All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (35 page)

Suddenly, the pressure that had once been
firmly positioned on my stomach lifted. I twisted my face upward
and squinted my watering eyes toward her, seeing that she was
arched back once again, literally squealing with ecstasy as she
struggled to catch her own breath.

The cigar had been forgotten and was now
lying on my chest, smoldering as it singed hairs and blistered a
new spot. Even though I suspected I would have longer than I had
the last time, there was no guarantee, and I had to make my bid for
escape now. Things were only going to get worse, and though I had
repeatedly experienced death and torture on an ethereal level, I
was now coming to the conclusion that facing it in this realm was
just as bad, if not worse.

Pressing my thumbs in tightly against my
palms, I gathered my fingers into a point, trying desperately to
almost fold my hands. I continued to pull hard, feeling the leather
cuffs raking my flesh and tearing my skin. I’m not sure if it was
sweat or blood, but my hands were starting to feel slippery. I
didn’t take the time to look. My attentions remained focused on my
possessed wife as she tossed her head back and emitted what sounded
to be a mixture of both a groan and a delighted giggle.

I felt my left hand move slightly, and a
sharp pain instantly radiated up my arm. I grimaced through it and
continued to pull with renewed fervor, and a split second later it
popped free of the cuff. Giving the right a hard tug, it too came
loose, minus several layers of skin across the back and
knuckles.

My hands were free, but my legs were a
different issue. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but at this point
I was committed. Once she settled down she would be ready to start
again, and the fact that my hands were no longer bound would be
plainly obvious.

Knowing I had no choice but to act, I sat up
quickly and pushed Felicity off of me, using her somewhat prone
position against her. A quick glance showed me that the restraint
for my legs took the form of a mummy-like wrap of the bed sheets.
Tearing at them with my raw hands, I rolled in the opposite
direction of my preoccupied wife. In my haste I fell completely out
of the bed, as I fought to disentangle myself from the twist of
fabric, and crashed onto the floor. I heard Felicity and the spirit
moaning in unison. I kicked and tore at the sheet, pulling one leg
free then the other, partially. I scrambled up to my feet, tripping
over the wound fabric as it fought to cling to me, managed to catch
myself before hitting the floor yet again, then aimed for the
bedroom door. As I barreled forward, I cast a quick glance over my
shoulder and saw my wife reaching for me even as her body was being
racked by an ethereal orgasm.

Just as I pulled open the door, the displaced
Southern voice was screaming from her throat. But, even in my
panicked haste, I easily made out the words “No! Stop!”

I didn’t bother to pay them any heed.

With everything that had been happening in
that room, my attentions were obviously occupied. Even so, given
the amount of noise I had made along with the various sounds
emitting from my wife, it was a wonder the dogs hadn’t been trying
to tear down the door. That was something I would have had no
choice but to notice, preoccupied or not. But now, in a sudden
flash of gut-churning retrospect, their presence was something I
realized had been conspicuously absent. Still, due to the
circumstances, it hadn’t even dawned on me that they were nowhere
around until that very moment.

As if I wasn’t biting back enough fear to
begin with, a new one added itself to my list. Even though there
was no doubt in my mind that unless I could bring an end to this
possession, my wife was going to do everything in her power to kill
me, a fresh concern took to rampantly overtaking my mind: What had
she done to the dogs?

I quickly twisted through the opening and
slammed the bedroom door shut behind me, but the lock was on the
other side, and I had no way to barricade it. I knew it wasn’t
going to stop her if she came after me, which I was betting she
would, but I hoped that it would at least slow her down. I
immediately spun and lurched down the hallway as I was plunged into
darkness, my eyes fighting to adjust as I bounced from the walls
and tripped over my own panic-stricken feet. I wasn’t hearing any
movement behind me—yet. However, I was certain it would be coming
at any moment.

