Lynne Connolly

by The Chemistry Of Evil (Triskelion) (lit)

  Evan said nothing.

  Sofie followed the giggling pair up the narrow, dimly lit corridor to their room. Gwyneth cast a smiling glance at her. “I’ll give you a hand with him. You won’t be able to manage if he falls on the floor.”

  “Can I help?”

  Archie scowled at Evan. “Three’s company, four’s a crowd. Get your own women.”

  He closed the door in Evan’s face, then flopped against it, chuckling.

  Sofie was afraid Gwyneth’s prediction would come true and Archie would slide to the floor, but after a moment he straightened and turned around. “Now then, ladies,” he growled, mock aggressively. “Who’s first?”

  Gwyneth grinned. “You’re in no state to deal with either of us, big boy. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

  Archie pounced, seizing Gwyneth in his arms. “P’raps I’m not as drunk as you think, eh? Let’s see.” He pushed Gwyneth’s chin up and kissed her, his mouth descending open and wet on hers.

  Sofie felt queasy, and it had nothing to do with the two pints she’d drunk, or the lasagna. There were kisses and then there were kisses, and the way Archie’s large hands roved up and down Gwyneth’s back, this was much more than just casual.

  “Archie,” she said, lowering her voice in warning.

  He lifted his head. “What?” Gwyneth buried her head against his chest. “Gwynnie wants to, don’t you? I want to? Haven’t you ever wanted to live on the wild side? C’mon, Sofie, be a sport. It could be fun.”

  The roguish grin he sent her was a travesty of his usual humor. “I don’t want to,” Sofie said, sounding even to her own ears like a frightened child. She cleared her throat. “I’m not into that kind of thing, I told you before.”

  “But Gwynnie is, aren’t you love?” He bestowed another kiss on the giggling blonde in his arms. “I’ve talked about it with her. I think tonight might be the night, eh?”

  He leered at her. Then she looked to Gwyneth. Gwyneth smiled gently. “I’m no threat to you, Sofie. You’ll still be first with Archie.”

  Horrified, Sofie found her voice. “I don’t want to be first among many.”

  Archie straightened, and swung Gwyneth to one side, keeping her by him with an arm across her shoulders. Gwyneth settled in as though she belonged there. “Selfish woman. I never meant that. You want me, you’ll have to share me.” He stared at her.

  Sofie didn’t see any of the Archie she knew there. A different person lurked behind the blue eyes, someone who taunted, watched and waited. Someone who loved playing games, especially hurtful ones.

  That was it. She’d had enough.

  She moved to the wardrobe and snatched her carryall down from the top. Opening the drawers and wardrobe doors she began to stuff the bag with her belongings. “I won’t have that, Archie. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Suit yourself.” From the noises behind her Sofie knew they were kissing again.

  She’d thought it would be hard. Never had she believed a five-year relationship could be dissolved so easily.

  No doubt she forgot many of her belongings, but it didn’t matter. Sofie grabbed the carryall and walked out of the room, trying not to look at the couple busily engaged in the center of the floor.

  It was over. Archie could never come back from this. Archie, or whoever that monster was behind his eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Sofie ran up the corridor towards the big room at the end. She’d camp out in the finds room for the night, and find something else in the morning. She still hoped Gwyneth and Archie weren’t serious, that they were having a joke on her, but she knew it was real. That kiss hadn’t been pretence.

  A door opened as she ran past and an arm snaked out, halting her headlong progress. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The voice was soft but unmistakable. Evan.

  Sofie allowed herself to be drawn inside the room. There was no sense alerting everyone to the humiliating scene she’d just left.

  He took the carryall and dropped it on the floor. Sofie swallowed, getting control of herself, allowing the tears that she had hoped to have the privacy to shed to be locked inside her. “Archie. It’s not like him, really it’s not, but he wanted – he wanted something I didn’t.”

  “I can guess.” The words were brief but grim. He turned to close the door. “Where were you going?”

  “We have a finds room at the end of the corridor. I was going to sleep on one of the chairs there.”

  “Stay here. You don’t want to alert everybody to this, do you?”

  She had to admit she did not. However, looking around she saw this wasn’t a twin room, but a double, like the one she had just left. “I can’t take your bed.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, we can share it.” Her startled look forced a bark of laughter from him. “No, I didn’t mean that. You take the room. You look beat.”

  “I am.”

  “The bathroom’s through there.”

  His matter of fact tone helped. She went through to the bathroom and used the facilities, taking some time to hold a damp cloth to her face, holding back her feelings. She was too tired to think straight, too weary to care. There was an unopened packet, containing a disposable toothbrush on the glass shelf, next to his electric one. She used it, then left the bathroom.

  He was waiting. Still dressed, sitting on the end of the bed. “I’ll go sleep in the finds room.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” She forced a grin. “You’re not going to rape me, are you?”

