The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Free Page A

afraid.”
    “Okay, thanks Colin,” she said, and the inset
was replaced by a wide shot of the news desk, revealing both
anchors as well as a third figure seated at the L-shaped return.
“Keep us updated on this breaking story.”
    “Will do, back to you Brandee and Skip.”
    After a measured beat, the anchor continued.
“So, how many of us have complained about lower back pain?”
    “I know I have,” chimed in Skip Johnson.
“Joining us this morning is Doctor…”
    Eldon finally blinked, and as he did he
instantly tuned out the voices coming from the television,
relegating them once again to muted background noise. He allowed a
thin smile to pass briefly across his face, the only outward sign
of the elation he now felt.
    The warlock was still here.
    He had just needed to draw him out, and his
plan had worked even quicker than he had hoped.
    He absently wiped his wet hand on his shirt
as he took the few steps across the room to the broken down bed.
The water continued sputtering and splashing in the rusty basin,
melding in an off-kilter tune with the voices from the TV. On the
scarred surface of a makeshift nightstand, a book was positioned
with supreme care, as if on display. Eldon reached out with his
good hand and lifted it reverently, then used the knuckles of his
clawed left hand to open it and flip through the pages.
    Near the back of the tome, he finally
stopped, bringing his gaze to rest on a particular passage, his
eyes darting back and forth as he read and re-read the words.
Slowly, his lips began to move, and then eventually a whisper of
sound began to slip between them. Finally, his gravelly voice spoke
aloud to be heard only by him.
    “For it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will
repay, saith the Lord.”
    He continued to repeat the passage with
growing rabidity, clipping the sentence until the only words spoken
were “Vengeance is mine.”
     
     
     
     
    Three Hours Earlier
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 1:
     
     
    Graphical images of playing cards expanded in
happy accordion patterns across the glowing screen of my notebook
computer as the machine proclaimed me victorious in this latest
game of solitaire. Unless I’d lost track, this one made six for me
and something on the order of ten million for the machine, give or
take. I wasn’t actually keeping count, though. Well, not of the
computer’s wins, anyway.
    I tucked my fingers back in behind my
eyeglasses, forcing the frames to ride up on the bridge of my nose,
then rubbed my eyes before directing my bleary gaze at the lower
corner of the screen. I’d started this mindless activity at twelve
and it was now 3:07.
    That was a.m., mind you.
    Of course, there wasn’t much else to do.
Watch TV, surf the web, read a book. None of these options were
particularly appealing to me, not even the endless games of
solitaire. What I really wanted to be doing was sleeping, but the
way my head was throbbing, that wasn’t about to happen.
    The annoying thud that was pounding out
a droning rhythm throughout the whole of my grey matter began early
in the evening and had not subsided in the least. But, so far it
hadn’t grown any worse, for which I was thankful. Of course, I knew
that wouldn’t last. It would be getting much worse. I just didn’t know exactly
when.
    I’d had this kind of headache before, more
times than I cared to count, actually. It wasn’t sinuses, and it
wasn’t just your normal stress related “take two aspirin and lie
down for a while” kind of pain either. This was an ache born of
unnatural influences. It was the pure physical manifestation of
fear and dread. The kind of headache I experienced every single
time I knew something horrible was about to happen, and there was
nothing in this world I could possibly do to prevent it.
    Unfortunately, for me, I tended to be
afflicted by these damnable things way too often.
    I ran my hand across the lower half of my
face and felt the rough crop of stubble that, by now, was certainly
shading my