Read The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation Online

Authors: M. R. Sellars

Tags: #fiction, #thriller, #horror, #suspense, #mystery, #police procedural, #occult, #paranormal, #serial killer, #witchcraft

The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (14 page)

I started to step away, but my foot hit
something soft that made me almost lose my balance. I felt it move
as I shuffled then heard it whimper as I thudded against it again.
One of them was on the floor. I couldn’t tell if it was a woman or
a man, but that mattered little. I gathered my dress up and stepped
on it. The thing let out an animal-like wail, but I ignored its
pleas, and instead I reveled in its misery. After a moment I
continued across the room.

The shutters clunked as I swung them open,
allowing the afternoon light to spill in. It was growing late, but
the illumination seemed bright in the shadowy room. I glanced
around at the others. Most had provided me with fruitful
entertainment. Those that did not were no longer here. But, my
sights this day were not set on them. I was here for the new
arrival.

I moved deliberately back across the plank
floor, returning to my station near his head. He was chained to a
low table—nude and bound at the wrists and ankles. He was pristine
but for a few telltale signs of the lash. Looking at him, prone and
helpless, I felt the itch ignite my entire body.

It was time.

I shuffled over to a small table and wrapped
one hand around the handle of a bone saw then gathered a cloth rag
into the other. With excitement welling in the pit of my stomach, I
stepped quickly back and stood over him. Forcing his mouth open, I
stuffed the filthy cloth into it then took hold of his hand and
pressed the serrated edge of the saw against his wrist just below
the shackle.

“Now,” I said, my voice dripping with
sweetness. “Let us see how much you love me, little man.”

I was just preparing to draw the toothed
blade through the first layer of his flesh when the door opened. I
looked up to see my sister standing there, a frown creasing her
face.

“Miranda,” she admonished. “I should have
known I would find you here.”

“I need it, Delphine,” I told her between
short, panting breaths. “I need it now.”

“Our guests will be here in less than two
hours.”

“I know,” I appealed. “I promise this will
not take long.”

She stood staring at me, and I at her. The
itch had overwhelmed me now, and I could feel myself trembling. I
needed release, and I was certain she knew it. I had seen her in
this very same state more than once.

“Delphine, please…” I begged.

She slowly pressed the door shut then turned
and walked toward the table. The corners of her mouth twisted into
a knowing smile as she knelt and took his hand from me.

“Get some rope to tie it off first,” she
said softly. “We would not want him to die just yet.”

 

I awoke to the sound of my travel alarm
chirping from its position atop the rickety nightstand.

I was sprawled out on the bed in my room at
the Airline Courts. Contrary to what I had told Ben earlier, I had
actually chosen to sleep on it. Although, I hadn’t bothered to turn
it down, nor did I get undressed. I suppose that somewhere in my
exhaustion, I had come to the conclusion that as long as I had a
few layers between me and it, the creeping crud wouldn’t be able to
get to me.

My mouth was dry, and my heart was thumping
hard in my chest. I felt more like I had been running laps than
sleeping. My head was killing me, not that such was unusual these
days, but for some reason, between lances of pain I was seeing an
image of a saw. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but it was
seriously disconcerting because each mental flash of the serrated
blade left me with that bizarre feeling of feminine arousal deep
inside.

I rolled over and stretched out, grabbing the
twittering alarm clock and switching it off. I had set it for 6
P.M., and the digits were displaying 6:07. Apparently it had taken
several minutes for it to get my attention, which was a testimony
to how tired I really was. I placed it back on the nightstand,
causing the dilapidated piece of furniture to rock and thump
against the wall. Rolling back, I pushed myself up and sat on the
edge of the bed.

I needed to call Felicity. Not only had I
promised her I would, but I needed to hear her voice again too.
Something else I needed to do was eat. The diet of aspirin and
coffee was starting to take its toll, and I was actually feeling
the need to fill my stomach with something solid. Unfortunately,
that bizarre tickle combined with the phantom memory was causing
the very thought of food to make me nauseous.

