The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  “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.

  CHAPTER 36:

  “Her 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 pronounce
d 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.”

  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.”

  CHAPTER 37:

  Local 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 th
e 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.”