[ Paris; February 21, 2004 ]

TERRY

The light is always too fucking bright inside Charles de Gaulle International Airport. I've spent way too much time in airports in general so I notice things like this. The light from those huge overhead windows have this way of glaring right into the pale, glossy tiles on the floor and they bounce right up into your eyes.

It's like you just cannot hide inside shadows here.

I know she's waiting for me. Ann has never been late to pick me up at any airport. It's this thing about her that I count on. She hates how many airports I fly into with no one there to greet me so it's like an obsession to make sure she is on time when she's meeting my flight. She is always so eager to see me and it never fails to give me a charge.

Jesus, I wish I were anywhere else but here. Fuck, I am so glad to be here.

I'd give anything to be anyone else this afternoon. You name it, I feel it. Pain. Guilt. Confusion. Fear. Longing.

I am looking for anything but sympathy.

Then I see her. Waiting for me. Not realizing I can see her. Her eyes on the floor and that curious thing she does with her mouth when she's anxious. Look at her. This is the moment the enormity of what I've fucked up is dumped on me. Every bit of guilt I've been feeling in the wake of that insane time with Uma the day before is crashing in on me.

Ann's anxious and uncertain ... waiting on me ... hoping I'm really coming to be with her only because I can't stay away from her. Not having a clue that I need to hide inside her while I figure out how this happened.

I take in her details. Long hair done up in one of those clips and strands have wiggled their way loose. I always want to undo the clip and let her hair fall down to frame her face. It sets off her eyes when she wears it like this. I love her eyes but in this moment, I am grateful I am not looking in them. She looks delicate to me. She's shifting from foot to foot and watching the toes of her shoes. She does that when she's resigned to waiting. It's something I find endearing about her.

She's wearing that suit she knows I like. The one with the skirt so short that I can never picture any man she's interviewing able to concentrate on anything but her legs and what's on the other side of the fabric. Bet she's not wearing underwear. She's dressed this way for me.

I wish I could wipe my mind clean.

My time with Uma is too recent. I can still taste her. My fingers still feel her. My nose still holds the scent of her essence. I still cannot make sense of what happened. I cannot pass it off as unimportant. There is still a lingering thrill and a remembrance of my want of her.

[ Beautiful woman. Tall, slender as a wand, dressed in one of those severe black suits that makes a woman look like something out of your wilder fantasies. Hair up. Imagine pulling it down. Ripping the jacket open, hitching up her skirt. ]

What kind of man am I?

A beautiful, loving wife waiting for me and I'm reliving being in bed with another woman? But that woman ... that other woman ... it's impossible to have happened, but it did.

[ London; Fourteen Hours Earlier; February 20, 2004 ]

TERRY

Night.

Darkness all around me that I need just then. Darkness inside me that is only bearable because of the alcohol swimming in my bloodstream.

I reach out for her. I need her to comfort me and I know I'm such a bastard. Reaching out to the one person who can comfort me and it's her I've hurt, which is why I need comforting. Because I've done the one thing that I know would destroy her.

"Sweet baby. So glad to hear your voice." It's all I can choke out when she answers her phone.

She's got this way of saying my name that sounds like she's delighted just to hear my voice. It's how she says it this night. "Terry! I'm so glad you called. Hey, you sound like you're a few sheets to the wind. Called to talk dirty to me? Did you get my message?"

Two or more sheets to some wind that can't blow hard enough. I swallow down a sip of scotch. "Message? No."

"I tried to call you this afternoon but your cell was off. I had a strange day ... frustrating morning, trying to get that interview I need, which I finally got finagled for Saturday of all days. I'm still going to try to get in to see you though ... plan on Sunday to be safe ... Terry?"

"I'm here."

"You okay? I mean, you're not angry with me ... I know I am supposed to see you Saturday but you know I have to get this interview ... I just ... I know you're not happy when this kind of thing happens and I ... please don't be mad at me, okay?"

"No worries, love. Just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice." Pause while I sip and understand what she's said. It's a good thing ... maybe by Sunday, I'll be able to look her in the eye. "I understand about the job. Got some things I can get done in the meanwhile."

"That's sweet of you, Terry." Saying it like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. It makes me sigh as she rambles on because I know she's trying to talk past her sense of nerves at me being so quiet. "It really is going to be such a great story. Maybe the best one I've done in so long. Hey! Guess what? The other reason I tried to call you ... guess who I ran into today? Had lunch with him. Max ... can you believe it? It seems like I'm running into him all the time lately and ..."

"Max?" I cannot help the sharp crack of my voice as I say his name. I sit up, bolt upright, instantly on point. Why was he in Paris? Why was he with my wife? What the fuck is wrong with me? Is this guilt or suspicion? Guilt. Gotta be. I'm fucking his wife and he's having an innocent lunch with mine. Or was it innocent? The coincidence unsettles me. I feel my gut twist. "You had lunch? With Max?"

