The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (36 page)

“I’ll swap with ya’,” my friend offered.
“Where’d ya’ leave off?”

Constance shook her head. “Don’t worry about
it right now. The main houses have been covered. Reynolds and Cobb
are still working the side street. Parker and the locals are up the
block.”

“Nothing so far, I take it?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “We didn’t expect much
though.”

“We were just talkin’ about that,” Ben
said.

“We’ll have to make another round when people
start arriving home from work,” she detailed then looked directly
at me. “Maybe our luck will change then. Either way, the bureau has
arranged for you and Felicity to stay at a safe house. We can
probably move you there within the next couple of hours.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben grunted, answering for me.
“Welcome to the party. We were just talkin’ about that too.”

“What about it?”

“Rowan says they ain’t leavin’.”

“First Felicity, now you?” Constance
appealed, shooting me a hard glance. “Rowan, I hate to break it to
you, but you don’t have any choice in the matter. We’re moving
you.”

“It’s a Witch thing, Constance,” my friend
told her.

“What? A Witch th…” she shot us both a
confused look and cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you’d care to
explain?”

“Flyin’ shit and big walls,” Ben retorted
before I could say a word. “You’d hafta ask the White Man.”

“Rowan?” she asked.

“Long story short, you have to protect us
from Annalise, I understand that. But, I have to protect Felicity
from Miranda, who may well be an even greater threat in the grand
scheme of things. This is the best place for me to do that.”

She shook her head again. “I sympathize,
Rowan, I really do. I don’t necessarily understand it, but I
sympathize. Unfortunately, it’s out of my hands. My SAC already
made the decision. You two are being moved to a safe house, like it
or not. Even if it involves officially placing you in federal
custody, which we will do if need be.”

“Can ya’ like take some of your Witch stuff
with ya’?” Ben asked. “‘Cause it looks ta’ me like you’re
goin’.”

“I guess I’ll have to, won’t I?” I spat.

“I’m sorry, Rowan,” Constance said
quietly.

“It’s not your fault,” I told her. “You’re
just doing your job. I’ll go tell Feli…”

I didn’t get to finish the sentence because I
was interrupted by an anguished call emanating from the basement,
which came in the form of my wife’s tear-filled voice screaming my
name. If that wasn’t enough to stop my heart, the two words that
followed were a guaranteed flat line.

All three of us were moving as a plaintive
“she’s here” echoed up the stairwell.

“W
hat the fuck?!” Ben
exclaimed, as he automatically filled his hand with the Beretta
that rode in his ever-present shoulder rig. “I got the
stairs!”

“Side door!” Constance immediately called
out. Her own hand was already wrapped around her Sig Sauer, and she
immediately turned back toward the front door and darted for
it.

The side entrance, leading down into our
basement, was the only door anyone could have entered without
coming past us. It had a reinforced deadbolt and a handset lock,
not to mention that it was monitored by the home security system.
The only time it was ever unlocked was when we were moving things
in and out of the lower level of the house, so I had no idea how
anyone could have come through it, but it was literally the only
way to get in relatively undetected. To my knowledge, the entrance
hadn’t been used for quite awhile, unless Felicity had done so, and
I simply wasn’t aware of it.

My friend was already at the mouth of the
hallway, as Constance bounded down the front steps and hooked to
the left, her cell phone in her free hand. I was directly behind
him, and I yelled out to my wife, “Felicity?”

“Rowan… Help me!” she cried. “She’s
here…”

I quickly made a move to step around Ben to
the partially open basement door. His hand shot out and slammed
into my chest, knocking me back against the wall with a heavy
thud.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I
demanded.

“You stay right here,” he growled back at
me.

“Dammit, Ben…”

“I said, stay right here! Let us do our
jobs!” he barked, then cast his voice toward the opening as he
called out, “Devereaux?”

“Rowan…” my wife whimpered. “Help me…”

Before I had a chance to object again, the
front door swung open, and one of the FBI agents who had been
canvassing the nearby side street rushed in, his sidearm at the
ready. Ben gave him a quick glance, pointed at me then stabbed a
finger down the hallway. Without a word, the agent continued past
him, roughly taking me by the shoulder and pushing me farther back
into the corridor.

