“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 the redhead in the picture could be found right here. I rea
lly 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.
“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.”
The End Of Desire argi-8 Page 26