"Yeah. Actually, he was with some colleagues when I ran into him at the Ministry... you know, those security guys are such a bunch of stiffs ... anyway, they were over for some meetings today and some function tonight. So I joined them for lunch. I was bored silly but I managed to not show it since I didn't want your brother to look bad." She gives me this laugh. That laugh ... I love her laugh. It makes me hurt worse.

"I miss you, Annie."

She takes a long time to answer. "I miss you, too, bebe. I truly do. I wish I was with you."

"How about I come in to see you this time? I'll come in tomorrow, early afternoon ... after your interview. How's that sound? Let me take you someplace fancy for dinner and spoil you a bit. Feels like I haven't done that in a while, love."

"Wow. That would be incredible. And Paris is so much more romantic than London. I'd like that, Terry." And I feel like I can hear her smile. Her voice is lighter. "Should I track down Max and see if he's still in town? Invite him to join us for lunch? You know, do the nice family thing like we're supposed to? Whatcha think? Or am I getting sappy in my old age?"

"No. Don't call Max." It's out of me instantly; I'm saying it before I even realize what I've said. Christ. My gut twists at the thought of seeing Max at this point.

"Um. Okay. Did I say something wrong? Have I upset you?"

"No, baby, I'm not upset ... I just ... I don't like the idea of you seeing him so much lately. It's not a good idea. Trouble."

"Oh, give me a break, Terry. If I was hot for Max, would I even bother to tell you about seeing him? You act like you honestly think something could happen. When did you stop trusting me? Or is this about your own insecurity ... it's pretty ridiculous either way, isn't it?"

I don't want this to turn into a fight. I switch tactics to find something that will work. Drop my voice because I know she shivers when I do this. I am such a bastard. "I'm not insecure, love. I'm in need. In need of my wife. And I don't want that bastard interfering with my time with you. I'm coming in tomorrow. Meet me at the airport. I'll stay through Monday. We'll do Paris the way only we can. You want romance with me? You got it. Coming up. Be ready for me."

[ February 21, 2004 ]

TERRY

She's ready for me, isn't she? Just like I asked her to be. She is in my arms the moment I'm in the concourse and I've got her wrapped up in me. She smells fresh and clean. I feel dirty.

As we're walking out of the airport, heading for the garage, I see other men checking her out. She never notices this when she's with me. She's always surprised when I do.

But what's not to check out? A good looking woman, smiling, confident, striding along in heels, wearing a short skirt showing off killer legs, unable to hide the movement of her curves under a suit jacket that seems severe but contrasts so nicely with the softness of her breasts.

Inside the garage, I toss my carryon inside the back seat and open the door for her. But she's pressing in on me ... backing me up against the car. Her hands are on me. Her body's concentrating on me. She's looking at me with such expectation in her eyes. Such want. Such need.

I try. I do. I touch her and I kiss her. But the sweet taste of her mouth makes me feel like heaving. If she knew what I'd done with Uma, she'd die before she'd let me touch her again. I need to kiss her until she makes me forget what I've done.

Should I tell her? Should I be honest and come clean? Should I destroy her life?

[ Ripping the jacket open, hitching up the skirt, my fingers slip beneath the thin scrap of silk covering her sex as she drags on my tie and shirt buttons. Our lips feast hungrily off each other... ]

Of course I won't tell her. I love her too much to do that to her.

I know what she needs from me. I have every desire to give it to her. But I have more desire not to. Like I'm punishing myself. I ease her off my body with a whispered entreaty for mercy. That grin she gives me. She trusts me. I spend too long studying her eyes, hair, face, lips, hands.

"Anticipation?" she whispers to me. "You've come all this way to me and now you want to ..."

"...be the one in charge," I finish for her. I tuck her in the rental car and then take the wheel. We barely talk on the way in to the hotel. She's staying at the Hotel du Louvre again because I'd recommended it to her before her first business trip here.

I barely notice the things about this hotel I know she loves ... the 19th century décor that impresses her for its unfamiliarity. But force of habit makes me study again the security of this place ... it's why I like her staying here; a woman traveling alone needs to put her safety first and sometimes I think Ann forgets that in her rush to just find a place that's convenient to her work.

Up in the room, I know she's expecting me to hold her. Love her. Make love to her. I don't. I can't. Not yet. Instead, I find myself irritated with her good humor. Can't she tell? Can't she just see the guilt written all over me? What the fuck's wrong with her?

But as soon as I feel that undefined anger, I realize it's not her that I'm mad at. But I realize it a moment too late and one sharp word too many has got her keeping a discreet distance from me. She's in the bedroom, unpacking my carryon. I make a drink, carry the glass in, lounge on the bed, watch her.

Her eyes finally study me. I let her. Look right in her eyes. She wants to tell me something. I think I know what it is.

