Rowan Gant - Perfect Trust Part 26

"h.e.l.l no." He stared at me and screwed up his face in confusion. "Where the f.u.c.k'd'ya get that idea?"

"I don't know," I shook my head as I sighed. "I was there... All the stuff that's been happening... Now you've obviously got something bothering you-presumably because of that phone call-and you're keeping whatever it is from me..."

"Hey, white man," he said. "I don't even tell my wife everything about work, okay?"

"Yeah, maybe so, but I've got a feeling that whatever that phone call was about, my name got mentioned in there somewhere."

"Listen," he sent a hand up to ma.s.sage his neck, and gestured at me with the other, "you'll just hafta trust me on this. That phone call is prob'ly gonna turn out to be nothin', but either way, I just can't discuss it with ya' right now."

"Probably going to turn out to be nothing," I repeated his words. "So, it doeshave something to do with me then?"

"I'm not going there."

"But if it has something to do with me..."

"Row, drop it."

"Ben..."

"Now, Row."

I wasn't going to get anywhere with him, that much was obvious. I was also breaking the cardinal rule of not pushing Ben Storm into a corner, and I knew better.

I decided I'd better heed his advice.

"Yeah. Okay." I c.o.c.ked my head in the direction of the dining room, changing the subject. "So, everyone's getting ready to eat."

"Great," he nodded. "I'm starving. You gonna tell me what we're having yet?"

"I think you'll like it."

"Okay, but what is it?"

"Food, Ben. Trust me, you'll like it."

"Well, if I don't, at least I'm covered."

"You didn't really bring a sack of belly-bombers did you?" I asked.

"No, but I got a coupl'a frozen pizzas out in the van. All I gotta do is borrow your oven and I'm good ta' go."

I shook my head and grinned at him, "I can't believe you did that."

"Hey, a man's gotta eat. By the way," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the back of the house, "did you say your deal was over with out there?"

"We'll officially cast circle a bit later, but that's not for a while yet. So, except for tending the fire through the night, and clearing the towers later, yeah, it's done.

Why?"

"So it's all clear for alcohol?"

"In moderation, yeah, sure."

"Good deal, 'cause I need a scotch like right now."

"Yeah, same here. Do me a favor and pour me one while you're at it," I said as I stepped past him. "I've just got to hit the restroom first."

"You sure? I thought you said alcohol wasn't allowed in the circle thing, and if you still gotta do that later..."

"I've got a while yet. Besides, in this case I don't think the G.o.d will mind if I relax a little bit."

"Okay. You're the Witch."

"Yeah. Don't remind me."

The hairs along the back of my neck were still on end by the time I returned to the dining room. Something very bad was waiting in the wings and I hated not knowing what it was.

CHAPTER 17.

The sun was riding a southern arc in the cloudless sky, casting its brightness across the cityscape as I hooked my truck onto Clark avenue, and then a couple of blocks later found myself a parking s.p.a.ce in front of City Police Headquarters. After easing between the diagonal lines, I levered the vehicle into park and paused a moment. Finally, I took off my sungla.s.ses and tucked them between the headliner and pa.s.senger side visor, then switched off the engine.

December twenty-fourth had slid quietly in to follow our celebration of the winter's solstice; sneaking into the fold as always, no matter how prepared you may think yourself to be. Two entire days had pa.s.sed now, each of them an almost indiscernible fraction of time longer in lighted hours than was the day before. The sun G.o.d had been reborn, but the new solar year had still brought with it the issues left unresolved during the previous turn of the wheel.

However, as if in honor of a secretly declared cease-fire, the forty-eight hours had pa.s.sed with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happening. No dreams, no visions, no sleepwalking. Not even the barest twinge of a waking nightmare. To Felicity, and those around me, this all appeared to be a display of my progress; an outward indication that my psyche was on the mend. I wished that I could agree with them, but I'd had a similar experience before, and the outcome had been less than pleasant.

To me, this period of supernormal silence was more frightening than anything that had occurred to date; very simply because I could feel the foreboding that they could not. Still, as I said, it was nothing horrific; nothing that was overtly driving me as had the events of recent past. This was merely an indefinable aggravation that would tickle and itch, doing all that it could to irritate me, asleep or awake. Each time I would think it had finally gone away, it would pop up in a different corner of my brain, tempting me with shaded emotions that hinted at a future it had no intention of actually revealing in advance.

The sense had been with me ever since Yule, bolstered in part by Ben's cryptic att.i.tude following the secretive phone call. Deep down inside I knew this was a harbinger of things to come and that these fleeting days were merely the calm before the storm. What I feared the most however was that if this level of calm turned out to be directly proportionate to the intensity of the coming storm, then I could never beprepared for what I would have to face. I was truly afraid that in the grand scheme of things, everything up until now had been the equivalent of nothing more than a spring shower.

