M Sellars: Harm none

“He’s speaking to her!” I exclaimed out loud. “He’s telling her he’s sorry. She doesn’t understand. Concentrate, Ariel,” I coached the vision. “Help me help you.”

What are you talking about? Sorry? What are you sorry about? I don’t understand. Tell me what you mean. Your voice sounds familiar, but I can’t remember who you are. Ouch! What are you doing? Get off of me. Oh, why can’t I scream? If I could just scream, someone would come to help me. It’s cold. Get off of me. What is that in your hand? What are you doing?!

“He’s on the bed with her. On top of her.” I relayed the vision to Ben. “His voice seems familiar to her, but she can’t place it. He has something in his hand.”

My athame! What are you doing with my athame? No! No, don’t do that! STOP!

My head exploded. At least, that is how it felt as a desperate scream that only I could hear echoed forever inside my skull. My skin burst into a violent blaze, and starting at my throat, running the length of my chest then spreading rapidly outward, I felt as if every single nerve were raw and suddenly plunged into a vat of alcohol. I clawed at my own chest, fighting to push away the ethereal knife that was ripping my flesh.

“Dear Mother Goddess!” I cried. “The son-of-a-bitch is skinning her alive with her own athame!”

I fell to my knees and continued to claw at the air in front of me. I was faintly aware of Ben’s concerned voice screaming my name, but I couldn’t respond. I was trapped in the vision. I could see nothing but dull red and black as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, fighting to deny the searing pain. I could feel the blade of the athame, at once steely cold and white hot, as it slid beneath my skin, separating the layer of nerve impregnated flesh from the rest of my body. I was certain I could hear thick tearing as my hide was peeled away, exposing muscle, nerves, and hot viscid blood. I screamed my own guttural wail of agony as I struggled to break free of this vision I knew could easily kill me. It seemed to last an eternity. It seemed to last only a second. Time no longer meant anything.

Why doesn’t somebody make him stop?

“I can’t Ariel. I can’t,” I sobbed.

Why? Why are you doing this? Where are you going? I hurt so bad! Why did you do this? I have to see you. Who are you? What are you doing with those candles? Why are you drawing a Pentacle on the wall? It’s such a bright red? Where did you get that red? What are you writing? I hurt so bad.

“What the hell is he doing?” I whimpered aloud.

What are you doing with that wine glass? No. Don’t come back over here. Go away. Go away. What are you doing?! NO!

Again blinding pain.

Again a scream, but unlike the other, cut short at its peak to become a faint gurgle followed by silence. He had cut her throat. Her slowly fading misery continued to play its sickening scenes inside my head. I saw, as she saw through dying eyes, her killer raising a wine goblet filled with blood. A goblet to be used for his own perverse distortion of an Expiation spell as he prepared to forgive himself for the unspeakable things he had just done.

I was just beginning to lose sight of consciousness when I was unceremoniously lurched back into the physical realm.

“Rowan! Talk ta’ me! What’s goin’ on?!” Ben screamed frantically. He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shook me so violently that his knuckles pounded into my chest. “ROWAN!”

“He was practicing,” I sobbed, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, driving back the tears and fighting to bring my breathing back to normal. “The bastard was just practicing.”

“What the hell are ya’ talkin’ about?!” Ben practically screamed. “Practicin’ what?”

“Practicing the art of flaying,” I spat, pulling my hands away from my eyes. “He didn’t even try to perform an invocation ritual. He was just teaching himself how to skin someone alive.”

“What the hell for?”

“To prepare,” I answered, climbing to my feet and steadying myself against the wall. “He’s trying to learn… Most likely so that he can actually perform the invocation sometime in the near future. Trust me, he’s not going to stop here. This is only the beginning.”

“This is fucked up, man,” Ben stated wildly, turning in place, looking about the room as if some unseen creature was about to sneak up on him. “You saw all that?! You felt what she felt?!”

“Yes.” I had begun to regain some composure. “That’s exactly what I did. The fact that she was a Witch made it easier to do and…” I paused, “much more intense than I was expecting.”

“Okay, look,” Ben told me sternly. “I’m not entirely sure what I think about this, but I can damn sure tell you no one else at the department is gonna believe it, so this stays between you and me, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I answered. “Just let me help you get this S.O.B.”

“If any of this stuff matches up with the coroner’s report,” he waved his notepad in front of me, “you better believe you’re gonna help.”

“Good,” I told him. “Now let’s get out of here. I need to get away from this before it sucks me in again.”

I walked past Ben to the door and reached into my shirt pocket for my glasses. I looked back to see that he was following me then turned back to the doorway.

I turned back just in time to see a young man with long dark hair and the lamp he was swinging at me.

I lifted my arm instinctively to guard my face, and the table lamp met it with violent force. The vase-like, imitation china base shattered and continued its arc, glancing against my forehead. The blow struck hard enough to stun, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward to the floor. A gash had been opened at my hairline, and blood immediately began to trickle down my face and into my right eye. I had deflected enough of the impact that I felt certain I wasn’t seriously injured, but my ears were ringing, and I knew I was going to have one hell of a headache.

In the same moment I was falling to the floor, I saw Ben’s large form flash in front of me as he took two large strides and slammed my attacker forcefully against the wall.

“You better get out of here,” the near breathless young man croaked. “I called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”

Ben held the young man against the wall, twisting one arm up behind his back while pressing him into the painted plaster. With his free hand, he ripped his badge from his belt and shoved the gold shield into the attacker’s face.

“I AM the cops!” he shouted angrily. “Who the hell are you, and what’re ya’ doin’ here?!”

“I’m sorry, man!” The young man now seemed a bit more frightened as the realization of what he had done set in. “I didn’t know who you guys were. I came by to water Ariel’s plants, and I heard voices. I thought you guys were burglars or something. Really, man, I’m sorry,” he spoke frantically.

“You okay, Row?” Ben queried, looking back at me as I dragged myself from the floor and stood up shakily.

“A bit rattled,” I answered. “I think I’m okay. There always have been four of you, right?”

Ben cracked a smile and turned back to the young man who was still held firmly in place against the wall.

“So we know why you’re here,” he continued. “But ya’ still didn’t tell us who ya’ are.”

“R.J.,” he answered. “My name’s R.J. Does Ariel know you’re here? What’s going on?”

I looked at Ben, then back at the gory sight of the bedroom. He immediately picked up on my cue and maintaining his grip on the young man, pulled him away from the wall and guided him out the door into the hallway. I followed along, stooping to pick up my glasses, which had been knocked from my hands, then exited the room, closing the door behind me. While Ben still held R.J. in the hall, I went into the bathroom and found a washcloth. After running it under cold water, I wiped the blood from my eye and forehead and then used it as a compress on the gash and the rapidly rising welt.