"That what you wore for your interview today?" I ask her abruptly, choosing to put distance between us for the moment. She looks down at her skirt, up into my eyes, sees disapproval. I see her blanch. "How about wearing something feminine and classy for me tonight? A few frills. No business look. Got a great place in mind to take you. Some dancing after dinner. How's that sound?"

She swallows hard, starts to say something. Thinks better of it. Just nods at me. It's like the lights have gone off behind her eyes. When she grabs a dress from the closet and goes in the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, I curse at myself. I'm punishing her because I'm feeling guilty? I have to do better.

At the restaurant, I sit studying her in candlelight. I watch how she feels, how uncertain she is, how she knows something is wrong but how she figures it's her that's caused a problem. She's gone virtually mute in reaction.

It isn't until we're walking through Trianon Park that I finally begin to get my act together. I kiss her in moonlight and whisper to her of my love. I apologize for my harsh words, blame it on stress from work. I feel her try hard to relax in my arms. Make a joke and get a fake smile out of her.

Inside the hotel room, she makes us each a nightcap and then she's on her knees before me, her hands touching me. It's all she can think to do to connect with me - to try to love me with her body.

[ She slithers down my body and frantically pulls at my belt and button, ripping down my zip. My head falls back against the door and her slim cool hands fumble with my cock. It is hard and wedged awkwardly inside my shorts, she yanks it roughly out, I grimace. She covers me with her lips and sucks down hard. My eyes shoot open as I watch her, groaning at the crude action. ]

I try. I do. I've got her in my arms and I'm walking her backwards into the bedroom. I'm kissing her and trying like shit to get an erection that I know isn't coming tonight. By the time I'm rubbing myself on her body as she wriggles under me on the bed, she realizes it's not happening with me.

"Not tonight, baby," I whisper to her just as I ease out of a kiss. "Not gonna happen. Too much booze, not enough sleep. Rain check, hey?"

My hand is stroking her cheek and I am looking right in her eyes, lying to her as only I can.

Small smile from her and she reaches her arms around me to hug me. "Of course, bebe. I know it's been a really stressful week. I don't mean to be so unfeeling. Besides, if all you do is hold me tonight, that's enough. Honestly. I'm just so glad you're here with me, Terry. You have no idea how very much I've been missing you."

"You sure?"

"Please. Just hold me. It's what I really need from you."

But it's her holding me as she drops off to sleep. I lay still for as long as I can. I am so restless. I ease her arms from around me and she shifts to cuddle up to my chest. Her face is tucked in the curve of my neck, her arm is soft and intimate across my chest. I cannot settle down. I am staring at the ceiling and seeing this other woman. I wonder how she's doing tonight? Is she even okay? What happened ... it was like we were on drugs or something. It fucking worries me.

[ She lies writhing beneath me as I devour her. Her fingers grasp the fabric of the bedcover trying to stem the rising passion. She screams, sobs and comes...I pull sharply on her ankle; she feels like a limp rag doll. I thrust roughly, pulling her leg over my waist to get deeper. She groans crudely. "Fuck...Jesusss Christ...fuck..." ]

Ann mumbles something in her sleep and I find myself hugging her into me, kissing at her temple, wanting to protect her from what appears to be a bad dream.

Bad dream.

That's what it almost feels like.

If Annie ever found out ... I close my eyes and shiver at that thought. I know she's capable of things that no one in my family knows about. It's still in there, inside her ... that instinct to damage herself when she's been hurt bad enough. Turning her rage inwards even while she's striking out.

She won't find out. It happened. It's over. Never again. Whatever it was that happened, it's over.

I roll her to her side and ease out of bed, covering her up, tucking her in. Watching her as she sleeps, smoothing the hair from her face. She's everything to me. I came here to hide in her but she knows something's wrong.

For a long time, I stand on the balcony and look over at the Louvre. I plan this perfect day with Ann. We'll take in the sights, we'll play tourist. She is fun to be with like that. Always willing to try something out. Never tires of listening to my stories about things I've done or silly tidbits I've tucked somewhere away in my brain about places we go to. Always laughing at my jokes. We'll hold hands and walk the Left Bank. I'll take her to some smoky jazz joint. We'll kiss like young lovers as we linger over a bottle of wine in a bistro. I'll make her shop and buy something special just for her. I'll remind her how much I love her.

A flash in my brain ... something I've tried to not think on. I get this picture ... unbidden, unwanted ... that report I read years ago.

