The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (21 page)

I shook my head as I said, “You didn’t do
those things. Miranda did. You had nothing to do with it. If anyone
is to blame for that, it’s me. This never would have happened if I
hadn’t done that binding.”

“A binding shouldn’t have caused that, Rowan.
Unless you were intentionally binding her to me, which I would find
hard to believe.”

“I agree. And, no, I certainly wouldn’t have
done it intentionally. But, it still happened, so that means I
fucked it up somehow.”

“How?”

“I have no idea. But I must have, otherwise
we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.”

She took a moment to flip over the bacon
strips and nudge them about the pan again. Finally, she looked up
and said, “It’s not just the things I did, Rowan. It’s
everything.”

“Everything covers a lot of area, honey.”

“Aye, it does,” she agreed. “What I mean is,
everything that’s happened. The arrest… The time in the hospital…
The fact that I suddenly have a half-sister-cousin or whatever who
just happens to be a twisted killer. Who, by the way, is the
product of my father screwing around on my mother with my aunt,
which isn’t something a daughter really needs to find out about her
dad. How do I reconcile that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But, we find a
way, and we do it together. And, if we can’t do it alone, we have
Helen to help out.”

“I’m… I’m just a little overwhelmed right
now.”

“I pretty much got that,” I soothed.

“Aye,” she sighed. “Maybe I should just get
us all booked on one of those stupid tabloid talk shows.”

“They’d never go for it,” I told her, trying
to interject a bit of humor. “You aren’t nearly strange enough for
them.”

“You don’t think so?” she quipped, her voice
suddenly taking on a demanding edge. “How about if after we tell
them all that, we clue them in that I’m a repressed, closeted
dominatrix Witch whose husband has only just discovered after
almost fifteen years of marriage that she’d really like to put a
dog collar around his neck and explore a few sexual fetishes with
him in the bedroom? Do you think maybe that would pique their
interest?”

I could tell by the look on her face that she
had run directly into a wall of regret the moment the last word
flew from her mouth. I paused, trying to think of what I should
say. My delay in responding didn’t seem to help the matter because
she hung her head and stared at the floor.

“You have me there,” I finally returned. “I
think that just might get their attention.”

“This isn’t a joke, Rowan,” she said.

“I know it isn’t,” I replied softly. “I’m
sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you.”

“No… I’m the one who should be sorry,” she
muttered, turning back to the stove without looking at me. “I
shouldn’t have just blurted that out. You’re probably having enough
trouble with it already… Especially after what you’ve been
through.”

“What I’ve been through?” I asked, a bit of
incredulity creeping into my voice. “You’re worried about me?”

“Of course,” she mumbled. “And… I’m worried
about us.”

I placed my coffee cup on the counter then
stepped over to her. Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I
gave her a gentle squeeze. Her body was rigid, and I could feel the
tension knotted up inside her.

“Aren’t we a pair?” I mumbled. “Me worrying
about you, you worrying about me, us worrying about us, and neither
of us accomplishing anything other than driving ourselves
nuts…”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“No… I’m pretty sure it’s just what
makes us who we are,” I whispered in her ear. “And, just so you
know,
us
is fine,
sweetheart.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I replied. “And, I seem to recall
we’ve had this talk before. Your proclivities in that area didn’t
come as a big surprise, and they aren’t a problem. You never needed
to keep it a secret, especially for so long.”

“There were times I almost told you,” she
said in a low voice.

“Well, you finally did and it’s all good. You
had nothing to worry about. You’re just going to have to be patient
with me.”

“About what?”

“That particular game. I’ve never played it,
so you’re going to have to fill me in on the rules.”

“Aye, so I haven’t so totally freaked you out
that you’re going to leave me?”

“Do you really think you can get rid of me
that easily?”

After a moment she whispered, “I love
you.”

“And I love you right back. Warts and
all, my little
repressed dominatrix
Witch
.”

I felt her beginning to relax, and I gave her
another reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t you get out a couple of plates,”
she said. “Breakfast will be done as soon as I scramble some
eggs.”

“You got it,” I replied.

A moment later, as I was digging silverware
from the drawer, I glanced over at her and said, “Dog collar, huh?
So, would I have to bark?”

She didn’t look over at me, but even in
profile I saw the corner of her mouth turn up as she said, “Only
when I tell you to.”

Tuesday, December 6

9:07 P.M.

Baton Rouge, Louisiana

D
arkness had become light,
and light had become darkness once again.

Annalise hugged herself tightly as she lay
naked in the empty bathtub. It had started out filled with hot
water—as hot as she could bear it in fact. But that had been almost
an hour ago. She had long since drained it but hadn’t been able to
bring herself to climb out.

Her first emotion had been fear, but that had
quickly given way to confusion. The man, Rowan, had called her by
name. He said they knew. But, how could they? How could they
possibly know she was the one responsible for all the things she
had done? The only answer that would come to her tortured mind
was—Saint Louis.

At least she was safe from them for now.
Annalise Devereaux didn’t live here. Behind these walls, she was
someone else.

But, there was someone who knew where
she was.
She
always knew. And,
from
Her
she could never be
safe.

Annalise let out a low moan and shivered as
she tried to curl into an even tighter ball. The air in the room
was cool against her skin where her still damp hair laid in twisted
strands across her shoulders and back. She had finally found the
energy to pull a towel down from the rack and was using it as a
makeshift blanket, but it wasn’t enough to completely cover
her.

She knew she should get out, dry off, and
change into some clothes, but she didn’t have the strength. This
had been going on for five days, and the increasingly hotter baths
had become her only refuge. But now, they were no longer working.
Simply moving was a struggle, and it only seemed to be getting
worse.

