Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (5 page)

“Jeezus, white man… Ain’t that a bit morbid,
especially today?”

“You wanted the truth.” I gave him a resigned
shrug before continuing, “I don’t think it will happen. Everything
is a stalemate at this point, and if that status quo is maintained,
everything should be fine. At least that’s my hope. But, let’s face
it, Ben—this is a Pandora’s box scenario. Annalise more or less let
Miranda loose on the world, and we know how that turned out. Then I
screwed up and fostered a connection to my wife without even
realizing it.”

“But you fixed that, didn’t ya’?”

“Yes, but by that point the damage was done.
The
Lwa
has fixated on Felicity, and she’s obviously looking
for new meat, which is why I think the spellwork connects her to my
wife. Think about it. Miranda used Felicity’s body to try killing
me twice before. I’m an even bigger obstacle now than I was then.
With me out of the way, she could assume control. And if she does
that, the cycle will just start over again. Different physical
body, but for all intents and purposes, the same killer.”

“But if you got a stalemate, like you said,
everything is fine. Right?”

“Unless she tries an end run and uses someone
else as a horse.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck
me… Ya’know, this shit just gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, I know. Me too. Literally,” I agreed.
“Fortunately, I think that last option is less than likely. She
would need a connection to the person, so unless someone else is
using Miranda as a personal
Lwa
, then we should be
relatively safe.”

“Relatively?”

“Annalise is still alive and connected.”

“Yeah, and locked up.”

“As long as she stays that way, then we
should be fine. Either way, that’s where I have to trust
you
.”

“Not me. More like the Feebs and the penal
system.”

“Okay. But in any event it’s not something I
have control over, so I’m left trusting someone else to keep that
factor from changing.”

“Uh-huh… Okay… Tell ya’ what, I’ll make a
coupl’a calls. Lemme see what I can find out, but I’m not makin’
any promises. What you’re askin’ is pretty much impossible.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Yeah. I’ll add it to your friggin’ tab,” he
said as he turned to go. He hesitated then turned back and asked,
“So what makes ya’ think Devereaux would tell ya’ what you wanna
know anyway?”

“Revenge. I think Miranda forced her to do
that spellwork. I don’t believe for a minute she would have done it
of her own free will.”

“Why not?”

“Easy. She’s addicted. She’ll do anything to
keep from giving up Miranda to another horse, so why would she work
magick to create a connection to one? That’s why Constance is in
the hospital right now. Annalise wanted Felicity dead, so Miranda
would be hers and hers alone.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Well do us all a favor
and go do some more hocus-pocus or whatever and stop havin’ bad
feelin’s. I got enough on my plate right now.”

“I’m right there with you.”

“Okay, last question—what if you can’t get
the low down on this… What then?”

“We hope like hell I’m right about the status
quo keeping everything in check.”

“But if you’re wrong and Miranda gets back
into Firehair, she goes off the deep end and this shit could start
all over again?”

“Yeah… Pretty much.”

“That’s fucked up, Row.”

“You won’t get any argument from me
there.”

* * * * *

When I finally arrived back at the truck, I
had already blown well past the outer marker of “don’t be long.”
However, I knew that if Felicity had been in a real hurry, she
would have simply taken the wheel and driven around into sight as a
cue for me to get moving. She hadn’t, so I wasn’t too concerned. I
approached from the front, and I could see my wife through the
windshield, seated on the passenger side, but her attentions were
obviously focused elsewhere.

I stepped off the roadway onto the dormant
grass then carefully slid between the idling vehicle and a small
hedge so that I could open the door and climb in. The interior was
already considerably warmer than the outside temperature; of
course, I’m sure some of that had to do with the fact that my
tardiness gave it even more time to heat up. At any rate, it was
too warm for me, so as I settled in I reached over to the dash and
adjusted the driver’s side climate controls.

“Sorry,” Felicity said absently, giving me a
quick glance. “I meant to do that earlier.”