_________________________________

NOPD Supplementary Offense Report

Offense Number A23158

Reporting Officer: Detective Billy Speed

Jurisdiction: Parish of Orleans

Narrative: Responding officer (NOPD Officer Norville Robinson, badge number 92046, 5th District) was stationed outside New Orleans City Council Chambers on standing security detail for monthly Council meeting. At approximately 8:10 p.m., he witnessed female subject and male subject engaged in verbal altercation in north perimeter parking lot, approximately 50 yards from Poydras St. main exit of City Hall Annex. Before officer could intervene, he witnessed the female subject strike the male subject about the face and shoulders. Female subject was detained after being subdued and placed in restraints. Male subject transported to Charity Hospital. Photos of injuries sustained are attached; the lacerations were directly pursuant to the female subject's assault, as witnessed by the responding officer. Examining physician ascertained that the lacerations were caused by the female subject's ring. Male subject insisted that female subject, his estranged spouse, be arrested. District Attorney Wlanski advised charges would be spousal abuse and third-degree assault. Female subject was released to custody of her attorney; she has given no statement on advice of attorney. Subsequent investigation by this officer, at the instigation of District Attorney's office due to special circumstance of the arrest, reveals the two subjects are currently engaged in a contested divorce proceeding in Civil Court (case filing is attached; note the cross allegations). Male subject has been arrested twice previously and case is pending on spousal abuse and first-degree assault with intent to cause great bodily harm against female subject; this incident took place six months ago and two weeks prior to the filing of the divorce suit.

_________________________________

My cigarette glowed in the night as I thought about her version of the 'why' behind her arrest and how my heart still broke for her. I would have given a lot to have been there to have saved her from herself.

Six months before this night of her arrest, she found out her husband was cheating on her. Phone call from the other woman's husband. The pain she'd felt. The baby she'd been carrying for less than two months ... sacrificed in a moment of sheer and utter rage after her ex beat her when she confronted him over his cheating. And then the guilt she'd felt over what she'd done had been more than she could bear. No one she could reach out for. Alone. Suffering.

Taking steps to be sure she could never get pregnant again. Why that step? Funny what guilt can do to someone like her. She felt unworthy. She felt like damaged goods. She didn't think she'd ever feel any differently. She made the decision and did it without hesitation. She never hesitates in times like that.

I'd known about a lot of what her ex, Cal, had done to her and what she'd done in the wake of it. Just had never known the 'why'. What I knew came from that background check I did on her after meeting her in Panama. In addition to the police report, I had read the divorce filings that had been made part of the arrest record. If not for her getting arrested, the divorce would have stayed a private mess. It had been the first time she'd seen Cal since filing for divorce. He'd confronted her in that parking lot and threatened to tell her parents about the abortion if she didn't drop the divorce petition ... she lost it. She slapped him hard; her ring cut a nasty gash in his cheek. A cop saw it.

Cal hadn't been satisfied with her arrest; he was still after revenge. So he told her parents about her 'sin.' She had only said one thing about them to me, her voice quiet but firm: "They were devout Catholics." You know the drill? I hadn't. They never saw her again. Both died still angry with her.

But the arrest ... she paid too big a price for slapping her bastard of a husband. Imagine it? A woman arrested for spousal abuse? You think that's not juicy news? Man-bites-dog type news? And here she's a reporter having her arrest reported in her own newspaper. Guilty or innocent ... didn't matter.

It was like this dark cloud hanging over her. She just couldn't shake the scandal. Her friends rallied around her but she'd lost so much by then ... her family, her reputation. She tried so hard to regain her footing. Took three months off work, got counseling, came out of that with determination to never let anyone get her in a spot like that again. But when she got back to work, she had a tougher time than could be imagined. It's why they sent her away. Her editor thought he was doing her a favor pulling her off that beat. Thought it'd be a fresh start. But it wasn't fresh enough. They figured if she was out of sight, she'd fade from memory. Then they could bring her back, put her somewhere new, let her start over. She was too good at what she did for them to want to toss her away.

I have spent all this time loving her so much and wanting nothing more than to protect her from anything bad ever entering her life again. She has spent just as much effort trying to make me believe she will never be that weak again. She is one of the strongest people I know. She rebuilt her life and carried her own guilt. She took the risk to love again.

In my mind, I see her seeing me watching Lily at the gathering. I remember Annie's bruised eyes when she thought I was standing there longing for a child she couldn't give me and lusting over Uma in part because she could. Truth is, I like children. If things were different, if Annie could have children, there's no doubt in my mind that I'd be a father again. But that's not that big a deal to me. It's not meant to be and I'm fine with that but I've told her before, if she wanted children ... really wanted them ... I'd agree to adoption. But it would be for her, not for me. Still ... her sensitivity on this issue is something I try to respect.

All of this wraps itself in my psyche and I'm out of cigarettes.

Inside our suite, I close the door to the bedroom and power up the laptop. If I can't sleep, I might as well get some work done. Next thing I know, I've got email downloading and the one marked "Report on I. Aubrey" catches my eye instantly. And inside it, I find the one thing that can take my mind out of where it's been. In it, I find a mission that I will pursue with single-minded focus and the desire for revenge.

"There you are," I whisper to the screen. This is a more definitive background check on our Isobel. I remember telling Max that the first one had been too clean. It had taken weeks of trailing her to see who she might have met with and also getting her fingerprints out to every law enforcement agency we could, but finally, we had made headway. She'd buried her true identity behind so many aliases and alibis ... but I never had a doubt but that we'd find her.