From the basement, I heard my wife’s sobbing
voice call out once more, “Rowan… Please…”

“Get down there before she kills her!” I
screamed as I tried to turn, but the federal agent caught the move
and pushed me hard toward the end of the hall.

“Sir,” he said. “You need to stay out of the
way. Let us handle this.”

“You might have ta’ cuff ‘im,” Ben told him.
His voice was cold, and I knew he wasn’t even hinting at a
joke.

“Dammit, Ben!” I exclaimed. “The bitch has my
wife down there!”

“Rowan!” my friend snapped. “This is what we
do! Now stay out of the way!”

I looked back over my shoulder, anger and
fear seething inside me. My face was growing hot as I flushed with
the swirling emotions. All I could think about was getting to
Felicity before Annalise could do anything at all to harm her.

“Annalise Devereaux!” Ben called out again.
“This is Detective Storm with the Saint Louis Police. I’m coming
down.”

He was answered by an amused chuckle and the
words “Send Rowan, little man.”

A second later, struggling through
choked sobs, I heard Felicity moan, “
Caorthann
…”

A cell phone on the agent’s belt chirped with
a two-way alert tone, and it was followed by Constance’s voice.

“Cobb… Reynolds and I are on the side door.
It appears to be locked,” she said. “Parker and the locals are
coming now. They’ll cover the front and back.”

He snatched the phone from his belt, thumbed
a button and replied, “Got it. Storm and I are at the top of the
stairs. We’re having an issue with the spouse.”

The device cricket-chirped again, and
Constance replied with no hesitation in her voice whatsoever,
“Handcuff him.”

What had previously been a threat now became
a direct order. Cobb holstered his weapon and quickly slipped out a
pair of restraints then brought one metal circlet down against my
wrist with a hard snap. With a practiced squeeze, he ratcheted it
tight.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I
shouted, trying to twist away.

He wasn’t quite Ben’s stature, but he easily
had an inch or two on me, not to mention his training. Before I
knew it, he had whipped me back around and shoved me into the
bathroom at the end of the hall. I bounced against the wall, but
before I could turn back around, he had twisted my free arm behind
my back and slapped the other cuff onto it.

“I need you to sit down on the floor, Mister
Gant,” he ordered. “Now.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I
snarled.

“It’s for your own safety as well as your
wife’s, sir. Now, please sit down or I’ll sit you down.”

I was left with little choice other than to
comply. I leaned back against the wall and slid downward until I
was seated on the tile floor but not without appealing, “Goddammit,
Ben, get down there and help Felicity!”

Cobb left me sitting and headed back to the
basement door. Drawing his weapon, he stood to the backside of the
barrier and gave Ben a nod. My friend carefully nudged the door the
rest of the way open, staying well to the living room side of the
entranceway.

“See anything,” Ben asked.

Agent Cobb carefully shifted to the right,
his pistol stiff armed before him and pointing down the stairwell.
After a moment, he slid back and shook his head as he said,
“Clear.”

My friend mimicked the motion from his side,
checking the blind spots the FBI agent wouldn’t have been able to
see from his angle.

“Clear,” he told him then called out,
“Felicity?”

I listened intently but heard only my wife
sobbing. As painful as the sound was, at least it meant she was
still alive.

“Devereaux?” Ben shouted after a few
seconds.

We waited, but there was still no verbal
answer.

“Annalise Devereaux?” he called again.

“No,” a haunting voice carried up the stairs.
“Not Annalise.”

“Okay,” he replied. “So, what do I call
you?”

We heard the laugh again. In its wake, the
Southern-accented voice said, “You may call me, Mistress, little
man.”

“Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen,” my
friend muttered, so low even I almost didn’t hear him. Then, he
upped the volume and called out, “Look, no one needs to get hurt
here.”

“Why don’t you come down,” the voice
returned. “I won’t hurt you… Much.”

“How is Miz O’Brien?” he asked, ignoring the
taunt.

