“Given that I’m in Texas right now, yes.”
“Well, I dunno. What exactly are ya’ needin’?”
“Someone to keep an eye on Felicity tomorrow morning.”
“What for? You don’t think she’s screwin’ around or somethin’ do ya’?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Nothing like that. Worse actually. I have another meeting with Miranda at ten.”
“Okay. So what’s that got to do with Firehair? I mean, besides… Well, you know what I mean.”
“When I talked to her earlier today she said she was having some issues…” I leaned heavily on the word and paused for effect. “The thing is, it seems they coincided with the timing of my meeting with Miranda.”
“So when you say ‘issues’ you mean that kinky Twilight Zone stuff like before when…” He allowed the sentence to remain unfinished.
“Yeah,” I replied. “The homicidal dominatrix urges like when Miranda was possessing her. She kept herself under control this go around, but I really don’t want to take the chance that she might not be able to do the same if it happens again.”
“Man, you’d think I’d be used to this shit by now, but workin’ with you two is just off-the-charts weird sometimes.”
“Believe me, I feel the same way more often than you realize.”
“Yeah… So tell me somethin’… I know ya’ said ya’ need both parts of this thing to make it go away, but I thought you at least had part of the Voodoo crap covered with this jewelry in a jar thing. I mean, Miranda down there, Firehair up here, salty necklace in my pocket all adds up to no psycho redhead. Right?”
“Obviously I was wrong about that.”
He huffed and then muttered a sarcastic, “Well shit. Hold on a sec while I write that one down on the friggin’ calendar.”
I snapped at him, “This isn’t a joke, Ben.”
“I know, I know…” he said.
I pushed back my momentary annoyance and tried to offer an explanation. “Yes, the necklace is definitely the primary conduit. But Miranda knows I’ve figured that out. She’s searching for another way in, and unfortunately I think maybe I’m it.”
“How?”
“I’m connected to both of them.”
“So, unconnect.”
“I wish I could, but with that magick in place and Annalise acting as a host, I can’t.”
“Lucky you,” he grunted. “So’s that why ya’ tried to choke the fuck out of ‘er today?”
I let out a long sigh. “Constance told you about that too, huh?”
“Yeah,” he chided. “She filled me in on the whole deal since you wouldn’t.”
I ignored the baiting remark and answered the original question. “Well, I didn’t actually find out about what was happening to Felicity until after that whole mess was well over, so it wasn’t the direct cause. But yeah, during the interview she made a few comments that set me off and I lost control.”
“Wunnerful… And they’re actually lettin’ you back in a room with ‘er?”
Obviously, Constance hadn’t told him everything. “That’s a long story in itself.”
“With you it usually is,” he grunted. “Guess I’ll hafta wait for Constance to tell me about that too?”
Once again I ignored the bait and redirected. “Anyway, back to my original question?”
“Yeah… Okay… I get it… So you’re just wantin’ someone ta’ hang out with the little woman in case she goes all la-la land freaky, right?”
“Pretty much. But it needs to be someone who understands what’s going on and can actually do something about it, if you know what I mean. You’ve seen how quick it can happen and where it leads.”
“Oh yeah, been there…” he mumbled then huffed out a heavy sigh. “So what we really need is somebody with handcuffs and eyes in the back of their head.”
“That pretty much describes it, yes.”
“Well, with Constance outta town I don’t have any plans. I could go over and hang out.”
I objected immediately. “No. You can’t. You have the necklace.”
“Yeah, so? You pack it around all the time when you two are together.”
“I’m a Witch, you aren’t.”
“Great…” he moaned. “You mean ta’ tell me the hocus-pocus shit on this thing is that bad, and you pawned it off on me?”
“It’s focused on Felicity, Ben, not you. You’re fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, okay… But if the damn thing makes me go all fruitloopy, I’m kickin’ your ass.”
“Don’t worry, if it does, it will probably make killing me your first priority all by itself.”
He almost yelped, “Hey, I thought ya’ just said it wouldn’t…”
“Relax, Ben. Just leave it in the salt, keep it away from Felicity, and you’ll be fine,” I reassured him and then pressed further on my query. “So, anyone else in mind?”
He let out a quiet harrumph. Upon hearing it I could easily imagine that he was smoothing back his hair then allowing his hand to slide down to his neck and begin absently massaging. It was a physical mannerism he’d had at least as long as I’d known him, and it was a sure sign he was concentrating. The gesture was so much a part of his makeup that I didn’t have to physically see him to know he was doing it.
Finally, he said, “Yeah…maybe. Lemme call Charlee. She’s been around for some of the woo-woo shit, so she’s kinda up ta’ speed with that part. Plus she knows Firehair already, so that’d prob’ly help.”
The name more than rang a bell. Detective Charlene McLaughlin had been assigned to several investigations where I was involved, and Ben was correct—she had certainly seen some things that tended to defy logical explanation. Of course, that sort of thing wasn’t all that unusual whenever I came into the picture.