She is good, I'd give her that. Looking at the list of marks and scams makes me give this low growl. Beyond the usual short game cons, it looks like she has a specialty. She's left a string of conned 'husbands' at posh resorts on the continent and across the pond.

From the report, I follow the logical next step. Begin searching for the 'husbands' and seeing what their stories are. Who among them is reachable to interview? Who among them seems most likely to give me the kind of evidence I need to present to the others? Whatever it is that Isobel is up to, I have to proceed carefully.

No way do I want Jack realizing what I am doing until the evidence against her is incontrovertible.

Look at my watch. Do a quick mental calculation of the time difference. Call Dino. His voice is off when he finally answers his cell but I tell him about what I am finding out about Isobel anyway.

"So she's a scam artist and after his bucks," Dino says. "Why you telling me anyway? Turn it over to Max and let your brothers figure out what to do."

"There's something else, Dino."

"Yeah? Or you just wanting there to be?"

Was I? Was this just me clutching at straws so I could find an excuse for feeling things for another woman when I was in love with my wife? "Listen. Several of these reports that Interpol gave us make mention of ... occult activities. People saying she's a witch. Casting spells. Like she's some kind of modern-day gypsy using black magic and potions and ..."

"Christ, Terry. Listen to yourself. It's supposed to be Annie putting shit down to voodoo, isn't it? When did you start believing in witches and shit? You think this woman is ..." He pauses in mid-thought. The hackles on the back of my neck stand up and I am suddenly edgy. His voice is hushed now. "Fuck."

"What's happened?"

"This is crazy, Terry. Things like this do not happen."

"Yeah? Imagine anyone would believe how we came into this fucking world? Crazy, hey? So go on and tell me what new crazy thing has happened."

"It's Andy."

Now my heart gives a lurch. "Andy? Is he all right?"

"Yeah. I think so. Don't know. He's been having some ... you know he was sick right after the wedding?"

I don't know. I realize that I don't know much about what's going on with Dino and Heather lately. I haven't really been in contact like I normally am. Course, the last time I talked to Dino, there was tension between him and Heather. When he'd told me about it, I'd not been too impressed with his 'solution' to the frustration he was feeling. "What's that got to do with Isobel?"

"Maybe nothing. So much has been fucked up since the wedding ... maybe I'm just looking for someone or something to blame."

"Tell me what's going on. Is it just Andy?"

"No. It's ... other things." He gives me this long sigh and I can see him rubbing his face and know he's about to pour himself a drink. I smile when I hear the sound of ice hitting inside his tumbler. "But let me just tell you about Andy. He's been having nightmares. At first, they weren't much. We figured it was the fever. But about a week ago ... really freaked Heather out, Terry."

So he tells me ... Andy screaming in the middle of a nightmare ... strange words he kept repeating ... sweating ... when he woke up, he was so scared. He told them he'd seen Isobel ... flames shooting from her hair and eyes. That she'd put a curse on the flowers that Lily had carried in the wedding. That he believed she was the devil and that she was coming to get him.

"If you'd seen him, Terry," Dino says, his voice tough with concern. "Those words he was saying while he was asleep? Heather said he's said them a few more times when he's been playing. She asked him about them. He says Isobel said them. That she has magic powers and that he is afraid of 'the bad lady.' But, I don't know, Terry. Am I making too much of this? Don't all kids have bad dreams and make up things about monsters?"

"Not Andy." I say it so firm because I know it's the truth. "That kid's not afraid of anything, Dino."

He sighs down the phone. I can picture him, his hand rucking up his hair, his eyes unfocused, his tie loose. That look in his eyes ... I wish I wasn't familiar with it. "Fearless, eh? Sure. Of everything but Isobel."

"Look, mate, next time he says the words, write them down. Let's get to the bottom of it. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just a kid's imagination."

"I'll do that. But, I swear, Terry. I think it's Latin. It's just got the ring of something I've heard when I was a kid in Catholic school. Don't ask me why ... but it just doesn't sound like it's Spanish or French ... Hey, maybe we can just show it to your buddy Max?"

"No. Not Max." I say it quick, too quick. And much too tough. I soften my voice so he doesn't get that there is a reason, a damned good reason, why I do not want to involve Max. "Look, Max is out of the country on some assignment where he can't be reached. We both know how that goes. No, fax me a copy and I'll take it to someone at university who can translate it for us."

"Fuck that shit, Terry. If Max is out of pocket, take it to his wife. Remember? She was an historian, specializing in Max's period. Surely she can read this shit? Hell, even their baby speaks it." Then he gives me that snide voice that always makes me want to punch him, except he's usually got me by the short hairs when he's like this. "Besides, you and Uma are such good friends. Let's keep this within the family as much as we can."

