“Yes.”
“Was she injected too?”
“Yes.”
“Was Steven Silvers injected?”
“Don’t know.”
“When were you last injected?”
“This morning. Nine o’clock.”
She’d never known Brodie use words so sparingly before and she was doing her best not to be freaked out by it. “How long does it take for the effects to wear off?”
“About eight hours I feel it less.”
She glanced at her watch. It was already four o’clock. “Then it should be wearing off soon. When it starts to wear off, do you feel like your old self?”
“I can think more clearly.”
“And do you feel anything here?” she said, tapping his chest.
“A bit.”
She decided that was enough questions, for now. “Do you want to get changed? I brought you some fresh clothes.” She hated the clothes he was in and knew if he was himself he’d hate them too.
“Clothes are a distraction…”
“Of the devil?”
He nodded.
She reached down and pulled the sports bag she’d packed with his stuff onto the couch between them.
“This is one of your favourites,” she said, taking out a dark green shirt, hoping it would spark something inside him.
“Colourful clothes are vanities.”
“And what about these?” she said, taking out a pair of black jeans. “No colour here.”
“Designer label. Another vanity.”
“Why don’t you put them on? You’ll feel more like yourself when you’re back in your own clothes.”
He shook his head.
With a sigh she got to her feet, walked over to the door and locked it. “Well, if clothes are a vanity of the devil I suppose I’d better remove mine.”
“What?” he said with a frown.
Cass unzipped her hoodie and cast it aside. Next she removed her shirt, her jeans quickly following suit. As she padded up to him in her underwear, Brodie got to his feet, staring at her in fascination.
“Judging by that reaction,” she said when a bulge appeared in his trousers. “You’re not entirely cut off from feeling.” She started to unbutton his black shirt. “Now it’s time to rid you of the devil’s clothes.”
She unfastened his shirt and spread it wide. Brodie sucked in air sharply when she ran her lips across his bare chest.
“Women are a….a….,” he began.
“Distraction?” she said, smiling into his chest.
“Yes,” he replied, although he made no attempt to move away from her.
“You can beat this Brodie,” she murmured into his skin while unfastening his trouser belt. “You’re so fucking strong.”
He groaned when her hand slid inside his trousers. He pulled the band out of her hair that held it back in a ponytail. It fell down her back and he slid his fingers through it, making her tingle.
“You saved me today,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for you they would have taken me.”
“What are you doing?” he said when she released him and took a step back.
Cass removed her bra and panties and let them drop to the floor. “What do you see when you look at me Brodie? A temptress of the devil or the woman who loves you with all her heart and soul?”
Slowly he approached her, his chest heaving. Cass stood her ground even though she had no idea what he was going to do.
“I see my wee hen,” he replied in a voice more like his own.
“Brodie,” she rasped, touching his face. “Now take off those hideous clothes. They don’t suit you.”
He tore the shirt from his shoulders and cast it aside and kicked off the trousers. He stood before her in just his straining boxer shorts and kissed her, gently pressing her back onto the couch.
Cass’s thighs wrapped around his waist and she shoved down his boxer shorts, which he kicked off onto the floor. She was relieved all the trappings from that horrible place were finally off him, it felt like even the clothes had been contaminating him.
She gasped as he slid inside her, conscious of Pete and Gardner in the office.
“Brodie you feel so good,” she whispered as he moved, raking her fingers through his hair, showering him with kisses, hoping to get across the strength of her love for him.
He moaned in response, his movements speeding up, kissing her neck. When he raised his head to look at her some of the spark had returned to his amber eyes.
“Women are a temptation of the devil,” he said, surprising himself. He gritted his teeth together and shook his head, trying to shake out that unwanted voice.
“You can beat him Brodie,” she said, dragging her nails down his back to keep him in the present but her own thoughts were being obliterated by the pleasure overtaking her. “Oh yes,” she cried.
Just as everything was about to reach a crescendo, Brodie stopped moving and pulled out of her, sitting up on his haunches and shaking his head.
Cass sat up too and held his face firmly between her hands. “Don’t listen to him. He’s got into your head but you can get him out. Fight the fucker.”
He grasped onto her hands, eyes pleading. “Help me hen.”
Cass straddled him and bore down. Brodie gathered her in his arms, pulling her against him, releasing a shaky breath as he plunged deep inside her.
“Don’t think,” she said. “Just feel.”
He nodded, grinding his mouth against her own, running his hands through her mass of hair, down her neck to her breasts, inhaling her sweet scent, concentrating all of his senses on her. Malachi’s angry voice echoed in his head but Cass was keeping him anchored to the present.
He watched as her head fell back and her spine arched, pushing her breasts against his chest, her skin damp with sweat. He felt her tighten around him and the pleasure that pounded through his veins finally obliterated that nagging voice in his head.
They fell back onto the couch together, panting and drenched in sweat. Cass studied his eyes, which were brighter but not the brilliant amber they usually became when they made love.
“How do you feel?” she asked him.
“Like a king,” he replied good-naturedly, making her laugh.
