Lynne Connolly

by The Chemistry Of Evil (Triskelion) (lit)

  “But what about Evan?” Cristos handed her the vials. Sofie held them loosely in her hand. “What about Evan?”

  Sighing Cristos met her gaze. “He’s down. I brought an antidote, but it won’t work unless he has some extra help.” He glanced at the vials.

  It was blackmail. Sofie wasn’t fool enough to fight, not when time meant so much. She took the pen he offered her and scrawled her initials on the labels.

  “Thank you, Dr. Adams. For a moment, think what this means. People are being killed, and if we are to prevent it, we have to move quickly. I think this person will not stop until she is caught. Oh yes, I think it’s a female. It has to stop, and I will do whatever I can to stop it.” He flicked a glance at Evan. “Even if it means the death of someone I’ve come to think of as my son.”

  A startling admission, but Sofie didn’t flinch. “So what do we do now?”

  Cristos dropped the vials into a plastic bag, and then into his briefcase. Reaching in, he drew out a syringe, already filled. “This is morphine. It should counteract the effects of the belladonna, but I’m not sure if it will work.”

  “Morphine? An opiate?”

  Cristos nodded grimly. “It works on different parts of the brain to the belladonna, and has been shown to counteract the drug. But it’s dangerous. I want to try something else as well.”

  “Your gift?”

  He nodded briefly. “I’ll administer this. You can be my witness, in case we need one.”

  Sofie knew what he meant. If Evan died. Neither said any more but Sofie watched carefully as Cristos rolled up Evan’s shirtsleeve and injected some of the contents of the syringe into the vein that throbbed in the tender crease of his elbow. He didn’t need a tourniquet; Cristos merely pressed the thumb of his free hand over the vein above the injection site.

  He didn’t wait for a response, but put the syringe down by the bed and leaned forward. Sofie watched, the observer this time, as he touched Evan’s temples. Cristos closed his eyes. Sofie held her breath, careful to let it out again in a silent sigh.

  She could feel the tension, almost taste it on her tongue. Cristos and Evan had gone elsewhere, away from this world.

  After five minutes Cristos let out a groan and drew back, pressing his hands to his forehead. “I can’t reach him. I think I have, and then he moves out of reach. Someone’s playing games. I think it’s Mrs. Bull, or whatever she likes to call herself.”

  He regarded Sofie for a moment in silence while she absorbed what he was saying. Mrs. Bull, if it was she, and now there seemed little doubt of that, was in Evan’s head, perhaps torturing him, leading him into places he didn’t want to inhabit.

  “You’re the only one who can reach him, Sofie.”

  And, with a jolt that shocked her to the core, Sofie realized what he meant. “I have to link with him, don’t I?” Cristos nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. She swallowed. “We had an argument earlier today and he put a barrier up. I don’t know if I can.”

  “Those barriers have to be kept in place by the conscious mind,” said Cristos, speaking slowly. “He is unconscious. You won’t find it hard.”

  “Very well. But I won’t do it with anyone else here.”

  Cristos sighed. “It’s dangerous, Dr. Adams. You should have someone here to pull you out, if you need it. I know some techniques. I can help you. Or I can send someone else to you, if you prefer that.”

  Sofie shook her head. “No. It’s both of us and no one else. If we die, then we die.”

  “No. I won’t allow that.” He looked down at Evan, obviously torn.

  “Let me try. You have to go and see Harry Bent, don’t you?”

  “That can wait.”

  Sofie smiled slightly. “No it can’t. And neither can this.”

  Cristos reached a hand out to Evan, and then drew it back sharply. “I’ll stay.”

  She stared at him. “You won’t give in, will you?”

  “Not in this.”

  The bed was on a low platform. Heedless of his tailored suit Cristos squatted down and sat on the edge of the platform, near the bottom of the bed. “I don’t trust her. God knows what she’s planning, but I don’t want to be out of the loop when she takes her next step.”

  Trying to concentrate Sofie sat down next to Evan and took his hand. She closed her eyes and at once pain shot through her head like lightening striking.

  A voice, a female voice, strident and loud. Get him out of here! He wasn’t welcome then and he isn’t now! If you don’t get him out I’ll kill you all, starting with Howell!

