I nodded thoughtfully. “I’m definitely, very, extremely good with that.”
“I thought you might be. But you’ll have to wait until we get home.” Felicity finished stuffing the card into an envelope and laid it aside on her desk then suddenly exclaimed, “ Damnu! ”
“What’s wrong?”
“I was supposed to pick up the black and white puddings from the butcher for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
I glanced at my watch. “How late were they staying open today?”
“Five,” she replied.
“Ouch, too late. I guess we’ll have to do without.”
She shot me another one of her looks. “Excuse me? I don’t think so. You don’t muck about with an O’Brien family tradition.” She grabbed the phone and stabbed out a number. A moment later she said, “Aye, John? It’s Felicity O’Brien. Yes… Yes, I know, I just now remembered. Really? You’re a doll. Thank you so much. I’ll be there in five minutes then. Bye.” She dropped the phone back onto the cradle and smiled. “He’s still there closing up. Since we’re just around the corner he said he’d wait for me.”
“Tell you what,” I said, gesturing at her petite figure. “You still have that wrapping to do. I’ll run over and pick them up. That way I won’t be tempted to peek.”
“Aye, good idea,” she replied.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and started out the door of her basement office.
“Oh, and let the dogs in before you go,” she called after me. “And, there’s an extra bottle of Bushmill’s on the counter in the kitchen. Take that with and give it to John as a thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” I returned then started up the stairs.
Once I hit the main floor I looked back down the stairs to make sure she wasn’t on her way up for any reason and then closed the door. I actually had an ulterior motive for making the run to the butcher shop for her. I needed to call Ben while she wasn’t around so that I could check on the status of her gift. It was supposed to have been delivered to his house earlier today, but I’d yet to hear from him, so I was starting to worry just a bit.
I snagged my phone from my belt and flipped it open as I walked through the living room. With a quick stab of my thumb, I hit the speed dial for Ben’s number and put the cell up against my ear.
I skirted around the dining room table and into the kitchen as it started to ring. I had made it only a few steps into the room when I noticed that the back door was hanging wide open. I started toward it just as Ben answered his phone.
“Merry freakin’ ho, ho, ho, Kemosabe…” My friend’s voice flowed into my ear with a jovial laugh.
I never got the chance to respond. A weight suddenly slammed into me from behind, hurling me forward into the island. As I pitched against it, my head bumped directly into a vase Felicity had put there to dry, and it toppled over. Almost in slow motion, the ceramic vessel rolled across the butcher-block island and off the side, hitting the floor with a loud crash.
I pushed back and started to twist, but the weight was on me again, and this time it was literally on my back. An arm hooked around my throat and I was starting to choke. I pushed back again, and as I came upright I began to teeter backwards from the extra bulk. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of metal and brought my hand up out of reflex just as the knife was coming down.
I struggled to lunge forward and slammed into the island once again. My cell phone popped from my hand and skittered halfway across the surface, coming to rest well out of my reach against a cookbook at the other end. At the same moment, the weight on my back shifted and let out a bloodcurdling and patently female scream. The arm around my neck loosened just long enough for me to suck in a breath and shout, “BEN!”
The knife came back down, but instead of deflecting it I unintentionally caught it in my grasp. The sharp edge sliced into my scarred palm, and I let out a howl of pain.
Somewhere through all the noise, I heard Ben’s frantic voice screaming from the earpiece of my cell, “…ROWAN? ROWAN?! GODDAMNIT! WHAT THE HELL’S HAPPENIN’ OVER THERE?! JEEZUS H…”
I had no idea how the thin reverberation was even audible to me since at this point the device was lying several feet away. I struggled to push myself up and stumbled backward, slamming first my attacker and then myself into the doorframe, but she didn’t even loosen her grip.
The fresh chokehold from the woman was working. The room was starting to spin as my vision tunneled. My ears were ringing, and I struggled for a breath that simply wasn’t allowed to come. I twisted and then pitched forward, unintentionally ramming my forehead-followed by the rest of my face-into the wall. The squirming weight on my back wasn’t helping my balance, but in the grand scheme of things, that was the least of my worries.
A flash of thought bounced through my head, tweaking what consciousness was left in my brain. It reminded me that this wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined meeting my demise. But then, I’d held fast to an unspoken feeling for quite some time now-a sense that my death would be violent. If this didn’t qualify as such, I’m not entirely certain what would. I’d come close many times. Maybe this was the one.
A blaze of raw pain seared my right palm as I desperately tried to work my fingers in behind the pale forearm that was attempting to crush my windpipe, and it was nearly succeeding by all present indications. However, the bone-baring gash in my hand was rendering my task nearly impossible, as my fingers didn’t seem capable of carrying out the orders my brain was giving them. Unfortunately, my left hand was of no help either because it was otherwise occupied by holding fast to the wrist of my attacker’s other arm. I would have simply let go were it not for the fact that she was still clenching the eight-inch butcher knife tightly in her white-knuckled fist, and this was the only way I could keep it at bay.
The blade already had enough of my blood on it as far as I was concerned.
I abandoned my vain attempt to loosen the constriction clamped around my neck and thrust my hand forward instead. A fresh lance of pain screwed its way through my palm then up my arm as my hand hit with a wet slap against the wall, leaving a bright red smear in its wake. I stumbled out of control as I propelled myself backward, the frenzied weight still clinging to my back by way of my tortured neck.
I had yet to actually see the woman who was now trying to kill me, although I had a better than solid idea who it was. Still, given everything that had led up to this moment and the fact that I had been attacked from behind, there was a sick churn in the pit of my stomach telling me I could be wrong. That maybe, just maybe, I had made a critical error where magick and the dead were concerned. It was that acrid, nauseous feeling that was keeping me from fighting back with the unbridled fervor it seemed it was going to take to save my own life. Until I knew for sure whom I was up against, I couldn’t take any chances.
With the lack of oxygen beginning to shut down my brain, the rest of my muscles were beginning to weaken as well. I could feel my right arm buckling against an unnatural strength that was trying to drive the butcher knife downward into my chest, and my legs were quivering as they took on the properties of an elastic band stretched to the breaking point.
Still careening wildly in reverse and unable to see any obstacles in my rearward path, my luck with staying upright finally ran out. In a single misstep, my heel hooked around what felt like the leg of the coffee table, effectively negating what little balance I had left, and the two of us launched into a backward free-fall. A heartbeat later, the dull rush of a crash punctuated by shattering glass ornaments sounded in my ears as we brought the Christmas tree down with us.
The arm was no longer around my neck since the force of the impact had shaken my attacker loose. I gulped hungrily for the air as I tried to roll away, only to entangle myself even farther into the branches of the artificial tree as well as the still winking strands of lights. Twisting back the other direction in a bid for escape, I lost my newly found breath as a knee came down hard on my stomach.