She hadn’t acted startled when I opened the
door, so apparently she had seen me coming after all. She quickly
returned her gaze to the mirror on the back of the sun visor and
continued half-heartedly fussing with her makeup. A bottle of eye
drops and a handful of cosmetics were lined up across the dash in
front of her, but it didn’t appear that she had attempted any major
resurfacing where the latter was concerned. It wasn’t as if she
really wore that much makeup anyway, and as I’d told her, she
really did look just fine.

“No problem,” I replied. “Sorry I took so
long.”

“I was beginning to wonder what happened to
you then.”

“Just lost track for a few minutes.”

The radio was tuned to the local classical
music station and set to low volume. In the background, just above
the hiss of the air vents, an unnamed orchestra was ringing its way
through
Carol of the Bells
.

“What were you two talking about?” Felicity
asked after a moment.

“Nothing important.”

“
T
hug tú d'éitheach
,
”
she returned, calling me a liar. Even though her tone held no
anger, I knew she was somewhat serious because she had resorted to
Gaelic.

“Okay, how about nothing for you to worry
about.”

“Aye, do you really want me to say it
again?”

“Not really.”

“Then tell the truth.”

I fell quiet for a moment then attempted to
redirect the conversation. “Are you about ready to go?”

“Just a minute, I’m almost finished,” she
told me then paused for a moment herself. I really should have
known better than to think I could get away with diverting the
topic, and she proved that when she asked, “You were talking about
her, weren’t you? Miranda.”

“She came up,” I replied.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what about her?”

“We decided not to invite her to the
Christmas party,” I said, unsuccessfully trying to lighten the
tense mood.

“Be serious.”

I shrugged in surrender. “Honestly, I’m not
sure what you want me to say, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure either,” she sighed, then her
voice took on a hint of fear as she added, “She’s still out
there.”

“I know,” I said, trying to sound soothing.
“And, yes, that’s what we talked about.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“I’m working on it. We have the necklace put
away.”

“Aye. Do you plan to explain that at some
point?”

“Eventually, once I’m sure about some things.
But, for right now though, as long as it stays in that jar of salt
and you don’t come into contact with it, we should be fine.”

“And what if it isn’t?”

“That isn’t an option.”

“But…”

“No… No but’s…” I calmly interrupted her.
“Listen to me, honey, it’s only been a few days. Everything is way
too fresh right now. Just give yourself a little time to deal with
all this, okay?”

She didn’t respond. Instead she glanced down
and began carefully tucking the tubes and compact into her purse.
“I just need to touch up my lipstick,” she finally said, her tone
flat and words terse. “But I’ll do that when we get there. I
suppose we should get moving.”

“So, are you mad at me now?” I asked.

“No.” She shook her head as she looked over
at me. “No… I’m sorry… I’m just…” She let out a frustrated breath
and shook her head again. “I’m just trying to cope with… with…”

“The guilt?” I offered.

“Yes, but it’s not what you think… I mean, it
is, but it’s something else too… It isn’t just… It’s… It’s just
something you wouldn’t… It’s…”

“I know, honey,” I cut her off. It was
obvious that the time had come for confession whether I wanted it
to or not. At least it had for Felicity and me. I held up my hand
to stop her from stammering on further then said, “Believe me, I
know exactly what you are feeling…”

“You can’t possibly…” she began.

I rushed to interrupt her again. “You feel
guilty because as sad as you are that Carl died, you’re glad it was
him we put in the ground today instead of Constance.”

She gave me a startled look then slowly
nodded as she placed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes.
After a moment she let out a long, low sigh and with a slight
tremble in her voice, asked, “What did Miranda do to me, Row? What
did that
saigh
change inside of me that I can even think
such a horrid thing?”

“Nothing,” I said, reaching over and brushing
the hair away from her face. “Nothing at all… Because, Gods help
me, I’ve been thinking the exact same thing.”

Sunday, March 12

8:22 A.M.

