Gothic Heat

by Portia Da Costa

  He spoke calmly but there was self-loathing beneath the surface and suddenly, despite everything, especially the revolting act he'd just owned up to, Paula felt sympathy for him, and a ringing sense that there was more to it. More reasons below the surface of weak, macho horniness.

  As he started to move away, she caught his arm.

  'You talked about a deal. What did she offer you? It must have been something important.'

  Rafe glanced from her, to Jonathan and Belinda.

  'It was nothing. Not important. I don't want to talk about it.' He started to walk but Paula held on, skittering after him, her silk robe flapping and tangling around her thighs.

  'No, Rafe, I want to know. You owe me that.' He stopped in his tracks and looked down on her, the mask gone, his mouth working as if he was squirming on a spot he'd never squirmed on before. 'Let's go to our room, talk this over quietly. We can't all stand around in this chamber of doom or whatever it is, falling out with one another. Let's all go back to bed and then we'll gather in the morning, have some breakfast and thrash out a plan of what to do.'

  For a moment, despite the raw peculiarity and awful-ness of the situation, Paula suddenly felt proud of herself. God, she sounded like a real grown-up, facing adversity with reason and aplomb. Would wonders never cease?

  'You're not going to sleep with him, are you?' Jonathan looked as if he fancied taking a swing at Rafe again.

  'Calm down, Johnny. You need to stay out of this for the moment.' Belinda gently restrained her fiery boyfriend and Paula smiled at her friend, recognising that same sudden grown-up wisdom in Belinda too. 'We all need to get some sleep, then in the morning I think we'd better try to contact Michiko. She'll know what to do.' Paula watched Belinda slide an arm around Jonathan, and delicately but with authority begin to manoeuvre him towards the door. 'Don't worry, I know Oren has a way of getting in touch with her. And she's only a couple of hours away in London. She'll be able to understand all this.' About to leave, she turned back to the great book, still open, so obviously ravaged. 'And she'll probably know exactly what it was that Paula ... sorry, Isidora ... burnt.'

  After Paula had pushed open the door to their room and almost staggered gratefully inside, it dawned on her that Rafe hadn't followed. When she turned round, he was standing in the corridor, his lips pursed and looking slightly lost.

  'Aren't you coming in?'

  She knew she should be furious, disappointed, hurt and repelled by him now, but she couldn't summon any of those emotions. She just felt tired and, despite the fact that she'd known Belinda and Jonathan for donkey's years, it still seemed as if Rafe was her deeper friend, even though he'd put her in danger and betrayed her.

  'Maybe it's better if I find somewhere else to sleep? Those chesterfields down in the library are pretty comfy.' In a swift, choppy action, he rubbed his hand across his face and, as he did so, Paula suddenly realised it was wet. As were his clothes, his jeans and T-shirt wringing and stuck to him. 'If I were you, I wouldn't want me anywhere near me at the moment. Especially if Isidora should put in an appearance.'

  'Don't be stupid. Come on in.' She made an imperious gesture, which it vaguely occurred to her she might well have picked up from Isidora. 'I'll take my chances. And you're absolutely saturated. You need to dry off.'

  Cautiously, as if he were nervous of himself more than her, Rafe followed her inside, then stared around as if he didn't quite know what to do.

  'And how come you're all wet anyway?'

  'I went for a jog. To think over all this crap and decide whether I was going to be an even more despicable shit than I normally am. I'd just come back inside when I met your friends on the landing, squawking about Isidora and something being wrong in that tower.'

  'Well, you'd better get dry, hadn't you, and then we'll talk.'

  Still, he just stood there, frowning.

  'What's the matter? I've seen it all before ... and so has she.' Paula laughed, against all the odds, seeing the dark and twisted funny side.

  Rafe shrugged, his lips quirking too as he kicked off his boots, peeled off his T-shirt and unbuckled his belt. As he started to unzip, despite her bravado Paula suddenly, and ridiculously, felt shy. What the hell was that about? She stomped into the bathroom, plucked a robe from the hook and threw it out to him before bolting the door.

