The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars Page A

grimace.
    “Aww man, Jeez…” He rested an elbow on the
table then dropped his head into his hand and closed his eyes.
“They ID’d the victim…”
    The portent in his voice was unmistakable,
and it struck both Felicity and me with no less force than a
physical slap across the face. I could almost guess what was
coming, and I am certain Felicity could as well.
    The ache inside my skull took on the
properties of root canal sans anesthetic. I braced myself for the
news, not truly wanting to hear it but unable to escape its
reality.
    “Oh, Gods…” Felicity murmured into the
silence between us, audibly broadcasting her dread.
    “Yeah,” Ben returned. “Randy Harper. He took
out a member of your Coven.”
    “Dammit,” I spat the curse. “Isn’t this how I
got involved in all this shit to begin with?”
    My reference wasn’t lost on him. The first
investigation I’d helped Ben with had been the murder of Ariel
Tanner. She had been one of my students in The Craft as well as a
good friend. Moreover, she had been the priestess of the Coven
Felicity and I had since adopted.
    “Yeah. Déjà vu and all that crap,” Ben
returned.
    “Gods…” Felicity moaned, and her eyes grew
wide. “What about everyone else? If he knew about Randy…”
    “That was the second call,” Ben said as he
nodded. “I’ve kept a list in my desk since this all started. Ackman
is going to contact them, and we’ll go from there.”
    “What about Nancy?” my wife appealed.
“Someone should be with her. Unless…”
    She caught her breath as the thought struck.
She didn’t have to voice it for us to know what it was.
    “Don’t panic,” Ben told her. “Ackman is
making the calls. We don’t know anything yet, so let’s just assume
that she’s okay.”
    Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep
breath as she nodded affirmation. I gave her hand a squeeze but
wasn’t certain how reassuring it would be. I knew she could easily
sense that I was just as worried as she was. I dropped my chin to
my chest and stared at the table as a solemn hush blanketed our
little corner of the diner. Even the radio behind the counter was
spewing only dead air.
    “I’ve had enough nightmares this decade,” I
finally muttered. “Will someone please wake me up.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    “Here she comes.” Ben canted his head
toward me and whispered, “Play nice and keep the Twilight Zone stuff to
yourself.”
    It was obvious that we had not only been
expected but that our arrival on scene had been announced. We had
just barely topped the metal stairs leading to the roof access of
the warehouse a few seconds prior to his comment. Before we could
get our bearings, we were greeted by the sight of a woman wearing a
heavy trench coat walking purposefully toward us from several yards
away.
    The assortment of circumstances combined with
the raging pain in my skull had centered my mood somewhere between
foul and just plain pissed off. “What if I don’t?”
    “I’m not kidding here, white man. She’ll kick
your sorry ass outta here,” he snarled under his breath. “And I’m
damn liable to help her. Got me?”
    “Listen to him, Rowan,” Felicity demanded as
she squeezed my arm. “This isn’t the time. Not now.”
    “When will it be the time?” I asked, my voice
flat. “Tell me that.”
    “I don’t know. But not now. Please.”
    She was still frightened, and I couldn’t
blame her. The written threat was enough by itself, but backing it
up by torturing and killing a member of our own Coven drove the
point past home. It fueled the horror and urged it across the line
that separated intimidation from violence. Omen from action.
    While I still felt some of the same fear that
enveloped my wife, mine was rapidly turning to calculating anger.
Still, they were both correct. I needed to keep myself on an even
keel, or I wasn’t going to get anywhere.
    “Yeah,” I muttered. “Okay.”
    “I’m friggin’ serious here, Row,” Ben
said.
    “I know.