For a time, I made an almost hourly ritual of mutely begging the Lord and Lady to tell me that I was wrong. When it became obvious that my pleas were to be left unanswered, I gave up.

Truth be told, what I really needed to be doing right now was forgetting about it all and taking some time to relax. Whatever it was that was coming was still an unknown, and there was simply nothing I could do to stop it. Not at this stage of the game, anyway. I was just going to have to ride it out. On top of that, a new calendar year was almost upon us, and the more mundane tasks in my life would soon multiply.

January tended to be one of the busier months for my consulting business, for with a simple turn of the year, annual budgets magically refreshed and people started renewing support contracts and planning system changes. With that being only a week away, the lull in my day-to-day grind would be coming to an end. Once that happened, if I was still dealing with a plague of ethereal horrors, I was going to be a complete wreck-as if I wasn't one already.

For the moment, I had no place to be and nothing much to do. I really needed to take advantage of the situation. It would be a perfect day for some quiet meditation and grounding exercises, especially considering that I could have the whole house to myself with no distractions.

Today being Christmas Eve, Felicity-fully decked out as one of Santa's helpers-was visiting a local children's home with her nature photography club. And, I do mean she was fully decked out. In fact, I was actually finding it hard not to think about how she'd looked when she left the house. To the kids I'm sure she simply appeared to be a rather perky elf, but to your average red-blooded adult male...

Well, let's just say she did the costume justice in ways Father Christmas hadn't originally imagined, if you know what I mean.

The visit was something that her group did every year at this time-handing out donated toys, clothing, and coats. Every holiday season the event managed to garner more and more press which in turn created more demand from various charitable organizations. Thankfully, the added press also brought more donations. So, as word got around, what had originally started a few years back as a small party for some underprivileged kids had now grown into a huge affair, encompa.s.sing not only the children's home, but visits to local hospitals and shelters as well. It was a good cause, and even though it was hard work, they loved every minute of it.

Considering this year's schedule, Felicity wouldn't be back for the rest of the day, so I had plenty of time to just vegetate. In the end, I think it was that volatile combination of idleness and nervous energy that had finally set me in motion. She hadn't even been gone for two hours before I went in search of trouble.

And now, here I was, parked in front of City Police Headquarters and staring outmy windshield in a semi-catatonic stupor. Considering my original intentions, though, this might very well be a good thing.

I had actually started out from the house with the plan of revisiting the wooded area on Three Sixty-Seven where Debbie Schaeffer's body had been found.

Subconsciously, I suppose that like most, I found some comfort in the daylight. I really don't know why, because time of day really had no bearing on the unique curse of visionary abilities that had been terrorizing me for the past two years. Truth was, I had no idea what had any bearing on them, because they certainly weren't under my control. In any event, my automatic pilot had engaged almost as soon as I backed out of the driveway, and I was three quarters of the way here before it dawned on me that here wasn't where I'd planned to go.

Sitting there, I felt a shiver run up my spine and I forced back yet another soft-core image of my wife in her costume as my brain shuffled through the random thoughts it had kept waiting in the wings. Then, I frowned at the provocative cogitation.

Felicity and I had a perfectly healthy and even fairly imaginative s.e.x life. While the male of the species supposedly has s.e.xual thoughts every two minutes, I was really starting to wonder about myself. This constant fantasizing about her, while perfectly enjoyable in most respects, was becoming troublesome-especially considering recent events. I made a mental note to mention this constant obsession when my next appointment with Helen rolled around. This, of course, triggered remembrance of other mental notes I'd made and then promptly forgotten-such as the whole fantasy episode surrounding Felicity's hair when we were at the morgue. Then there was the episode in the elevator that I'd had when leaving her office, and I really should have called her about immediately. Of course, that one seemed driven by an outside force, though I wasn't even certain about that. It really didn't make much sense at all.

I suppose that if I was somehow becoming overly obsessed with s.e.x, then the lurid thoughts could very well be my own. But, even that didn't seem correct to me.

There really seemed to be an outside presence. I was almost certain that I could feel it. Moreover, it had something to do with Debbie Schaeffer and Paige Lawson.

Unfortunately, everything that happened at the morgue that night after I connected with Debbie Schaeffer was still an out of focus jumble. What little I'd been able to pick out here and there was completely nonsensical. Barbies in Prom dresses, makeup, a smart-mouthed cheerleader, flashing lights... Then there was Paige Lawson. Where did she fit into all of this?

If the outside presence that was forcing all of the lurid thoughts into my head was the one responsible for either of their deaths, then maybe the crime-or crimes-were motivated by s.e.x. But, one was a kidnapping and the other appeared to be a robbery gone awry. Maybe Paige Lawson was just an anomaly; a piece of a totally different puzzle that I was trying too hard to make fit into a blurry and indistinct picture.

But then, every time I had one of these semi-p.o.r.nographic fantasies, there was thething with red hair. Both Debbie Schaeffer and Paige Lawson were blondes. So was the woman in the elevator. So, that almost had to come directly from me. I mean, I had to admit that I personally had a thing for red hair, so that could make it highly likely that it was just my own preference overlaying itself with the imagery.

