M Sellars - The Law Of Three

Thankfully, Ben took hold of my wife’s arm and pulled her away, interposing himself between her Irish temper and the lieutenant before this could escalate to a physical level. I wasn’t so certain that I would trade places with him at the moment.

That was, of course, until the real pain started.

Agony shunted into the center of my brain as my ears began to fill with the sound of rushing blood. My teeth clenched hard, and the horrid metallic tang from earlier in the day returned in force. I bucked against my body’s sudden desire to posture and fall to the floor.

Sharp pain bit into my wrist as Albright slapped the edge of the handcuff against it. I focused on that sensation, using it to divert the inexplicable seizure I felt approaching. The sound of the metal teeth ratcheting grated in my ears as she snapped the circlet shut and continued to tighten the restraint until it pinched my flesh. Still holding me pinned against the wall, she grasped my free arm and yanked it behind my back as well.

Her hand pressed deep into my back, and her touch felt cold. I involuntarily seized on the sensation and immediately felt intense alarm. I gasped a startled breath and closed my eyes.

Distorted, three-dimensional shapes ricocheted through my brain, layering atop one another in jerky, freeze-frame motions. As they joined, I could begin to make out a defined image. In a sudden burst of light, I found myself staring at a contrasty countenance, inverted though it was. Hanging before me in the void was a woman seated upon an ornate throne. A crown rested atop her head, and her vestments were regal, those of royalty. Even though the image is inverted, her dark eyes seem to be looking down upon me imperiously. In her right hand, she is holding forth a shining sword.

I knew immediately that I had seen this image before. It was the face of a tarot card-specifically, the Queen of Swords.

My eyes snapped open and locked on the wall. Still, the afterimage floated in the empty space before me, in crisp focus, as clear as a framed photograph. All sound around me began to echo languidly in my ears as the light in the room flared then dimmed.

“You are under arrest, Mister Gant,” Lieutenant Albright announced. Everything became surreal as I struggled to keep myself in this reality. Voices began to slur, and all sound took on the quality of mud. When she continued, her voice came thick and slow-the words blending into one another as they thudded against my eardrums. “Yooouuu haaaaavvve ttthheee rrriiiigggghhhtttt tttoooo rrrreeemmmaaaiiinnn ssiiilleennntt. Ifff yooouuu gggiiivvvee uuuupp…”

I wasn’t willing to let this happen again.

Not now. And, definitely not with Albright here.

I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and struggled to ignore the pains that seemed to be checking in from every inch of my body. I held the breath for a few seconds and then began allowing the air to flow out between my lips in a slow stream. Inside my head, I began my bid for control.

My snap decision was to counter whatever was happening to me with the simplest defense I could imagine. Mutely, but with great concentration I began to recite the alphabet, backwards.

I closed my eyes and focused a small part of myself on maintaining a steady cadence with my breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth, repeat. Z, Y, X, W… In nose, out mouth, repeat… V, U, T, S… Breathe in, breathe out, repeat… R, Q, P, O…

What I was doing was simple. It was textbook, obvious. It was also something that in my off-kilter state, I had been forgetting to do. I was grounding and centering-this was Psychic Self-Defense 101.

The rush in my ears began to fade, and the Doppler distortion of sound accordioned in upon itself, collapsing everyone’s words into tonal reality. For what had to be the first time today, I felt almost relaxed. Pains were still assaulting me from every corner of my being, but they were tangible pains and real aches-discomforts born of the physical realm instead of the ethereal. In a bizarre sense, I welcomed them.

“I believe you might want to re-think this action, Lieutenant.” Mandalay’s voice worked its way into my ears through the various commotions. As close as I could figure, she was somewhere behind me and to the right.

I opened my eyes and could see that Ben was still restraining Felicity with as much care as he could, considering her angered state. I could barely hear him talking to her-or trying to talk to her at least-as she continued to vent poignant comments in Gaelic, occasionally intermixed with colloquial Irish profanity.

“Stay out of this,” Albright barked at Agent Mandalay, then pressed the other cuff against my still free wrist.

“I am very serious about this, Lieutenant,” Mandalay continued, undaunted, raising her voice to be heard. “I think that you may be on some fairly shaky legal ground here.”

“I don’t think that…” Albright started to reply but suddenly shifted her attention to the side. “Storm! Can’t you get her to shut up!”

“FEK TU SAIGH! ” Felicity’s voice rose sharply as she twisted around Ben and struggled to break free.

“Good Lord,” Albright spat. “Cuff her, Storm.”

“Leave her out of this!” I demanded as I tried to twist my head farther around, only succeeding in giving myself a cramp in my neck.

Ben answered harshly, “No way, Lieutenant. Not happenin’.”

“Storm!” she snarled.

Felicity’s angry voice pierced the atmosphere in the small corridor once again. “ FEK TU! Pog mo thoin saigh! ”

“Christ!” Albright exclaimed. “What is that gibberish anyway?”

I don’t think she really wanted an answer, but I gave her one anyway. “It’s not gibberish. It’s Gaelic.”

She barked at me. “You shut up, Gant.”

I really wanted to spout off a comeback, but I wasn’t entirely sure that it would be in my best interest. I quickly weighed my situation and, right or wrong, decided it probably couldn’t get any worse. However, just to be safe I kept my comment near the middle of the road. “You’re the one who asked.”

She was not amused. “Did I not just tell you to shut up?!”

“I must have missed that,” I returned with heavy sarcasm.

Albright took on a threatening tone. “All right, Gant, would you like to add resisting arrest to the charges?”

“Who’s resisting?”

“Speaking of charges, Lieutenant,” Mandalay started again. “Just exactly what would those be?”

“I can think of several,” Albright shot back.

“That’s interesting.” Mandalay spoke in a professional but condescending tone. “Because I can’t imagine a single one that would stick. However, I can think of several that Mister Gant can bring against you.”

Albright had completed handcuffing me but continued to hold me against the wall as if I were some danger to her and everyone around me. My arms were starting to cramp, and I had lost feeling in one side of my face where my cheek was pressed into the wall. I couldn’t see what was going on behind me, obviously, but it sounded as though Albright might have turned to face Constance before she spoke.

“I am not interested in your opinion,” she snarled.

“Well, I’m going to give it to you whether you want it or not,” Mandalay continued, unfazed by the older woman. “In short, that opinion would be that you are very close to violating Mister Gant’s civil rights.”

Albright let out a supercilious cackle that actually made me nauseous. “You Feds amaze me,” she asserted. “Every single one of you thinks you know more about the law than any other cop, no matter how much experience they have. Does the Bureau issue the attitude with the badge, or is it learned behavior?”