Lynne Connolly

by The Chemistry Of Evil (Triskelion) (lit)

  “Ditto,” Cristos laconically remarked, openly fixing Evan with a steely-eyed glare.

  Bent gave Cristos a grin that was almost comradely. “I’m going to order you to go back to that apartment and stay put.”

  “Both of you,” Cristos put in.

  “What about groceries?” Sofie queried. She knew Bent meant everything, but until now Evan had gone out once a day for milk, bread and other necessities.

  “I’ll have them sent in. You’ll take them at the door from one of my agents. I’m not taking any chances. I’m convinced this is the worst kind of serial killer. Whoever did this is clever, cold, ruthless, and by any standards but the legal ones completely insane. Working on a value system so different to ours it might as well be from Outer Space. We don’t yet know what sets him off, what his trigger is, but I’ll be working to find it.”

  Sofie turned to Evan. “It’s your apartment. How do you feel about it? If you don’t want to take the risk, I’ll go to the safe house.”

  She stared at him, her heart in her mouth, praying he would give the right answer.

  There, in front of everyone, he lifted his hand and touched her cheek. “I’m fast coming to think of it as our apartment. There’s no question, Sofie. We stay together.”

  She smiled and for her there were only two people in the room.

  Harry Bent cleared his throat, jolting Sofie back to the unpleasant here and now. “We’ll get you back to the apartment and you’ll stay put.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Evan took her hand and they left the room together.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “There’s something to be said for house arrest.”

  “Is that what this is?” Sofie lifted a languid hand and Evan took it, kissing her fingertips.

  “We have nothing to do but rest and keep safe.” He stared down at her, where she lay in the tumbled sheets, her hair a mass of curls. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. Her body was open to him, no fear, no false modesty, as his was to her. He wanted to keep it, keep this. “We’re both on leave in any case. I do have some work, enough to stop me taking shameless advantage of you all day, but I want to know more.”

  “I don’t like the idea of him out there.”

  “If it’s a he,” Evan reminded her. “Except for Gwyneth, there was no sexual assault.”

  “Was it assault?” Sofie asked.

  Evan stared at her, trying to think. Gwyneth had been a friend of Sofie’s. It was worse when you knew the person. At least Meghan had been spared that. She stared, and from the gleam in her eyes he knew she understood. “Tell me. Was she? She’d been with Archie a couple of nights before, and he could be very –“

  “Vigorous?” he finished for her. “No, it wasn’t that. It was an assault, quite a frenzied one from what I heard. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “That’s all right.” Loosening her hand she caressed him gently, stroking his hip and his belly. Even when they weren’t in the throes of passion she made him melt, distracted him so he didn’t care about anything else any more. The last time he’d felt like that he’d been eighteen, just discovering what he could do on the computer, fascinated by the flickering screen that opened the world up for him. Now the world had shrunk to one woman. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Sofie smiled up at him and he couldn’t resist, even though their store of condoms was already running dangerously low. Evan didn’t like the idea of putting them on a grocery list for another agent to get for him, but there was no other way.

  He bent to kiss her, keeping the kiss soft and loving, rather than the prelude to another passionate encounter. He’d hated telling her about her friend. “Are you ok?” he asked, threading his fingers into her hair.

  “Yes. I needed to know.”

  “I know.” He drew her close and pulled a sheet over them. “Are you ready to sleep now?”

  For an answer she snuggled in close. He reached for the remote and turned the lights off, lying on his back, Sofie in his arms, watching the city outside his window. He rarely bothered with the blinds, preferring to see the living work of art outside the large windows. Usually it gave him comfort; to know that behind all those lights there was a person going about his or her business, someone unconnected with the murky world he’d found himself in, someone who led a happy, contented life. Sometimes he’d make up stories about them.

  Now he had found contentment with the woman in his arms. The sex was spectacular; completely involving, taking him to heights he hadn’t known with anyone else, but during the day when she read or joined him at the computers he felt a tranquility that was wholly new. He loved looking after her, or letting her care for him. Even his work was better now he had someone to talk it over with.