After several minutes of holding my head
between my hands, I rocked forward and stood. In an almost
catatonic stupor, I dug through my overnight bag and pulled out my
shaving kit then trudged into the bathroom to make an attempt at
washing away the last eighteen or so hours of my life.

 

 

 

 

Friday, December 2

3:07 P.M.

St. Louis Cemetery #1

New Orleans, Louisiana

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 12:

 

 

O
beying the blinking
signals on the car leading me, I turned right onto Saint Louis
Street, continued along the short jog, and then made a quick left
and almost immediately pulled to the curb. I shifted my vehicle
into park then took a moment to rub my eyes. I was awake, but I
still felt like I could use more sack time, several days worth, in
fact. That was the problem with sleep. Once you had gone without it
for as long as I had, you played hell trying to get caught up. And,
it seemed that the more you got, the more your body wanted. Not
that I had managed to get all that much, but it had apparently been
enough to give my body a taste of what it was like—which wasn’t
working in my favor at the moment.

Last night I had tried to crash again after
speaking to Felicity and then making a quick run to a drive-thru
and tossing down a less than stellar burger. Unfortunately, my
slumber was really no more restful than the afternoon nap that had
preceded it. I couldn’t even blame the nocturnal activities of my
neighbor for that fact either. No matter how hard I tried to
program myself with pleasant thoughts, the repetitious nightmare
wasn’t about to leave me alone. Without fail it interrupted each
cycle before it was even fully started, effectively keeping me from
getting any true rest. I don’t suppose I would have minded that so
much if I had learned something useful in the process. However, I
never actually remembered enough of the details to know if the
repeating terror was important or just my subconscious desperately
trying to rescue itself by casting out the sick memories.

It wasn’t until the sun was already peeking
through the small window of my room that I managed to drift off for
any extended period of time. As it turned out, that was only for a
few hours before I was jarred awake by Doctor Rieth calling my cell
phone. Given the fact that I probably would have slept right
through our planned meeting, I suppose it had been for the
best.

I finally stopped rubbing my eyes then
reached over to the passenger seat and rooted around in my
backpack. After a moment I pulled out a small, point-and-shoot
digital camera. I stuffed it into my jacket pocket then shoved my
hand back into the pack and retrieved a fresh bottle of aspirin I
had picked up earlier this morning.

My headache was bearable for the moment, but
the persistent dull ache had started ramping up a few minutes ago
and had gradually increased the closer we got to our destination.
Since I had a minute I figured it might be a good idea to see if I
could head some of it off at the pass. I had just broken the seal
on the bottle when Doctor Rieth knocked on the window.

She was in her mid-fifties and stood average
height. In truth, she looked much like the photograph on her book
jacket. Shoulder-length hair that occupied a hue somewhere between
blonde and strawberry. Her features were pretty, but her expression
seemed to change little. Except for a quick smile upon our initial
face-to-face meeting a little earlier, she had worn a sober mask
that spoke to her academic ties. Still, her eyes betrayed untold
wisdom that I suspected was born of experience, both good and
bad.

I quickly tossed a few of the aspirin into my
mouth and swallowed them dry, causing a lump to rise in my throat.
Then, I left the bottle in the console and climbed out of my
vehicle.

“Headache?” Doctor Rieth asked across the top
of the car.

“Yeah,” I answered with a nod, choking the
pills the rest of the way down.

“How many aspirin did you take?” she
pressed.

“Probably not enough,” I told her as I hooked
around the front of the rental and joined her on the sidewalk.

She shook her head. “You know, that probably
isn’t very good for you.”

“Yeah. It says that right on the bottle.”

“All right then,” she replied. “I’m not your
mother.”

“Thank you for recognizing that fact, Doctor
Rieth. Most of my friends don’t.”

“I thought we had agreed to dispense with
formality?”

“You’re right,” I said with a nod.
“Thank you,
Velvet
.”