  The crying jag was hard but silent. What the hell was she going to do now? The bitch was taking over, commandeering her body, getting more and more powerful. And now she was a fool, a bloody fool, to trust Rafe, even though she wanted to.

  Despite all he'd probably done, the thought of his warm body and his enfolding arms still felt like ... like home to her.

  Eventually he knocked while she was tidying herself up. The bathroom was astonishingly well appointed, more like a luxury hotel than run-down haunted house.

  'Are you all right in there, love?'

  Love?

  'Yes, I'm OK.' She opened the door. 'But I'm tired. I want to get back to sleep for a while. It must be nearly dawn.'

  Clad in his robe, Rafe regarded her worriedly. 'Right... you're right. You take the bed. I'll take the couch.' He gestured behind him, towards an elegant chaise longue, which he'd already spread with blankets, presumably from the ottoman at the end of the bed. 'I just need a few minutes in the bathroom.'

  It was all so awkward. Maybe it would have been better to rant and rave at him and clear the air. Dear God, she had every reason to.

  For several moments, she stared at the bathroom door as if the answers were engraved on it. She wanted to trust him. She couldn't trust him. She wanted to trust him. She couldn't trust him. The two concepts swapped places again and again in her head like one of those old clocks where figures popped in and out of niches. Again and again, making her no wiser. The only thing she did know was that she was exhausted. She needed to rest.

  After shrugging out of the silk robe, she placed it over the end of the bed but was puzzled when it wouldn't lie flat. Patting the pocket yielded a crackly sound and, when she reached into it, she drew out two old sheets of parchment-like paper with torn edges.

  More pages from the book of spells, but not burnt this time. Were they important? They must be. Isidora had stolen these instead of destroying them. They must be critical, but they meant nothing, not a thing, to Paula. The language was foreign and the symbols incomprehensible.

  Michiko will know, she thought suddenly. I just hope she bloody well arrives before Isidora takes control again. Folding the pages, she stuffed them under the mattress, hoping against hope that Isidora couldn't read her mind when she wasn't around.

  True to his word, Rafe took only four or five minutes, yet he came out with the bloom of a recent shower on his skin. Lifting the towel around his shoulders he began to rub his short hair. Paula stared at the sash of his robe, so firmly and irrevocably knotted.

  Why do I still want him, she thought, after he's so comprehensively betrayed me?

  'So?' she said, unable to bear the tension any longer as Rafe lowered the towel with a taut expression on his face. 'What has Isidora offered you? What's the deal?' She hesitated, grabbing a hunk of sheet beneath the covers to stop herself from getting in a strop and losing it. It was suddenly about matters so much more tangible and down to earth than supernatural powers and ancient spells and all that shit. 'Or is it that she's just so much more sexy and a better fuck than me?'

  Rafe tossed his towel over the back of a chair, and then took the same chair and hauled it around to the side of the bed closest to her. Then he sat down, took a breath and leant forwards, his hands loosely clasped.

  'No, actually, she isn't any better in bed than you. She sort of tricks you into thinking she is, but afterwards you realise that what you felt most of all was the fact you were scared as fuck of her.'

  It didn't sound plausible, but a tiny seed of thankfulness blossomed, just because he'd said it at all.

  'OK, then. What else did she offer you? There must be something.' She stared at hi
m, frowning. She'd been on the point of saying something, but it seemed utterly stupid to her, given that she barely knew him. 'I don't think you're the kind of guy who's into evil for evil's sake.'

  Rafe laughed, short, sharp and bitter. 'I'm a low, conniving fuck who's done some pretty shitty things in my time. And taken advantage of a lot of people.'

  Distracted from the main thrust of her enquiries, Paula had to ask. 'What things? What have you done?'

  'Oh, let me see ... Well, my current speciality is getting paid for my sexual favours by rich middle-aged women at Inner Light. But I guess you knew about that, didn't you?'

  'Yes, I put two and two together.'

