All acts of pleasure argi-7
Page 32
“Put the coins over here,” she said, placing her own in a receptacle just past the gates.
He followed suit, mimicking her overt motion that made them clatter noisily. He looked to her with a raised eyebrow, and she easily read the unspoken question in his face.
“You want them to hear it,” she explained. “They need to know you are actually leaving the gift you promised.”
He nodded but remained silent.
“Rowan,” she said with a slight smile. “You can talk here. It’s okay. Just keep your voice low.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I just wasn’t sure.”
“Well, you can. Oh, and in case I forget, don’t just walk out the gates. When we leave, we’ll say goodbye, thank them, and then back out.”
“Back out? Like walk backwards?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You’re the expert.”
The woman looked up and to the right, pointing as she mumbled something to herself. A second later she took his arm and pulled gently.
“The tomb should be this way, near the back.”
They had only been walking for a minute or two, carefully making their way along the narrow paths, when the pain started to intensify. The man stumbled and caught himself as the hard stab drove deep into the base of his skull.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked.
“Something’s wrong,” he replied, reaching up to rub the back of his throbbing head.
“We’re almost there,” she told him. “Are you going to be able to handle this?”
He gave her a slight nod. “I have to.”
They started forward again, rounding the corner of a large, family tomb, the woman in the lead.
“Someone’s here,” she whispered.
The man looked up and saw a petite woman with fiery red hair cascading down to the middle of her back. She was standing with her forehead pressed against the stone of a tomb some thirty-odd yards away.
They stopped dead in their tracks and simply stared.
As if she could sense that she was being watched, the red haired woman pushed back from the tomb and slowly turned to face them.
There was the distance to consider.
And, there were even the oblique shadows from the closely spaced stone mausoleums.
But still, the resemblance was beyond uncanny.
At that moment, if Rowan Gant didn’t know for a fact that his wife was almost seven hundred miles away in Saint Louis, he would have sworn she was standing there, staring directly at him, with a look of abject fear distorting her face.
A legacy of darkened desires and well-intentioned magick gone awry…
If Felicity is to heal, a forgotten spell must first be broken.
Only then will she be able to meet the darkness on her own terms…
Whether Rowan wants her to or not.
The Miranda Trilogy Continues
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Document version: 1
Document creation date: 21.08.2011
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