The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (35 page)

Her answer was exactly what I didn’t want to
hear.

“I already told you, she’s not with me
anymore. She’s with the
chienne
. Go wake her up and ask her.”

I hesitated as the fear continued to pool in
my stomach. Finally, I asked, “How do you know that?”

“Because, she isn’t with me.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s with Felicity.”

“Yes it does. That’s why I have to make her
go away.”

“Miranda?”

“No. Her.”

“Felicity. And, by ‘go away’ I assume you
mean you want to kill her.”

“She has to go away.”

“And, if you kill her, do you really think
Miranda is going to come back to you?”

She whispered, “It belongs to me. She
promised.”

I could hear an insistent fragility creeping
into her voice, and at the same time I could feel a sense of loss
mixing with my own cold fear. It was becoming obvious that Annalise
was psychologically damaged in more ways than I could begin to
imagine. The problem was, I didn’t know if that fact was going to
make her easier to deal with, or simply just that much more
dangerous.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to
be able to keep Annalise on the phone with this verbal sparring. I
already had the feeling I was about to lose her at any moment. I
looked up at Constance who shook her head and frowned, which told
me the FBI and police weren’t having any better luck than me.

With a mental sigh I decided to press on.
“So, what do we do now? You know I won’t let you kill my wife.”

“Do you really think Miranda will let you
live?” she asked, her moment of frailty completely gone.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t have the same weakness as you.”

“And that is?”

“You love her.”

“I wouldn’t call that a weakness.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, little man. You’re
male. You won’t understand the power she holds over you until it’s
too late.”

“And, she holds no power over you?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“I can fulfill her desires.”

“I see.”

“They can’t protect you forever.”

“Who?”

“The police. I know they are there.”

She was drawing a logical conclusion, so I
didn’t think anything of it until she added, “I bet I could make
him love me.”

I froze, not sure how to respond. After a
thick pause I asked, “Who?”

She laughed then said, “The indian with the
cigar.”

The comment told me she probably wasn’t
simply casting a line into the water, but I still didn’t want to
confirm anything in the event I was wrong.

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” I
replied.

“Of course you do,” she returned then paused
for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh and taking on a
heavily sarcastic tone. “I’m bored now. I’ll call back when the
princess is done with her beauty sleep.”

The phone clicked, and the hollow static of a
broken connection filled my ear. I thumbed off the phone and laid
it on the table.

“Anything at all?” I asked, looking at
Constance.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But nothing good. The
call didn’t come from the prepaid cell phone she used last night.
They found it sitting on a park bench about two miles from here,
which means she dropped it there as a decoy. What’s worse though,
is wherever she was calling from she used a phone-spoofing card, so
it tracked back to the relay service. We won’t be able to get
anything out of them until we get hold of their legal department,
and even then they are probably going to demand a subpoena, which
is going to take time.”

I picked up the handset and thumbed the
display over to the caller ID log. The most recent call was
registered on the screen as coming from Felicity’s business line.
For all intents and purposes, it looked like we had called
ourselves.

“Damn,” I muttered. “Well, I’m not surprised
they found the cell so close. Apparently she was watching the house
last night or at least came by here.”

“Did she tell you that?” Constance asked.

“Not in those exact words,” I replied. “But,
she was somewhere nearby when Ben was outside smoking because she
mentioned ‘the indian with the cigar’ before hanging up.”

“Fuck me,” my friend mumbled.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, well, she had
something to say about that too.”

L
ocal police, along with
Constance and a trio of other FBI agents, were making precautionary
door-to-door rounds of the neighborhood in light of Annalise’s
comment about seeing Ben. My friend had pulled the duty of staying
in the house with Felicity and me, which he hadn’t complained about
since it was only a few degrees above freezing outside, and a
fairly stiff wind was gusting through the streets.