Uma. My heart does this flip. But I also know this ... there's maybe nobody I'd trust with something like this like I'd trust Uma. "Right. Good idea. I'll send it over to her as soon as you send me something. Now, what else? I mean, if it's only Andy that's having ... problems ... I don't know. This gives me a strange feeling. Are we really considering that some modern-day witch has placed a curse on us? If she did, shouldn't some other things be ... happening to the rest of us?"

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, it's like time stands still for me.

A curse. Black magic. What if? What if she did? What if it's possible that some malevolent force is wreaking havoc on our family? Could that explain what happened between me and Uma? I flash on how I'd reacted to Uma at the Gathering. It had felt genuine ... but I'd felt in control of it until it had felt impossible to ignore when we'd been dancing after the wedding ceremony ... like it was the pull but then some. Remembered seeing the way Max and Annie had looked at each other in that dance, like they were fighting something they'd just noticed about the other. And the way things just in general felt heightened after the ceremony, like the sexual tension was worse than it had ever been in any other Gathering. The way things felt confusing. That fight in the loo between Bud and Lachlan. The fight between Bud and Colin that I'd heard happened after we left. With a start, I remembered seeing these certain looks pass between Heather and Lach.

But more than anything, just the other day when I'd been with Uma ... the way I'd been feeling sexually out of control that day. Actually? How could I have forgotten that dream the night before? I don't dream things like that and I sure the fuck don't have wet dreams. It's like someone had been messing with my mind that night ... and the next day when Uma and I ... Had Isobel been responsible? Was she still playing with us all? Was it going to get worse? Was she taking us down, one at a time?

My mind was racing. Think this through. The implications ... what were they? If she wanted to curse us, to what end? It came to me like a flash. Revenge. To get back at Max and me for investigating her and trying to stop the wedding until we knew more? Greed. To sweep in if things blew up and rob the Treasury blind in the confusion?

And how better to do that than amplify the pull? All this time, I'm worrying about what will happen if Annie finds out ... but the greater danger is if Max finds out. Like it or not, he's the leader, the patriarch. Isobel takes him down, it echoes through the family; weakens us all; we might not survive. And fuck. What about Jack? He loves her. And this report I've just gotten from my operatives? They're tailing Isobel while Jack is off in Spain with Stephen. What it reveals about her ... Maybe she's really after simply destroying our family -- if so, she's found the perfect way. Can you see the implosion coming?

I'm barely listening to Dino saying this next part: "Other things happening? Like what? Isn't it enough that there seems to be this big black cloud over the lot of us lately?"

"Black cloud? What?"

"Jesus, Terry. I told you ... Heather. I swear, man, she's fucking cheating on me with Lach, her perfect boy from out of her past. But there're other things. Bud and Darcy been messing about, I hear. Teener's been sniffing around Hando. Jody's walked out on him. Then I heard last week from Bud ... I don't know what's going on, man. And I  ... I can't handle much more with Heather. If I lose her ... I swear, Terry. I'm hanging on by my fingernails."

"Fuck. What the fuck's going on? We into wife swapping all of a sudden? I never thought we'd live by that particular rule ..."

"This ain't the fucking rule, Terry. No one agreed to any of this. It's just happening. Like everyone's confused as to who they love ... I can't take this," he says, his voice breaking.

It comes to me. His suspicion about Heather and Lach. I'd dismissed it when he first raised it. I still wonder if it's just his own guilt hoping he's not the only one messing up his marriage. "You still seeing the pro's?"

"Fuck you, Saint Terry. You never had any side action?"

If he'd been standing there with me, he would have seen the wince. My voice is soft. "Sorry, mate. Shouldn't have said that. Just that I cannot believe Heather would ... But if she knows about you and the ... extracurricular activities ... well, maybe it's that, not a curse."

"You of all people, man. I thought you'd be in my corner. But I forget who I'm talking to. Terrence Thorne. Never made a mistake in his life. Never fucked up. Never fucked around. Oh wait, I forgot. You did. You did it with another man's wife when he was depending on you to save him. But you've been polishing your halo in this world, haven't you? Or have you let it get tarnished? Annie's gone an awful lot lately but I don't hear you griping about being horny so much anymore. Maybe you've been a bad boy yourself? That why you so quick to pick up on this curse? You need the excuse for something you've done?"

"No, mate, it's not like that." But it is, isn't it? Still, I need to focus on what we are facing. I need Dino to help me find the truth. I need to know I can depend on my friend. "I'm in your corner, Dino. Count on it."

"Okay then." This hushed voice from him and I know he heard the unsaid as well as the said. Loyalty to Dino is an absolute.

"Right. Now, let's work this down, shall we?"

We plan it out. How we'll proceed. First thing ... find the bloke Isobel had been targeting when she'd suddenly gone on the run just before she showed up in Portsmouth, found Jack and came into our family. Dino will check in with other of our brothers, keep it discreet, see what other odd, bad things were happening. We'll keep all this from either Jack or Max. We'll build a case and then we'll bring it to Max. Then let him decide what to do.

