Rowan Gant - Perfect Trust Part 8

I winced as he delivered the joke in an attempt to further lighten the mood. It wasn't terribly effective in its intent, but I still responded in kind. "Yeah, Ben. She's probably not going to arrive until morning."

"So, you want us to bring anything?" He returned a serious question, thankfully leaving the pun to die a quick death before the exchange could deteriorate further.

"We've pretty much got it covered," I said. "If there's something special you want to drink, you might want to bring it along, but other than that, just yourselves."

"So what are we eating?"

"Food."

"Yeah smarta.s.s, what kind of food?"

"It's a surprise, Ben."

"You're not gonna try ta' make me eat nothin' but vegetables or somethin' are you?""No, Ben." Even with my current mood I had to at least chuckle at the seriousness of his query. "There'll be meat on the table."

"Beef? Pork?"

"You'll find out Friday."

"It's not gonna be somethin' strange is it?" he pressed.

"You'll find out on Friday."

"Jeez, Kemosabe." He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Okay, be that way, but don't be surprised if I bring a sack of Whitey Burgers as backup."

"Felicity will kill you."

"So I'll leave 'em in the van, and sneak out if ya' try ta' feed me bean curd ala whatever."

"If you stink up the van with a bag of Whitey's, then Allison will kill you."

"Yeah, you got a point there... Well, I'll find someplace to stash 'em till I know if I need 'em."

"You won't need 'em. Trust me."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," he said. "So look, I gotta get back to work. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, Ben," I a.s.sured him. "I'll be fine. Disappointed, but just fine."

"Okay. Tell Helen I said 'hey' and I'll call her later about Christmas Eve."

"Will do."

"Later."

"Bye."

When I hung up the phone, the distraction it had provided immediately dissipated, leaving me once again alone in my thoughts. Or not so alone perhaps, as a cheerfully taunting voice echoed deep inside, 'What's that spell? Dead I Am! LOUDER!

DEAD I AM!'.

There's a bromide that basically says if you are insane, you think that you are sane, and therefore are unable to recognize your illness. Conversely, if you are in fact sane, you should be fully cognizant of the two states and therefore able to question said sanity.

I made it a point to ask myself this question aloud. Even though I answered no, I am not insane, the old adage wasn't terribly comforting.

The offices of Metro Counseling were located just on the outskirts of downtown Claymont, only a few miles from my home in Briarwood. Still, it took me longer to get there than it really should have due to my two aborted stops to purchase a pack of cigarettes. Earlier, I'd even considered lighting up a cigar from my humidor, butI'd been doing my best to avoid them of late. I knew if I had one in my hand I'd inhale it, and that was the last thing I needed to start doing.

The craving had increased disproportionately over the past twenty-four-hour period, and the nicotine gum simply wasn't doing its job. At the moment, I had two fresh pieces stuffed simultaneously into my cheek and was thinking very hard about adding a third.

Without warning, the pains of the urge were temporarily replaced by of all things, a woman. I had just swung into a parking s.p.a.ce and was switching off the engine of my truck when I noticed her. She was pet.i.te. Dressed in a long skirt and boots. A leather jacket hugged her torso from the waist up, and her shoulder-length blonde hair was flying on a cold breeze. She was light complected and her face bore a tasteful amount of makeup.

After a moment, I caught myself literally ogling her as she walked across the parking lot from her car, and then disappeared through the gla.s.s doors at the entrance of the building.

I physically shuddered as I shook off the stare. Two thoughts pin-wheeled around inside my head taking turns at the forefront.

The first was, of course, that I hoped she hadn't noticed my rude gaze.

The second was a bit disturbing.

I was having serious trouble understanding just why I was trying to imagine what she would look like if she had long, red hair.

CHAPTER 5.

"Terrible habit," Doctor Helen Storm said aloud, and then took a drag from a cigarette. "I really should quit, but I enjoy it too much."