“Oh, she’s simply lovely,” the voice
replied.

“Can I speak with her?”

“I don’t know, little man,
can
you?” she laughed. “Try
again.”

“What the fuck,” Ben whispered.

“I’m not sure, but I think she’s correcting
your English,” Cobb returned in a low voice.

“Jeezus, so she’s a smart ass too…”

The voice echoed up the stairs again.
“Come on, little man. Say, ‘Please Mistress,
may
I speak to Felicity?’”

“I’m not gonna play games with you,
Devereaux. Let me talk to her.”

A scant few seconds passed, then my wife’s
sobbing voice floated up to our ears. “Ben? Is Rowan with you?”

“He’s right here, Felicity,” Ben replied.
“Everything is gonna be fine. You just hang in there, okay?…”

“Rowan!” she appealed, her voice strained but
stronger than before. “She’s back! Help me!”

“Ben! Help her!” I demanded, rolling sideways
against the wall and struggling onto my knees. I shuffled into the
doorway and hissed, “Either help her, or let me, dammit!”

I completely lost track of my heartbeats as
my chest thudded through the silence. After what seemed like
several hours rolled into a single moment, Ben shot a glance my way
then looked over at Agent Cobb.

“Tell ‘em I’m goin’ down now,” he said.

“That bottom landing is completely blind,” he
replied.

“Yeah, but I’ve been down there before. I can
handle it.”

Cobb thumbed his phone and relayed the
message. No sooner had he finished speaking than Constance’s voice
came back over the device.

“Ben, we can hear you conversing with her. Is
the situation stable?”

“Tell ‘er that depends on what the fuck she
calls stable,” my friend snipped.

Cobb thumbed the button and said, “She’s
talking, and we’ve spoken to the hostage.”

Constance replied, “As long as she’s talking
to us, and Felicity is unharmed, stay where you are. I’ve already
called in the HRT.”

“You heard her,” Cobb said. “Hostage Rescue
is on the way.”

“Ben…” I appealed again.

My friend shot a glance my way then replied,
“Yeah, well tell ‘er I’m not waitin’.”

The agent relayed the new message and was
again greeted by Constance’s voice saying, “Storm, as long as the
situation is stable, stand down and wait for the HRT!”

Ben looked at Cobb then past him at me.
Glancing back, he settled his eyes on the phone for a brief second.
Stepping forward through the opening he said, “Fuck the HRT.”

Before the federal agent could make a move,
my friend had skirted in through the opening and disappeared. I
could hear him slowly working his way down the stairs.

“I’m coming down,” his voice echoed from the
opening.

Blood was rushing in my ears, and my head was
throbbing with pain both ethereal and mundane. I leaned against the
doorjamb and fought to listen as my friend continued down the
stairs but heard nothing other than the thumping of my own
heart.

Seconds eked by, each one adding to the next
until they drew themselves out into languid minutes that seemed
like hours. I closed my eyes and waited out the eternity since it
was all I could do.

Finally, I heard muffled voices through the
floor, bleeding in through the pounding in my ears. A piercing yelp
and a string of curses that sounded as if they came from Ben
followed. After that came the sound of a woman laughing then the
creaking noise of the side door opening on oil-deprived hinges. A
moment later, Ben’s voice called up the stairwell.

His tone was calm and held only the barest
note of urgency when he said, “Cobb… Uncuff Rowan and get him down
here.”

I
was already heading for
the stairs before Agent Cobb had the handcuffs fully removed from
my wrists. I could hear several voices as I headed downward, but my
wife’s wasn’t among them, which firmly seated the panic roiling
through my gut. My heart still hadn’t stopped racing nor had my
head ceased to pound with its bizarre mix of pain. If anything, the
headache had grown worse.

As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I was
struck full in the face by an all too familiar but wholly foreign
sensation. It was a too pleasant tingle I had felt brush against me
from somewhere between the worlds while I was more or less held
captive in the bathroom waiting for this to be over. Unfortunately,
I knew the feeling well. I’d ignored it then, and I tried my best
to do so now, even though it was growing in intensity with each
step I took.