The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (34 page)

“I can protect against it, but not knowing
what it is for sure, there’s no way to counteract it.”

“But, like you said, you can protect against
it.”

“Yes. I can for a while. But, we’re talking
about the magickal equivalent of being in a boxing ring. I can
dance around in a circle with my gloves up in front of my face to
deflect the blows; but eventually I’m going to wear down, and a
punch is going to get through, and then another, and another…”

“You don’t paint a very positive
picture.”

“I’m just telling it like it is,” I replied.
“The only saving grace is that magick doesn’t always work. If it
did, I’d already be dead after the crossing Annalise did. But,
sometimes even when it does work, it doesn’t necessarily do what it
was intended to do. The binding I did to protect Felicity is a
prime example. It was supposed to keep her from harm. Instead, it
created the connection between her and Annalise—and by default,
Miranda.”

“Have you figured out why that happened?”

“Yes, actually. It was blatant
stupidity on my part,” I replied. “It took me some time to figure
it out, but I finally did. The problem is I worked the magick while
the moon was
void of course
.
That means it was in between aspects of two different astrological
signs. I realize that doesn’t sound like a rational, scientific
explanation to most, but we’re talking about magick here. And, any
Witch with half a brain knows magick worked during a void-of-course
moon almost never does what it is intended to do. It has a mind of
its own.”

“So you did it on the wrong day?”

“Worse than that. Wrong hour. If I had done
it a couple of hours sooner or a couple of hours later, there’s a
good possibility none of this would have ever happened. Where
Felicity is concerned, anyway.”

“But not you?”

“I don’t know. Annalise and Miranda were
already out there. I didn’t create either of them. Somewhere along
the line our paths probably would have crossed. Maybe not as soon
as they did, or with such a direct impact, but eventually it would
have happened. Ben would have called me to look at the symbols she
was leaving behind, and everything would have been set into
motion.”

“No offense, but aren’t you contradicting
yourself? It sounds to me as if you think this would have happened
anyway.”

“Yes, I think it would have, but like I said,
differently. It would have happened to me, not my wife. It’s one
thing to have this crap coming down on my head… But, Felicity
doesn’t deserve it.”

“And you do?”

“Who knows? I’ve tried to walk away from it
more than once, but it keeps pulling me back in, so there must be a
reason.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to have these
horrors in your life, Rowan.”

I shook my head. “Maybe not, but they’re
here, and there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it, now does
there?”

“Okay, I won’t argue that point with you.
But, let’s get back to Miranda. Isn’t there anything you can
do?”

“That’s the big question. Miranda is a
personal
Lwa
. Theoretically,
her influence should be limited to the person or persons
worshipping her. Felicity initially became involved because of the
ethereal connection between her and Annalise. So, if it works the
way it’s supposed to, as long as nothing is done to bind them
together again, Felicity should be safe from Miranda.
Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“As long as Annalise is alive and
continuing to treat Miranda as a
Lwa
, there is a chance the spirit will try to use
her to recreate the connection.”

“How?”

“If I knew that, I probably wouldn’t be as
worried.”

“So, you’re saying if Annalise is out of the
picture, Miranda becomes a non-issue.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“I hate to ask this, Rowan, but you aren’t
thinking about trying…”

I finished the sentence for her. “…To kill
her? I won’t lie to you. It’s crossed my mind. Of course, I had
ample opportunity to do so when I was in New Orleans, but I didn’t,
and she got away.”

“But, that was before you’d taken the time to
think this through, wasn’t it?” she asked.

The coffeemaker sputtered and let out a
steamy sigh as it finished brewing. Instead of answering Constance,
I twisted slightly to look back at it then turned fully and pulled
the carafe from the base.

“Coffee?” I asked, as I turned back to her
while pouring some into my own cup.

“You didn’t answer my question, Rowan,” she
replied.

“You’re right,” I said after a moment. “I
didn’t.”

“Rowan…”

“Okay. Yes, I’ve had time to think about it
since, and looking back, I wonder if maybe I should have been a bit
less concerned for her physical well-being when I had my hands on
her.”

“And ended up in prison?”

I shrugged. “Felicity would be safe.”

She held out her cup, and I filled it before
settling the pot back onto the burner. She took a sip then set her
cup aside and regarded me seriously.

“But, you would still most likely have ended
up in prison,” she said.

“We all make sacrifices from time to time,” I
said with another shrug. “But, yes, you’re right about that too.
So, it all comes back to the question of, would I kill her now if
the opportunity presented itself? I think you know me better than
that.”

“I like to think I do, but that is a paradox
in itself because I also know you’ll do anything to protect
Felicity. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be thinking about it. Not to
mention that you are still avoiding the question.”

“You’re right again,” I agreed. “So, I guess
it’s all a matter of trust. But, then, you and Ben have already
discussed this, haven’t you?”

“Yes, we have.”

“And, I guess you drew the short straw when
it came to who was going to ask me?”

“Actually, no. Ben is fairly well convinced
you’ll kill her if you get the chance. I was on the fence so I
decided to ask on my own.”

“Are you asking as an FBI agent or as a
friend?”

“A little of both, I suppose.”

“I see,” I said with a nod. “Well, I guess I
didn’t give you the answer you wanted to hear, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. But, truthfully, you gave me
the one I expected.”

* * * * *

Sleep finally entered the picture sometime
around four in the morning. Of course, what little of it there was
didn’t come in the form of truly restful slumber. Felicity had
tossed and turned up until sometime after six when her body and
mind finally gave in to the exhaustion. I don’t know that my brain
ever reached that point. I drifted in and out of a twilight sleep,
jerking awake each time I felt her move.