I had arrived early for the appointment, as was my nature in all things involving a scheduled time. We had actually met at the door as I was on my way in and she was on her way out. She'd been hoping to grab a quick smoke break. To her credit, instead of having me wait, she had invited me to walk outside with her. We were now standing at the railing of an outdoor lounge that occupied an architecturally truncated corner of the seventh floor of the building. The air was chilly but it had calmed, and with the late morning sun to dull the bite, the crispness was for the most part pleasant.

"I know what you mean," I replied, mentally beating down the desire to b.u.m one from her as I shifted a half step away from the enticing smoke.

"I'm sorry, this isn't bothering you is it?" she asked, noticing my obvious move."Yes and no," I shrugged. "I quit a couple of years ago, but for some reason I've been having some pretty horrendous cravings lately."

"I'm so sorry, Rowan. I should have asked before I invited you out here with me."

"Don't worry about it." I shook my head and waved her off before she could extinguish the cigarette. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"So why do you think you've been craving cigarettes?"

"Dunno." I shrugged. "Stress I suppose. Aren't you supposed to be the one telling me why I'm all screwed up?"

Helen Storm regarded me with mysteriously dark eyes that were a mirror image of her brother's. She bore an unmistakable family resemblance to Ben, but with a far softer edge to her features. Her pretty face was framed by shiny black hair that fell across her shoulders and was interspersed with strands of grey. My friend had once told me that she was a handful of years older than him, but the streaks in her hair were the only telltale sign of that fact. The one physical attribute that came into severe contrast with her sibling was her size, she being almost a foot shorter than he.

"You don't think much of psychiatrists do you, Rowan?" she asked after a moment.

"It's not really that," I answered, somewhat embarra.s.sed that I was broadcasting my distaste for the situation so clearly. I thought I'd be able to maintain at least some amount of control, but quite obviously I had not. "I'm just not entirely sure that I need one."

"You might not," she answered easily.

I paused, slightly taken aback. "Well, I have to admit, that's not exactly what I was expecting you to say."

"I got that impression."

"I'm sorry," I apologized for my challenge. "That was pretty rude of me wasn't it?"

"Not really." She shook her head and smiled. "You're simply voicing your anxiety."

"I suppose you've dealt with worse."

"Were I at liberty to do so, I could tell a few stories." she chuckled.

"So, I a.s.sume Ben has filled you in on some things?" I posed the question without accusation.

"Yes. Some." She nodded. "I won't lie to you. Benjamin and I have talked at length about your situation. I've even spoken with your wife.""The conspiracy grows," I remarked flatly.

"That's one way to view it," she returned. "Or you could see it as some people who care very deeply for you and are trying to help."

"You're right. That comment was unfair."

"It's all a matter of perception."

"So it's okay for me to perceive that my wife and best friend have conspired against me? I thought that was considered paranoia."

"It is perfectly natural to feel a sense of betrayal when a loved one disagrees with you on something such as this," she explained. "But healthy individuals will reason it out and understand that they aren't being betrayed at all. It would only be paranoia if you took it to the extreme."

"So you don't think I've taken it to the extreme?"

"Seriously, no I don't." She took a drag from her cigarette and made it a point to exhale the smoke downwind before bringing her penetrating gaze back to my face.

"To begin with, you're here and I don't see anyone escorting you. Secondly, you aren't angry. Maybe a bit apprehensive... Some confusion... Yes, I can sense some definite confusion... But I don't really detect any fear. If anything you are somewhat curious about what I think about everything I've been told. All in all, I'd have to say you are probably a perfectly rational human being."

"Don't you need to show me some ink blots or play some word a.s.sociation games with me before you can draw that conclusion?"

"I'll just trust my instincts," she chuckled. "It would appear that you have as many misconceptions about psychiatrists as the general public has about Witches."

"So Ben told you about that." I offered the words more as an observation than a question.

