The Immolation of Eve (Eve MacKenzie's Demons Book 1)

by Helen Fields

  ‘That’s perfect. Now I’m going to be bossy for once. I don’t want to discuss it anymore tonight and I mean it!’

  Before Naomi could protest Tim said, ‘Nate’s still asking after you. He was really concerned when we heard about the train crash. He emailed you but Naomi said you haven’t had time to do much since you got home. Why don’t we all go out for dinner this week?’

  ‘I don’t think I’d be good company for Nate at the moment. As lovely as he is, getting involved with my flatmate’s fiancé’s best friend is a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘You’re such a pessimist, Eve. I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ Naomi was clearly having visions of double weddings.

  ‘I know you do Naomi, but that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic imagining the four of us sipping champagne and eating strawberries on tartan rugs. The truth is that I’d mess it up, like I do every relationship and then we’d never be able to go out in a group again. Please don’t say it’s not true, you know my track record better than anyone.’

  ‘You’ve always chosen the wrong men before. Nate’s different. He won’t feel threatened by you or as if he has to prove he’s an alpha male.’ Naomi said.

  Tim added, ‘Plus, I’ve told him about every detail of your relationship disasters and he still hasn’t run away screaming, so that’s got to be a good sign, right?’ I threw a cushion at his head as I laughed.

  ‘You two are incorrigible. The most I’m prepared to say is that I’ll think about it. Now who fancies Chinese takeaway? I’m buying.’

  We argued over menus for a while and then Tim phoned in the order. The mention of emails made me feel guilty so I went into the kitchen and switched on my laptop. For a change the wi-fi kicked in first time and I scrolled through my mail as I fiddled with plates and cutlery. Tim was right about the one from Nate. I read it as I opened a bottle of wine.

  ‘Hi Eve, Just wanted to say how sorry I am about what you went through in Slovakia. Wish there was something I could do to help. If you need a driver whilst the plaster’s on then I’m only a phone call away. We ought to go out and help the lovebirds celebrate (if they promise not to snog in public). Best wishes, Nate.'

  Nate was the kind of guy most women would throw themselves at. If I’d met him any other way, through work or less important friends, I would certainly have given in to temptation, but the thought of jeopardising my closeness to Naomi and Tim was too much. I've never been able to maintain a relationship for more than six months. Something always went wrong and if I’m completely honest it was usually boredom or irritation. I recognise that the problem lies with me, not them. I don’t compromise well, don’t share space easily (except with Naomi) and I don’t suffer fools. Apparently that means that I’m destined to grow old alone! I laughed out loud at such self-indulgent musings and then started to type.

  ‘Hi Nate, Thanks for the message. Recovering quickly and already back at work, arm not a problem although I haven’t tried driving! Will call if I need help and appreciate the offer. Lovebirds here as I write so have escaped into kitchen in case it’s contagious. I agree – must do drinks soon. Guess the champagne is on us. Tim and Naomi can sort out time and place. Regards, Eve.’

  The doorbell had still not rung to signify delivery of food so I opened an internet search for the town of Brezno. The result made me cough out a mouthful of wine. It turns out that Brezno is in Slovakia and, as the crow flies, not a hundred miles from where the train crashed. It felt as if someone were playing a sick joke on me. I double checked my spelling against the documents in my mother’s file. The coincidence was bizarre. I decided not to tell Naomi and Tim, they deserved to enjoy one another uninterrupted. I took a long shot and typed ‘Adela and Branimir Karas, Brezno’ into the search engine but got nothing back. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Around midnight I awoke to the sound of Naomi being violently sick in her bathroom. I put on a robe and fetched a jug of water, an extra toilet roll and a cold flannel. She looked dreadful. I held the flannel to her forehead and opened the window above her.

  ‘Prawns. They get me every time. Should’ve known better.’

  ‘Don’t try to talk. Here, have sip of water.’ I handed her the glass and felt her forehead. ‘You’re burning up. You sure it’s just the prawns? Feels more like a virus to me.’