  'Yeah, but you didn't know that I was once an embezzler, did you?' His voice was flat, cold, full of disgust. Self-disgust. 'I used my ability to hypnotise people to get money out of them and it worked a treat. I'd like to say it was all for my mum, so she'd have a decent life after she was widowed and all the things my father could never give her. But hell, I enjoyed the fruits of my dubious labours for a while too.' His mouth thinned in a hard line. 'Until somebody twigged what I was doing and I was caught. And convicted.'

  Paula realised her shock must have shown on her face, because he quickly went on, making a despairing, palms-up gesture as he spoke. 'Yes, I'm a cheat and a liar and an ex-con. Perfect material for Isidora, I'd say. Wouldn't you?'

  'Why did you do the things you did? What was it ... just greed?'

  He shrugged again, shook his head. Paula noticed there were still a few jewels of water clinging to his hair. 'Yes, I suppose so ... I wanted to live well, while I lived. And I did give some biggish chunks of money to my mother. But fortunately for her, she died before the full truth of what a worthless shit her son turned out to be was revealed.'

  I ought to be appalled. I ought to despise him even more.

  Yet somehow, she couldn't. There was no bravado in his voice, only self-loathing, and other emotions, buried deeper, that were more painful.

  'What about the rest of your family? Your father? What did he think?'

  'There was only ever my father, and he's dead. Long dead.'

  With that, Rafe pulled in a ragged breath as if he'd suddenly been hit hard, right in the chest. By some great pain that was always there, but never lost its impact.

  'I'm sorry about your parents.' She wanted to reach out to him but he'd set his chair cleverly beyond the distance she could get to. Or maybe beyond the distance it took to reach her.

  'They're both better off,' he whispered, as if he was still gathering himself. 'Especially in view of my latest heinous behaviour. Consorting with demons or whatever has to be a moral low point in anybody's life.'

  'But did you know it was her? And not me?'

  He looked at her, his brown eyes dark with regret. 'Like I said, no, not at first... not really.' He lifted his hands in an elegant gesture. 'I mean, who would? It's all so crazy. You'll probably hate me even more, but at first I thought your story was all bullshit, that you were delusional.'

  Paula suddenly found herself laughing. 'So, it takes a close encounter with a bodysnatcher to convince you?'

  'I suppose so ... I suppose so.' He smiled ruefully, and suddenly looked as young and as out of his depth as Jonathan probably was.

  Paula made a decision.

  'Look, this is stupid. Just get into bed, will you?' She slid sideways across the mattress, lifting the sheet and making space for him. 'If Isidora turns up, just sock her on the chin and knock her out cold until it's my turn again.'

  The tapestry of emotions on Rate's face grew more complex. His eyes had widened in an instinctive male response as she'd made her invitation. She was naked in bed, and she admitted that it wasn't by accident she'd offered him a glimpse of her body. Despite everything, she still wanted him for his heat and his humanity.

  'Are you sure about this?'

  She could see he wanted it, and probably her too. His hand was already on the knotted sash of the towelling robe. 'Not dead sure, but who cares?' She flapped the sheet again.

  'Shall I keep this on? I mean ... obviously, you won't want to make love with me after what I've done, will you? So it's probably safer if I keep the part of me that really can't control itself under wraps.'

  'I'll take my chances.' Before he could stop her, she'd reached out, tugged on the sash and the towelling panels of the soft robe had swung free. Rafe's tanned body was a column of gold and firm muscle, beautiful and framed in white. Twisted up in the residue of anger and disappointment, Paula's desire for him roiled anew, clenching low in her belly. Despite her best intentions, she glanced quickly at his cock.

  It was nascent, slightly thickened. Definitely perky. But that was a man for you. Ever ready even in the most unpromising circumstances. With a shrug of irritation, Rafe slipped quickly beneath the covers, twisting his body pointedly so as not to allow for any accidental contact. He reached for the bedside light and plunged the room into darkness. The velvet curtains were thick and they lay in the indigo silence for a few moments, as if they were each bedding into their personal space, getting the measure of one another.

  'So, spill it,' Paula said eventually. They were going to have to face this, so why drag out the agony any further. 'What did she offer you? And what did you do to allow her to ... to take over?'