The case against Isobel ... if we prove a spell, the one consequence Max'll never find out about would be the one that involved me and his wife. And somehow I know ... whatever Isobel is up to, taking down Max has to be her chief aim. And if that's what she is after, finding a way to get me and Uma to toss aside our good sense ... well, let's just say it ... if Max knew about what we'd done, it would wound him like nothing else. It would get right to his need to keep his family inviolate. It would destroy him. After he kills me, of course.

Another hour on the Internet and I find one Pierre Galatoire living right here in Paris with his lovely wife Helene. He'd been Isobel's last mark before Jack. I'll go pay a visit on Pierre in the morning.

"Terry?" I look up at the bedroom door, surprised to find Annie standing there, rubbing her eyes, nude. Christ she looks good to me. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Work. You know how it is."

She slides in on my lap, gliding in between me and the table, her body warm from sleep and soft with need. I love to touch and hold her when she is like this. "You work too hard. Anybody ever tell you that?"

"Yeah. A lovely woman named Ann tells me that quite often."

"Lovely? Should I be jealous that there's this lovely other woman flirting with my husband?"

"Never." Whispering it to her and hugging her so tight that she tells me she cannot breathe.

I can smell her arousal and know she woke up wanting me. I can feel myself hardening in response ... I can feel myself thinking this is okay now that I seem to have a reason for the infidelity. Who could fight a spell? I will ... now that I know about it, I will.

But this isn't how I want to take her. I want to earn back the right to her arms. I want to resolve this issue of Isobel. I want to find out if this Isobel is a threat to me and mine. And if she is, I will destroy her and her ability to hurt us anymore. Then I'll find the way forward from there.

ANN

This is when I know something is between us. Between me and Terry.

God, the guilt of it is about to drive me crazy.

How could I have been so fucking petty and stupid? Did I never learn?

We'd had this huge fight after the wedding about my work, his work, our future. We'd said we were sorry, we made all the right moves ... but still, we came out of it edgy with each other. It was just another hitch in the road, I had thought.

Christ but why had I not told him about hunting for a new job that could resolve so much of this? And for fuck's sake but the longer it went on that I didn't tell him ... if he could just hang on another week, I may have landed the perfect thing. I've done the initial interview with the metro editor of one of the dailies who's searching for someone to work on environmental coverage. If they would just offer me the job ... then and only then does it seem I will have something worth talking to him about that can make him see ... this is a temporary hitch between us ... and this is more than an empty promise I am making to make the compromise we can both be happy with.

Please let this be a temporary hitch. Don't let this be more.

But then on this morning, I was sitting there in his arms, feeling him harden against me and he pushed me away from him. And this was when I figured out what had been happening. He'd flown into Paris to try with me again and came even though he was tired and stressed out. He'd just wanted to be with me. And he'd been so sweet to me yesterday but he'd also been so very awkward and not at all like himself. He'd made up an excuse the first night ... claimed he was tired then sat up all night working rather than sleep next to me. And then when he chose to not make love with me in the morning ... and then he found a way to be anywhere but with me until this afternoon. Some lame excuse about an impromptu meeting with a client here in Paris that would take all morning but, hey, we'll meet for lunch and have the rest of the day, how's that? How's that? It sucks, Terry, it sucks.

It wasn't work stressing him out; it was me.

So in the shower that morning, I made this new resolution. If it's what it took, I'd fly into DC and go sit in that editor's office until he just had to give me the job because he could see how much I wanted it.

Why the fuck not? I hated this current assignment for the magazine. I hated being away from home. I hated feeling like Terry and I could not establish a rhythm in our lives because we didn't even get home anymore.

He rushed out for his meeting with a kiss and a promise to meet me for lunch at a place right down the street from the hotel. I'd sat there waiting on him for an hour before he showed up, looking smug and cocky. Like a different man met me at this café than the one I'd shared coffee with that morning. I was totally confused; he started acting like he was happy to be with me. I decided to just enjoy the respite from the recent bouts of tension. Maybe he really hadn't been lying; maybe that meeting had really just been about taking advantage of him being in Paris this weekend. God, of course. I was imagining it all, wasn't I? It was my own guilt playing tricks on me.

He had the whole day planned for me. All the things he knew I'd love. The Louvre, of course. But most of the time we walked the Left Bank and just wandered. We talked of silly things. He sheltered me from the cold blasts that would catch us as we'd round a corner. We discussed outré artwork that neither of us got. He made jokes and I found myself hanging on him constantly, remembering in a gush how it had always been with him. How much fun he was. How alive I felt around him.

We flirted with each other, made sexual innuendo, engaged in verbal foreplay. My hand was in his crotch every time I thought no one could see. He was whispering aggressive suggestions of what he was going to do with me that night. I kept wanting to drag him back to the room. He kept making me wait.

