The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (40 page)

His words struck me with as much force as a
punch square to the jaw.

“You said this was between you and me!” I
barked.

“Second floor, Gant. How fast are you?” he
asked, then without waiting for an answer he pronounced, “Thou
shalt not suffer a Witch to live.”

“Porter!” I shouted.

Stealth was no longer an issue. I bolted for
the back of the van, and in my haste, my hand missed the latch on
the door as I threw myself against it. The sound of my shoulder
thudding against the metal struck first and was followed
immediately by the physical jolt vibrating through my frame.

Desperation-induced clumsiness was doing
everything in its power to impede my progress as I fumbled with the
lever. I felt my hand connect and pushed heavily downward on the
latch then leaned into the door once again.

Sound was buzzing in the earpiece of the
phone the whole time. Porter’s self-righteous voice continued
rattling against my eardrum with sickening clarity. “Wherefore,
since you, Millicent Renee Sullivan, are fallen into the damned
heresies of Witches…”

“He’s doing it!” I was screaming even as the
door was beginning to open. “He’s getting ready to…”

The rest of the words caught in my throat as
an icy blast of wind hit me in the face. The door was swinging wide
in surrender to my attack, and my momentum kept me moving forward.
My stomach leapt then fell with an odd, tickling sensation as a
split second of weightlessness struck. It was only then I realized
I had launched myself into nothingness. I felt myself pitching
forward and began to flail my arms in an attempt to regain my
balance, but it was too late. My exit was anything but graceful as
I completely missed the step and stumbled down to the wet
pavement.

I’m still not entirely certain which event in
the quartet came first: me hitting the asphalt, the intense flash
of light, the wildly screeching siren, or the deafening explosion.
In retrospect, it didn’t really matter; they were all so close
together that for all intents and purposes, they were one and the
same.

The cell phone popped out of my hand and
skittered a few feet away on the street as I rolled. Chaos was the
only word I could use to describe the scene before me as everyone’s
attention was directed away from the building. On the tiered
parking lot above us, a squad car was warbling out every emergency
tone in its arsenal of noises. Every source of illumination on the
vehicle, from light bar to headlights, was flashing. The windshield
was a shattered maze, and the driver’s side windows were completely
missing. Smoke was rolling upward from the openings, and an orange
glow was filling the passenger cabin.

I had absolutely no idea what had happened.
My mind was paging through scenarios, attempting to wedge the few
available pieces of the puzzle into place, but every picture I
imagined seemed far from likely.

I scrambled across the slush for the cell
phone and placed the wet device against my ear as soon as I clamped
my hand on it. Though I had to strain to hear him over the
background insanity, Porter’s voice was still bleeding from the
earpiece with ominous portent, “…Have refused the medicine of your
salvation, we have summoned…”

“NO!” I screamed.

I dragged myself up to my feet and wheeled
around, looking for the federal agent who was supposed to be posted
outside the van but found no one. All attention was still focused
on the bedlam surrounding the patrol car. I wheeled around, looking
for anyone I could but again found not a soul anywhere nearby.
Everyone seemed to be converging on the raucous patrol car.

“…
away and seduced by a wicked spirit…”
Porter continued.

I had heard these very words from him before,
and I knew them well. The recitation was an official proclamation
of Star’s guilt and final sentence. He would be following
immediately with her execution. Even with the pomp and circumstance
of the pronouncement, there would be no time to wait. He had
already begun; she was going to be dead in less than a minute.

The dark, prophetic sensation that had been
plaguing me was now a set of icy fingers clawing at my throat. I
felt myself moving forward with deliberate intent. The doorway of
the building seemed an almost unattainable objective in the
distance, but it loomed clear in my sight, beckoning me.

By the time I took my fifth step, I was at a
dead run.

“MISTER GANT!” I heard Agent Kavanaugh’s
voice in the distance behind me, but I didn’t stop.

Figures I had not previously noticed were now
coming out of the shadows as I barreled through the SWAT perimeter.
These men had been the only ones not completely diverted from their
mission by the insanity on the parking lot above. Still, they were
staged at a distance from the entrance and focused on impending
entry into the building. Whether by pure luck, the situation, or
fate alone, I was yards ahead before I began to hear their
shouts.

“GODDDAMIT, ROWAN!” I picked out Ben’s voice
bellowing from within the jumble of others that were ordering me to
stop.

My cell phone flew from my hand as my arms
pumped in unison with my legs. I was starting to wheeze as cold air
rushed in and out of my lungs. I wasn’t in the best of shape to
begin with, but the bulk of the flak vest and my coat weren’t
helping either.

My knees were complaining, and a sharp chill
was biting into my leg where my pants had soaked up wetness from
the slush on the street. I ignored the pains that were vying for
attention throughout my body and pushed myself forward. I could
hear the clamor of footsteps behind me and felt a momentary wave of
relief. I couldn’t stop to tell anyone what was happening, but if
they followed me in, that would be good enough.

I launched myself over the low curb and on my
first stride was across the narrow sidewalk. With far more agility
than I had displayed exiting the van, I hit the low stairs and
propelled myself past two of the three and directly onto the
landing. I threw a forearm up in front of my face and allowed the
inertia I had built up to coil into my body as I hit the door.

The barrier was already unlatched, and the
force with which I struck caused it to fling wide, impact an
interior wall, then bounce back. I thrust my arm out to the side
and caught the door before it could hammer back into my face then
drove inward through the darkness.

I was already several steps into the building
before I began to slow. I could hear a gathering commotion through
the door behind me, but thus far I was the only one who had
entered. Part of me wanted to wait for the SWAT team to catch up,
but I knew that there was no time.

