“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.
CHAPTER 36:
“Her cell phone just went active again,” Constance said as I swung the door open and blinked.
My grey matter was still huddled in a state of half-sleep, so I simply stared at her as I tried to make sense of what she had just told me. Unfortunately, while I recognized the words, all semblance of cohesion between them escaped my grasp. I shook my head and briefly flashed on the fact that I would probably be far more alert if I simply hadn’t slept at all.
After a second or two, which seemed like a small eternity, I managed to grunt, “What?”
“Devereaux’s cell phone,” she repeated. “It just went active a few minutes ago. We’re tracking the signal now.”
This time I managed to latch on to the sentence and process it into a mental picture that made sense. I glanced over at my wife who was still sleeping. The pillow she was clutching over the top of her head combined with the mild, lingering pain in my ribs told me she had heard the knock as well, but as usual she wasn’t about to