I watched out the dining room window as
the few neighbors who were home would point toward our house as
soon as they were shown the photo of Annalise. All of them were
making various demonstrative gestures along with insistent bobs of
their heads as they spoke. I could only assume they were assuring
the police the redhead in the picture could be found right here. I
really couldn’t blame them. I knew firsthand the resemblance was
truly uncanny, and I lived in the same house with the
good sister
.

In the end I was sure it would all become
more fodder for the local gossip mill. Everything surrounding us
always did.

“She probably just drove past while you were
out there last night,” I said aloud, continuing to stare out the
window. “I doubt she’s actually hanging around nearby waiting to
get caught. Otherwise I think I’d feel her.”

“Prob’ly,” Ben agreed. “That’s what we’re
figurin’ too, but we need ta’ cover all the bases just ta’ be
safe.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” I replied, stepping away
from the window and taking a seat across from him at the table.
“Either way, I appreciate it.”

Felicity had been up for a couple of hours
now. While she was still noticeably moody, her spirits seemed
higher than they had been the night before. She certainly wasn’t
happy, but she wasn’t a basket case either, which was certainly
putting my mind at ease. Rather than sit around being reminded of
the situation, however, she had sequestered herself in her office
downstairs to work. Throwing herself into her job seemed to be a
common form of personal therapy in which she would engage. She’d
done it ever since I’d known her, so I wasn’t going to object. But,
just to be sure nothing set her off, we had disconnected her
answering machine and were keeping the telephone handset upstairs
with us. It was a foregone conclusion that she would be ending up
on the phone with Annalise again at some point, but I wasn’t about
to let it happen when she was by herself, even if that was only for
a handful of seconds.

After a moment of studying me silently,
my friend asked, “So… Gettin’ any
Twilight
Zone
shit?”

“No. Well, no more than the usual headache, I
don’t guess. Why?”

“Just wonderin’. You got that look.”

“Which look is that?”

“Just that look,” he replied then punctuated
the statement by whistling a few patently recognizable notes.

“I see.”

“I hate ta’ say it, but we could use an
edge,” he said with a shrug. “We’re still tryin’ ta’ predict
Devereaux’s next move and I, for one, ain’t above a bit of la-la
land ta’ help.”

“Good luck on that. If I get anything you’ll
be the first to know.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Row, the
Feebs think there’s only a small chance she’ll try ta’ make an end
run at ya’ as long as we’re here. Even if she is keepin’ an eye on
the place.”

“Small chance?”

“Maybe twenty-five, thirty percent accordin’
to their experts.”

“They might be underestimating her.”

“Why do ya’ say that?”

“Desperate people do desperate things,” I
replied.

“You really think she’s that bad off?” he
asked.

“Yes, I do. There is only one emotion
stronger than love, Ben, and that’s hatred. Right now, Annalise is
filled with both. That’s a volatile combination. It’s just like the
jealous lover who proclaims, ‘if I can’t have her, nobody can.’

“She’ll do whatever it takes to keep Miranda
and Felicity apart, even if it means sacrificing herself so that
Miranda has no one left to possess in the end. I’m sure that isn’t
her first choice, but I definitely wouldn’t put it past her.”

“So you’re doin’ psychoanalysis?” he replied,
the words were more verbal observation than actual question. “Now I
know you’ve been spendin’ too much time with my sister.”

“Yeah. That’s what I keep hearing. But, it’s
not really that academic… Or, arcane either. The simple truth is, I
could hear it in her voice. It wasn’t hard to recognize.”

“Okay,” he huffed. “So if you really think
she’s gonna come after ya’ here, then we need ta’ move ya’ no
matter what Firehair says.”

“That would just prolong the inevitable. Like
I said, I think that tactic will be a last resort on her part,” I
told him with a shake of my head. “She’ll try something else
first.”

“What?”

“I don’t know any more what it might be than
the rest of you, Ben. Maybe we’ll find out when she calls
again.”

“Still wouldn’t hurt ta’ get you two
someplace safe.”

