Read Online Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars - Free Book Online Page B

think I just slept
on it the wrong way or something.”
    “Do you want me to give you a massage?” she
asked, reaching up to move my hand. Before she could pull my
fingers away, however, she let out a small gasp. “Rowan, you’re ice
cold!”
    I could feel her pressing the back of her
hand against my neck and then my cheek as her maternal instincts
took over and she slipped into nurturing mode.
    “I just came in a few minutes ago,” I told
her. “I haven’t warmed up yet.”
    “Nice try, but it’s not that cold
outside.”
    Given how truly awful I was beginning to
feel, I decided not to prolong the inevitable and simply conceded.
“Okay, then maybe you’re right and I’m coming down with
something.”
    “You aren’t running a fever,” she countered.
“You’re freezing.”
    “So maybe it’s a cold,” I quipped, managing
to squeeze out the last drop of sarcastic humor I had left in
me.
    “Not funny,” she replied sternly. “You’re
helping Ben with another murder investigation, aren’t you? You’re
channeling someone. Damn your eyes, Rowan Linden Gant, you
promised!”
    At this point the dogs had grown impatient,
and the English setter was doing a halting dance nearby while the
Aussie was letting out a nasal whine as an accompaniment.
    “No,” I told her, giving my head an animated
shake then picking up the food dishes from the island and stooping
to set them on the floor. The canines were on them immediately,
gobbling up the breakfast as if it was their one and only meal for
the week.
    “Don’t lie to me, Rowan,” she snapped.
    “I’m not!” I barked in return as I stood.
“I’m not helping him. But the victim apparently doesn’t seem
interested in hearing that, okay?”
    “You aren’t…”
    “No,” I interrupted before she could finish
the question. “I’m not letting her in. I’m doing just the opposite,
but it isn’t working.”
    “Are you grounding then?” she asked,
referring to the conscious connection most any Witch makes with the
earth in order to avoid mishaps with magickal energies.
    Even though the question annoyed me on the
surface, I knew she was right to ask. Grounding was a basic skill
right out of WitchCraft 101 and moreover, the first step in
protecting oneself from a psychic influence. However, following the
first experience with my curse a few years back, I had been left
unbalanced; therefore, it was also an important ability where I had
fallen woefully short for quite some time now, no matter how hard I
tried.
    In recent months I had been much better at
maintaining my focus—or at least I thought I had.
    I took hold of my wife’s hand and said, “You
tell me. Do I feel grounded to you?”
    She twined her fingers into mine, pressing
our palms tightly together. I knew she really didn’t need to have
the physical contact to know one way or the other if I was truly
grounded, but I wanted there to be no mistake. She looked into my
face, and what had been a rising flash of anger in her green eyes
now turned to concern.
    “ Damnú ,” she mumbled. “You are
grounded… That fekking
dóiteacht
, I’ll kill him.”
    “Who?”
    “Ben,” she snipped. “Who else? Come on
then…”
    She began dragging me by the hand toward the
living room, and I had no recourse but to follow.
    “You can’t blame him for this, Felicity,” I
said as I lumbered along behind her, an overwhelming weakness
starting to permeate my body. “This all started before I even met
up with him this morning.”
    “But he talked about a case, didn’t he?”
    “Yes. A little.”
    “And your channeling the victim, aren’t
you?”
    “Yeah… That’s my guess, anyway… Why?”
    “Because this doesn’t happen to you when it’s
someone else’s investigation, that’s why… Here, sit down.”
    My wife all but shoved me onto the sofa—not
that it took much for her to do so given my present state. She took
a moment to situate me to her liking then began covering me with an
afghan after