“Hey there,” I said, my voice soft.
The hard sound of a deadbolt snapping shut followed my words as the door behind me was locked. I had been warned that it would happen, as it was standard procedure for this section of the hospital. That didn’t make the sound any less jarring. Of course, the entire feel of this floor was oppressive to begin with, so my nerves were feeling more than just a bit raw and exposed. Not to mention that since I wasn’t hospital staff, I was violating policy by being in the room, but Helen had given the okay. Still, it all added up, and the sharp finality of the noise actually made me flinch.
Across the room, Felicity was sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, her back to me. She was still clad in one of the pairs of flannel pajamas I’d packed for her days before.
She didn’t reply.
My wife’s original accommodations had seemed more like a small hotel room than something you would find at a hospital-sparse, but comfortable, furnished with a bed, dresser, some chairs and a small table. The bathroom was utilitarian but fairly spacious. She’d even had a television and large windows looking out onto a garden courtyard.
This room, however, made that look like a plush suite. Her furnishings consisted of little more than the hospital bed upon which she was now perched and a basic, straight-backed chair in the far corner. Gone was everything else, with the exception of the view. Of course, we were several stories up, and the thick windows were sandwiching heavy-duty safety wire, ostensibly to prevent suicide attempts. At least the walls were a calming, pale blue instead of the stark white so often depicted in movies. Still, that was of little comfort.
I stepped a little farther into the room and spoke a bit louder, “Knock knock.”
“So, what do you think of the new place?” she asked. “I just moved in, so I haven’t had time to do much with it.”
Her voice was flat, emotionless, with more than just her usual Celtic lilt accenting the words, probably because she was tired-a lingering effect of the sedative. Her attempt at humor was even cliche, which was just more evidence of that fact.
I could easily detect a note of hoarseness that was most likely the result of her crying fit combined with the dozen or so hysterical screams I’d been told she’d treated them all to.
After another long pause, she replied, “It happened again, Row. She came back.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I replied, stepping in just a little further.
“See? I told you it would be safer this way.”
“Yes, you did, but I’m still not necessarily convinced.”
“Well, you aren’t acting much like it then,” she remarked.
“How so?”
“You can come closer. She’s not here now, and I won’t be biting you.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“And, so you’re standing all the way over there for what reason?”
“I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Aye, are you certain it’s not because you’re afraid of me?”
I shifted my focus and realized she had been watching my reflection in the windowpane all along. I couldn’t help but crack a thin smile. That was just like my wife, always aware of her surroundings even if she didn’t appear to be.
“No,” I said, shaking my head as I moved forward, skirting around the end of the bed and drawing closer to her. “Just giving you a little space is all.”
After a thick pause, she looked up at me, her eyes tired and bloodshot. “I’ve had enough space for one day,” she said, her voice low. “I’d much prefer it if you would just hold me for a while.”
She slowly unfolded her legs and scooted toward the edge of the bed. In a single fluid motion she slipped her arms around my waist as I wrapped my own about her shoulders and pulled her close, stroking her hair. She didn’t begin to cry, but then, I suppose she might not have had any tears left.
We stood there for what seemed like several minutes, simply gripping one another tightly. No words came from either of us, as everything we had to say at that moment in time was communicated by the embrace.
Finally, Felicity spoke. “Rowan, am I insane?”
“No, honey,” I soothed. “You aren’t insane.”
“You aren’t just saying that, are you?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not just saying that.”
“Because you would. I know you.”
“Yes, you’re right, I would. But, I’m not now.”
“Make her stop.”
“I’m trying.”
Her grip on me finally loosened, and I guided her gently back onto the bed before retrieving the chair from the corner and pulling it up in front of her.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “There’s really nothing to talk about. I don’t remember anything.”
Before I could reply, the warbling tone of my cell began ramping upward. I ignored it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Whoever it is can leave a message.”
“What if it’s something important?”
“You’re what’s important right now.”
The insistent tone reached a climax then abruptly ended as the caller was shunted off to my voicemail.
She looked down into my eyes with a sad expression then reached out and touched my face. “Aye, this isn’t working, Caorthann.”
“What isn’t working, honey?”
“This,” she murmured. “I think maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I am insane.”
“No, you aren’t,” I countered, adding a mild insistence to my voice.
“Then why is this happening to me?”
“I don’t know, but you’ve seen it happen to me and I’m not insane. Neither are you.”
“Says you.”
“And Helen,” I offered. “This is magick gone awry and you know it.”
“I’m beginning to wonder.”
“I know you are, and believe me, I’ve been there, more times than I can count. But you were there for me every time, and I’m here for you now. We’ll get through this.”
“Maybe it runs in the family.”
“What?”
“Insanity.”
“Dammit, Felicity…” I mumbled as I screwed up my face and shook my head.
My cell phone emitted a muffled chirp from my pocket to let me know I had a new voice message, but I continued to ignore it.
“Well, my sister must be,” she whispered.
I still hadn’t grown used to hearing her say “my sister” even though she had spoken the words several dozen times since Maggie had dropped the story in her lap. Even so, I had been under the impression she had taken it well. But now, I was beginning to wonder.
“That has nothing to do with you,” I objected.
“Aye, it has to. She gets inside me and makes me do things. We’re bound by blood. Maybe we are bound by madness as well.”
“You’re going to have to stop talking like this, Felicity,” I told her. “You aren’t her and she isn’t you. This is a Lwa, and it’s taking the path of least resistance.”
She shook her head slightly. “This isn’t just the Lwa. It’s her too. You know that.”
“Even if it is, so what?”
“You said it yourself.”