  He loved her. There was no doubt in his mind any more.

  It was too soon for Sofie, he knew that, but he longed to tell her and hear her response. She needed time to put some space between Archie and himself. Meantime, while he wished the reasons were different, being holed up with her in a comfortable apartment was not against his nature.

  Evan watched the city until he felt sleepy, then curled over on his side, holding Sofie close. Just as he was sliding into sleep he felt her move.

  The move was convulsive, her knee coming perilously close to the tenderest parts of his anatomy. Evan moved back, but didn’t release her until she gave a cry and rolled onto her back. She was dreaming.

  From the sounds she was making it wasn’t a pleasant dream. Evan lifted himself up on one elbow, and gripped her shoulder. “Sofie! Wake up!”

  She groaned and moved, trying to shake him off. Afraid he would hurt her, Evan released her, but she jerked away from him with such violence he grabbed her again to stop her falling off the edge of the bed.

  Evan pulled her to the center of the mattress and moved over her. “Sofie!”

  She began to mutter and words became distinguishable. When she cried “Archie! Don’t!” He began to get worried. He reached for the remote and turned the lights back up, one arm across Sofie’s waist to stop her moving over to the edge of the bed again. She twisted against his arm, crying out in a piteous tone she would never use when awake.

  “Sofie, please!” Evan was seriously concerned now. If he hadn’t been holding her she would have thrashed her way to an injury. Her arms and legs flailed, as though fighting someone else he couldn’t see, but someone she was deeply aware of, and her uttered cries of alarm increased in intensity.

  Why couldn’t he wake her? She should have woken herself by now, but her eyes remained tightly shut. He lifted one hand to her hair, which was tangling around her neck and face, strands getting caught in her open mouth. When he pulled it aside he saw marks.

  Finger marks on her throat, replacing the ones that had only just faded. The red marks deepened, and dimpled, as though unseen fingers were pressing in. Sofie’s cries turned to choking and Evan’s heart faltered. He had to wake her, he must!

  He clawed empty air when he tried to discover what was making the marks. They were deepening. He picked her up, scooped her off the bed and swung her around, none too gently. There was little time, and if this didn’t work she might be dead before he could wake her. No longer doubting anything Cristos had told him about possession, his mind totally sure, he carried her into the bathroom and swung her down onto her feet. It made no difference. Her eyes were still tightly shut; her body limp with exertion, damp with sweat. Evan prayed the shock wouldn’t be too much for her. He reached into the shower, turned it on cold and stepped in, taking her with him.

  The cold jets made him gasp. He adjusted the pressure to a needle shower, then forgetting his own discomfort, turned to Sofie and held her tight, arms to her sides in case she started to flail again, and came into contact with the glass walls of the shower cubicle.

  Sofie went completely rigid. Evan held her under the showerhead. “Come on, darling. Sofie, wake up, wake up!”

  At last she heard him. She murmured his name,
so low he saw the shape of the name on her lips rather than heard her. He called her name, his voice echoing dully in the small compartment.

  He saw her take her first breath, a deep, lung-filling heave that lifted her breasts and brought some color back to her lips. Breathing a fervent prayer of thanks to any god who might be listening, Evan held her upright and waited, watching her chest move as she breathed.

  Her eyelids trembled, then fluttered. Evan drew her closer, and heard her teeth chatter. “Oh, God!”

  Her first exclamation was soft, and Evan leaned her against his body while he reached around to soften the shower spray and warm up the water. She was shivering with the cold, but she’d needed it. It was the only thing he could think of, other than brute force. He’d been scared enough to consider trying it.

  When the water warmed he felt her soften against him. The wetness on his shoulder wasn’t all shower water. He murmured soft words to her next to her ear, words meant to soothe and reassure her. “It’s me, Evan. Don’t worry, you’re back, you’re back.”