  Sofie dropped Evan’s hand and opened her eyes to see Cristos standing over her. “I heard,” he said grimly. “And she means me.”

  “Who were you? Who are you?”

  He raised a brow. “Cristos. I’m who I’ve always been. She knows I have power.”

  Evan twisted in the bed, convulsively jerking his legs up to his chest and gasping. Marks appeared on his throat, marks that were terrifyingly familiar to Sofie. She shot a look at Cristos. “Go, now! She means it. I’ll do it myself.”

  “You could both die.” She didn’t need the flattened tones to know his emotions were getting out of hand. Like Evan, he suppressed his emotions when he could, put reason first. Reason wouldn’t help them now.

  “I’ll take that chance.” Sofie said just as Evan choked. “If you stay, he’s dead for sure. Go!” She paused, waited a brief couple of seconds for him to agree. When he jerked his head in a sharp nod she continued, “Tell my mother the truth. She deserves to know. And tell her I love Evan, that it’s my choice.”

  “I promise.” He closed the briefcase and picked it up, turned to the stairs. “Only Miranda can get in this place without you two. If I don’t hear from you in twelve hours, I’ll call her.”

  It seemed fair. It would be over by then, one way or another.

  Cristos ran down the stairs and left, the heavy door slamming behind him, echoing through the large, silent room.

  With a gasp the figure on the bed lay still. He was breathing evenly again, and when Sofie straightened his legs he didn’t resist. Evan lay still, but sweating. As Sofie watched, she saw his eyeballs move behind his lids and a moan escaped him. She couldn’t resist any more. It was probably some kind of trap, but she couldn’t stand by and watch, especially when she could, perhaps, help him.

  Sofie undressed quickly down to her underwear and lay down next to Evan. The pillow under him was still damp, although she’d changed it, and the bed was definitely damp with water, but the heat from his body had warmed it. He was still dressed, in shirt and pants, one sleeve rolled up. Sofie had only managed to get his jacket and shoes off. It couldn’t be helped. Soon she’d be past worrying about that. She closed her eyes and concentrated, wondering how it was to be done, if she could.

  She tried. She visualized them making love until the tears seeped from under her lids. That was the source of his power, and she’d hoped to reconstruct the moment it happened in her head, and tap into that. She pictured his head, and the chakra in the forehead, tried to persuade him to absorb her being.

  It didn’t work. Sofie opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, white and featureless except for a large metal beam running over her head, also painted white. She started to count the rivets in the beam, darker dimples in the surface, trying to concentrate. Tired and frantic with worry, she found it impossible.

  Sofie found Evan’s hand with her own and gripped it. His fingers curled slackly around hers. She had to do something, she had to!

  A voice spoke in her head. It was one she didn’t know, a deep bass baritone speaking English with no trace of an American accent. Let go.

  The voice was enough to startle her into releasing all her thought processes for the moment it took. Without knowing exactly how she’d managed it, Sofie felt herself enter Evan’s head. And his dreams.

  *

  Sofie stood in a room she didn’t know, a room furnished impersonally in natural woods and white. A hotel room.
A coffee maker stood on a desk just inside her line of vision, the heady aroma filling the air. It was an odor she would forever associate with Evan. To her left the door to a small white bathroom stood open. When she moved she saw herself in the mirror, tousled hair tumbled over her shoulders, still in her underwear.

  Her senses told her she wasn’t alone. She walked forward, steeling her mind for what she thought she would see.

  Evan was naked in the big bed, covered with a sheet up to his waist. A dark haired woman sprawled next to him, her upper body raised up, supported by one elbow. Her free hand caressed Evan’s chest, smoothing the long fingers up to his nipples. She tweaked, and he closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them on her. “I still think we’re making a mistake. I don’t know why. I just have this feeling.”

  “Ignore it.” Her voice drawled in the unmistakable accent of the Deep South. “You’re still here, aren’t you? Who are we hurting?”

  “No one, I guess, Meghan.”

  “You want to do this as much as I do.” Her voice lowered to a seductive whisper. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Smiling, Evan reached up and hooked her around her neck. “Nothing.” He pulled her down to his waiting mouth.