  She went to answer and threw up again. We gave up conversation and I sat holding her hair back until her stomach was completely empty. I was concerned. Naomi’s temperature was continuing to rise; she was weak, had terrible stomach pains and was starting to shake. Her face was grey and her speech slurred and difficult to understand. When her stomach was empty I got her back to bed. Too worried to leave her alone, I climbed in, put an arm around her and she relaxed. A little colour came back into her face.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘You always make me feel better when you hug me.’ She managed a weak smile in spite of the last hour.

  ‘Go to sleep, you’re exhausted. The fever’s just burned itself out, that’s all. I’ll phone the clerks first thing in the morning and tell them you can’t make it in to chambers.’

  ‘Thank you. You know you can’t move out – Tim doesn’t do the hair holding thing.’

  ‘I promise I’ll train him before I go.’ She fell asleep in my arms and, in spite of my best efforts to stay awake, I followed her.

  The next morning I was awoken with the customary cup of tea and a fully fit Naomi bustling around in her court suit. She was humming as she did her hair and put on lipstick.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ I said. ‘At once point I was considering calling an ambulance.’

  ‘Right as rain today,’ Naomi countered. ‘It was you, I swear it was. As soon as you put your arm across me I felt better. You should hire yourself out.’ My friend giggled and I was relieved to see she wasn’t just putting on a brave face to make it in to court. ‘Honestly, it’s like you have healing hands. Has that happened to you before?’

  ‘Naomi, you’re starting to freak me out.’

  ‘I’m serious. I absolutely believe that some people have healing powers. When I was a child we had a cat that knew which part of your body was hurting. It would come and curl up on just the right area and minutes later the pain would vanish.’

  ‘So not great for toothache, then.’

  ‘Your problem is that you have no faith in anything you can’t see or touch. Whatever happened to exploring the great unknown; keeping an open mind?’

  ‘I left it in my dressing up box with my Cinderella outfit and glow in the dark wand. Now go to work you before you give me your virus.’

  ‘Be nice or I’ll have to rethink the colour of your bridesmaid dress. I’m starting to think candy-floss pink with lacy frills might be the way to go after all.’

  I shoved my head under a pillow but could still hear her laughing as she left the flat. Shame I couldn’t try Naomi’s imagined healing out on myself and mend my arm faster. I was bored of the cast. In a moment of silliness I took hold of the cast with my good hand and imagined healing the break in my arm. Luckily my idiocy was interrupted by a text alert. Nate and Tim had arranged to take myself and Naomi out to dinner that night. Slightly unkindly, I thought it might have been better if Naomi hadn’t recovered quite so quickly. I had more than enough going on in my life without encouraging further trouble.

  Eager to stay busy, I opened my mother’s papers again, pulling Patrick St. John’s card from my wallet. I wrote him an email giving as much detail as I could about the adoption. I needed him to find the Slovakian agency that had arranged it. If the regulations were as strict there as they are in Britain they should still have all the files. My email was met by an out of office message telling me that Patrick wouldn’t be back until tomorrow so I settled down to do some more work on the Albert Cornish case.

  I emailed my solicitors asking them to obtain photographs showing the cave floor then contacted the prosec
ution to request the original medical notes on Angela Smyth’s injuries. Satisfied that I could do no more until the hearing next week I phoned chambers to collect my messages.

  ‘Tom, it’s me. Just thought I’d check in.’

  ‘Hello, Miss MacKenzie. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, much better. Itching to get back into the full swing of it. What’s on next week?’

  ‘Only the preliminary Court Martial hearing. Miss Anthony threatened to have me hung drawn and quartered if I booked you for too much work, especially with your arm the way it is.’ Naomi was organising my life again. I couldn’t blame her. It was exactly what I’d have done if our positions had been reversed.

  ‘Fine, but after next week I’m back full time, okay?’

  ‘Understood, Miss.’

  ‘Is Miss Anthony there?’

  ‘Still at court. She did leave a message though. Hang on. Here it is – reservations have been made at The Restaurant on the Hill for 8pm. Wear something fabulous, she said.’ Heaven help me.

