I listened, waiting for the telltale click of the hammer on the revolver but none came. Finally, after a frightful pause, I heard a soft meow. Slowly rolling to the side and looking up, I saw Emily, our calico, perched on the edge of the island and looking down at me with feline curiosity in her expressive face. I focused my gaze on the door and saw nothing but darkness.
Under any other circumstances, I would have laughed at my own jumpiness. Right now, however, I didn’t find it amusing.
I dragged myself up from the floor and fished the sport bottle back out of the sink and started the process of filling it once again. This time, I managed to get it to three-quarters full, which is what I was after. Shutting off the water, I shuffled quickly over to the stove and grabbed the saltshaker. I gave the lid a twist then dumped the contents into the sport bottle. Replacing the top on the drink container, I made sure the spout was closed and began shaking it as I slowly made my way back toward the doorway to the dining room.
It was now just after four a.m., and she still hadn’t come after me which could only mean she was waiting for me to come to her. As much as I didn’t want to do it, I was going to oblige. It just wasn’t going to be on her terms, or so I hoped.
Still remaining cautious, I peeked carefully around the corner and saw nothing but dimness and furniture. I slipped quickly around the doorframe and kept close to the wall, skirting around the buffet and inching up to the archway that led into the living room. Another quick glance around the wall, and I stepped through and started into the hallway.
My heart was already climbing back up the scale, adding beats with each passing second. I was straining to listen for any noise out of the ordinary but still heard none. I took a pair of steps and waited then advanced once again, creeping slowly up to the bedroom door. Stepping quickly past it, I took up a station against the wall next to it. I was positioned such that if she opened the door, I would be in her blind spot.
I waited for what seemed like several minutes, desperately trying to work up the courage to do something other than stand here in the shadows. I still hadn’t heard a thing, and I was sure that another several minutes had passed by now. Taking in a deep breath, I forced myself to reach to the side and grasp the door latch with my left hand. Pressing it down slowly, I heard the gentle click and then pushed the door open before quickly yanking my hand back.
Light from the bedroom flooded into the hall, and I continued standing there, cocked and ready to jump while I allowed my eyes to readjust to the new influx of luminance. Letting out a quiet sigh, I dropped my head down and swallowed hard. I blinked as I grew accustomed to the oblique shaft of light spilling from the opening, and now, with my gaze angled downward, for the first time realized that I was stark naked. Yet another ridiculous moment that was less than amusing to me under the circumstances.
After several heartbeats with nothing happening, I shrugged into my thin cloak of bravado.
“Miranda?” I called out.
I waited for several seconds and heard nothing.
“Miranda?” I called louder.
Now, my ears picked up a thin whimper, but it sounded nothing like the distorted whines of pleasure I had heard from my wife earlier. On the heels of the whimper came a soft sob.
“Felicity?” I called out.
My ears were met only with a renewed combination of the whimper and sob.
Part of my brain kept telling me that this could very well be a trap. That I was going to step out from the wall, round the corner, and catch a very fast moving hunk of lead right about chest level. Another part, however, told me that the Lwa was gone and that Felicity needed me. As the two sides argued, I flashed on the fact that while my headache was still intact it was nowhere near what it had been earlier.
I decided to believe the hunk of grey matter that kept saying it was Felicity who was waiting for me, and not Miranda. Still, I slowly and cautiously peeked in around the doorframe before fully coming out of my hiding space.
“Felicity?” I called once again as I carefully stepped into the room.
A harder sob met my ears, followed by a blubbered pair of syllables that sounded remotely like my name.
The twist of sheets were still lying on the floor and were streaked with blood from my hands where I had fought to disentangle myself. There was a smear or two marring the sheets that remained on the bed as well. The cuffs were still dangling from the bedposts by their straps, and while my uncorrected vision couldn’t be sure, I was betting some of my skin was still attached to them.
I advanced farther into the room and worked slowly around the obstacles on the floor. After a few steps, I finally caught a glimpse of fiery auburn hair. The back of the top of my wife’s head was barely peeking over the footboard of the bed. Still cautious, I moved slowly toward her until I could see fully over the edge of the blonde wood.
There she was, huddled on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking as she cried. In one hand was the framed picture that had been sitting on the headboard, the very photo that several days before had sent me waxing nostalgic about our trust in one another.
I knelt next to her and gently placed my hand on her shoulder as I softly called her name.
She started, looking up at me as if she hadn’t realized I was there until just now. Her jade green eyes welled with even more tears while she quietly looked at my face and then my blistered chest.
“Oh Gods…” she whimpered, her voice thick with her Celtic lilt. It was a welcome sound.
“Shhhhh,” I soothed.
“I didn’t know…” she blubbered as the tears streamed down her face. “I saw the blood…I didn’t know…I can’t remember…”
“It’s okay…” I whispered.
She reached out with a trembling hand and gingerly touched my chest near the charred flesh and growing blisters. I winced as her fingers brushed the area.
“God…” she mewled. “Did…Did I do that to you?”
“No,” I reassured her, shaking my head. “Miranda did.”
“She was in me, wasn’t she?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
She started shaking again as my silence filled in the blank.
I looked down and remembered the sport bottle in my hand. I pondered it for a moment then handed it to my sobbing wife.
“Here,” I said. “Take a drink of this.”
As she accepted the bottle she managed to choke out, “What is it?”
“Just humor me,” I replied.
She fingered the spout, unable to open it with her shaking hands. I popped it up for her then gently guided her hands, supporting the bottle as she placed it to her lips and took a swig. I gave it a light squeeze, and she swallowed a mouthful quickly, before sputtering and pushing it away. It didn’t matter though; one drink was enough.
“Salt water?” she asked between choked sobs.
“Yeah. Sorry. I just want to make sure you stay Felicity for a while.”
Thursday, November 24
Thanksgiving Day
9:53 A.M.
Saint Louis, Missouri
CHAPTER 28:
I looked at my watch and glared, giving the digits on its face an impatient scowl before twisting my wrist back down and sliding my hand into my coat pocket.
For lack of anything better to do, I pulled it back out and stuck the fresh cigarette it now held between my lips. Digging out my lighter, I lit it and took a deep drag. I had commandeered the pack of smokes from the nightstand in our bedroom. They were the ones that Felicity-or should I say Miranda -was smoking only a few hours ago. Where my wife had come up with them, I wasn’t sure. I suppose prior to trussing me up in my sleep, she could have made a run to the local quick-shop. She didn’t remember, and I didn’t press the point. It was obvious at first glance that emotionally she didn’t need to be badgered about anything, much less such a trivial fact; and in truth, it wasn’t really all that important.