  Sofie’s gasp attracted their attention. Meghan’s head jerked up, flinging long straight hair back from her face. She glared straight at Sofie. Up until that point Sofie hadn’t known if she would be visible or not.

  She was. Evan’s head whipped around, and he blinked. “I think you might be in the wrong room.” There was no recognition in his voice, in his eyes.

  “Evan? It’s me, Sofie.”

  “Sofie.” He said the word softly, rolling it around his mouth. “Sofie.” A new note came into his voice, and he stared at her, understanding slowly dawning on his face.

  “Evan!” Meghan’s voice came sharply, and Evan reacted, turning back to her. Meghan sat up, her hair falling over her full breasts. Then she looked over at Sofie, curving her arm protectively around Evan. “Come and join us,” she suggested, her tones honey. “The more the merrier. A duel, how about that?”

  “What?”

  “A duel. See which of us can get him first.”

  Sofie bit her lip. It was better than a trap, though she still suspected trickery. A duel. With Evan as the prize. It was her only chance.

  Against her was her own reserve. Living with one man for five years, devoting herself wholly to him and before that, although she hadn’t been celibate, her life had been concentrated on her studies. It meant she wasn’t experienced, and hadn’t learned the sensual skills she would need in this battle. On her side was one fact, and only one. Evan loved her. That was all she had.

  Evan wasn’t cogent. He curled in to Meghan, nuzzling her breasts where they swung in front of his face. Meghan pushed her body forward to give him better access.

  Sofie stripped off her bra and panties. There was no other way she could think of, but she knew she had to get him away from Meghan. Before he did it again. If it was again. Nothing was certain here.

  She slid into bed next to Evan and received a welcome from her rival when Meghan lifted her head, her lips curved in a sensual smile. “Very nice,” she purred. Before Sofie could pull the sheet up to cover her Meghan dragged the meager covering down. “Sit up.”

  Sofie sat and faced Meghan, who reached out and traced her aureole with the very tip of her red-painted finger. The slight scratch made Sofie shiver. “Good,” Meghan murmured, the word long drawn out. “Touch her, Evan. Feel her.”

  Evan stretched out a hand and took Sofie’s other breast into his palm, caressing her with warmth. Sofie relaxed under his touch, felt the waves of desire course unsteadily through her. She let her eyes close. When she opened them she saw Evan and Meghan caressing her body, the same concentrated look in both pairs of dark eyes.

  She shivered, not entirely with desire, but desire was there. Something she could use. This situation was not of her choosing, not of her making, but she had accepted the duel, and she could do nothing but her best. That included honesty. Her goal was to have Evan make love to her instead of to Meghan. Only then would she be able to take him away from this, back to the real world where she would share him with no one.

  Sofie allowed her responses to show, and reached out to touch Evan. Meghan reached out and touched her hand. “No. Touch me.”

  Sofie had never allowed a woman near her in that way. She had always been modest about her body, even in shared accommodation, one of the curses of student fieldwork, she had never undressed completely in front of others, men or women. How much, she wondered, had that been due to a feeling of inadequacy? Evan had done a lot to counteract that feeling with his obvious delight in her body, but it was still there.

  Deliberately Sofie went inside herself and drew that feeling out, allowed herself to experience it. “I’ve never been like this before,” she breathed. “I’ve never touched a woman like this.” If she pretended to be what she was not, then that deception could weaken her, and prove her undoing.

  Meghan’s breast was much larger than her own, heavy, the skin silky soft. The nipple was incredibly soft, until it puckered under her fingers and soft, yielding flesh became hard and resistant. When she felt a hand on the back of her neck she didn’t know if it was Meghan or Evan, but she gave in to the silent request and leaned forward to take Meghan’s nipple into her mouth.

  A woman’s nipple was little different to a man’s, except it was larger. Sofie knew that leaning forward made the most of her breasts, and she shifted a little to bring them nearer to Evan’s face. She was rewarded when she felt hot, damp warmth enclose her left nipple when Evan sucked it.

  She groaned, and heard Meghan soft words. “That’s it, that’s it. It feels good, Sofie, doesn’t it? Kiss me, Sofie.”

