M Sellars: Blood Moon

At the moment, my wife was keeping quiet amidst the halting conversation, and a dismal air still surrounded her just as it did all of us. Her sadness, however, was a bit more obvious as she was unconsciously broadcasting it with everything from her expression to her posture. At least the flow of tears had stopped, so I knew she was coping well enough that I didn’t need to worry about her too much for the moment. Still, I suspected her current state was influenced by far more than just the funeral. I knew it definitely was for me.

I turned my gaze back to my friend and said, “There were quite a few more cops here than I expected, considering.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grunted. “Me too. Turns out a bunch of ‘em even took vacation or comp time ta’ be here.”

“That says a lot.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Are you going to the house, then?” Felicity finally interjected, her voice soft.

“Prob’ly a little later,” he said, as he looked over at her with a quick nod and then glanced at his watch. “I told Constance’s parents I’d take ‘em ta’ lunch.”

“How are they handling everything?” she asked.

“‘Bout as well as can be expected under the circumstances, I guess. It’s not every day a fucked up serial killer shoots your kid.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m sure it has to be a nightmare for them. Especially after losing their son.”

“Tell me about it. Her dad keeps goin’ on about how Constance was s’posed ta’ be a partner in ‘is law firm, not an FBI agent,” Ben added. “Her mom is kinda quiet though… Just stares off inta’ space a lot.”

“Everyone deals with their emotions differently, Ben.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, how is Constance doing anyway?” I asked.

“Hangin’ in there,” he replied. “You knew they upgraded ‘er from critical ta’ serious, right?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “That’s pretty much all anyone would tell us though.”

“Yeah, well the docs are optimistic right now, but she’s still kinda out of it. She’s been conscious enough ta’ talk a coupla times but nothin’ that makes sense. Then she just drifts off again. Prob’ly ‘cause of all the painkiller shit they got runnin’ into ‘er veins. I honestly dunno if she even realizes what’s goin’ on at this point, but I figure after lunch I’ll go sit with ‘er awhile anyway. That’ll give ‘er folks a chance ta’ rest too.”

“I thought they were only letting immediate family members in to see her?” I said with a questioning note in my voice.

“Yeah, that’s what they said the first time I went in,” he grunted. “But I got a fuckin’ badge.”

“I thought you were still suspended?”

“Yeah, for a few weeks yet, but the hospital doesn’t know that.”

“Uh-huh, I should have figured.”

“Ben,” Felicity asked. “Since they won’t let us see her, can you keep us up to date on how she’s doing?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

I leaned to the side and looked around him at the line of cars. “Looks like they’re still backed up a bit.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not surprised. It oughta’ be clear in a few though.”

A thick silence settled in around us as the breeze rose and fell. Felicity shivered against the sharp wind even though she was wearing a coat, so I hugged her even closer.

“Would you be more comfortable waiting in the truck?” I asked her.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

“You’re sure?”

“Aye,” she returned with a slight nod. “For now.”

I looked back to my friend after a short silence and nodded toward the distant gravesite. “You know, Ben, that was a real good thing you did. I mean the honor guard and all.”

“Wasn’t just me,” he objected with an animated shake of his head. “B’sides, didn’t really take much. All I did was make a coupl’a phone calls.”

“Something tells me there was more to it than that.”

“Maybe a little, but not much really once the ball was rollin’ and a few favors got called in. Shit, everyone that ever worked with Deckert loved ‘im.”

“He was a hell of a guy,” I agreed. “I’ll never forget how well he treated me even when the rest of the cops had issues with a Witch as a consultant.”

“Yeah, that was Deck, for sure. Which is exactly why we couldn’t let it go. Just ‘cause the department doesn’t do anything for retiree funerals doesn’t mean the rest of us coppers ain’t gonna make it happen anyway. He was one of ours. If anyone deserved it, it was him.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” I said with a nod. “I’m sure his wife appreciated it too.”

“Yeah, Mona’s good people,” he grunted as he reached up to smooth back his hair then allowed his hand to slide down and rest on his neck. He closed his eyes then gave his head a slight shake as he sighed, “Jeezus, Row… He was just sittin’ there lookin’ at the tube and had a goddamn heart attack. How fucked up is that?”

“Sometimes that’s how it happens. He had a history. That’s what forced him into retirement to begin with.”

“Yeah, but it was at almost exactly the same time, Row. There’s gotta be somethin’ to that.”

I knew exactly where he was heading with the comment, as he had mentioned it to me earlier at the funeral home, but at that point we hadn’t had time for discussion.

“It was just a coincidence, Ben.” I shook my head as I spoke. “There was no connection between what happened to Constance and Carl’s heart attack.”

“How do ya’ know that?”

“Well, I guess I really don’t. Not for an absolute fact, anyway.” I shrugged.

“So then why are ya’ bein’ a skeptic all of a sudden? Deck treated Constance like she was ‘is own daughter. Think about it…” He started ticking off points with the fingers of his free hand. “Damn near the same time. The ambulance brought Deck ta’ the same hospital as her instead of goin’ ta’ one of the closer ones out in the county. When he arrived he was stable. Then it all goes south for Constance while she’s on the table. The docs bring ‘er back, but suddenly Deck keels over right there in the treatment room, and they can’t revive ‘im. Hell, you’re the friggin’ Witch, not me. Ain’t this your kinda shit? You of all people can’t tell me that doesn’t seem a little Twilight Zone, white man. Like some kinda trade off or somethin’.”

I didn’t figure this was an appropriate time to argue with him over the realities of WitchCraft, or even my personal psychic abilities-something that I actually considered to be an unfortunate curse as opposed to a gift. Over the years I’d already explained to him more than a dozen times that magick didn’t work quite like he sometimes wanted to think it did. Of course, I was also well aware that I probably sounded like some kind of hypocrite every time I said as much, given that he had seen me unwillingly channel murder victims on several occasions. And of course, there was our most recent brush with the ethereal, which left even me wondering just what to believe. It was hard to convince someone that the paranormal wasn’t the everyday way of things when it seemed to rain down on you constantly the way it did with me.

Still, Ben had started out a skeptic the first time he’d enlisted my help, and he continued walking a jagged line between acceptance and doubt. At the moment, his path was obviously veering deeply into the belief side of the two, if for no other reason than to help him make sense out of tragedy. Of course, that was something we all had a tendency to do when faced with realities we weren’t sure we wanted to accept.

“Did Carl even know about Constance?” I asked.

“I dunno…” he shook his head. “Prob’ly not. I didn’t even know what was happenin’ with him until Mona called my cell, and he was already gone by then. But that’s not the point. What about some kinda divine intervention or somethin’?”