M Sellars - Crone’s Moon

“…Is in there. I know,” Ben hissed, cutting her off. He kept the van slowly rolling backward then came to a stop. “Mandalay, can you see ‘er?”

“Not really… Wait… Yeah, there she is. About twenty feet up the driveway. She just looked back. Okay, now she’s moving again.”

“Can you see if she’s armed?”

“…Something on her belt… Could be a cell phone… Not sure.”

“You call it. Whaddaya wanna do?” he asked quickly.

“It’s not good,” she replied, shaking her head again. “Go around and we’ll call for backup.”

“No!” Felicity demanded. Her voice was still holding a pained edge but had grown far beyond a whimper.

“Not with you and Rowan in the van!” Ben hissed. “It’s too dangerous!”

“Nooooo!” Felicity cried out again, but this time she was moving.

I felt a hard thump as she swivel-hipped out of the seat, striking purposely against my back and driving me off balance. I pitched forward and fell between the front seats and into the center console. A split second later I felt her sneakered feet stumbling over the backs of my legs.

Ben suddenly exclaimed, “Goddammit, Felicity! NO!”

But he was too late. The next thing I heard was the grating sound of the van’s side door as it began to quickly slide. I twisted to grab for my wife, but she was too far out of my reach. The door continued moving by sheer momentum, as she shot through the second she could fit. It locked back in the open position with an angry thump that I could barely hear over Felicity’s impromptu war cry.

“TU SAIGH!” My wife spewed forth a hateful sounding line of Gaelic. “ Umarlaid! Nach bu tu an t-urra isg!”

Constance immediately kicked her door wide and bolted from the van in pursuit of the red-haired banshee. I was just pushing myself back up from the console as Ben levered the van into park, yelling back to me, “Stay here!”

He jumped out of his own door, and I heard the commotion grow outside.

“STOP! Federal Officer!” Constance was screaming.

“POLICE!” Ben bellowed behind her.

Their official demands were underscored by Felicity as she continued to wail, “Tu saigh! Teasd!”

This time I recognized all three of the Gaelic words, ‘you’, ‘bitch’, and ‘die’.

I scrambled toward the open side door and rolled out onto the pavement, pushing myself up and forward the moment my feet hit the asphalt. I knew I should follow Ben’s instruction and stay with the vehicle, but I couldn’t keep my legs from driving me along behind them.

The odd angle of the van at the mouth of the driveway allowed at least some of the light from the headlamps to project up the gravel expanse. In the furthest reaches of the diminishing luminance, I saw a tangle of fiery auburn curls flash as my wife literally tackled the woman.

The suspect had had enough time to turn and see the screaming redhead running at her, especially since stealth had been a non-issue for Felicity. Still, even though she took a hard swing at her, my wife was short enough to duck it as she came in low and drove the woman to the ground, tumbling to the gravel with her.

Felicity was still shrieking, her voice a hoarse blend of unintelligible epithets and unearthly tortured sounds. She had landed on top, but the larger woman was fighting back immediately. She already had a handful of my wife’s hair and was yanking her head back hard as she struggled to get away. Felicity responded by releasing her grip around the suspect’s waist and flailing her arms out, impacting the heel of her fist hard against the woman’s chin.

Ben and Constance were rapidly approaching them, with me bringing up the rear. I wanted desperately to jump into the fray and rescue Felicity, but logically, I knew that was the last thing I should do. I simply remained out of the way behind my two gun-wielding friends and fought to keep myself from responding to the gut reflex that was demanding I take action.

The woman was stunned by Felicity’s blow but still managed to swing her own fist, glancing her knuckles against my wife’s upper cheek. Felicity’s head snapped, and she fell back. She was no longer on top of the woman, but she remained undeterred by the punch. She continued scrambling about and flailing her fists as the woman pulled her by the auburn mane.

My wife twisted, pulling up to her knees and forcing her shoulder up from beneath. With a quick lunge, she fell forward and drove her elbow hard into the woman’s side as she was rolling toward her and trying to gain footing.

Before any more blows could be thrown, Ben and Constance were upon them, weapons drawn.

“POLICE! STAY DOWN!” my friend bellowed.

The woman rolled back and held her free hand out in plain view. Felicity continued to punch, and the suspect threw her arm back up to protect herself from the unbridled attack. Mandalay took up a cover stance, and Ben quickly holstered his weapon then skirted around to pull Felicity off the woman.

I watched as he wrapped a large hand around the suspect’s wrist and bent it back, breaking her grip on my wife’s hair. My friend immediately took Felicity by the arms and started pulling her up. The woman tried to take a last swing at her, and Constance moved in closer, screaming, “STOP!”

My wife wasn’t listening either.

She was still screaming at the top of her lungs, spewing Gaelic curses, mixed with colloquial Irish, and even a spate of English profanities. Ben was yelling at her to calm down as she struggled, still trying to swing. He managed to get her up to her feet, but before he could back away, Felicity bucked, using him for leverage as she kicked her leg out and brought the back of her sneaker hard into the prone woman’s chest.

She was already swinging her other leg around, taking a second kick and aiming for the suspects face when my friend wrapped her in a bear hug and jerked her away. My wife continued twisting in his arms, kicking her legs against him and screaming as he carried her to the side.

Seeing that Ben had Felicity somewhat under control, Constance immediately stepped in between them, Sig Sauer stiffly aimed at the suspect on the ground.

“On your stomach! Nose to the ground!” Mandalay yelled to be heard over the continuing commotion. “NOW! Let’s go!”

The woman was still trying to catch her breath after the kick Felicity had landed into her chest. Still, she did as she was told, rolling slowly over.

“Extend your arms to your sides, palms upward,” Constance directed.

I took a moment to look off to the side. Felicity was face down on the grass herself. She was still screaming, but her curses were now directed at Ben as he held her down and applied handcuffs to her dainty wrists.

The scene was surreal. The darkness surrounded us, with only the distant light of the van’s headlamps casting any illumination whatsoever. Wherever their dimness fell, oblique shadows were moving in angry, stilted motions. There was something very disconcerting about the whole thing, and I knew there was more to it than just what I could see in the physical plane. As I stared at the tableau, I began to get a very bad feeling.

I shook off the sensation and started toward my wife. I could hear Constance behind me, barking orders to the suspect. “Spread your legs, toes pointed out.”

Ben had finished restraining Felicity, and he turned away from her, stepping past me without even acknowledging my presence. He now had his weapon back in hand and stiffly aimed forward at the suspect.

I glanced over at them and saw him give Constance a quick nod. She re-holstered her weapon and then quickly reached beneath her jacket and produced a pair of handcuffs. She moved in swiftly, lowering herself down and placing her knee in the suspect’s upper back.