Miranda was being a bitch.

The desire had been welling in Annalise
for too many days now, but Miranda wasn’t talking. And, without
Miranda, she had no way to appeal to
Ezili
for comfort.

She was forsaken.

She was being punished.

At first, the tickle had been a pleasurable
annoyance, but that pleasure didn’t last for long. Miranda never
came to her. She knew she was there in the shadows, waiting.

Watching her, but never touching.

Never joining.

Never making her whole.

Very soon the tickle became the all-consuming
itch, but still Miranda only watched. As always, with the itch came
the need, and the need remained unfulfilled. Without Miranda,
Annalise could only go so far. Miranda was in control of the gift,
and it was being purposely withheld.

Annalise had been denied any form of release,
and that just made the need stronger. And as it grew, the need soon
became an ache.

No matter what she did, or how she tried to
quell the fire on her own, it remained. Blazing through her body
like a rampant fever. And now, the ache had turned to blinding
pain.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whimpered
aloud, her voice thin and cracking. “I’ve done everything you’ve
asked…”

She felt her plea was falling on deaf
ears.
Ezili
could not hear
her, and Miranda was the hand of punishment.
She
didn’t care that Annalise was suffering. It
was exactly what
She
wanted.
Besides,
She
wasn’t being
denied.
She
was taking her own
pleasure in Annalise’s torment.

It all came back to Saint Louis.
She
had tasted the fresh sweetness of
the other. The one called Felicity. But, that sweetness had
suddenly been taken away.

Someone had to pay, and that someone was
Annalise.

On the heels of her whimper, the pain
intensified. She knew Miranda was testing her to see just how much
she could take—and delighting in every moment of her pain. She
would have cried if her body had been able to produce tears, but
they had long since run out. She could only close her eyes and
whine.

“Everything,” she whispered through clenched
teeth. “Everything you’ve asked…”

She held no expectation of a reply other than
the sound of her own dry sobbing, as it had been her only answer
each time she asked. Even so, she simply didn’t have the energy to
be surprised when the familiar voice finally echoed inside her
head.

“No…” Miranda said. “Not everything…”

Wednesday, December 7

4:19 P.M.

Saint Louis, Missouri

B
en and I were standing on
the front porch of my house. Even though it was cold, something
about being inside right at this moment made me feel closed in.
Trapped. Even though he was my friend, I couldn’t help but feel
cornered by him right now. I’m not certain that being out here
really made that much difference in the way I felt, but I would
take anything I could get.

We stood in silence for a moment. The frosty
air moved around us on a gentle breeze, making the wind chimes in
front of me tinkle lightly. I reached out and gently grasped the
cold metal tubes, causing them to fall silent once again.

“The Feebs coordinated with NOLA PD on that
homicide. Got a definite match on the hair found at the scene,” he
offered.

“That’s good,” I said, as I carefully let go
of the chimes.

“They’ve been watchin’ the cemetery, but so
far she hasn’t showed.”

I didn’t answer.

“Theory is she’s too spooked to go back right
now.”

I still kept my mouth shut. I heard my friend
sigh hard then shuffle in place. After a long pause he spoke again.
“They think maybe they’ve connected a couple of unsolved homicides
from last year too. All homeless types. Jury’s still out on ‘em
though, ‘cause they don’t have the exact signature she’s usin’ with
her victims now. But, enough shit matched up ta’ make ‘em wonder.
The behavioral guys at Feeb central are checkin’ it out.”

I remained shrouded in my self-imposed
reticence, simply staring out across the yard.

“You even listenin’ to me?” Ben finally
asked.

“Yeah. I’m listening,” I replied.

“But ya’ ain’t talkin’.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Look, Row, I’m tryin’ ta’ tell ya’ she’s
gone completely off radar.”

“I pretty much got that, Ben.”

“Okay. So, I’m lookin’ for help. Got any
la-la land happenin’? You wanna throw me a bone here?”

I glanced in his direction. “I think you
already know the answer to that question.”

He huffed out an exasperated breath then
stared into the yard for a moment. Eventually, his hand moved up to
smooth back his hair then slide down to rest on his neck.

“C’mon Row… You seen anything at all? A
nightmare? Ya’know, any kinda spooky shit that might give us some
insight on this?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe ya’.”

“That’s your prerogative.”

“Jeezus…” he muttered. “This ain’t some kinda
game, White Man.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Ben. I know
it isn’t.”

“Well, would ya’ tell me if ya’ did see
somethin’?”

“I don’t know.”

“What kinda answer is that?”

“The best I can give you right now.”

“Okay. So the Feebs dug up some
background on ‘er,” he said, as he dropped his hand down and sent
it inside the folds of his coat to retrieve his notebook. “Think
that might help jog some
Twilight
Zone
stuff?”

“Don’t bother, Ben. I don’t want to hear
it.”

He stopped with the notebook halfway out of
the inner pocket, stood there for a moment, and then stuffed it
back in with a heavy breath to punctuate his frustration.

“What’s gotten inta’ you?”

“A little bit of sense maybe.”

“Come on, Row…” he eventually mumbled.

“Besides, the way I understand it I’ve been
banned from this case… And, any other investigations for that
matter.”

“Technically, yeah, but I’m just tryin’ ta’
keep ya’ in the loop. What they don’t know ain’t gonna hurt
‘em.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

“You really aren’t gonna talk about it, are
ya’?”

“No.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“In case you don’t recall, I quit.”

“Bullshit. That’s what you said, but you
didn’t mean it.”