  'Well, I didn't do much really, and I wasn't thinking straight. She said something like "do you invite me?" and like a stupid bastard I just said "yes", not really thinking about the possible consequences.'

  'Great!'

  'Well, like I said, I wasn't thinking straight and I wish I hadn't done it now.'

  His voice sounded tired and leaden, and Paula was inclined to believe him but there was more she needed to know, and know now.

  'And what was the prize? The lure? What did she offer you to help her get rid of me?'

  'Life ... she offered me life.'

  It came out barely more than a whisper, and even in the still, dark silence Paula had to lean closer to hear it. Their shoulders touched, and his skin was warm and fresh and slightly damp. She expected him to flinch but he didn't, he pressed closer, the contact simple and human rather than sexual.

  'You mean immortality? Longevity? Like Belinda's André?'

  'Yes, but that's not what I wanted. Not as much as that.'

  His voice was still soft, but had an odd hollow quality to it.

  Paula frowned in the darkness. His answer wasn't quite what she'd expected. Oh, she'd thought it was something like immortality, the classic lure of a thousand supernatural stories, but it seemed strange that Rafe didn't want it.

  'What do you mean, Rafe?' She turned to him, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder and getting the shock of her life when she found him trembling.

  He turned to her and, though it was difficult to see him in the shadows, his eyes had a telltale fluid gleam.

  'I don't want to live for ever. I just want to live.'

  11 Lust for Life

  He shook. Hard. And it was as if his body was finally surrendering to some enormous stress that it had borne with difficulty for many, many years. Something he'd probably tried not to think about but had struggled to suppress. A great fear. A great sorrow. Some terror that had eaten away at him and probably predicated his life and motivated those acts of his that were less than heroic.

  Paula slid her arms around him tightly in a blind attempt to calm, assuage and understand. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, and she felt moisture trickle tellingly against her skin. For several minutes, he cried silently, she stroking his hot back. Whatever was troubling him seemed to bring fever in its wake.

  'What is it, Rafe?' she said at length, her hand still moving rhythmically over his skin. 'Just tell me.'

  She felt him brace himself, drag in a shuddering breath, rub at his face as he rolled onto his side.

  'They say men should be able to deal with this stuff ... be stoic ... stiff upper lip and all that, but if I allow myself to think about it, r
eally think, I just fall apart like a crybaby.'

  'Deal with what? Please, tell me! I need to understand.'

  Suddenly, he sat up in the darkness and reached for her hand. The grip he enfolded it in was fierce, desperate.

  'My father died young. He was only forty-two and he died in agony from a genetic disease that's apparently been passed down in our family. One minute he was fine, then the symptoms started and a couple of months later he was gone.' His fingers were cruelly tight around hers, but she stayed silent, barely feeling the effects. 'I'm nearly forty now ... and ... and I seem to spend most of my days waiting for it all to start.' He turned away, his profile a hard shadow in the darkness. 'The beginning of the end.'

  Paula's heart turned over, imagining what the burden of such knowledge must feel like. There. Constantly. Colouring everything that you thought, felt and did. She had some inkling of it. Her own mother had died young and been in pain. But it hadn't been anything hereditary, just the luck of the cancer draw.

  Shaking off Rate's hand, she threw her arms around him again and hugged hard and tight. 'Do you know for certain that you've got what your father had?' she asked, pressing her face against his broad chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was strong and true and regular. It sounded healthy. 'Have you ever been tested?'

  Rafe hauled in a gusty breath and, to her surprise, laughed wearily.

  'In the grand tradition of me being a worthless waste of space, I've never had the courage to take the test.' The laugh turned to a hard, self-mocking chuckle. 'I haven't even got the guts to know the truth.' He drew breath again with an effort as if there were physical weight bearing down on him, compressing his lungs.

  Paula was on the point of saying he should take the test, be prepared, then she stopped to consider. Would she do it? She thought of the times she'd put things off in her life, avoided issues. Hell, it had taken her long enough to face up to the current mess she was in.