Whatever it was that was trying to smother me let go of my nose and moved quickly away.
I tried to cough again and this time I succeeded.
Then the cough came hard. I felt my shoulders lift from the floor as I sputtered and hacked.
The next breath was easier.
“He’s breathing.” This time it was Felicity, relief in her tenor.
Soft fingers pressed against my neck, and I heard Cally announce, “He’s got a strong pulse.”
The clamor of hurried footsteps met my ears, reverberating through the hardwood floor before halting with a heavy thump.
“An ambulance is on the way.” RJ’s frantic tone now entered the mix of voices.
“Rowan?” A handed patted my cheek lightly as Felicity called my name. “Rowan?”
The back of my neck was on fire, and it felt as though it was creased with an open, festering wound. My head was already starting to throb, and I involuntarily let out a low moan.
There was a frightening image dancing around inside my skull, insisting that I share it. My stomach soured at the very thought of trying to describe the horrific tableau. I wanted nothing more than to chase the vision from my mind and slam the door behind it, but a tickle in the back of my skull said no.
The vision was beginning to fade, and I tried desperately to let it. The tickle objected. It was important even if I didn’t want to think so. I had to tell someone before it was lost forever.
“Rowan?” Felicity called again.
“No head,” I heard myself whisper.
“What?” she asked.
I felt the warmth of her face near mine as she bent closer.
“No head,” I repeated as my short brush with consciousness rushed toward its end. “Brittany. No head.”
“His vitals are fine. He’s coherent; he knows his name, day of the week, the year, who the President is…” the paramedic was telling my wife, letting her voice trail off as the list grew. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much we can do if he refuses to go with us.”
Her partner was already loading equipment back into the life support vehicle, which was still lighting up our front yard with its wildly flickering light bar. I hadn’t checked, but I was sure that neighbors were standing on porches and peering out from behind their drapes at the commotion surrounding the ‘Witch house’. This wasn’t the first time we’d provided a light show, and unfortunately, it probably wasn’t going to be the last.
As was procedure, a police officer from the local municipality had responded along with the paramedics. He had stepped out onto the front porch himself, and I could see him through the glass of the storm door as he was speaking into his radio.
In sharp contrast to the activity in the immediate vicinity, Ben was still sprawled on the sofa, unconscious and oblivious to everything.
Luckily enough, the afghan Cally had laid over him earlier was still in place, hiding his sidearm and badge, so we didn’t have to explain to one cop why another cop was passed out in our living room. Although, there had been some question as to why he was sleeping through the ruckus. We had simply explained it away as us not letting a friend drive drunk, and fortunately, that had been satisfactory.
“But, his heart stopped,” Felicity insisted, still trying to convince the paramedic to cart me off to the hospital.
The young woman shrugged and shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve got no proof of that. His EKG looks perfectly normal.”
“Felicity…” I started.
“Your heart DID stop, Rowan,” Cally pitched her offering into the fray, cutting me off.
I shot her a glance and frowned. I knew she was just being concerned, but at the moment, I needed someone on my side not Felicity’s. Fortunately, RJ was staying out of the way in the kitchen with the twins, Shari and Jennifer, who had arrived with Felicity’s Jeep somewhere in the middle of all this. I’m sure they were hearing the whole story from beginning to end.
Still, if there was a silver lining to the situation at all, at least the seizures were happening to me again instead of Felicity. For that, I was thankful. It also didn’t hurt that I was now back on the side of the fence I was used to occupying. For all its pressures and pitfalls, it was still a path I had grown accustomed to walking.
“Look, Felicity, I…” I continued.
“What if I tell you to take him?” Agent Mandalay took her turn at interrupting even though her question was directed at the paramedic. She had already flashed her badge and federal ID when she arrived on the scene moments behind the paramedics, so it was no secret that she was an FBI special agent.
“Is he in your custody?” she asked.
“He can be if that’s what it takes,” Constance replied.
“Constance!” I appealed again, louder this time. “Felicity! Both of you. All of you. Listen to me. I’m fine.”
She turned to face me and shook her head as she shot me a concerned look. “Rowan, what I walked into here a few minutes ago doesn’t exactly inspire me to believe that.”
“You know what it was as well as I do,” I told her, trying to skirt around specifics in the presence of the paramedic. If I started talking about ethereal visions, then she might very well change her assessment of me. I glanced over at my wife and continued. “You too Felicity. Especially you. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Row,” Felicity replied. “Cally and I performed CPR on you. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
I looked back at her with pleading eyes and spoke in a deliberate tone. “You know what it was, Felicity.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“I am,” I stated, lacing my voice with all the confidence I could muster. “And, I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Once again I repeated a declaration I had already made over a half-dozen times in the past fifteen minutes.
She stared at me for a moment as if visible evidence that would dispute my claim would suddenly appear. As it was not forthcoming, she finally turned her gaze away and closed her eyes.
“What would you like to do?” The paramedic asked, addressing Agent Mandalay. “Am I taking him or not?”
“It’s up to you, Felicity,” Constance told my wife. “If you want him to go to the hospital, I’ll make it happen.”
I didn’t say anything more. The two of them had allied with one another almost as soon as Constance arrived. Once that happened, my opinion became instantly moot. Arguing with them had accomplished nothing so far, other than provide fuel for my headache.
Felicity finally let out a heavy sigh, and when she spoke, her normally lilting accent thickened, underscoring her words with a serious edge. “No. If he’s wrong, I’ll just kill him later, then.”
CHAPTER 15:
The shrieking whirr of the blender was biting into my skull as Felicity repeatedly pulsed it on and off. I rubbed my temples and watched on, as in a quick motion, she popped off the lid and added yet another ingredient to her homebrewed hangover remedy.
I slid my hand back around to the base of my neck, brushing it gingerly against my flesh. It was still throbbing, and I wondered if I must have hit something on my way down when I blacked out earlier. What little memory I had of the incident was all but completely out of focus, but I did seem to recall falling forward, not backward. I pulled my hand away and inspected it for blood but found none. Apparently, there was no wound even though it felt like there should be. Whatever it was, I just wished it would go away.
My friend groaned as he opened one eye and looked at me. He was sitting at the breakfast nook, or to be accurate, he was sprawled in a chair next to it. He had one elbow planted against the tabletop, and the side of his face was pressed into his loosely doubled fist.
I was sitting across from him, nursing a cup of coffee and staying out of it. I’d been on the receiving end of the Felicity hangover treatment before, and while it seemed to work, I knew what was in it, and moreover, what it tasted like. I didn’t envy him one bit.