  Holding her close, Evan felt her breathing, now soft and normal, and just held her, savoring the moment. He’d nearly lost her.

  “Evan, what happened?”

  He drew back, and gazed down into her face, smoothing strands of hair back off her cheeks. “You had a dream, and I couldn’t wake you. You have the same marks. Fingerprints. I saw them press in, Sofie. This is bad, this is really bad.”

  She lifted her hand to her neck, and winced when they skimmed the marks. “You should take pictures of them.” Her voice sounded low and hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “Cristos asked you to.”

  “Damn Cristos!”

  “Evan, please.”

  The last thing he wanted was for her to get upset. He lifted her out of the shower and reached for a large towel to wrap her in, and another for her hair. He wanted her warm and cared for. “I’ll do it, Sofie. Just let me look after you. You scared me to death.”

  “You were scared!” She tried to laugh, but choked instead. Evan put her back into bed, towels and all, and went downstairs to get a drink for her. He brought a large pitcher of water and a couple of glasses back with him, booting up his computer on the way and grabbing his digital camera off a shelf.

  Sofie had removed the towel covering her body and pulled the sheets up. She sat up, scrubbing at her hair with the smaller towel. “I heard you, but I couldn’t answer. Archie was here, and another woman, an older woman I don’t know. She was smiling while he strangled me. Evan, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I’m calling Cristos.”

  He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, but she stopped him, putting her hand over his. “Evan, think. This apartment is a designated safe house. It’s being watched, by our side, and for all we know, by them, too. Only three people have free access to this apartment. If you didn’t believe in the power of dreams, in possession or telepathy, who would you think attacked me?”

  “Jesus!”

  He’d been too busy ensuring her safety to concern himself with reason. But now he stopped to think, she was right. There were only the two of them here, under virtual house arrest. Not only would Archie ensure Sofie’s death, but he would make it almost certain that Evan would be accused and convicted of her death. Foolproof. He was a felon, a man with a questionable past. Who better to frame?

  He picked up the camera. The marks would fade fast, if they were like the last ones, but right now the impressions were deep. He moved in close and took numerous photos of the marks, hating the necessity, longing to hold her close and love her.

  “It’s done.”

  Leaving her drinking the water like a refugee from the Sahara he ran downstairs and downloaded the pictures to a file. He went back upstairs and slid into bed with her, holding her close. “You can’t go to sleep again. At least on your own.” A plan was forming in his head, but he needed confirmation, and in case it didn’t work, he needed to tell someone else. He picked up his mobile. “I have to tell someone. Cristos seems like the only one.”

  “For heaven’s sake don’t tell Harry Bent. He’d have you in custody before you’d finished the second sentence.”

  Holding her close with one arm around her shoulders, he hit the number.

  Cristos answered within five rings. He must sleep with his mobile. A fleeting thought crossed Evan’s mind – did he sleep with anyone else these days?

  “Yes?” Cristos didn’t even sound sleepy.

  “There’s been a development.”

  “Stop there. No more on an unsecured line.” The command came quickly. “I’m at the office. I’ll be round in ten minutes.”

  Evan doubted it, but at this time in the morning the traffic must be thin. His mobile said two-ten a.m. when he pressed the button to terminate the call. “He’s on his way,” he told her.

  By the time Cristos arrived the coffee was on and Sofie was lying on the sofa downstairs, wrapped in her robe and covered by the comforter from the bed in the spare room.

  Cristos was dressed in his usual immaculate way, but more disheveled than Evan could remember seeing him in working hours. His tie was loosened, his trousers held definite creases. It must be unusual for Evan to notice it in his current state, when all his attention was on the woman he loved.

  Evan saw his foot tap a couple of times before the door opened for him, and knew his boss was unusually agitated. Good. He should be.

  Cristos took in the scene in a single glance. “Tell me,” he said, his pale gaze swinging to Evan.

  “Sofie had another dream. This time she almost died. We need advice. She can’t stay awake until this person is caught.”

