Free Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars

listened, a heavy, rhythmic thrum was starting to
fill my ears and was effectively dulling the ambient sounds. I
glanced around expecting to find a car with a radio blasting heavy
metal music somewhere nearby. If that was the source of the noise,
however, I couldn’t locate it.
    When the second ring sounded, a coppery
metallic taste began creeping up the back of my tongue, and I
instantly tensed. The sensation wasn’t new to me, and I desperately
feared what I thought it was about to bring. The false sense of
security I had felt a few moments ago was now fleeing in
earnest.
    A tidal wave of déjà vu slammed into me full
force, and I knew it was more than just a trick of an overactive
imagination. I had been here before, experiencing an unwanted
psychic event from the passenger seat of my wife’s Jeep. I opened
my mouth to warn her of what was about to happen only to have my
words halted in my throat by the sound of Felicity’s own frightened
voice.
    “R… Ro… Rowan…” she stuttered, a note of
confused terror like I’d never heard from her before was interwoven
through the syllables of my name.
    I turned my head only to see my wife’s
normally beautiful face drawn tight into a pained grimace. Her
teeth were clenched, and her back began to arch, pressing her body
hard against the shoulder belt. A split second later she was
shaking uncontrollably. Her head snapped back, thudding against the
headrest as her eyes began to roll upward.
    The Jeep suddenly lurched forward as her feet
slipped from the clutch and brake, her right foot landing
momentarily on the accelerator. I dropped the phone, grabbing at
the steering wheel as I wrenched the stick shift into neutral. The
engine coughed then settled to an idle, but we were still rolling
forward.
    “Felicity!” I screamed, but she couldn’t hear
me. I could only barely hear myself as the driving rhythm continued
to grow inside my head.
    Her body was bucking in violent spasms
against the safety harness, and she continued to vibrate with the
physical tremor. Her arms were drawn up to her chest, turned
inward, and her hands were postured like tight paws, her
fingernails digging into her palms.
    A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her
mouth as she frothed, and I could see that she was biting her
tongue. The back of her head continued to slam against the padded
headrest, and I mutely thanked the ancients for it being there.
    Sharp but distant noises began to invade the
heavy beat in my head, and I recognized them as blaring horns. A
quick glance forward told me that the traffic signal had switched
to green. We were moving forward, rolling by the grace of leftover
momentum, but it was far from what traffic would bear. Still, it
was too fast for my liking considering the circumstances.
    “Felicity!” I called out again, ignoring the
futility of the action.
    I was struggling to guide the rolling Jeep
while at the same time unbuckling my own seatbelt. My first thought
was to get my foot on the brake and bring the vehicle to a stop,
but I wasn’t the most limber individual on the face of the planet,
and I wasn’t sure I could get around my wife’s stiffened legs. In a
hostile attempt to assume control of my emotions, a wave of panic
began sweeping over me as it elected to challenge my desperate
concern for Felicity and move itself into the top position.
    A prolonged whimper emanated from my wife as
she jerked against the tensed muscles of her body, and I realized
it was a scream that couldn’t escape. The other realization that
struck me square in the face was that the tables had turned. I was
helplessly watching her go through all of the things she had stood
by and watched me suffer so many times before.
    I managed to release the catch on my shoulder
harness and twist toward her, levering myself against the back of
the seat. As I brought my leg up, my knee cracked hard into the
dash, sending a lance of pain through the joint. I barked out an
expletive as I pitched