  She was pulled up by the hair, off the nipple that left her mouth with a soft pop as the suction was broken. Her own nipple was yanked out of Evan’s mouth, but a hand followed, caressing the sensitive flesh. She just had time to open her eyes and see the dark eyes, ringed with eyeliner, smiling into her own when a mouth, soft and wet, closed over hers.

  A kiss is a kiss, but Meghan’s kiss was subtly different to any Sofie had ever received from a man. Meghan’s perfume, flowery and spicy at the same time, filled her nostrils as Meghan’s tongue filled her mouth, caressing and tempting, enticing her to go further, do more. A masculine groan told her how much Evan enjoyed the sight, and she jerked away, jealousy spiking through her.

  Jealousy. A negative emotion, one causing hurt and pain. It couldn’t be allowed. It weakened her. Sofie forced her mouth into a smile, concentrating on Meghan, knowing suddenly what she had to do.

  Meghan’s pink mouth curled into a smile. “There are pleasures men have no part of. We have as long as we need, Sofie, and I’m beginning to think I chose the wrong person. Come here.”

  Another devastating, mind-pummeling kiss, but Sofie kept her wits about her this time. She returned the kiss with darting forays into Meghan’s mouth, caressing and teasing, then took Meghan’s breast in her hand, pinching the nipple between her fingers, smoothing out the slight pain with a gentle caress. She cupped the breast, lifted it, and her eyes on Meghan’s, kissed around it.

  A hand crept between her slightly open thighs, too small to be Evan’s, the nails scraping against her skin. Sofie shivered and opened her legs wider, allowing Meghan’s caress, giving unspoken permission.

  “Oh God!” Evan murmured, and Sofie heard the besotted, sex sodden quality to his voice, totally unlike the loving passion he’d shown to her. She was winning. Lust, that was the only way she would beat her rival, but she would win Evan with love.

  Fingers invaded her, and Sofie deliberately relaxed, allowed herself to be invaded. It was getting harder to suppress her natural revulsion, not to break away, grab Evan’s hand and plead with him to go with her, but she knew she would lose if she did that. And losing meant Evan’s death.

  A larger hand curved around her
bottom, holding her steady, just as though at some level Evan understood and was helping her. She leaned against it slightly, took comfort from him and let Meghan explore her. Her tongue caressed the peak of Meghan’s full breast gently, and then she bit, and heard Meghan’s gasp of appreciation. “Clever girl.”

  The fingers in her body thrust deeper, and Sofie couldn’t deny the sharp surge of pleasure that forced its way through her reluctant body. She arched forward, pressing her body into the hand working within her.

  It took her a moment to realize it was a hand, or at least, four fingers of it. She felt the individual spreading, the caresses, and she knew this was Meghan’s counteraction to the challenge. She meant to make Sofie mindless with need, so she would have the advantage. She had to reciprocate.

  Sofie began to kiss her way down Meghan’s body, closing her mind to all she’d been taught, all she’d believed in. The sharp scent of arousal attacked her nostrils. She kissed all around the area before taking a breath and diving into the wet, warm depths of her rival.

  The soft cry was all she needed to tell her she was on the right track. Meghan loved this. “Oh you have magic in your mouth, Sofie!” she heard. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

  Lowering her body meant Meghan’s hand had been forced away from her, but Sofie felt another hand caressing between her thighs. No long fingernails, a larger hand. Evan. She concentrated on the actions that drew the most responses, twirling her tongue around Meghan’s clit, inserting it into the soft folds to tease and draw her rival into her domain.

  When Evan caressed her, Sofie responded, pushing her body into his hand, hoping Meghan wouldn’t see what he did. Then she felt another finger, this time next to her mouth. Evan was touching them both.

  Jealousy surged, immediately quelled. She mustn’t withdraw, or she would lose. She used her mouth, her chin to force his fingers away from his sister’s vagina and occupied it herself, thrusting her tongue into the saturated depths.

  Meghan arched her body into Sofie’s face, crying out and Sofie shifted, just enough to bring her body closer to Evan’s. To Meghan it might seem as though she wanted to get closer to her. She felt Meghan’s hands curl around her head, fingers spiking into her unruly curls in an effort to keep her still, hold her steady.