Maybe?

It was starting to get very confusing again. I'd been mulling it all over so much that it was giving me a headache.

If Ben was correct, I was just chasing my tail anyway, and I needed to direct my energies toward something more productive. I finally gave up on my attempt at a.n.a.lysis and decided to leave it to Helen. After all, as she'd pointed out, she was the one with the degree in Psychology. Since all of the incidents seemed linked by s.e.x, and that was apparently a driving force for me these days, maybe I'd remember to mention all of this at the next appointment.

After a moment I let out a purposeful sigh and muttered to no one but myself, "Yeah, right." Then, before getting out of the truck I made yet another mental note to start writing this stuff down.

I'd have to start doing that later though. Right now I just wanted to smoke another cigarette before going inside.

"Merry freakin' ho-ho-ho," Ben said as I dropped myself into one of the ancient molded-plastic seats next to his desk. "Wanna cuppa?"

"I don't know..." I shook my head, vivid recollections of the caustic liquid the Homicide division called coffee dancing on my tongue.

"Hey," he exclaimed, "it's Christmas Eve, Kemosabe. We actually washed the pot this mornin'."

"Yeah," I chuckled, "whether it needed it or not, right?"

"Exactly." He grinned.

An nth generation photocopy graced one corner of his desk blotter, and was positioned so that I could easily read it.

A blurred, but still recognizable pair of mug shots dominated the page, showing a rotund, bearded man in an instantly recognizable suit. The text beneath outlined a wrap sheet, stating that the individual was wanted for breaking and entering, cookie theft, and illegal dumping. It further went on to say that he was known by such aliases as Saint Nick, The Jolly Elf, Santa Claus, etcetera, and could often be found in the company of elves. Last seen fleeing in a late model sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. Approach with caution.

"Sounds like a real tough guy," I said, indicating the novelty on his desk.

"Yeah," he nodded and laughed. "The a.s.shole dumped a whole pile of c.r.a.p at my house last year and I ended up holdin' the bag for all the batteries. If I ever catch upwith him I'm liable to kill 'im." Leaning back, he took a sip of his coffee and watched me carefully for a long moment. "So, what's up? Why aren't you with the little woman?"

"She's out doing that charity thing with her photography club."

"Yeah, I know. She was just on the news about forty-five minutes ago givin' an interview." He let out a low wolf whistle. "Nice outfit."

"Uh-huh," I grunted, not really needing the reminder.

"So, explain that one to me."

"What? Her costume?"

"h.e.l.l no, that was self-explanatory you lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he said. "I'm talkin' about her doing the whole Santa Claus thing. How's that fit in with what you celebrated the other night?"

"It doesn't really," I told him. "Yule is a religious holiday, just like Christmas or Chanukah. Santa Claus, however, while a.s.sociated with Christmas, isn't a religious figure. In his current incarnation he's actually an icon of commercialism created by a soft drink company."

"Yeah, I read that somewhere already, smarta.s.s," he grinned. "What I'm askin' is if you Witches celebrate Christmas too?"

"In the sense of it being a commercialized holiday, sure, many do. But it doesn't bear any religious significance for Pagans like it does for a lot of others."

"So you get like two holidays in one," he stated as much as asked.

"You could look at it that way, but Christmas is the generally accepted holiday by society as a whole. I doubt you'll find many employers who give Winter Solstice as a paid holiday."

"Yeah, I's'pose you're right," he nodded thoughtfully. "Anyway, the reason I asked is Allison and I wanted to invite you and the little woman over to the house tonight if you aren't doing anything."

"I thought you were having a family get together this evening."

"Yeah, Helen's comin' over, but that's about it. Besides, you two are like family anyway."

"Well, we aren't doing anything with our families until tomorrow," I conceded.

"I'll have to check with Felicity, but I'm sure she'd love to come over. If you're sure we wouldn't be intruding."

"I wouldn't have invited ya' if you'd be intruding."

"Okay. I'll talk to her about it, but you can probably go ahead and just count us in."

"Good deal. I'll let Al know. So, now that we have that out of the way, let's get back to the original question. What gives, Row?" he asked again. "I know d.a.m.n well you didn't come down here to explain the meanin' of Christmas to me. What're youdoin' here?"

"Would you believe I just stopped in to say Happy Holidays?"

"I think I pretty much just said no to that."

"Yeah, didn't think so."

The telephone on his desk pierced the ensuing lull with a sickly trill, and he leaned forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the receiver. "Homicide, Storm." Even as he spoke he kept his eyes on me expectantly. "Yeah... Uh-huh... Sure, I'm here. No problem. See you in a few."

He dropped the handset back into its base and leaned back once again, making the heavy-duty springs in his chair groan in protest.

"Do you need to leave?" I asked.