M Sellars - The End Of Desire

“That’s not what I wanted to hear, Ben,” I replied.

“Yeah, I figured ya’ wouldn’t be too excited ‘bout that.”

“Why do I get the feeling the ‘up until now’ part has something to do with this call?”

“Because you’re psychic?”

“No, actually I’m not,” I replied.

“Yeah, I know. Look, Kemosabe, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

My voice went flat as I spoke, “Important how? Because I seem to recall telling you I was done, Ben. More than once.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t think ya’ meant it,” he replied.

“Yes, Ben, I did, and I’m not going to bother giving you all the reasons again.”

“Yeah, well ya’ need ta’ talk ta’ me about this anyway.”

“No, I don’t. I’m staying out of this.”

“I’m afraid you can’t. That’s why I called.”

“What do you mean I can’t? Listen closely, this is me hanging up.”

I had the phone halfway to the cradle when I heard him bark, “Don’t be an asshole, White Man! I really need ya’ ta’ listen to this.”

Ignoring the insult, I put the phone back to my ear and demanded, “Why, Ben? Why do you want to drag me back into this?”

“Did I say I wanted ta’ do it?”

“Well, why else would you be making this call?”

“You ready ta’ shut up and listen?”

“Fine. What about her?”

“She killed again…”

“I can’t say that surprises me,” I told him.

“Yeah, didn’t figure it would,” he replied. “But, she added a new twist you need ta’ know about.”

“What’s that?”

“She carved your name in the victim’s chest. Accordin’ to the M.E., it appears she did it before she killed ‘im.”

“My name?”

“Yeah, Row. Your name… And, there’s more.”

“What?”

“The victim’s head was covered with a black cloth bag that was filled with dirt and some kinda dried leaves.”

Before Ben could continue I interjected, “And, the torture was only cursory, nothing to the extent of her other victims. But, when she killed him she did it by bashing his head in with a hammer or something similar.”

Ben fell silent at the other end, but I could hear him breathing. I had thought my ability to surprise him had run out long ago, but in this case it seemed to be operating full force.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I asked.

“Think maybe that’s why ya’ got the headache?”

I didn’t answer.

“Okay, so what’s it mean, Row?” he asked. “It some kinda Voodoo curse?”

“Hoodoo actually, but yeah. It’s a cross,” I explained, recalling the particulars of the magickal working from my recent research. “It’s old folk magick. She’s seeking revenge against me for something. Everything that happened in the graveyard maybe. I don’t know. Normally the person hexing would use a black china figurine instead of a living human, but we already know she doesn’t operate within normal parameters.”

“That fits. Victim was an African-American male,” he offered.

“I think you’ll find the leaves are from a blackberry bush. The dirt most likely came from the graveyard. She probably has bags of it sitting around.”

“She tryin’ ta’ kill ya’ with Voodoo?”

“More or less,” I replied. “When did this happen?”

“Last night. Medical examiner estimated the time of death at sometime Wednesday evening. The records at the motel where he was found pretty much back that up, although no one saw Annalise, as usual.”

I grunted, “Middle of the week. I guess that would make sense.”

“What?”

“Nothing really. I’d have to look up the actual cross to be certain, but I remember something about executing it over a seven-day period, starting on a Saturday. I was just speculating that she might have chosen Wednesday since it’s basically in the middle. I’m guessing she didn’t want to sit in one place for seven days taking a hammer to a decomposing corpse.”

“Okay, so tell me what ya’ make of this part then. She amputated both his hands. Both of ‘em were still at the scene… Well, kinda… They were missin’ all the bones.”

“Hold on a sec…” I told him.

I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder then tossed the icepack over onto the coffee table. It wasn’t doing much good; besides, my brain was now far too occupied to focus on the pain. I hated to admit it but Ben was correct. I was never going to be able to distance myself from this sort of thing, no matter how much I tried.

Stretching the cord out, I stepped over and scanned the next set of shelves, systematically moving stacks of books which were two and three deep until I found the volume I was searching for.

“You still there?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, hang on,” I told him as I flipped to the index of the selected text, noted the page number for crossings, and began thumbing back through. “Okay…here it is. My guess would be she’s going to use them for some more gris-gris. There’s a crossing here that calls for drying chicken bones, crushing them up, then using them as a component for a curse.”

“I’ll let Baton Rouge PD know that,” Ben replied.

“So, is that where the body was found?” I asked.

“Yeah… Motel just like all the others, ‘cept it was room three instead of seven.”

“Sacred space.”

“Come again?”

“Three would be a number equated with protection. She wanted a safe place to do the cross.”

“Stickler for detail, ain’t she?”

“It’s all part of working magick.”

“‘Kay, we’re back ta’ that. So if she’s tryin’ ta’ kill ya’ with magic, what happens when it doesn’t work? I mean, it ain’t gonna, is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean you don’t know what she’ll do if it doesn’t work, right?”

“I mean I don’t know on either one, Ben.”

Monday, December 12

10:02 P.M.

The Whine Cellar Bondage Club

Private Playroom C

Bridge, Illinois

Annalise reached over her head and grasped the suspension cuffs, which were securely attached to an overhead beam, then gave them a tug. You never knew what the state of the equipment might be in some of these clubs. Not all of them were maintained as well as they should be. But, this place actually appeared to be properly cared for. In some ways it even reminded her of her own.

She gave the hardware a second tug, and the shiny chains rattled against one another. The metallic clinking noise made her heart race with anticipation.

Steadying herself, she looked down at the mostly nude man lying spread-eagle in front of her. She had only just finished locking him into the floor-mounted restraints moments before. He stared back up at her, adoration in his eyes.

“Did I say you could look at me?” she demanded.

“No, Mistress,” the man whispered.

His display of subservience ignited the tickle deep inside. This was the first time she had felt the desire in several days, and to her relief, it was actually pleasurable. Not like it had been before, when she was being punished. Still, the sensation gave her a moment’s pause. Those days of torment had been almost more than she could bear, and the thought of facing it again frightened her more than anything.

But, this time it would be different. Miranda promised release. She had promised the reward.

Using the suspension cuffs to maintain her balance, Annalise stepped up onto the man’s bare chest and twisted slowly, rocking back on her stiletto heels and digging them into his flesh. He groaned as she swayed back and forth, walking in place on his prone body.

And, the tickle continued to flare. She knew the itch wouldn’t be very far behind.