Free Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars Page B

people
in a particular subset of the Goth subculture who claim to be
vampires.”
    “I still say it’s insane,” she replied then
made a point of displaying the bloody washcloth to me and adding,
“Especially this.”
    “I guess that’s about as good a word as
any.”
    Even with the grumbling, I was amazed at how
we both seemed to be taking this all in stride. Of course, there
had been several extremely tense minutes at the beginning,
especially in light of Felicity’s initial panic upon seeing what
she described as me bleeding to death. Our alarm probably would
have continued unchecked had it not been for my wife’s hand
inadvertently slipping from my neck as she struggled to reach for
the phone in order to call 9-1-1. Instead of the feared spray of
blood, however, there was nothing. Not even a wound. It suddenly
became obvious to us both that this was an ethereal tap on my
shoulder and that someone wanted my attention in the worst way.
    Since realizing that, neither of us had
really treated this event as much more than a severe aggravation.
In a way it seemed as though we were both under the influence of a
psychic anesthetic. I suppose that was a good thing, but I couldn’t
help wondering when it was going to wear off or if it was simply
going to keep us numbed forever. I couldn’t really say which option
frightened me the most. I did know, however, that neither of them
was particularly appealing as far as I was concerned. But as
worrisome as that could be, it was actually one of the least
important thoughts assaulting my grey matter at the moment.
    What truly puzzled me was my earlier
queasiness over the thought of blood when placed in juxtaposition
to the apparent nonchalance I felt about it now. Normally I walked
a line somewhere in between the two reactions—affected by the sight
of it, yes, but not repulsed. This sudden shift to one extreme and
then the other had me perplexed. The more I rolled it around inside
my skull the more it gnawed at me, and that wasn’t good. After
chasing the thought around in a circle for several minutes, I
finally told myself that I needed to leave it alone, especially
since it was most certainly some kind of cryptic message from the
spirit who was doing this to me in the first place. Dwelling on it
was just going to give her reason to press the issue to the next
level. After what she’d already done, that was something I
definitely didn’t want happening.
    I turned my head to glance directly at
Felicity as she continued moving the washcloth down my bare arm. In
its wake were diluted streaks of the sticky fluid forming mottled
trails across my skin.
    “I think it would probably be easier if I
just jumped in the shower,” I said, looking down at how much blood
was still left to remove.
    “You’re right,” she replied. “But I wanted to
see if I could find that wound. I guess I just got carried
away.”
    “You didn’t and you won’t,” I told her.
“You’ve already looked at my neck, and if it was still there you
would have found it by now.”
    “I just want to be sure.”
    “I understand, Felicity, but if it was there
I’d be bleeding all over you,” I countered. “And, obviously I’m
not. It disappeared, so that should tell you something right
there.”
    “Oh? And what should it tell me?”
    “That it wasn’t real in the first place.”
    She cocked her head to the side and raised an
eyebrow. “So I suppose all of this blood is just a figment of my
imagination then?”
    “You know what I meant,” I replied. “It was
real but it wasn’t. It was just there to get my attention. Nothing
more.”
    “Well, by the Gods, it got mine,” she
replied.
    “Yeah, I noticed,” I said as I fidgeted.
    “Be still, I want to have another look,” she
ordered then gave the washcloth a quick rinse. After a moment she
let out a sigh and added, “Maybe I should have just gone ahead and
called nine-one-one so they could check you out.”
    I shook my head in quick