A grand Terry gesture. Dragging me into a jewelry store. I refused to look; told him the anniversary present ... a diamond and emerald bracelet ... was enough baubles for me for a while. But he kept describing things to me that he was going to get if I didn't cooperate. I did fine until he described this old lady ring that I knew he was going to get because I chuckled at the insult. When I heard him tell the salesman that he'd take it, I opened my eyes and saw him waving this horrendous monstrosity at me that I knew was going to cost a bundle ...

"No! This isn't funny anymore," I shrieked out to him, laughing at the smirk on his face.

"How's this then?" he asked, holding out a jade pin in his other hand. It was carved into a symbol I knew was Japanese. I couldn't get it at first but something told me ... whatever the symbol was, it was something sweet and perfect.

At his side, I reached for the pin and studied it. Looked up into his eyes. "What's it mean?" I asked him softly, taken in by how I loved the little ways we were connected to each other - our mutual affection for Japan being such a strong one.

"Happiness," he whispered right against my ear and then his lips lingered at my neck.

Like a promise. That we could be happy if we were smart. That we would sacrifice to make each other happy. I wanted nothing so much as that. I made a decision on the spot. His happiness before mine.

TERRY

What I had learned that morning after finding Pierre made the pieces start lining up.

His wife, suspicious that he was cheating on her again, had hired her normal private detective to get the goods on him. The private dick had tales to tell.

A spider's web. Deceit. Evil. Greed. 

Her web was more intricate but no more sticky than the web I was spinning to keep from being found out. She was a tricky foe; I'd have to proceed with great care. Even having the goods on her might not be enough. No doubt in my mind that if she knew about me and Uma, she'd tell our spouses if I closed in too fast. Therefore, I had to be ready to give her a way out that would give her something she wanted. The little bitch of a scam artist was in it for money ... I could give her enough money to make her feel that her time wasn't wasted. Between me, Dino and Bud, we could convince her leaving with money in exchange for her life and freedom was a pretty good deal. I just wanted her out of our lives.

First thing I'd need to do was protect those I loved most, frankly. And I had to protect Uma just as much as I was going to protect Annie, Heather and Dino. Uma and I were in this together; there was no one else who could understand what had happened ... she was in as much danger as I was. I also needed her to interpret this curse of Isobel's. The words were Latin, I was sure of it. She'd know what they meant and she'd know what the curse really meant for us. The detective had said that Isobel's powers frightened every person he found in checking her background. He'd gotten a crash course in her particular brand of second sight ... had become intrigued and looked into it. He said, once we knew the curse, we could figure out how she was manipulating us and what she sought to do to us. It was also the only way we could figure out how to destroy the curse's hold on us.

For whatever reason, none of this bothered me. I had to laugh as I was heading to meet Ann for lunch. I'd spent two hours with the bloke, had copies of all his files on Isobel ... and I wasn't even blinking in the face of something so preposterous as a curse ... a month ago, I would never have entertained such an idea. But there's something about seeing the results ... it does tend to open your mind.

Just having this information had made a huge difference. I felt lighter. Fresher. Like my mind was back to being mine. I had a purpose, a mission. I was in charge of my life again.

And the moment I saw Annie at the café, I was determined to start making things right with her. We spent the rest of the day just playing. She let me spoil her. She let me be in charge of what we did, where we went. Everything I did, I did it for her. Wanted her to have this perfect time with me.

That night, I made love to her with only the stars providing any light. I had the curtains open to the skies over Paris and I made love with my wife. She was back to being my Annie. Strong and soft. A study in complexity. Sweet baby. My woman.

This time, I was so hard it hurt. The way she touched me, the feel of her mouth on me, her tongue. And the taste of her. Nothing ever makes me feel my power until I've got her coming ... whether it's using my fingers or mouth or penis. But I love the taste of her when she comes like she cannot hold back. And I love the look in her eyes later ... after she's come around me and she's trying to hold me inside her ... this greed in her eyes that lingers like the most basic element of her: her need and want of me.

I woke early the next morning and had to have her. I wanted her too bad. And when she was writhing beneath me, on all fours and so turned on she couldn't take more, I gave it to her hard and without reserve. She would have collapsed under me but I grabbed in around her waist and just held her where I needed her and fucked her until I came. It felt like using her spirit to exorcise my demons.

Sinking on top of her, I heard this whimper and instantly rolled to the side, gathering her in close and she was crying. I held her until it was over. We lay there, face to face, just kissing soft until we both fell asleep.

She took the day off work since she had no appointments and said she'd catch up on writing the story after I left the next day. It surprised me. It delighted me. I wondered if she felt like me ... that we needed a fresh start with each other ... needed to re-think our priorities. We spent that morning in bed then walked around the Musee d'Orsay after lunch. Then sat in a café until dark and just talked. About nothing. About everything. Just enjoying this time together. Connecting with each other. Like old times.

When I left in the morning, she seemed sad. I asked her ... she said it was nothing, that she was just missing me already.

Why is it that I have thought so often since then that I wish we'd said something more important to each other when we'd said goodbye that day?