For some reason I still couldn’t stop
thinking about the dogs. I suppose it was more comforting to be
concerned for another being’s life instead of my own. Whatever the
motive, it bounced between the forefront of my brain and the pit of
my stomach. I didn’t know to exactly what extent
Miranda
’s cruelty reached, except
with regard to human beings of the male gender. Since killing
animals is sometimes a part of a serial killer profile, I certainly
wasn’t going to put it past her. All I could really do, however,
was hope that I was getting ahead of myself.

As callous as it felt, I fought to put the
fear out of my mind because right now my brain had no business
doing anything other than figuring out a way for both Felicity and
me to survive this nightmare.

My wife’s commandeered voice, still thick
with the Southern accent and now filled with anger, was bellowing
from the other side of the door, demanding that I stop. I wasn’t
about to pay it heed. Of course, at this particular moment that was
just about the only thing I knew for a fact that I was or wasn’t
going to do. My next move was still a mystery, even to me. Her
demand was followed by a shriek and a small crash, as if something
had just been launched at the wall. I just kept moving.

The fresh blisters on my chest were still
burning, sending hot pains inward through my flesh to join every
other ache that was plaguing me. My hands were stinging and had
grown sticky with the blood I already knew was seeping from the
abrasions. The muscles in my arms throbbed from being stretched and
overworked during my escape from the bonds. Tying it all together
was the almost blinding pain in my skull. In the back of my mind, I
knew grounding and centering would probably go a long way toward at
least dulling that last angry stab, but I wasn’t exactly in a
position for such an exercise.

Exiting the hallway, I immediately slammed
into the corner of a chair, catching it with my hip and yelping as
I careened from it before stumbling out into the living room. Going
from the lighted bedroom straight to the darkness of the rest of
the house was playing havoc with my sight, not to mention that my
eyes were still blurred and watering from the torture I’d just
endured. If that weren’t enough, my glasses were still on the
nightstand.

I suddenly noticed that the atmosphere in the
house actually felt warm against my skin. Since it was still dark,
I knew the offset on the thermostat shouldn’t have caused the
temperature to rise just yet. It was then I realized that the
warmth was relative. The bedroom had simply been colder than the
rest of the house as a side effect of its unwanted ethereal
occupant.

I aimed myself to the right, heading through
the dining room and crashing against the table then stubbing my toe
on a chair leg. I knew it wasn’t only the darkness causing me to
keep falling over myself; it was the rampant fear as well.

Quite the opposite of what Helen Storm
had assured me when I had relayed my suspicions about my dream, I
truly was afraid of my wife. Not just
of
her, but
for
her as well. Of all the horrors I had so far experienced in
my life, and they were countless, this combination was the worst of
them. So much so, that even my body had stopped responding to the
signals from my brain.

I tried to wipe my eyes with the back of my
hand and managed only to foul them somewhat with the blood. I
pressed forward, trying to control my wild frenzy and blinking hard
as my eyes continued adjusting to the dimness. There was a dull
light coming from the kitchen, so I headed for it, still totally
unsure what my plan of action was to be other than putting distance
between the two of us.

For a split second, I thought of simply
bolting out the back door, climbing into my truck and leaving. That
would certainly get me out of harm’s way. Of course, it would also
mean turning around and getting my keys, but that wasn’t the worst
of it. If I left, it would mean Felicity would then be alone,
except for the
Lwa
inhabiting
her. I knew from experience that wasn’t a stellar idea. The last
time it had happened, she disappeared, and it had taken several
hours to find her and almost cost a man his life. In reality, even
finding her then had only been accomplished by the grace of pure
luck.

My only option was to stay and face her down.
Even with what she had done to me, I was still stronger than her
and had both a height and weight advantage. Of course, the last
time I had taken that particular path, she had fought back hard,
and as much as I hated to admit it, she won. The simple fact that
gave her the upper hand was that she had been perfectly willing to
inflict damage. I, however, was not.