Just as important though, she had pulled a few shifts watching over Felicity and me a few years ago when a spree killer named Eldon Porter had set his sights on us. Therefore, as Ben had mentioned, she wasn’t a stranger, which would make things easier for all concerned.
“Good suggestion. I’d definitely trust Charlee,” I told him. “Thanks, Chief, I appreciate you making the call.”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “I’ll just keep addin’ to your tab, Kemosabe.”
“Right… So, do me a favor and call me back when you find out if she’s up for it. Then I can give Felicity a heads up so she expects her.”
“Firehair doesn’t know about this?”
“Not yet.”
“Jeezus, Row. Do ya’ actually believe she’s gonna go for it?”
“I’m not going to give her any choice.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be an issue, Ben,” I told him. “I’m pretty sure she’s as concerned about this as I am.”
“I hope you’re right. About it not bein’ a problem I mean.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“Okay, well, lemme call Charlee and see what I can work out. Ten tomorrow you said?”
“Yeah, but I’ll probably be at the facility a bit earlier than that. She might want to figure for around nine.”
“Okay. Talk to ya’ in a bit.”
“Later.”
I closed the phone and then glanced at the LCD display before clipping it back on my belt. It read 6:13 PM. Later than I thought it was, but earlier than it felt like it should be. Everything was starting to catch up to me with a vengeance—the lack of sleep, the tension, the uncertainty about tomorrow, and even the pervasive headache.
I sat waiting for the return call but grew oddly uncomfortable with each passing minute. Eventually, I hauled myself up out of the straight-backed desk chair and padded slowly around the room in an aimless circle. As tired as I was, I just couldn’t seem to sit idle.
I pulled my cell from my belt and looked at the display. Less than ten minutes had passed, yet it seemed more like an hour. I had to admit, impatience was
definitely one of my faults, but I wasn’t usually this bad. I sighed and then continued staring at the numbers on my phone. After what seemed an eternity the display incremented.
Then, as if on cue, the reason for my restlessness became painfully obvious.
I felt a familiar friction born of unearthly influence begin to rub me raw just beneath the skin. I purposely shuddered in an attempt to shake it off, but as usual it clung to me even tighter. Seconds later I felt simultaneously chilled to the core and flushed with fever.
I’d been here too many times before, unfortunately. It seemed that whenever the dead wanted to talk, this was how they made sure they had my undivided attention. But, this was also just the beginning; it would only get worse—much worse.
“Dammit…” I muttered to myself. “Not right now…”
I knew whoever it was wouldn’t be dissuaded. They never were, and that meant I didn’t have much time before I would find myself standing in the void between the living and the dead, having a one-sided conversation that was no less than a psychotic excuse for a puzzle with missing pieces. Something else I knew in spades was that I was going to become very vulnerable on more than one level. Historically, it hadn’t always been a good idea for me to go through this sort of thing alone, and it was a sure bet that this time was no exception. Since Constance was just across the hallway, I turned and started toward the door. However, it seemed I had even less time than I had originally thought. Before I managed to take my first step, the lights in the room began to bloom in a harsh display of prismatic colors. My vision tunneled, and in that instant the door became a far-away and wholly unattainable goal.
As the carpeted floor rushed toward my face, my world became an empty void, darker than dark, and colder than cold. The last thing I heard was an electronic warble of the William Tell Overture as the cell phone, still clasped in my now paralyzed hand, started to ring.
CHAPTER 11
I’m walking.
At least, I think I am.
I cannot see.
I cannot hear.
I can only feel.
I’m walking.
To where, I do not know.
Darkness surrounds me. But, it isn’t mere indigo like the dark of a moonless night.
Or even the darkness of sleep.
It is blacker still.
Disturbing.
Maddening.
It is the total absence of everything.
It is the black of nothingness, and not only does it surround me, it is in me…
It is me.
Cold…
Void…
Nothing…
I’m walking.
“Rowan…” A distantly familiar voice calls to me.
I stop.
Hollowness consumes me from within and without.
I am nothing.
“Rowan. I’m right here,” the voice calls again.
I turn in the blackness, spinning slowly in place, eyes searching though I cannot see.
I blink.
Though all else remains void, a petite, strawberry blonde woman appears, standing before me.
I ask, “Ariel? Is that you?” My voice echoes and folds in upon itself to become a jumble of disjointed syllables that make no sense. They solidify and shatter into sparkling shards around me.
The broken words shimmer like semi-precious stones. I watch as they disappear, taking with them my question.
I turn my face back to the woman. I have not seen her move; yet she now has my hand in hers. She shakes her head, a forlorn expression painted across her face as a tear wells in the corner of her eye. “It’s been too long, Rowan. You never come to see me anymore.”
I try to talk, but the faded jewels of my words took not only my question but my voice as well.
I feel dampness on my cheek.
I feel dampness on my arm.
It is beginning to rain.
I turn my face upward and the rain turns to blood.
I am alone now.
The cold downpour of blood soaks me.
Envelops me.
Its iciness burns me.
I try to scream as the pain bores inward.