He rolled off her and gathered her into his arms, Cass practically purring with pleasure as he ran his fingers up and down her bare back.
“Hmm, that feels good,” she murmured.
“I can feel again Cass,” he said. “Not like I used to but it’s there.” He stroked her hair back off her face. “You brought me back.”
She kissed his fingers and smiled. “I always will.”
Together they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
CHAPTER 18
Cass was woken by Brodie writhing and groaning.
She sat up. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes flickered open, the brightness that had started to come back eradicated. “It hurts,” he said, a hand pressed to his stomach.
“Have you felt like this before?”
He shook his head and grimaced.
“I’ll call Zarqa,” she said, taking out her phone. “Brodie’s in pain,” she gabbled when she answered. “It seems to be in his stomach and he’s shaking. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“It sounds like he’s going through withdrawal. We’re on our way back, we’ve found out what was in the injections. We’ve got something that might help.”
“That’s great news, thanks.”
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Cass hung up and took Brodie’s hand. “Just hang in there. They’re on their way back. They’ll help you.”
She helped him dress in his own clothes and assisted him to limp back into the main office. Pete had been ready with a quip about the noises he’d heard but his grin fell when he saw the state Brodie was in. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s probably going through withdrawals,” replied Cass.
“Proba
bly?”
“That’s what Zarqa said on the phone but we won’t know for sure until she gets here. They’re on their way. How’s your face?”
“Fine,” he replied dismissively. “I’ve had worse. You hit like a girl Brodie.”
“I was holding back,” he replied, sinking into a chair, a hand clasped to his belly.
“Bloody hell, he sounds more like his old self. You worked some serious magic in there doll,” said Pete, waggling his eyebrows.
“Did you hear…,” she began, blushing.
“Aye but it was hard not to with the racket you two were making. They even heard it in Aberdeen. You should have seen the professor here,” he grinned, gesturing to Gardner with his thumb. “I kept expecting him to vanish into the toilet for some alone time.”
“I beg your pardon,” declared Gardner, shooting to his feet.
“He’s only having a joke,” said Cass. “That’s just his way.”
“It’s hard to believe he’s a police officer at all,” he sniffed.
“Oy you twitchy wee sod,” said Pete. “I’m here because I care about Brodie. You’re here because you’re getting paid a hefty wedge of cash, which you’ve done nothing so far to earn by the way.”
“I can’t start work until the drug is out of his system.”
“You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Do something. Can’t you see he’s in pain?”
“I’m a doctor of psychology, not a physician.”
“Well fat lot of use that is right now.”
“Will you two stop arguing?” said Cass. “Brodie’s in pain here.”
“Sure you don’t want that doughnut pal?” Pete asked him. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“You have a doughnut obsession,” commented Gardner. “I can help you with that.”
“Some obsessions are for the greater good. Christ Brodie, I hate seeing you like this.”
“It’s no picnic for me either,” he breathed, beads of sweat standing out on his brow.
“Zarqa and the others will be back soon,” said Cass, drawing up a chair beside him and taking his hand, grimacing when he squeezed it.
“At least you sound back to normal now,” said Pete. “No’ like a creepy bat.”
“Ignore the parlour clown,” said Brodie. “For he is a diversion sent by the devil.”
“Eh?” frowned Pete. “Did he just call me a parlour clown?”
“Very apt if you ask me,” muttered Gardner so quietly Pete failed to hear him.
“Pay no mind,” said Cass. “They’re Malachi’s words, not his. They slip out sometimes.”
Zarqa rushed in with Jules and Mikey, the two women bright-eyed and breathless with excitement.
“We analysed the drug,” said Jules. “We’re sure we know what it is. At first we couldn’t figure it out, we thought it must be some sort of antidepressant, a serotonin reuptake inhibitor but that didn’t make sense. An inhibitor would prevent his body from absorbing the serotonin, meaning he’d have higher levels in his system and his blood was showing very low levels of serotonin. By the way, serotonin is a powerful neurotransmitter that regulates social behaviour, mood and digestion, among other things, so that makes sense.”
“Babe, slow down,” said Mikey, taking in all their blank faces. He looked to the others. “I’ve had to listen to them talk like this for the last few hours. I didn’t understand any of it.” His eyes said that he was incredibly proud of his wife’s intelligence.
“Brodie’s in pain,” said Cass. “Do you have something that will help him?”
“I have it here,” said Zarqa, stepping forward and producing a syringe. “Will he be okay if I inject him?”
“We’ve taken a few steps forward, so he should be.” Cass knelt before him and took his hands. “Brodie, Zarqa’s got something that will take away the pain but she has to inject it. Is that okay?”
He nodded and extended an arm. “Fire away doll.”
“Serotonin’s produced in the gut,” continued Jules as Zarqa injected Brodie. “So we figured the injection contained a chemical that inhibited production of something the body needs to produce it. Brodie’s blood was showing low plasma concentrations of tryptophan, which the body needs to make serotonin. This was confirmed when we found low levels of melatonin and niacin.”
“You’re losing us a bit here hen,” said Pete.