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but
right now I think this is probably the safest place we can be.”

“Why? She knows where you are, and if you
really believe she’ll come after ya’ here, how is it safe?”

“It just is.”

He reached up and smoothed back his hair then
shot me a concerned look. “Okay. So, my turn ta’ play shrink. What
is it you ain’t sayin’?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s been damn near four hours since
Devereaux called, and you’ve been off in your own damn world ever
since. Somethin’s botherin’ ya’ big time.”

“No offense, Ben, but are you familiar with
the expression, ‘Duh?’ There’s an insane woman out there who wants
to kill my wife. Of course something’s bothering me.”

“Yeah, duh, that’s funny. I mean there’s
somethin’ else runnin’ around in your head, White Man. Otherwise
you wouldn’t suddenly be so opposed ta’ bein’ moved. Was it
somethin’ she said?”

“You heard the recording when Constance
called in.”

“Yeah, I did. So, what gives? Are you
thinkin’ she was right about the ghost bitch and Firehair bein’
hooked up again?”

“I don’t know if she was right or not,” I
said with a shake of my head. “But it definitely worries me.”

“Well, Felicity ain’t actin’ like a
psychobitch or anything. She’s definitely got a bit of wingnut
factor goin’ on, but I think Helen’s got a handle on that.”

“True. But, the fact that Annalise doesn’t
seem to recall what was done with that bit of spellwork at Lewis’s
apartment is especially unnerving. It means Miranda is directly
responsible for the magick instead of her.”

“And, so explain it to me… I take it that’s a
bad thing?”

“It may well be. I’m not sure. I’ve never
gone toe-to-toe with a spirit where the actual working of magick is
concerned.”

“So stayin’ here has somethin’ ta’ do with
that?”

“I can ward against magick anywhere I go…
But, the fact remains that I’ve done a lot of work in recent weeks
on this house to protect it against any sort of magickal invasion,”
I explained. “As long as Felicity stays here, I think I have her
protected from Miranda. At least, I hope I do.”

“Think that’s why your
Twilight Zone
ain’t workin’ so good
in here?”

“Maybe. Probably. But, you know that’s really
hit and miss as it is.”

“But, did ya’ just say you could do the
hocus-pocus someplace else instead?”

“I can,” I admitted. “But, look at it this
way—walls constructed over a few hours versus those that have been
fortified over a period of weeks. Which would you rather take cover
behind when the shit starts to fly?”

“Yeah, okay. I get it. So, it’s a Witch
thing.”

“Yeah, it’s a Witch thing.”

“Jeez…” he mumbled. “Whatever happened ta’
just plain old bad guys with guns and knives?”

I knew he wasn’t really looking for an
answer, but I gave him one anyway. “Easy. You met me.”

He didn’t reply, not that I really expected
him to. With a lull falling in our conversation, I reached up and
massaged my forehead. The chronic throb had worked its way from the
back of my skull all the way to the front, setting up shop
throughout my entire head. I’d been tempted to tap into the aspirin
a time or two already but had decided to save them for when things
really got bad. At the moment, I was weighing that decision very
carefully, trying to convince myself that I hadn’t yet reached that
point. I was probably being overly cautious, but old habits die
hard, and I now had a healthy fear of that one in particular.

Dropping my hand down, I opened my eyes then
reached for my cup of coffee. I picked it up and took a quick swig,
only to discover that what little of it that was left had gone
cold. I looked over to my friend and noticed his cup was completely
empty.

“I’m going to get a fresh cup,” I said,
lifting my mug into view. “You want one?”

“Sure,” he replied, pushing his seat back
from the table.

At about the moment we were both rising from
our chairs, the front door opened, and Constance came into the
house.

“Cold out there?” Ben asked after she had
pressed the door shut and stepped farther into the room.

“What do
you
think?” she replied with a return volley of
sarcasm while shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back
of the sofa.