I watch in horror as my body begins to disintegrate.
Skin peels away in rigid, frozen strips…
Followed by muscle, frost burned and crumbling…
And finally bone, gelid, brittle and shattering…
I am no more…
A hollow, pounding noise thumped inside my head. A moment later it repeated and was followed by the distant, muffled sound of a voice buzzing in my ears. “Rowan, it’s Constance. Open the door.”
There was a short pause then another round of the hollow thumping. This time the voice that came in its wake sounded far more concerned. “Rowan! It’s Constance. Can you hear me?!”
Hearing her was the easy part. Responding was something else entirely. I could feel that my entire body was shaking against the unearthly cold. The burn beneath my skin was eating its way inward, and I wanted to scream. Unfortunately, my jaw was clenched so tightly I couldn’t even manage a whimper.
“Rowan!” the muffled voice called to me again. “Answer me!”
Something brushed my hand and pain exploded through my soul. I could feel myself trying to withdraw from the touch.
Another muffled voice joined the first. I couldn’t understand what it said, but it sounded almost as frantic. An electronic rendition of the William Tell Overture began chirping in my ears once again.
After that I heard nothing because the darkness was coming to take me back.
I’m running.
The rain has stopped, and this time I am not alone.
A cold fire is chasing me.
I can feel it blistering my back with its gelid fingers.
I open my mouth to scream but can project only silence in a deafening wave.
The fire catches me.
Consumes me.
I am no more…
“Rowan.” The distantly familiar voice lances my ears again.
Ariel is still holding my hand.
I look at her and she cocks her head to the side. “Stay with me, Rowan. I will protect you. Come… She’s waiting. She’s been waiting for you for a very long time.”
I try to talk again. “Who is waiting for me, Ariel?”
The words rattle inside my skull, but when I open my mouth to speak them, only silence spews forth from my lips. I can literally see it spreading out from me—a dense cloud of nothing, creating an acoustic void in its wake.
Ariel gently presses two fingers against my lips and shakes her head.
“Come with me,” she says. “She’s waiting.”
We’re walking…
Constance Mandalay’s voice ricocheted around inside my ear canal before finally connecting with my brain and allowing it to eavesdrop. She sounded as if she was nearby. Sharp and clear, as opposed to the earlier muddied tone.
“Someone from the hotel is calling nine-one-one,” she said, her voice businesslike but edged with concern. “No… He’s on the floor, shaking like he’s having some type of seizure. Yes, I guess it could be one of his trances.”
I could still feel myself vibrating from the intensity of the cold. Every inch of my skin prickled like countless needles were being repeatedly plunged into it, and my head felt as if it was going to split open and spill its contents at any moment.
I heard her say, “No, he’s not bleeding this time… Yes, I’ve tried that… No… Dammit, Ben, I can’t just sit here and watch. Yes, I know that’s what he says, but… I know… I think maybe I should call Felicity.”
I wanted to scream “no,” but the returning darkness wouldn’t let me.
“She’s been waiting for you,” Ariel says, pointing off into the void.
I follow the line of her arm and see that a large wooden door has appeared. It looks heavy and old. Intricate carvings cover its surface, but when I try to focus on any of the detail it becomes blurry and nondescript.
>
I’m certain the door wasn’t there a second ago…
Or was it an hour ago?
Or maybe it was a day ago…
I have no idea how long I’ve been here. It seems like forever. And it seems like I’ve only just arrived.
“Go,” Ariel says. “She’s waiting.”
“Who?” I ask.
The word flips and tumbles as it falls from my mouth, and then it liquefies and drips slowly into the darkness to disappear. Seen, but not heard.
Ariel repeats in earnest, “She’s been waiting for you, Rowan. She’s been waiting for so very long now… She needs you. Go to her.”
I look at the door and then back to Ariel. However, only the dark void remains where she once stood. Her voice echoes in my ears, coming from no direction, and all directions. “She’s waiting…”
I cautiously step forward and rest my hand on what appears to be an ornate handle. I push the door inward, allowing it to swing open on groaning hinges.
The creaking of metal against metal is all that I hear.
Beyond the threshold I see nothing but blackness.
“She’s waiting for you,” Ariel’s voice says.
I turn to find that she is standing behind me.
“Go to her…” she says, nodding as if to urge me along. “She’s waiting.”
Ariel reaches forward and presses her palms against my chest. The touch seems light, but I am unable to resist the incredible force it carries.
My balance is gone.
I topple backward.
I’m falling…
Falling…
Impact.
“Get me some salt,” Constance said. “Now.”
An unfamiliar voice questioned, “Salt?”
“Yes, salt,” she barked. “Get it, now dammit!”
Whoever belonged to the other voice didn’t press the subject. I could hear feet against carpet receding in a quick scamper.
“Felicity?” Constance said. “Are you still there? No… He’s not shaking anymore. He just jerked suddenly, and now he’s not moving at all… Yes, he’s still breathing… Do what? Are you sure? Okay…”
Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 11