously mill about in my living room. I closed the door, turned to our guests, and noticed that there were no familiar faces.

“How many more of you should we be expecting?” I asked.

“This is it,” replied the brunette guardedly. She had apparently been elected speaker for the group. “Except for R.J.”

“I noticed he was missing,” I returned, smiling. “Didn’t he come with you?”

“No,” she answered. “We aren’t sure where he is. He called all of us and said to be here at seven tonight.”

“Well,” I proceeded, “I’m sure he’s just running a little late.” I held out my hand to her. “Since he’s not here to do the introductions, I suppose we should do that ourselves. Obviously, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage…”

“Calliope,” she said, taking my hand. “But everyone calls me Cally.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Cally proceeded solemnly around the group, and I was introduced to Shari and Jennifer, two blonde young women who were obviously identical twins. Continuing, I met a tall, lanky young man with hair the color of a ripened tomato named Randy and finally, his wife, a statuesque woman with dark, penetrating eyes and coal black hair. Her name was Nancy. I led them through the archway into our dining room and repeated the introductions for Felicity and Ben.

“So where’s the kid?” Ben asked, referring to R.J. as he surveyed the group.

“He seems to be running a little late,” I told him, adding a sharp look to encourage a bit more tact.