“What?”
“The Lwa is taking the path of least resistance. What better choice than someone who is insane?”
“Honey, we can’t have this conversation. You aren’t being rational.”
“Aye, you’re right. Maybe you should go.”
“Excuse me?”
She hung her head, avoiding my eyes. “You should go now.”
“Felicity…”
“No,” she choked. “Go. Please.”
It took a pair of minutes before I could bring myself to rise from the chair. Felicity still hadn’t lifted her head, and it became obvious that she was done with the visit. No amount of pleading was going to bring her back into the conversation, not right now anyway. Her stubbornness would see to that.
I was worried, angry, hurt, and confused all at once, but there was nothing more I could do here. I just kept telling myself that she was safe and that Helen would take care of her. Maybe tomorrow she would be ready to talk again.
I leaned forward and kissed her on top of her head.
“I love you Felicity Caitlin O’Brien,” I whispered, lingering for several heartbeats before turning and walking to the door.
It took a moment before the attendant answered my knock and unbolted the barrier. On my way out I paused, looking back toward my wife. She had drawn her legs back up and was sitting again, just as I had found her when I walked in, although this time she was no longer watching the window.
“Dammit, Helen, she thinks she’s insane!” I almost spat the comment across the desk. My pain and confusion had given way to anger before the elevator doors had ever closed. Now that I was standing in the office she kept at the hospital, it had begun to boil over.
“Rowan,” she replied calmly. “I told you that everything we had accomplished thus far was completely negated by the incident this morning.”
“But she thinks she’s insane!”
“She thought she was insane the day you admitted her,” she replied matter-of-factly. “She simply had not told you as much.”
My cell phone chirped again. My awareness of the tone had been drifting in and out, so I’d lost count of how many times it had reminded me to pick up my voice mail. I snatched it from my pocket, angrily stabbed some buttons to silence the annoyance, and then shoved it back into the darkness from whence it came.
“Well, there’s got to be something you can do,” I demanded.
“Yes, Rowan, there is. Continue her sessions and keep her safe and comfortable until you find the rogue spirit that is causing her this strife. Then, and only then, real healing can begin.”
“Dammit, Helen, this is fucked up.”
“Yes, it is.”
I rubbed my hand across the lower half of my face, pinching my cheeks together and pursing my lips as I contemplated the situation. Stubble had already begun to sprout around my goatee, and it made a soft swishing noise as it dragged against the ridges on my fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” I finally muttered.
“I understand, Rowan,” she replied. “And, apology accepted.”
We sat in silence for a long while. I could feel the ever-present throb in my head beating out a rhythm all its own. I’d grown used to it these days. Enough so that I pretty much ignored it unless it got worse.
“I guess I’d better go home,” I finally said.
“That would probably be a good idea,” Helen replied. “I would not normally do this, however, under the circumstances I am willing to make an exception. Would you like for me to prescribe something to help you sleep?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
I hadn’t been in my truck for more than five minutes that my cell phone began to ring. I finished backing out of the space and levered the vehicle into drive before fishing around in my pocket for the device and pulling it out. Stabbing it on, I placed it against my ear, holding it tight as I swung my gaze left and right before pulling out of the parking lot.
“Rowan Gant,” I half-barked into the device. Right now I didn’t care who I alienated.
“Rowan, it’s Velvet,” a Southern drawl rolled into my ear. “Did you get my message?”
“No,” I returned, fighting to soften my tone.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, actually. Felicity experienced another possession by the Lwa this morning,” I explained. “It wasn’t good.”
“Did anyone get hurt?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice. I had confided everything in her to date, so she was well aware of how bad things could get.
“Physically, no, but my wife is now convinced that she is insane.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, but I don’t intend to let her travel that road for very long. But anyway, you said left a message? Tell me it’s good news.”
“Yes, I think it might be. I just might have found something.”
“If you did, I’ll put you on my goddamned altar as my personal Goddess.”
“Let’s not go that far just yet,” she replied. “I put some feelers out in the Vodoun community and started getting a few interesting calls. But, one that came in yesterday really stuck out, so I ran it down. There’s a tomb in New Orleans that has been having offerings placed on it on a fairly regular basis starting a few years ago. Not unusual in itself, but none of the locals were familiar with the ancestor, so that was curious. Still, not that big a deal, but then over the past year, they noticed that the activity had increased significantly.”
“Did this tomb survive Katrina?”
“Yes, it is in a part of the city that didn’t flood.”
“Has there been activity there since the disaster?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Okay, sounds promising. So, in your opinion do you think this might mean someone has made this ancestor a personal Lwa?”
“It’s possible, but let me finish because here’s the interesting thing. The tomb had been damaged at some point, so the name was only partially legible, but it started with an M and an I…”
“You’re getting damn close to a place on that altar, Velvet.”
She ignored the comment and rushed into an explanation. “Just to cover the bases, I went ahead and got the location for the tomb and had a friend with the Louisiana Division City Archives look into it for me. Listen to this. The remains interred in there are of one Miranda Blanque, date of death on or around September fourteenth, eighteen fifty-one.”
I felt the thud in my skull ramp up a notch then send a hard stab of pain lancing beneath my scalp. A wave of gooseflesh followed it as the hair along the back of my neck rose to attention. I knew then that this wasn’t a case of finding some thing.
This was the thing.
It was she.
“How does it feel?” I asked.
“How does what feel?”
“To be a Goddess,” I replied. “Because you just got a promotion.”
Wednesday, November 30
7:17 P.M.
Lambert Saint Louis International Airport
Concourse C, Gate C3
Saint Louis, Missouri