M Sellars - The Law Of Three

Fortunately, various events from the investigation-negative though they were at the time-served to enlighten her as to my usefulness as a consultant even if my methods tended to run perpendicular to the established norm.

Since that time, our relationship had grown beyond the boundaries of work. In fact, we had all actually become very good friends. Even Ben, who regarded the FBI with great disdain, habitually calling them “Feebs,” and vocally lamenting their involvement in any investigation he was connected with, had come to treat her like any other cop.

“Here you go,” Felicity said as she set a large ceramic mug in front of me. “Drink it all, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about the taste.”

I slowly waved my hand in a circular motion over the top of the mug, wafting the steamy aroma upward to my face. I still had the smell of burning wood and plastics embedded in my nose, but I was able to pick up a few recognizable odors from the pungent brew.

“Willow bark… Ummm… Valerian root… And something else,” I offered aloud. “I’m not sure what.”

“Chamomile,” Felicity returned.

I easily recognized the analgesic and calmative properties of the herbs that comprised the tea. “I’m already tired, sweetheart,” I told her. “You don’t really need to sedate me, you know.”

“Aye, I’ll be the judge of that now,” she replied. “I’ve some honey if you want a spoonful or two to mask the taste.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“You’re sure, then?”

“Felicity, please.” I shook my head. “You’ve got to be exhausted yourself. Sit down. Relax.”

“I will in a minute,” she answered. “I need to put a fresh pot of coffee on for Constance.”

“Don’t worry about that, Felicity, I can do it,” Mandalay offered, starting up from her seat.

“You sit down, then,” Felicity instructed her. “I’ll see to it.”

“Her maternal instinct gland is stuck in the on position,” I said to Mandalay as an offer of explanation. “She gets like this sometimes.”

“I can hear you, Rowan,” my wife called back from the kitchenette behind me. “Shut up and drink your tea.”

I arched an eyebrow at Constance and silently mouthed, “See what I mean?” Then I raised my cup and took a small sip. The tea was still too hot for me, considering the condition of my tongue after the two seizures. I blew on it for a moment then set the mug back on the table to let it cool.

“So, how did you get elected to be babysitter tonight?” I asked.

“I volunteered, actually,” Mandalay replied. “After I got a look at Storm, it seemed like the thing to do.”

“What about our Coven? Porter might go after one of them again.”

She shook her head as she reassured me. “Don’t worry. All taken care of. Between federal agents and local police, there’s no way he can get to any of them.”

“You’re sure?”

“Trust me, Rowan. It’s covered.”

“Okay,” I said. “It’s just that… Well, what with Randy and all…”

“Don’t worry, I understand. It’s okay.”

“Well, I want you to know that I appreciate it. Especially you staying with us.”

“It’s not a problem, Rowan,” she shrugged as she spoke. “It’s my job.”

“Maybe so, but after today…” I hesitated for a moment, feeling awkward at voicing my weakness to her. “After today, I think I’ll sleep better knowing that you’re here.”

We sat in silence for a moment then I spoke again, a hint of embarrassment in my voice, “I guess that sounded pretty corny, huh?”

She shook her head. “No.”

I tilted my head down and looked back at her over the rim of my glasses for effect. “This is me here, Constance.”

“Okay, yeah,” she smiled. “It sounded corny, but I know what you mean.”

“Well thanks for not laughing.”

The telephone on the wall in the small kitchen trilled, and I slid my chair back.

“I’m laughing on the inside,” Mandalay replied with a smile.

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Felicity called out to me as I stood up. “Stay put, Rowan, I’ll get it.”

“I’m not an invalid, Felicity,” I responded as I turned and reached around the corner, snatching the phone from its cradle just before my wife’s hand reached it.

I shot her a tired grin, and she rolled her eyes at me before stepping back to the counter and sliding the freshly rinsed coffeepot into its base.

I tucked the phone up to my ear and said, “Hello?”

There was no formal greeting in return. Just a cold, familiar voice reciting in monotone, “If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.”

My face was hot in an instant, and I could literally feel my heartbeat thumping in my ears as I flushed with anger. My first inclination was to explode, lash out as I had done earlier in the day. My emotional reaction bolted from its corner and landed a solid punch on the jaw of logic as the bell sounded. The contest had begun.

Hateful words formed on my lips, and I clenched my teeth to keep them at bay. Blood rushed in my ears as I took a deep breath, searching for a solid ground to which I could attach. The opposing sides of my brain were engaged in an all out brawl with the prize being control of what would come out of my mouth in response to his selected verse.

It all came down to a fight between my overwhelming compulsion to explain to him in minute detail exactly how little regard I held for his life and the need to remain rational. I have to admit that rationality was looking very weak at the moment.

The pause was lethargic, and my mute struggle continued as I simply stood there with the phone pressed against my ear. I was just about to spew a stream of vile adjectives into the mouthpiece when he spoke again.

“I know that you are there, Gant,” he said. “I can hear you breathing.”

Again, his voice oozed into my skull from the handset. The very sound of it made me feel physically ill, and I swallowed hard to push back the column of bile I felt climbing up my throat.

The mouthful of expletives rammed against the back of my teeth in an attempt to break free, and I drew my lips into a tight line. I started to tense then felt myself connect to the ground I had sought. I don’t know how I managed it, but I wasn’t about to refuse the link. A calm washed over me, and I let my hot breath out in a slow stream. My logical half rallied and landed its own sucker punch to my emotional side then took over-for the time being, at least.

My first rational thought was to appeal to his sense of morality, as much as it existed within the confines of his malformed psyche. We had already established that he had not exhibited the same restraint regarding the safety of those he perceived as guiltless as he had during his last spree. Still, it was worth a try.

“You almost killed an innocent man today, Eldon.” I turned to face Agent Mandalay as I spoke, clenching my fist and concentrating on keeping my voice even.

Her eyes widened as she immediately picked up on the cue. Behind me, I heard Felicity gasp, and I turned quickly, trying my best to paint a reassuring mask onto my face.

“Detective Deckert?” he asked.

“Yes.” I held my initial reply to a single syllable lest I lose what little control I was exerting over my temper. Accomplishing that, I forged ahead with an entire mouthful. “Or even Detective Storm for that matter. Neither of them are Witches.”

I could hear Mandalay in the background as she pushed away from the table and began whispering into her cell phone.

“Both of them are your friends, aren’t they?”