  Six

  A horn beeped outside the front window and I ran down the steps to see that Nate had driven Tim’s car to pick me up. I was wearing a shorter skirt than normal and a wraparound woollen top which went easily over my cast. Nate opened the door for me. I did my best to enter with dignity, not easy with only one arm, a mini skirt and a sports car. Nate was sweet enough to look away. He bent over to kiss me on the cheek once he was back in the driver’s side.

  ‘Sorry for the confusion. Naomi was running late at court so she went straight to Tim’s and my car’s in the garage so I borrowed this to get to a meeting in Oxford today.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, it’s lovely being chauffeured around. I’d have got a cab if I’d known. How are you?’

  ‘Really well, thank you. Struck lucky and been promoted, hence the celebration dinner tonight. I’m glad you agreed to come out. I thought you might have wanted to rest.’

  ‘No rest required. It’s wonderful to get out and wear something other than a black suit. Congratulations on the promotion. I hadn’t realised.’

  ‘I kept it quiet until it was certain. Nothing worse than having your mates commiserating with you. I’d rather be miserable on my own.’

  ‘Couldn’t agree more,’ I murmured, thinking about how much information I was keeping from Naomi at the moment. ‘So what does the promotion mean in practical terms?’

  ‘A bit more money, better benefits, the usual extra responsibilities. I get to travel more which is what I wanted. I’ve been stuck driving between London, Oxford and Manchester for three years now so I’m ready for a change of scenery.’ Nate was a senior editor at an international publishing house. I knew that they had connections worldwide but I wasn’t sure where. I asked him.

  ‘It’ll mainly be the States. We only operate in English speaking territories. It’s mainly for book releases that launch here and get published later in the US. You know, making sure all the publicity’s in place, liaising with agents, that sort of thing.’ Compared to my trips to various prisons and courts this sounded incredibly glamorous. I was jealous for a moment until I thought how my last trip abroad had ended. We made small talk until we arrived at The Restaurant on the Hill. It’s an old favourite of mine and the sort of eatery that Notting Hill does so well: that combination of shabby chic and extraordinary cuisine that makes it impossible to get last minute reservations. Unless you know the owner, of course. Nate did, an old school chum from what I gathered when they greeted one another. Tim and Naomi were well into their first glass of wine and looking excitedly at menus.

  Naomi whispered in my ear. ‘You look gorgeous! You can’t tell me you’re not interested in a man when you put on clothes like that.’

  ‘You are in so much trouble with me; I dare you to make it any worse!’

  ‘What? Tim arranged all this with Nate, nothing to do with me. You did email Nate yesterday to say we’d all go out.’

  ‘Is my life so dull that you could be certain I had nothing else booked already?’

  ‘Well,’ Naomi stuttered over a reply.

  ‘Don’t answer that. Just get me a drink and don’t do any more matchmaking.’

  ‘Gin and tonic?’ She ordered for me without an answer. I can’t drink wine. About half way through a glass I get the sort of headache that doesn’t leave for two days. On the other hand a couple of measures of spirits and I’m under the table. Cheap date, I guess. Getting drunk tonight was out of the question. I’d decided to avoid any mention of the bizarre turn my life was taking whilst my friends were celebrating. Tonight meant two things and two things only: Sobriety and good cheer. So when a double gin appeared in my glass in the first five minutes I knew I should have asked for an extra bottle of tonic and made it last. Best intentions, and all that. I finished it in about three minutes.

  By the time we moved from main course to dessert I was finishing my third double and losing my constraint. Naomi was equally giggly and the men seemed to be enjoying themselves so I decided the sobriety rule could stand to be broken. Everything was fine until Nate recounted a story about his mother having yet another round of plastic surgery and using up his inheritance. He stopped mid-laugh and looked at me, aghast.

  ‘Damn, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have said that, I’d completely forgotten that you just lost your mother. How insensitive. Sorry Eve.’

  ‘Not to worry, turns out she wasn’t my mother anyway. Let’s have a toast; to squandered inheritances and lying mothers!’ I raised my glass, spilling quite a lot on the way.