It was no different this time around. It
didn’t matter what she had done to me so far, or would do in the
coming minutes, because I knew it really wasn’t her. I simply
couldn’t bring myself to harm the vessel I knew as my wife, no
matter what the consequences for myself.

I half fell through the doorway of the
kitchen, grabbing the frame and swinging myself around behind the
wall where I finally stopped and waited. Listening intently, at
first all I could pick up was my own pounding heart and heaving
breaths. I reached for my chest and flinched as my fingers brushed
the blistering burns. Then I continued to hug the wall as I
strained to hear anything more than the sounds made by my own
body.

I furtively glanced up toward the microwave
and saw the large, luminous numbers on the digital clock. They read
3:47. Turning my head back toward the doorway, I pressed myself
against the cool wall and watched the darkness as my breathing
began to slow and my heart rate shifted down from overdrive and
into the lower gears of panic. I kept listening, but still, I heard
nothing.

My fear was still fully intact, but it
had become a manageable burden as I concentrated on picking up
auditory cues. However, as I stood there, a new hollowness filled
the pit of my stomach. My revolver was loaded and resting in my
sock drawer back in the bedroom. Felicity knew right where it was,
and that meant so did the
Lwa
.
While I suspected she wasn’t through torturing me for her pleasure
just yet, she had also demonstrated a definite instinct for
survival. I could easily conceive of a bullet shattering my future,
and Felicity’s as well.

Still hearing nothing out of the ordinary, my
mind started to race. If she actually had the gun in hand, she was
liable to take one of two different paths. Either she would come
around the corner at any moment and splatter me across the front of
the refrigerator, or she would simply sit and wait for me to come
to her. I suppose it all depended on whether or not she was afraid
I would actually leave.

Either way, simply sitting here waiting
wasn’t accomplishing anything.

“Think, Rowan, think!” I admonished myself in
a low whisper.

Unfortunately, ridding oneself of malevolent
spirits wasn’t as easy as it was made to look on television. Three
drop-dead gorgeous sisters, clad in the latest fashions, whipping
up a “potion” from ingredients they had lying about the attic, then
vanquishing evil without mussing their hair or smudging their
makeup was undeniably a spectacular visual. But, it was also flat
out Hollywood fiction.

I knew there wasn’t much of anything in
this kitchen that was going to help me in that respect. Or, was
there? I quickly flashed on the last time Felicity had been
inhabited by the
Lwa
when we
were in her Jeep. My remedy that time had a stolen bit of
spellwork, and I had attempted to force her to drink salt water.
The basis was sound. Salt would purify and protect. The water as
well, while also acting as a rapid delivery system. I hadn’t
succeeded that time, so I had no idea if it would really work.
However, I couldn’t help but remember how agitated the
Lwa
had been when she became aware of
what I was trying to do, so apparently I had been on to
something.

I looked over at the clock on the microwave
and saw that it read 3:54. Seven minutes had passed while I stood
there pondering a solution, and still nothing had happened.
Shooting another glance at the dark doorway, I inched away from the
wall and padded slowly toward the sink, keeping a nervous eye
focused over my shoulder. It wasn’t until I was actually up against
the counter and reaching for the cabinet that I took my gaze away,
and then it was only for a second.

Rummaging about, quietly as I could manage, I
wrapped my hand around a sport bottle bearing the logo of a local
computer repair company. A promotional giveaway I had picked up at
a convention some time ago. Unscrewing the top while shooting
random glances toward the doorway, I began to fill the container
with water.

The bottle had reached almost half full when
I cast my eyes to the end of the room yet again. Finding it clear,
I looked back to the faucet. A heartbeat later the sound of a soft
thump hit my ears, coming from directly behind me. My heart
instantly fluttered, jumping into my throat and staying there as my
knees went weak, and the pit of my stomach tightened into a knot.
My grip automatically went limp, sending the bottle to clunk down
into the sink and begin spilling its contents. Whether out of
reflex, fear, or my knees just stopped working, I cannot say, but I
fell to the floor and stayed there.