Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Online Free

return.
    The sickening part was that every time this
sort of thing happened to me, somebody died. Worse yet, it was
usually more than one somebody.
    I guess that’s what I get for being a
Witch.
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 2:
     
     
    I was rinsing my mouth out
with warm salt water when the phone rang. I gave a final swish and
spit the pink tinged liquid into the basin, then grabbed a hand
towel and blotted my bearded chin as I walked out of the bathroom.
The electronic warble issued again, making the telephone sound just
about as impatient as any inanimate device could be.
    “Chill out! I’m coming, I’m coming…” I said
aloud, as if a verbal scolding would make it stop. It didn’t.
    I was still wiping my chin when I rounded the
corner into the kitchen and glanced at the caller ID box on the
wall. OUT OF AREA and a row of dashes was showing on the liquid
crystal display, so I lifted the receiver then allowed it to drop
right back into the cradle. I had no interest in dealing with a
salesman who believed it was okay to ignore the no-call list, not
to mention that I still had that headache.
    I continued walking over to the counter and
retrieved a mug from the cabinet, then filled it with water from
the filtered tap. I had just placed it on the turntable in the
microwave when the phone began pealing for attention again. I
slammed the door on the microwave shut, then quickly punched in
three minutes and hit start before stepping back over to the
phone.
    OUT OF AREA and a row of dashes displayed yet
again, and once more I lifted the receiver then let it drop with a
heavy clunk.
    The microwave was humming away behind me as I
stepped over to the multi-tiered spice and herb rack mounted on the
wall and began my search for dried willow bark. The search was
going to be a huge pain in and of itself, and that just made my
head ache more.
    Had I been in charge of the rack, the task
wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, as everything would be in
alphabetical order. My wife, Felicity, however, was the keeper of
the herbs, and she had her own way of categorizing the bottles.
Little groups of related and semi-related spices, barks, herbs, and
teas lined the rack. The organization of such simply defied any
explanation I could muster.
    However, put Felicity in front of it, and she
could easily snatch up a bottle of whatever you asked for without
even looking. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here at the moment.
    The closest I had been able to come in the
minute or so I had been looking was in fact bark, but it was
cinnamon and not willow. Even though it would have tasted quite a
bit better, I desperately needed the salicylic acid, not the
flavor. I was dragging my finger slowly across the labeled tops of
the myriad of bottles, wondering if I should just give up and take
some aspirin, when the phone began ringing once again.
    I tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t helping
me concentrate, so I threw my hands up in a dismissive gesture and
let out a heavy sigh. I took the few steps over to the phone and
saw the same message as before blinking on the display of the
caller ID. Now I was annoyed.
    I snatched the phone up from the wall cradle
and stuck it to my ear, then barked, “I don’t want any!”
    I was just getting ready to slam the phone
back down when I heard my wife’s stern voice issue from the
earpiece in a quick stream, “Rowan Linden Gant, don’t you hang up
on me again!”
    I tucked the handset back up to my ear,
“Felicity?”
    “You don’t want any of what?” she
demanded.
    “Sorry, I thought you were a salesperson,” I
apologized. “The caller ID is coming up with ‘out of area’ and no
number.”
    “Ahh,” she replied. I could almost see her
nodding at the other end. “I forgot to charge my cell battery, so
I’m using someone else’s. It’s an out of state number.”
    “Oh, okay, makes sense,” I replied, then
sighed and didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. “So what’s
up?”
    “That’s why I’m