My labored breaths were grating in my ears
and sending cold stabs through my chest. My heart was thumping out
of control, and I could feel my right leg beginning to cramp. I
winced at the pain and stumbled as I wandered through the dark
interior.

Some small amount of light was streaming in
from the door to my rear, but “small amount” was the operative
phrase. It did little to illuminate the interior much beyond the
first few feet. Porter had said second floor, but I had no idea how
this building was laid out. Not to mention that it had been
abandoned for Goddess knows how long.

Piles of unidentifiable debris announced
themselves solely by feel as I thumped against and tripped over
them. The one thing I could say for certain was that several of
them were very hard.

My eyes were finally beginning to adjust to
the darkness but not quickly enough for the given situation. I had
no idea where the stairs were in this structure, and I still
couldn’t see enough to find them. My throat began to constrict, and
my chest felt tight as a wave of panic washed over me. I could hear
the blood begin to rush in my ears and fear commenced stabbing me
in the back with repeated thrusts of gelid anxiety.

“…
Therefore, following in the footsteps
of the blessed Apostle Paul…” Porter’s voice came to me as a
distant echo.

I swallowed hard against the constriction in
my throat and pushed forward, staggering through the darkness with
my hands waving blindly in front of me. It took one half dozen
steps and something hard biting into my shin before I careened into
a cold wall.

The cramp in my leg blossomed, twisting the
muscle down the back of my calf into a secure knot. Fiery agony
shot through the appendage as my knee automatically bent in an
attempt to hide from the onslaught.

I caught my breath and grunted as I fought to
ignore the pain. I pushed myself away from the wall but left one
hand against it for support as I limped along.

“PORTER! YOU SONOFABITCH!” I screamed.

My words glanced from the walls of the empty
building, fading away on the heels of a sharp echo. An almost
solemn silence followed the last audible reproduction of my voice,
then after a measured beat, his voice began again.

“Millicent Renee Sullivan. By this our
definitive sentence we drive you from the ecclesiastical court, and
abandon you to…”

I had no idea exactly how long I had been in
the building at this point. I assumed, however, based on his
cadence and the words spoken, that it had only been a matter of
seconds. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could now make out
murky shapes but not much more. I twisted in place, looking
frantically for a direction to go.

“…
Secular court, that having you in its
power now moderates its sentence of death against you…”

The echo of Porter’s voice bounced around the
building, repeating itself into silence. I tried to follow the
sound and found myself spinning in a confused circle, knowing only
that it was coming from above.

I knew I couldn’t waste any more time. The
sentence had been pronounced, and there was very little ceremony
left before he carried out the execution. I whipped my head around
and made a snap decision, picking a direction to try, in hopes that
it would lead to what I sought. I took a quick look down and to the
side, scanning for obstacles before pushing completely away from
the wall.

Light flashed behind me, and I heard
scrambling footsteps as the SWAT team entered. A momentary swath of
white luminance cut across the wall then along the floor in front
of me before swinging in the opposite direction. I assume it had
come from one of their flashlights, but the source was moot. While
it had been dimmed by distance, it was still enough to give me what
I needed.

Pure luck, magick, divine guidance of The
Ancients. I had no idea what was responsible. All I knew was that
had I not been looking in the exact spot at the exact instant the
light passed over, I would have missed the stairwell through the
opening just ahead of me.

“HE’S ON THE SECOND FLOOR!” I screamed aloud
to the SWAT team as I leapt forward, aiming myself at the
opening.

I couldn’t be sure if they heard me or even
saw me. I didn’t think about it until later, but my sudden movement
could very easily have gotten me shot. Whoever, or whatever, was
watching over me was apparently still on the job.

I ran my shoulder into the wall and groped
for anything I could use to steady myself. My fingers fell against
something hard and ice cold. When I tightened my hand, I recognized
what I was gripping to be a solid metal handrail.

I turned my face up and saw a faint yellow
glow, telling me there was some form of light ahead.

The cramp that was seizing the muscle in my
right leg was still impeding my motion to the best of its ability
as it caused me to list to the side. I threw my left arm out and
began pulling myself hand over hand as I struggled up the littered
stairwell.

“…
And having before us the Holy Gospels
that our judgment may proceed as from the countenance of God…”
Porter’s ominous voice was becoming louder with every step I
took.

“…
By this sentence we cast you away as
an impenitent heretic and sorceress.”

“PORTER!” I screamed again as I strained to
make my way up the stairs.

I caught my right foot on the edge of a
crumbling step and slipped to the side. I quickly grabbed the
handrail and corrected for the misstep before tumbling back
down.

“In accordance with the thirty second
question we do hereby deliver you unto the power of our most Holy
God. As you, Millicent Renee Sullivan, are damned in body and soul,
your sentence on this day is death.”

I was only a few steps from the top when I
heard a metallic squeak pierce the night. It came as a slow,
repetitious noise, fading then sharply breaking through once again.
I was certain I could hear a whimpering sob behind it.

“The sentence, to be executed immediately and
without appeal in the manner of hanging.”

The high-pitched squeal made a violent
increase in cadence, sounding like metal spinning quickly against
metal, all while in desperate need of lubrication. There was a
creaking noise in its wake, and I heard a choking gurgle.

The muscle in my leg was beginning to untie,
and I pushed hard, taking the last two steps at once. I arced
myself out through the doorway at the top and out onto the creaking
wooden floor.

The light of countless candles stationed
about the large room created glowing pockets in the darkness that
spread illumination in toward center. Porter was standing near the
center of the space, staring directly at me. Next to him, swinging
two feet above the floor was Star, partially nude and streaked with
blood. The noose was tightening around her neck, and even at this
distance, I could see her kicking and bucking her body against the
constriction.

Porter’s solemn voice hit my ears with
absolute clarity. “May the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon her
soul.”