  Cristos moved to Sofie, who pushed the covers aside so he could see her neck. The marks were already fading, pink instead of the angry red of five minutes before. Cristos turned to face Evan, one eyebrow raised. Evan punched up the jpeg on his largest screen, the flat screen erected on the shelf above the main keyboard.

  Cristos nodded and turned back to Sofie. “We could try drugs,” he said. “If we put you deep enough into non REM sleep that would probably do it. But if he could get to you there, that would be the end.”

  “I thought it might be,” Sofie said quietly. “I’m willing to try whatever you suggest.”

  “No.” Evan strode forward to stand behind Sofie’s head, resting against the sofa cushions. “I can’t stand by and watch her die. There must be another way.”

  “None without risk.” Cristos pulled up one of the Barcelona chairs and sat down. “Tell me about the dream, in detail, please.”

  Sofie took a deep breath and even in his anxiety something in Evan responded to the rise and fall of her breasts. “I was in a room I didn’t know, but it wasn’t an exceptional room, there was nothing distinctive about it. It could have been a hotel room. Archie was there, with a woman I didn’t recognize, an older woman. Black hair, American accent, but she didn’t say much. Archie asked me for the whistle again, but when I said no he lost his temper and started to throttle me. The woman told him not to, but she didn’t seem to care very much. ‘She’s nobody,’ she said once.” Sofie paused and lifted her hand. Evan took it, knowing she wanted reassurance. He stroked his thumb across her palm in the gentlest of caresses.

  “She spoke to him by name once. She didn’t call him Archie. She called him Mordred.”

  Cristos was looking at the image on the screen, but at those words his head whipped around to face her. “Mordred? Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t mistake that.”

  “You know who he was?”

  Sofie grimaced. “Yes, I know. It’s a legend. We find Arthur fanatics everywhere in Britain. Some people even claim he was a Scot. The legends vary, but Mordred was Arthur’s son by his sister Morgause, and was exiled because the King couldn’t stand the sight of him until he had grown to a man. Mordred caused Arthur’s downfall, wanting the throne for himself.”

  “Merlin was in thrall to Niniane by then,” Cristos murmured.r />
  “Yes, he was. I read the main versions of the legend, because my specialist period was the period between the Roman conquest and the Norman Conquest. I also did some work on the medieval period. I was more interested in the legend and what it showed about the society in which it was written, but I looked into the origins of the legend.”

  “And your conclusions were?” Cristos gently prompted.

  Sofie shrugged and Evan realized what Cristos was doing. Talking about her area of expertise was helping to relax Sofie, from the tense, terrified person he’d roused from a near-death sleep to the rational academic once more.

  “That the stories are just that – legends. Perhaps based on a very different reality.”

  Cristos nodded. “Could there be any possibility that Arthur did exist?”

  Sofie smiled indulgently and released Evan’s hand. Taking Cristos’ glance as a request he went into the kitchen to make the coffee. He knew he was out of his depth here. His work for Cristos was essentially practical, developing computer systems and programs to help the more esoteric side of the work. Now it had come home to him. He was forced to deal with the things he had successfully ignored for years. It terrified him, the unknown, it always had. He’d fought to move to another department – there were many who wanted his expertise, but Cristos had hung on to him with a combination of threats, strength, and bribery. Evan could stay here in New York instead of moving to, say, Virginia, his salary was as good as his grade could get, and he was provided with a range of interesting challenges he’d be hard put to find anywhere else.

  They were still discussing Arthurian legend when he returned with the coffee. Exchanging a glance with Cristos, Evan saw he had succeeded in calming Sofie. She was even smiling. “No, I don’t think Arthur sleeps somewhere under Cadbury Hill. The only thing that will save us from disaster is ourselves, if it should ever come to that.”

  She met Evan’s eyes when he brought her coffee across, and smiled. Evan wondered if she realized just how intimate the look was, and decided he didn’t care, as long as she kept it for him.