Saint Louis, Missouri

“You look like hell,” I said, voicing my
matter-of-fact observation in as jovial a tone as I could
muster.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Detective Benjamin
Storm grunted as he fixed me with a bleary-eyed gaze then shook his
head and let out a heavy sigh.

He was sitting across the table from me,
where I had just joined him in a booth at Charlie’s Eats, a small
diner that occupied a piece of corner real estate at Seventh and
Chouteau, not terribly far from city police headquarters downtown.
It was a favorite hangout of cops for meal breaks since they could
get something more than just a sandwich. On top of that, the
service was fast, the prices were reasonable, and its close
proximity to the station didn’t hurt either.

I was actually no stranger to Chuck’s, as the
greasy spoon was affectionately called, though at times I felt like
the only civilian in the place—with the exception of the staff of
course. However, with life having been in such turmoil over the
past several months, it had been quite some time since my last
visit. Still, I wasn’t surprised in the least to see that little,
if anything, had changed. Even the age-yellowed, multi-generational
photocopy boasting that these premises were protected by Smith and
Wesson still occupied its conspicuously prominent place on the back
of the cash register for everyone to see. Of course, given that
standard issue for city police officers was the Beretta
nine-millimeter, someone had used a marker and added that fact
underneath as well.

“Rough night or something?” I asked my friend
as I settled in and folded my jacket in the seat next to me.

“Yeah, I guess ya’ could say that,” he
grunted again. “Got called out on a body in a dumpster at around
one this mornin’, haven’t stopped since.”

“Never seems to end, does it?”

“Nope. It sure as hell don’t.”

I twisted slightly and rolled my left
shoulder before reaching up and carefully massaging the side of my
neck.

“You okay?” my friend asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, wincing slightly. “I think
I just slept in a weird position or something. I’ve had this pain
in my neck off and on all morning. Nothing bad, really, just kind
of annoying.”

“Yeah, well at least you slept.”

“So, if you’ve been up all night then why
aren’t you at home in bed right now?”

“It’s Sunday the twelfth, ain’t it? Accordin’
ta’ my calendar we’re s’posed to meet for breakfast, right? Must
be, ‘cause you’re here.”

“Yeah,” I said, giving him a shrug. “But we
started arranging these things on weekends for a reason. Since you
ended up working anyway, you could have called me and begged off. I
would have understood.”

“Yeah, well, believe me I thought about it,”
he replied with a yawn and then added, “But, ya’ know, I still
gotta eat.”

“When aren’t you eating?” a female voice
filled with good-natured sarcasm slid directly in behind his
comment.

We both looked up to find a young blonde
woman clad in blue jeans, a faded “Eat at Chuck’s” sweatshirt, and
a server’s apron now standing next to the table. She wielded a
Pyrex carafe in one hand and a ceramic mug in the other. She slid
the cup in front of me, then with a quick flourish, deftly filled
it with hot coffee.

“Hey, Wendy,” I greeted the waitress.

“Rowan. Long time no see,” she replied with a
grin. “You haven’t been cheating on us and going to another diner
have you?”

I chuckled. “Never. You know this is my one
and only. I’ve just been a little busy.”

“I know the feeling,” she said. “So, how’s
Felicity?”

“Doing well. Sassy as ever and twice as
gorgeous.”

“You wouldn’t have her any other way.”

I nodded and smiled. “True.”

Wendy turned her gaze toward Ben. “Have I
told you that you look like crap today, Storm?”

“Three times since I got here,” he replied as
he pushed his mug toward her. “This time makes four.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” She grinned
as she topped off his java. “So… Are you ready or do you need a
couple of minutes?”

“I’ve been ready,” Ben told her. “I’ll have
the usual, with a side of aspirin.”

“Headache?”

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head to the side and acted as
if she was inspecting him. “Yeah. Looks to me like it would
hurt.”

“Yeah… Funny.” Ben didn’t sound amused.

“Want me to just bring you the bottle?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Rowan could
prob’ly use ‘em too. He was just sayin’ he’s got a pain in ‘is
neck.”