Swallow the Moon by K A Jordan

said. "We didn't bust the whole gang. Somebody is going to kill you."
    "Somebody in a Cadillac Escalade already tried." Eric narrowed his eyes against a stabbing pain in his temples.
    Too much information; answer a question with a question.
    There it was again. Deep and raspy, the voice sounded like the dead DEA agent from his flashback.
    "Everybody knows that bike." The cop shook his head. "You shouldn't have brought it back here."
    "Yeah, well, shit happens." Should he tell the cop who he was; or who he wasn't?
    Don't be stupid, GI Joe, play along.
    "Can you get word to the DEA?"
    "No." Eric brought his coffee to his mouth and sipped. The strong harsh taste cleared his head. He was hearing a guy's voice – confessing that to a cop would get him a rubber room and an 'I love me' jacket.
    "I'll talk to a buddy of mine on the state side."
    The cop gave Eric a pat on the shoulder. He tossed a ten dollar bill on the counter, then got up.
    "I haven't forgotten what I owe you." He walked away.
    What the fuck was going on? Was he suffering from some kind of delayed PTSD where he was hearing voices? The waitress set the plate in front of him. Eric hung his aching head, his stomach twisted into knots. It was no wonder that Jake was dead, Eric thought savagely. The idiot killed someone in a drug bust, then kept a one-of-a-kind motorcycle.
    Which you now own, bright boy – deal with it.
    He'd deal, all right. He was going back to talk to June and this time he was going to get some answers.
    ~^~
     
    June sat down on a cushion and lit a candle in the center of her protective pentagram. There wouldn't be any random spirits bothering her today. Relaxing into a lotus position, she breathed deep and slow until she had the right rhythm to tap the well-spring of energy, as pure and clear as moonlight. Deep in meditation, she floated in the center of a glowing bubble.
    There were moving orbs around her, they cast shadows.
    A drifting shadow took on a familiar form. Who did that remind her of – Aunt Lizzie or Grandma? It moved slowly away. There were more; some whizzed by, others drifted, all were on the move. June followed the one that reminded her of Aunt Lizzie. It faded away like a firefly, only to reappear just out of reach.
    There was a faint humming – like music played far away. June no longer searched, she drifted. There was no sense of time or space…
    She was brought back to her body with a painful snap. There was a hand on her face and a man calling her name.
    "June?" Eric was crouched on the inside edge of the circle. He had his helmet under his arm and his leathers on. He smelled of wind, leather and cologne.
    "What?" June was still half in the world of shadows. She could still see the shadow world overlaid on the real world. Some part of her wanted to go back to the other side.
    "Hey, are you okay?" Eric's hand on her face kept her anchored.
    "I'm fine." She smiled at him as her mind cleared. Cora was nearby, watching. June breathed out, expanding the sphere of white light to push the spirit out of her garage.
    "What were you doing?" He stood up – held out his hand.
    "I was meditating," June explained, taking his hand and rising in a smooth motion.
    He gave her a funny look – skeptical and amused, not disdainful.
    "Are you hungry?"
    "Always," Eric laughed as he followed her into the house. "After two years in 'Stan, I'll eat anything."
    "Tell me about that." June rummaged in the refrigerator for a big bowl of soup.
    "What?"
    "Afghanistan." June held out the bowl.
    "It sucked." Eric took the bowl from her. Something flitted across his face, pain, guilt, shame? She wasn't sure. "I just nuke this, right?"
    "Four minutes." She grabbed the rest of the meal. "What happened over there?"
    "Shit happened." He was looking at the microwave as if it was going to do tricks. "A lot of ugly shit happened. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
    June leaned against the counter, watching him stare at the microwave. Like called to like; dark