“Anything?” I asked as Constance walked into the kitchen and laid her cell phone on the island with a disgusted sigh.
She shook her head and frowned. “No. Not a thing. They’ve searched the area, out through a ten block radius. They’re still working it but nothing yet. She turned the cell off almost as soon as she hung up, so we can’t even track a signal.”
“So, we wait,” I said.
“And, we keep looking,” she agreed. “Remember, she’s definitely agitated, so she’s far more likely to make a mistake now than if she was calm and calculating. That’s a good thing for us.”
“She’s been making mistakes for a while now,” I added as I turned back to fill the coffeemaker and start a fresh pot.
“Yes, she has. Just not the kind we need her to make.”
I finished filling the reservoir then slid the carafe in and flipped the switch. Instead of turning around to face Constance, however, I simply leaned against the counter and allowed my head to hang. The chronic thud in the back of my skull was drumming along in unison with my heartbeat, and on top of that, my temples were throbbing with the muddied pains of exhaustion.
I glanced to the side and settled my eyes on the bottle of aspirin that was still sitting on the counter where I had left it days before. I had tried repeatedly to self-medicate with other over the counter pain relievers, following their directions to the letter, but plain old aspirin was the only thing that ever seemed to help. Giving up, I reached for the bottle and popped it open. Instead of my normal handful, however, I limited the dose to four tablets. Whether or not that would be enough to even touch the pain, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t need to get back into the habit of poisoning myself.
I popped the pills into my mouth then quickly washed them down with a swig of my cold coffee. Setting the cup aside, I continued to rest against the counter, eyes closed and chin against my chest.
After a moment, Constance quietly asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Headache.”
“That’s not unusual for you, I don’t guess.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”
“Is Felicity still on the phone with Helen?”
“She was when I checked a few minutes ago,” I acknowledged, pushing away from the counter ledge and turning, then leaning my back against it. “It’s been over an hour now. But, at least it seems to be helping her.”
“Good,” she said as she slid onto one of the barstools near the island. “I really hated seeing Felicity like that.”
“You and me both.”
“By the way, Ben is out on the front porch having a cigar. He said to let you know in case you wanted to join him.”
“I could probably use that,” I replied. “But I don’t know if I have the energy right now.”
I couldn’t help but notice that Constance was eyeing me carefully from her seat. She continued to watch me as I stood there rubbing my temples. I’m sure I looked like a total wreck. I know I felt like one.
Finally, she said, “You look tired.”
I sighed, “I feel tired.”
“How are you doing with all this?”
I let out a sarcastic half chuckle. “Just another day in my fucked up life, I suppose.”
“Right,” she replied, her own sardonic tone showing through. “So, how are you really? Besides being tired, I mean.”
“Truth? Angry. Maybe a little worried.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot.”
“You don’t have to worry, Rowan. We aren’t going to let anything happen to either one of you.”
“I know you believe that,” I replied with a careful nod. “But there is only so much you will be able to stop.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, Annalise is a known quantity. She’s corporeal and I know you can do something about her. Miranda on the other hand… Well, she’s beyond your control. Maybe even mine…”
“Won’t stopping Devereaux stop Miranda as well?”
“I really don’t know. But, I doubt it. There may well have been some truth to what Felicity said to Annalise on the phone earlier. Miranda might be looking for new blood. If she is, then she won’t stop until she gets it.”
“And, since she has fixated on Felicity…” she left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “It will be fine if there is no connection there, but if she finds a way to make one… Assuming she hasn’t already…Well… I don’t really even want to speculate.”
“How could she manage to create a connection, though?”
“That’s the wonderful and extremely scary thing about magick, Constance. A little goes a long way, and something very simple can have a great impact.”
“So, you’re worrying about what they found at the Lewis homicide?”
I shrugged. “I guess I am. On the surface it seems like a fairly innocuous bit of spellwork aimed at lust. I keep trying to tell myself since Annalise isn’t getting the satisfaction she wants, she did it for that specific purpose… A stab at re-igniting her own passions… But, it wasn’t really hoodoo, which is a little odd. Of course, it had some of the hallmarks of folk magick, which is no surprise and could explain the deviation. I just don’t know for sure what it was, and that’s the thing that bothers me most.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do about it?”
“I can protect against it, but not knowing what it is for sure, there’s no way to counteract it.”
“But, like you said, you can protect against it.”
“Yes. I can for a while. But, we’re talking about the magickal equivalent of being in a boxing ring. I can dance around in a circle with my gloves up in front of my face to deflect the blows; but eventually I’m going to wear down, and a punch is going to get through, and then another, and another…”
“You don’t paint a very positive picture.”
“I’m just telling it like it is,” I replied. “The only saving grace is that magick doesn’t always work. If it did, I’d already be dead after the crossing Annalise did. But, sometimes even when it does work, it doesn’t necessarily do what it was intended to do. The binding I did to protect Felicity is a prime example. It was supposed to keep her from harm. Instead, it created the connection between her and Annalise-and by default, Miranda.”
“Have you figured out why that happened?”
“Yes, actually. It was blatant stupidity on my part,” I replied. “It took me some time to figure it out, but I finally did. The problem is I worked the magick while the moon was void of course. That means it was in between aspects of two different astrological signs. I realize that doesn’t sound like a rational, scientific explanation to most, but we’re talking about magick here. And, any Witch with half a brain knows magick worked during a void-of-course moon almost never does what it is intended to do. It has a mind of its own.”
“So you did it on the wrong day?”
“Worse than that. Wrong hour. If I had done it a couple of hours sooner or a couple of hours later, there’s a good possibility none of this would have ever happened. Where Felicity is concerned, anyway.”
“But not you?”
“I don’t know. Annalise and Miranda were already out there. I didn’t create either of them. Somewhere along the line our paths probably would have crossed. Maybe not as soon as they did, or with such a direct impact, but eventually it would have happened. Ben would have called me to look at the symbols she was leaving behind, and everything would have been set into motion.”
“No offense, but aren’t you contradicting yourself? It sounds to me as if you think this would have happened anyway.”
“Yes, I think it would have, but like I said, differently. It would have happened to me, not my wife. It’s one thing to have this crap coming down on my head… But, Felicity doesn’t deserve it.”
“And you do?”
“Who knows? I’ve tried to walk away from it more than once, but it keeps pulling me back in, so there must be a reason.”
“That doesn’t mean you deserve to have these horrors in your life, Rowan.”
I shook my head. “Maybe not, but they’re here, and there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it, now does there?”
“Okay, I won’t argue that point with you. But, let’s get back to Miranda. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“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.