anger at a Lwa isn’t going to help. For example, it would be no different than a Christian taking God to task for not giving them the new car they prayed for… Or me blaming the universe for not winning the lottery just because I did a money spell… That’s certainly not going to get a positive result. Negativity begets negativity.
“So, for Annalise to vent her anger at Miranda will only further deny her the gratification. In the end it’s really a simple matter of transference. Felicity becomes the object of her disdain because she views her as a rival for that which she desires.”
“I don’t understand. How is Felicity a rival?” she asked. “Ben said you’d done away with the connection that allowed all this to happen.”
“I did. But, I believe Miranda brought Annalise back here in order to re-establish that connection somehow. The how, I haven’t yet figured out, but she may have already done it. I’m hoping not, but I can’t really be sure. Either way, Annalise almost certainly knows exactly what Miranda wants, but she isn’t about to let it happen if she can help it. And, the only way for her to accomplish that is to remove Felicity from the picture entirely.”
“Okay, so that’s her motivation,” Constance replied. “I suppose you believe that is what’s driving the escalation as well?”
“Partly. But mainly I think it’s frustration,” I said with a nod. “To put it bluntly, I don’t think she’s getting any, so to speak. Of her most recent two murders, neither has been for the sexual gratification like those prior. One appeared to be for the express purpose of working a cross against me, since I am seen as another of her obstacles. Then, the Lewis homicide was purely out of blind anger.”
“He should never have called me by your name,” she repeated Annalise’s words from the tape with an understanding nod.
“Which explains the tongue,” Ben added.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Blatant symbolism is common in hoodoo, and most any other magick, so it would definitely fit the way she thinks.”
Ben thrust his chin toward Constance with a quick nod. “Speakin’ of the Lewis homicide, did you check it out?”
“Not personally,” she replied, shaking her head. “But we had a team there. From what I hear, apparently they just missed you and Rowan.”
“Yeah, well we were just passin’ through.”
“I heard,” she replied then raised her eyebrow and took on a concerned tone. “You know, Ben, you’re probably going to get yourself suspended for taking Rowan there.”
“That’s the plan.”
She sighed. “And you worry about me getting into trouble.”
“Yeah, well, that’s life. So… Your guys find anything we missed?”
She shook her head again. “Not that I’ve heard. They’re still going over everything, but she didn’t seem to leave anything that will help track her down.”
“Wunnerful,” he harrumphed. “So we’re still at square one.”
“For now, it looks that way.”
“Okay, well, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to go check on Felicity,” I said.
Constance gave me an understanding nod. “That’s probably a good idea.”
I turned to head back to the bedroom, but before I even made it as far as the hallway, the electronic trill of a telephone ringing issued from the basement. A split second later, the cordless handset from Felicity’s business line downstairs, which was resting on the dining room table, chirped for attention. I stopped mid-stride and turned around.
Constance looked over to me and asked, “Has Devereaux heard Felicity’s voice?”
“Probably on the answering machine,” I replied.
“Damn,” she mumbled. She stepped over and picked up the handset anyway but simply held it in her hand as it chirped again. “Does she actually identify herself on the outgoing message?”
“I don’t think so. I believe she just launches into the standard leave a message spiel.”
“Good. Maybe we’ll be okay then.” She thumbed the talk button then placed it against her ear. Without missing a beat, she said, “Emerald Photographic Services.”
She looked toward us and nodded as she continued. “This is Felicity… The message? No, that would be my assistant. Who is this?”
We watched silently as Constance put the impromptu ruse into motion. Behind me, I heard the bedroom door open and Felicity softly calling my name. I turned to see her coming toward me, a questioning look on her face. I held my finger up to my lips, motioning for her to stay quiet.
“I assure you, I am Felicity O’Brien,” Constance said into the phone. “But, you still haven’t told me who you…”
She shook her head and sighed then pulled the phone away and thumbed it off.
“She hung up,” she said as she placed the handset back onto the table. “Apparently she didn’t buy it.”
“The accent,” Ben offered. “Five’ll get ya’ ten Lewis mentioned it at some point.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed. “And, then she picked it up from the answering machine too, so there’s no way around it.”
“You’d best let me answer it the next time, then,” Felicity interjected.
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” I said.
“Aye, and I don’t know if I’m comfortable with her still being out there,” she spat. “It’s me she’s after. I just want it over.”
“I understand that, honey, but with the state you’re in, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to talk to her.”
“And what state is that?” she demanded.
“You’re distraught… Understandably so… And, getting on the phone with her is just going to make it worse.”
“Rowan’s right, Felicity,” Constance added, stepping back toward the rest of us. “Talking to Devereaux isn’t going to be easy.”
“Damnu! ” my wife snapped. “I don’t care! I just want this over! Now!”
“Calm down, honey,” I said, trying to soothe her.
“Calm down? Don’t you tell me to calm down!”
“Felicity,” Ben started. “We’re just tryin’ ta’ protect you.”
“Well stop it! I don’t want you to protect me!”
Before any of us could respond, the telephone trilled again. Felicity twisted away from me and darted forward, shouldering past Constance as she began to turn. In an instant my wife snatched the handset from the table and had it pressed against the side of her head.
“Hello!” she spat, her tone nothing short of a demand.
All three of us started toward her, but she slipped around to the opposite side of the table, effectively placing it between her and us. We could have easily scrambled around after her, but at this point it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.
She barked into the phone, “Yes, this is she, you saigh… No, it’s Gaelic and it means bitch. Well, I don’t speak French either, but I know bitch when I hear it…”
Having no other recourse, Constance waved to get Felicity’s attention. Once she had it, she pointed to her watch and mouthed, “Keep her talking.”
My wife gave her a curt nod, but the hard frown never left her face, even as she continued to speak, “No. That was my assistant. She has a tendency to be overprotective… Yes, I did get them. They were a lovely thought, but the police wouldn’t let me keep them.”
Constance was keeping her eyes fixed on Felicity, but she had stepped back into the living room and was whispering into her cell phone.
“Aye, what’s wrong?” my wife asked. “Not getting the reaction you wanted?… Did you really think a little blood was going to bother me? I’m afraid you’re going to have to try harder, then…”
I had once been right where my wife was now. On a phone talking to a serial killer-one that wanted me dead more than anything-so, I knew the drill all too well. Unfortunately, my wife wasn’t following it. But, of course, neither had I.