“For what it is worth,” she continued. “I
would suspect their concern is what makes them your friends.”

“Uh-huh. That’s the argument they use
too.”

She gave me a nod then turned and started
walking down the sidewalk. The high walls surrounding the cemetery
were rife with signs of their advanced age. However, it was also
obvious that great care had been taken to maintain them over the
years, and they even appeared to be an eternal work in
progress.

The entrance itself was a gaping mouth, and
its teeth were iron gates that were now propped open. There was
something altogether eerie about the invitation they presented. I
wondered if it was just me, or if Velvet viewed it in the same way.
If she did, her expression didn’t let on.

We covered the relatively short distance
between our vehicles and the entryway in a matter of a half-minute,
both silent as we walked. I made the turn as we reached the gate,
starting through without really slowing down. However, before I
managed to cross the threshold, the good doctor’s arm shot across
my path, barring my way. I stumbled against my momentum then caught
myself and took a step back.

“What?” I asked.

“What are you doing?” she asked in reply.

“Well… I thought I was going into the
cemetery, but I guess I was wrong?”

She shook her head. “You need to give them an
offering first.”

“Oh,” I replied, unsure of what else to
say.

She gave her head another shake then asked,
“Do you have any change with you?”

I shoved my hand in my pocket then dug around
and extracted all of the loose coins I managed to find. Holding
them in my palm, I used my index finger to spread them out and
display them to her. “This enough?”

“It’s really not as much about the amount as
the effort and respect,” she told me as she nodded at my hand then
showed me the similar pile in her own. “Just let them know you have
a gift for them and ask permission to enter.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever done this
before,” I offered, a hint of embarrassment in my voice.

“Have you gone into cemeteries before?” she
asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

She sighed. “Then I suspect you’ve offended a
few ancestors.”

“Great.”

“Don’t worry about that now. You’ll all get
over it,” she told me with a quick shake of her head. “Just do it
right this time.”

“Anything special I’m supposed to say?”

“No, just speak from the heart. Tell them
you’re bringing a gift and ask permission. It’s not hard. It’s like
showing up at a dinner party with a bottle of wine and knocking on
the door.”

“And then I just walk in?”

“You’ll know what to do,” she said and smiled
for the second time since we’d officially met. “Believe me, if they
don’t want you to come in, you’ll know it.”

“Okay,” I replied, unable to keep the
apprehension out of my voice.

I stood next to her before the opening and
tried to gather my thoughts. I had absolutely no idea what I should
say, but after looking through at the closely arranged rows of
tombs, I began to speak.

“Greetings…” I said then hesitated.

I glanced over at Velvet in search of
reassurance but found little, as her eyes were closed and her lips
were moving in a silent greeting to the spirits.

I turned back to the opening and started
again, speaking softly but still aloud, though I’m not sure why.
“Greetings. My name is Rowan, and I’ve come to visit you…for…well,
for some very important reasons. I’ve brought you this token…”

I wasn’t sure quite what else to do at this
point, so I held out my hand to display the coinage.

The day was pleasant with the temperature
resting in the upper fifties. With the sun shining there had been
no reason for anything more than the light jacket I had donned when
I left the motel. However, a slight chill ran up the length of my
spine causing me to shiver involuntarily. It lasted only a moment
and was then followed by soothing warmth that flowed over my entire
body. My anxiety was instantly replaced by comfort.

Just as Velvet had said, I knew in that
moment that I was welcome.

“Put the coins over here,” Velvet told me,
stepping forward and placing her own in a receptacle just past the
gate.

I followed suit, and though she hadn’t
verbally instructed me to do so, I mimicked her overt motion that
made the coins clatter noisily. Still, I glanced over at her with a
raised eyebrow.

She recognized the question in my face and
immediately explained. “You want them to hear it. They need to know
you are actually leaving the gift you promised.”

I simply nodded.

Apparently, she felt at home in the cemetery
as it seemed to be loosening her staunch expression more than a
little.

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