In the end, the fitful attempt at rest only
served to make seven A.M. seem to come just that much earlier,
especially since the hour was accompanied by a hard knock on our
bedroom door.

“H
er cell phone just went
active again,” Constance said as I swung the door open and
blinked.

My grey matter was still huddled in a state
of half-sleep, so I simply stared at her as I tried to make sense
of what she had just told me. Unfortunately, while I recognized the
words, all semblance of cohesion between them escaped my grasp. I
shook my head and briefly flashed on the fact that I would probably
be far more alert if I simply hadn’t slept at all.

After a second or two, which seemed like a
small eternity, I managed to grunt, “What?”

“Devereaux’s cell phone,” she repeated. “It
just went active a few minutes ago. We’re tracking the signal
now.”

This time I managed to latch on to the
sentence and process it into a mental picture that made sense. I
glanced over at my wife who was still sleeping. The pillow she was
clutching over the top of her head combined with the mild,
lingering pain in my ribs told me she had heard the knock as well,
but as usual she wasn’t about to let anything roust her from the
bed until she was good and ready. As far as I was concerned, that
was fine. She needed the rest. I could sleep when this was all
over.

I nodded and stepped out into the hallway,
gently closing the door behind me. Then I followed Constance into
the living room where Ben was perched on the arm of the sofa
looking only slightly more awake than me.

“Coffee’s already makin’,” he grunted.

“If she calls, we already know she is going
to want to speak to Felicity,” Constance offered. “But, I’m going
to take it and see if I can stall.”

I shook my head. “Why don’t you let me take
it instead?”

“Why?”

“She’ll have more to say to me than to you.
Maybe I can keep her occupied longer.”

“That might not be the best idea, Rowan.
You’re too close to this.”

“Of course I am. She wants to kill my
wife.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Look, Constance, signal tracking is only
going to get you a general location. You know that. If I can keep
her on the call, you’ll have a better chance of pinpointing where
she is.”

“Yes, I do know that, but we have other ways
to do this.”

“No, you don’t. If her phone had a GPS
module, you would have already used it.”

“There are still other ways.”

“Okay. What are they?”

As if on cue, the muffled trill of the ringer
sounded in the basement, immediately followed by the handset on the
table chirping. Constance and I both started toward the dining room
at the same instant. Since I was already a step closer, I reached
the phone first, but as my hand closed around it, Constance took
hold of my wrist.

“Relax,” I said, as I remembered the
conversation we’d had only a few hours before. “I can’t kill her
over the phone.”

“He’s right,” Ben offered. “Better let ‘im
take it.”

“All right,” she said, letting go of my
wrist. “Just stay calm and keep her talking as long as you
can.”

“That’s the plan,” I replied with a quick nod
then snatched up the handset, punched the talk button, and began
speaking. “Emerald Photographic Services, may I help you?”

A familiar Southern-accented voice
rolled out of the earpiece. “Put the
chienne
on.”

“Good morning, Annalise,” I replied
coolly.

She repeated the demand. “Put her on.”

“I assume you mean my wife. I’m afraid she’s
still asleep.”

She didn’t reply, but I could still hear her
breathing at the other end. I waited for the telltale click of the
line going dead, but after several seconds, she finally spoke.

“Rowan,” she stated in a cold, matter-of-fact
tone. “I thought I recognized the voice.”

“Yes,” I replied.

“How is your arm, little man?”

I unconsciously glanced at the mostly healed
bite wound she had inflicted. The stitches had already been
removed, and the bruising was pretty much a memory at this point.
Still, there was a very pronounced jagged line that was going to
leave an interesting scar.

“Fine,” I said. “How about yours?”

“You bruised me,” she replied. “I really
didn’t appreciate that.”

“Well, if I were you I wouldn’t hold my
breath waiting for an apology.”

“Va te faire, vous d’une
chienne!
”

“I hate to tell you this, but I didn’t
understand that the last time you said it, and I still don’t. I’m
afraid you’re going to have to speak English, otherwise this
conversation is going to be a bit one-sided.”

“I said, you fucking son of a bitch.”

“See, now that I understand.”

As I spoke I glanced over in the direction of
the living room. Constance was on her cell phone once again, but
she didn’t look particularly pleased. Ben was keeping his eyes
focused on me. I’m not really sure what they were afraid I might
do, but obviously they weren’t leaving anything to chance.

“Your wife is taking something that doesn’t
belong to her,” Annalise said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I replied.
“She’s not taking a thing.”

“Miranda is giving it to her.”

“Wrong again. Miranda isn’t welcome
here.”

“No, it’s you who is wrong. You can’t stop
Miranda. She does as she pleases.”

“She does as she pleases, or
you
do as she pleases?”

I waited for an answer but received none. I
knew from her extended silence that I had struck a nerve.

“That’s why she brought you back to Saint
Louis, isn’t it?” I continued. “Because I took Felicity away from
her.”

“Miranda wants her,” Annalise finally
said.

“Yes, I got that impression,” I replied.
“But, you can tell her for me that isn’t going to happen. She can’t
have her.”

“She already does.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about
that.”

“I’m not. You just don’t know it yet.”

“What did you do, Annalise? Does it have
something to do with the cloves and the candle at Lewis’s
apartment?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I know better than that, Annalise. I visited
the scene.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she repeated. “Ask
Miranda.”

The answer made my skin prickle as a chill
ran through me. There was a peculiar honesty in her voice that I
couldn’t help but believe. This meant that she hadn’t worked the
magick, Miranda had. She simply used Annalise as a conduit for it,
just as she did for everything else. What new dimension this might
add to the spellwork, I couldn’t begin to fathom. And, I’m not sure
I wanted to.

I forced myself to say, “You’ll have to put
her on the phone before I can do that.”