“Sorry but I find this stuff so fascinating. The human body usually absorbs tryptophan through food, so something was going on. To cut a long story short, we found a drug that breaks down tryptophan - which is an amino acid by the way - so serotonin can’t be synthesised. The drug also acts as an antagonist for the serotonin receptors, which explains the change in personality.” She smiled admiringly at Zarqa. “Zarqa mentioned an article she’d read about research into drugs that can inhibit serotonin receptors, which was the key. After that it was easy.”
“Thanks,” said a modest Zarqa as she carefully injected Brodie.
“We found psychotropic drugs in his system too,” said Jules. “They alter brain function leading to changes in mood, behaviour and cognition and that’s what’s causing the withdrawals.”
“What drugs were they?” said Cass. She remained crouched by Brodie’s side, anxiously watching as whatever Zarqa had injected him with took effect. Already he was resting easier
“It was more than one. That’s all you need to know,” said Jules not unkindly.
“Was cocaine involved?”
“It was one of them, yes, as well as amphetamines.”
“So he’s got addicted, that why he’s having withdrawals?”
Jules nodded. Her family had been drug dealers for years and this was the first time she’d ever felt guilty about it.
“So that’s how Malachi controls those who aren’t obedient,” said Pete. “He dopes them up with drugs and weakens their bodies.”
“It explains why Steven Silvers looked so ill,” said Cass.
“It will force them to stay in the church too,” added Pete. “If they leave they don’t get their fix anymore. Malachi probably holds off giving them their fix now and then, so they get to feel how bad going cold turkey is.”
“He says it’s the devil inside,” gasped Brodie, one hand pressed to his stomach. “Taking you over, another reason to stay with him.”
“The dirty, twisted wee bastard,” snapped Pete, banging his fist down on Christian’s desk, making Gardner jump. “I’ll rip his fucking head off.”
“What’s your plan to bring down this Malachi?” said Mikey.
“We haven’t got one yet,” said Cass. “Our primary objective was to get Brodie back.”
“Someone’s supplying Malachi with his drugs,” said Mikey. “Find them and you put a big dint in his operation.”
“That’s a bloody good idea babe,” said Jules, smacking him on the backside. “Like it.” She hesitated as she recalled who the primary drug dealer in the city was. “Oh.”
“What?” said Gardner, looking around the room. Only Zarqa appeared as clueless as he was but she was smart enough not to ask questions.
“So will Brodie need more injections?” said Cass.
“Possibly,” replied Zarqa. “We can see how it goes. The injection should boost his tryptophan levels, returning serotonin production to normal. It also contains benzodiazepine, which will help with the withdrawal. He’s only been on the drugs a few days, so his body hasn’t had the chance to develop a full-on dependency. Hopefully once the drugs leave his system entirely he should be fine. I can always give him another injection if needs be but I anticipate he shouldn’t need any more than that.”
“That is a relief and will there be any long term effects?”
“Shouldn’t be. He’s strong and in good health.”
Cass was so relieved she hugged her. “Thank you.”
Zarqa smiled and hugged her back. “You’re very welcome.”
“We’ll pay you a good bonus for this.”
“Not necessary. Like I
said, Brodie’s helped me out often enough. I was happy to do it.”
“Well, if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I won’t.” Zarqa released her. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go, the kids finish school soon.” She turned to Jules. “It was great working with you.”
“You too Zarqa, I haven’t had such an interesting conversation in ages,” replied Jules, her eyes still bright with the excitement of the challenge.
“Well I feel great about myself,” commented Mikey.
“If you ever need anyone to collaborate with again…,” continued Jules.
“You’ll be my first port of call,” replied Zarqa.
“Awesome,” grinned Jules.
“You’re lucky to have her on your side,” Jules told Cass when Zarqa had left. “She is one smart lady.”
“I know I am, believe me.” She looked to Brodie. “How are you feeling babe?”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “A bit better. It doesn’t hurt anymore but I’m sodding knackered.”
“There you see,” announced a pleased Pete. “He’s nearly back to normal. He’ll be snaffling my doughnuts next.”
“Ooh is that a euphemism?” purred Jules.
“Behave,” Mikey told her with a wry smile.
“Do you want to have a lie down?” Cass asked Brodie.
He nodded and she helped him limp into one of the bedrooms at the back of the office. The minute his head hit the pillow his eyes closed and seconds later he was snoring softly. Cass watched him sleep for a couple of minutes before tiptoeing out of the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear if he called.
“Should someone sit with him?” Cass asked Jules when she returned to the main office. “Is he likely to have a fit or anything?”
“He’ll be fine,” said Jules with a dismissive wave as she peered into the box of doughnuts Pete held out before her. “Haven’t you anything with passion fruit?”
“No because I’m no’ a wee lassie,” he said.
“Are you insinuating that only little girls eat passion fruit?”
“The men might do down in Manc land but here in Glasgow we eat man food, things like salted caramel and apple. Even the rats turn their noses up at passion fruit.”
“Wow, I didn’t think you’d feel so strongly about it. In that case I’ll pass and wait till I get back to Manchester to indulge in a kiddies treat.”
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