  ‘What are you talking about? What’s going on?’ Tim looked genuinely confused.

  ‘Oh hell. You hadn’t told him? Wow Naomi, you are the most discreet person I’ve met in my entire life. Let me explain. I was going through the papers left to me by the person formerly known as Mum when I discovered that I am, in fact, Eve Karas, born in Slovakia and adopted in England. I think I need another drink.’

  Tim looked mortified. He stared at Naomi. ‘This isn’t a joke?’ She shook her head and fiddled with her napkin as she gently reached out and held my hand under the table. My brain finally caught up with my mouth. I smiled softly at Naomi. At least I know when it’s time to go home.

  ‘Nate, would you mind cutting your evening short and dropping me home? I think I just overstepped my alcohol limit. Tim, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Are you kidding? I can’t believe you got though the first two courses without screaming or throwing anything.’ He hugged me as I stood, slightly wobbly, and I willed myself not to cry. ‘Why doesn’t Naomi go home with you? You shouldn’t be alone.’

  ‘Yes, because I really need to feel even guiltier about ruining your evening by depriving you of your fiancée for the night. I think not. Anyway, I’ll be fine; the gin and tonic should keep me numb until midmorning tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll take care of her. Come on Eve.’ Nate put a protective arm around me and I certainly wasn’t going to shrug it off. Walking in a straight line might prove challenging. ‘You guys finish dinner. We’ll get coffee at the flat. Call you tomorrow, Tim.’

  I stumbled my way over to the car which thankfully was parked only a little way up the road. Nate managed to manoeuvre me in without any additional embarrassment although it was a bit late to be worried about that now, having already done such a good job. Before turning on the engine he surprised me by taking my hand in his and kissing my cheek.

  ‘I know you’re going to spend the rest of the journey saying sorry for what just happened, so listen: Don’t apologise and don’t worry about it. I’m not sure why you’re not hiding in your room with the duvet over your head. Family is family, good or bad, so finding out that none of it was exactly as you thought, well, you must feel lost. Close your eyes and let me get you home. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Nate let go of my hand and started the engine. I had seriously underestimated him. I didn’t close my eyes during the journey, partly because the alcohol was making everything spin but more so that I coul
d take a look at Nate. He was the definition of laid back, little smile lines at the corner of his mouth, broad shoulders and the sort of body you want to wrap yourself up in on a cold night. He’s the kind of man you want to take home to your parents because he’ll charm them instantly. He was the complete package; warm, funny with an interesting job and friends you don’t mind spending the weekend with. He made women smile and men want to drink with him. Away from the heat of the restaurant I started to sober up and contemplate why I hadn’t responded to Nate’s previous invitations. Perhaps I was just scared of meeting the right guy. Making a mess of relationships with the wrong kind of man was easy to explain. Messing up a relationship with Nate would require a lot more self-analysis. I knew I’d been on a self-destruct mission for years as far as my private life was concerned. So much was changing right now that maybe it was a good time to take a leap of faith.

  Nate pulled into a parking space some distance away from my flat. It was always impossible to park nearby and we’d have to walk for a couple of minutes to get inside. Already feeling guilty about the scene at the restaurant, I didn’t want Nate to think he had to walk me to the door.

  ‘Nate, I’ll be fine, you go on home.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding; Naomi’ll kill me if I don’t see you safely indoors.’

  He was right, she would. I gave in and we walked without talking to my front door. Nate took the key from me and opened up.

  ‘At least let me get you coffee.’

  ‘Only if I make it.’ Nate flicked the switch on the kettle. I took mugs out of the cupboard and opened chocolate biscuits. There’s something reassuring about a man who’s happy to tuck into biscuits without pretending he doesn’t eat that sort of thing. Fitness is wonderful, but eating the odd chocolate biscuit is good for the soul. We took everything through to the lounge and settled on the sofa. Nate pointed at a photo of Tim and Naomi on the mantelpiece.

  ‘They really do make a great couple, don’t they?’