"Of course, not that he needed to," she explained. "You've made no secret of the fact and you've attracted more than your share of media coverage from your involvement with the Major Case Squad."

She was correct. I had been the hot topic earlier this year in both print and broadcast media. Among the headlines were such things as 'SELF PROCLAIMED WITCH AIDS POLICE IN MANHUNT' and 'POLICE SEEK HELP FROM PAGAN PRACt.i.tIONER'. There was usually a picture of me to accompany the story, so my faith and way of life weren't exactly secret. The worst had to have been the moniker coined by a local TV station news team. Ben, FBI Special Agent Constance Mandalay, and myself had been dubbed the 'Ghoul Squad.' That one, along with a particularly gruesome video clip of the three of us at a crime scene had even made it into the national media pipeline.

"So that doesn't bother you?" I asked.

"Should it?" She raised an eyebrow and questioned me as much with her gaze as her words."No." I shook my head. "But it did take some time to convince Ben, so I a.s.sumed maybe you might be..." I let my voice trail off as I searched for the least offensive phrase.

"...Just as closed minded?" She offered the verbiage to me. "My brother is peculiar that way."

"I thought so," I agreed. "Especially for a Native American."

"Benjamin never truly embraced his heritage," she told me. "Only on the surface, culturally perhaps, though not completely in that respect either. And especially not deep down. Not at a spiritual level. I don't fault him for it; he has his reasons. But, I can certainly see where it would seem odd to you."

It was obvious by the way she spoke that there was a history there that I was completely oblivious to. She didn't offer any further details, and I didn't ask.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't." She shook her head and gave a slight shrug as she crushed out the remains of her cigarette. "With that said, however, what do you say we go inside and see if we can't figure out just exactly what has been keeping you off balance as of late."

The remainder of my time spent with Helen Storm was relaxing if nothing else.

She was so easy to talk to that I actually felt calm and even partially grounded while we chatted in her comfortable office. My early apprehension had melted quickly away, only to return for wholly separate reasons when the session came to an end.

While we hadn't stumbled across any great revelations, or uncovered any 'ooga-booga's' as she called them, lurking in my psyche, Helen felt that we had actually made some amount of progress. I just didn't know exactly how much or of what type that progress was, and she didn't elect to tell me.

Still, though it was hard for me to believe that simply talking with her for an hour could have such an effect, I wasn't about to knock it. Without a doubt, I was actually looking forward to my next appointment with her.

"Jeezus f.u.c.k! I can't believe this is happening!" an extremely agitated Ben Storm exclaimed as he came through my front door.

I'd barely managed to pull the barrier open in response to the repeated jangle of the doorbell that was coupled with an impatient knock. His six-foot-six frame was already in forward motion the moment I turned the k.n.o.b.

"Well, h.e.l.lo to you too," I said as I quickly sidestepped out of his way.

I was gnawing my way through yet another piece of nicotine gum, and for the moment, wasn't feeling nearly as jittery as I had fifteen minutes before. I'd been home for several uneventful hours now, and was actually in the process of throwing together dinner when Ben first a.s.saulted the front bell. Felicity and I had intended tospend the evening going over our plans for the upcoming Yule ritual. Unfortunately, the frenzied tone of my friend told me that was about to change.

He flatly ignored my jibe. "Is Felicity home?"

"Not yet, why?"

"s.h.i.t. Has she got her cell phone with her?"

"Probably. What's going on, Ben?"

"Well, we can't wait, so you better call her and tell her to meet us then. Make sure you tell her to not even come home first." He shot his hand up to rub his neck as he began to pace. "Jeezus she's gonna freakin' kill me for this."

"Why not? Meet us where? What are you talking about?"

He didn't seem to hear me, and instead of answering simply muttered, "Dammit, white man, you are just too f.u.c.king spooky."

"BEN!" I exclaimed, raising my voice to capture his attention. "Would you mind telling me what you're going on about?"

He stopped and looked at me with a deadly serious gaze, then shook his head.