Nothing happened.
Not even a tingle.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew that I had to be correct. If I wasn’t I had no idea what I was going to do. I looked down at my hand incredulously and realized immediately that the functional metal handhold was coated in plastic- a measure I had paid extra for in order to prevent rust and alleviate the need for painting. Now, it was my bane as it completely insulated me from the metal, negating the ground I was seeking. I instantly despised myself for the decision.
I had to find another piece of non-insulated metal to come into contact with, and I had to find it now. I looked toward the driveway at Ben’s van but discounted it immediately. The rubber tires were once again an insulator between the metal and earth ground. I whipped my head to the right and made my decision.
Still gripping the rail, I pushed off and started down the stairs as fast as I could without losing what little balance I had left. I could feel something warm and wet against my shoulder, and I knew without looking that yet another wound had to have appeared on Felicity’s pristine skin. I was gripped by the sudden fear that the wounds went deeper than merely the surface.
I hit the sidewalk and continued to my right, tripping over the grooves in the decorative flagstone walk as I hurried toward my new goal. I could hear Ben, Constance, and Helen behind me, but I didn’t have time to acknowledge their presence. My vision was beginning to tunnel, and I could feel my own hands beginning to curl into fists as my physical connection with Felicity fought to drag me under.
I continued to stumble forward and eventually lost my footing then fell heavily to my knees. The momentum of my crash carried me forward, and Felicity slid from my shoulder onto the grass. She was still seizing. Even in the darkness, I could see that fresh wounds had appeared on her arms and new, wet stains were spreading across her shirt.
I pushed up onto my hands and knees and looked ahead of myself. The dim, cylindrical vignette that had become my vision stretched out before me, appearing as an unfathomable distance with my objective well at the far end. I knew it couldn’t possibly be that far away, but my heart began to sink as I struggled with my now clubbed fists to pull Felicity back up.
I suddenly felt an icy hand pressed against my shoulder. Startled, I swung my head to the side and glanced up into the smiling face of the Dark Mother.
I twisted my head away, daring not to look any longer for fear of giving in and answering her beckoning call. Looking to the opposite side, I slammed my right hand hard against the ground, forcing it to spasm and uncurl. I quickly pushed my left fist into the palm to hold it open then managed to work it around Felicity’s trembling wrist as it closed tightly of its own accord. With a guttural scream, I physically threw myself forward, my left arm thrust in front of me as far as I could reach.
When my hand contacted the warm metal of the chain link fence, I was instantly deafened by the cacophonous snap of an electric arc.
Hot, white light flashed, and then my world faded to black.
CHAPTER 20:
Once again we were gathered in the kitchen- all of us except for Helen that is. A self-described chain smoker, once she was convinced that Felicity and I were okay, she had sequestered herself on our back deck for a nicotine fix.
I knew she was blaming herself for what had happened; she had told me as much. I tried to convince her otherwise, but I didn’t have much luck. Unfortunately, at the moment, I simply didn’t have the energy to force the subject. In the end, we agreed to talk it out at a later date. Still, I hated that she was going to brood over it until then. I knew she would too because that is exactly what I would do if I was in her place.
I felt myself sinking in the chair, probably looking much like Ben had only a few hours before. I was exhausted. My body chemistry was so out of balance I felt like I had been on a weeklong drunk and was only now starting to sober up. If I had any electrolytes left in my system, they were probably cringing behind some obscure internal organ in hopes they wouldn’t be obliterated as well.
I tipped a bottle of bright blue sport drink toward the ceiling and drained the remains in a trio of gulps. I was unimpressed by the taste, but then, they were Felicity’s choice, not mine. Normally I wouldn’t go near them except to move them aside when reaching for something else, but my current state demanded more than plain water.
“Do you want another one, Rowan?” Constance asked as I sat the plastic bottle on the table in front of me and sighed.
I picked the bottle back up and rolled it in my hand until I could inspect the label. Its claimed flavor was ‘Berry’. No indication as to what kind of berry except for maybe the color. I hated to tell them this, but it certainly didn’t taste like blueberries to me. In fact, it came across more like weak lemonade with a tablespoon of salt and a pinch of sugar added.
“Not really,” I finally said. “But I guess I should anyway. It probably couldn’t hurt.”
“What about you, Felicity?” she asked as she tugged open the refrigerator.
“Not yet,” my wife answered, her voice heavily underscored by a Celtic lilt. “Thank you.”
“This is fucked up,” Ben suddenly blurted.
He had been standing here in the kitchen, observing us in complete silence for the past several minutes. At the moment, his hand was unconsciously working at the muscles on the back of his neck.
“This just ain’t even right,” he added after a moment.
“You’re acting like this is all new to you,” I told him.
I knew my voice sounded flat, matter of fact, and emotionless, but it was only because of the exhaustion. It seemed like a struggle even to talk.
“Jeezus, white man!” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen you two do weird shit before, but this was way outta the freakin’ box!”
“What, the stigmata?” I asked, referring to the wounds that had marred Felicity’s skin but were now all but completely gone. The only evidence of them having existed being tiny, pinkish scars which were themselves fading away almost as quickly as they had appeared.
“That’s a start,” he replied.
“You’ve seen that happen to me before,” I told him, languidly holding out my arm. “Remember the Monogram of Christ?”
I referred to a series of puckered wounds that had appeared on my body, each in the shape of the aforementioned symbol and each in conjunction with the death of one of Eldon Porter’s victims. They had healed themselves into non-existence just as Felicity’s were now doing, but their memory was fresh. Especially after what had been witnessed here tonight.
“Yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “And that freaked me out then too.”
While I had my arm extended, Constance stepped past Ben and filled my hand with a fresh bottle of the sports drink.
“Thanks,” I acknowledged, then turned back to my friend and shrugged. “Sorry about that.” My apology was more out of reflex than any kind of heartfelt remorse.
“Well, what I’m really talkin’ about is the friggin’ la-la shit flyin’ around here.” He thrust the index finger of his free hand at himself. “I mean I felt it. Me.”
“And your point?” Felicity asked, her voice a tired mumble. She was resting her head on the table, using her crossed arms as a makeshift pillow, with her face pointed toward the back wall. She didn’t even bother to lift her head when she spoke.
“Well excuse me, ‘Samantha’,” he retorted, making a sarcastic reference to the old TV sitcom. “Maybe this is old hat for you two, but I damn near got electrocuted by your happy asses.”