  She felt rather than saw the shudder go through him. “No. I won’t do that. You’re exhausted. Go to bed.”

  “If you come with me.” She told him the truth. Not telling the truth had led to this, and it was time for that to change. “I don’t want to be alone. You say you won’t rape me and I believe you. Just to sleep.” She wasn’t sure what had got into her, but she badly wanted not to be alone.

  He shrugged, but she saw the tension in his shoulders.

  She turned and stripped off her jeans, leaving her T-shirt and panties on. Reaching under the T-shirt she unhooked her bra and drew it off down her arms. She couldn’t sleep in that thing.

  Without looking, she drew back the covers and got into bed, pulling the sheets up again, more for concealment than for warmth.

  He’d removed his jeans but like her, left the rest of his clothes on. Underneath he wore tight black briefs, clinging to his body. Sofie smiled.

  “What is it?”

  “No socks,” she said. “Sandals and no socks.”

  “It was too hot for tennis shoes today,” he said.

  That made her laugh. “No, you don’t understand. British men are known the world over for wearing socks with sandals.”

  He understood then, and smiled, the harsh lines of his face softening. “I see. I hadn’t heard that.”

  With a glance at her he got in the bed on the other side, then lay down. “You’re sure about this? I don’t mind sleeping somewhere else.”

  “No, honestly. If we’re not near a village, archaeologists will sometimes take a big tent and camp out. I’ve shared a tent with all kinds of people.”

  “I see.” He paused. “Goodnight then.” He reached for the switch to the bedside light, the only one lit.

  “No, wait.”

  He turned his head and waited for her to explain, the question in the dark eyes plain to see. Sofie briefly wondered at her ability to know his state of mind. After all, they hadn’t known each other for a full day yet. “I owe you something for this. You wanted to know about your sister.”

  She saw the sheet move when he tensed. “Yes.”

  “You mustn’t tell anyone I told you. Although if anyone found out you were here it would be obvious where you got your information.” Sofie decided to trust him. At the moment, although he was a relative stranger, she trusted Evan more than she trusted her fiancé of five years, now probably rutting with her friend in their room down the hall. She stared up at the ceiling. She couldn�
��t look at him while she told him this. “There were two aspects of Meghan’s death that the Bureau and the police have agreed to keep back. She was drugged with belladonna. You might know it as – “

  “Deadly nightshade.”

  Sofie turned to him. His steady regard didn’t make her uncomfortable. “Yes. You know it?”

  “Working where I do, how could I not?” His look didn’t waver. “What else?”

  “She had a symbol carved onto her chest. Just above her heart.” She was glad she couldn’t see him clearly.

  “What sort of symbol?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why they called me in. I specialize in the Dark Ages and the early Middle Ages. The sign looked like a rune.” She paused. “I looked up every alphabet I could find. The belladonna indicated some sort of crazy occult involvement, so I looked for the symbol there, as well.”

  He swore under his breath. “Idiots! They could have come to us. Why didn’t they? We’ve got Wiccans, Kabaalists, sorcerers, all kinds of people retained as consultants.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Her interest quickened, Sofie began to wonder if there was more to the department than she had been led to believe.

  “Could you draw the rune for me?”

  “I think so. Now?”

  “No, the morning is fine.” Slowly he reached out a hand and took hers, touching her fingers gently. “Thank you. Was it the same for the previous victim? Was the symbol the same one?”

  “Yes. I’ve not seen the victim, but I saw the sketch and the photographs. They hoped I could bring something to the case, but it was all negative.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His fingers caressed hers almost absent-mindedly, but he touched her nowhere else. She knew she could pull back at any time. “I looked for evidence of some kind of ritual. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s easy to overlook it. A stone placed in a certain way will do it, or an article wrapped in cloth. Anything really. There was nothing I could see.”

  “Now I know why Cristos wants you,” he murmured. “You’d fit in.”

  She pulled her hand back. “I’m an archaeologist, I don’t believe in that kind of mumbo jumbo.”

  He stared at her, his hand poised in space, before dropping it back on the covers. “You don’t have to believe. Not everyone does. You just have to know.”

  He moved away and turned out the light, darkness descending like a soft curtain. “Now go to sleep. You’re dead tired.”

  She turned on her side away from him, and began to drift. Just before she slept she heard his soft, “Thank you.”

  *

  Screaming, Sofie sat bolt upright. It took her a moment to realize where she was, precisely where she was. Quicker than that, he was sitting up too. “What is it?”

  It was past dawn, light filtering through the slit between the thick curtains at the window. She could see him. He could see her. “A dream. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you get them often?” He pushed his hand through his unruly hair.

  “Never. I suppose it was last night that did it.”

  “Probably. Come here.” He drew her down, one arm around her shoulders. “Tell me about it.”

  She didn’t resist, feeling a crease from his T-shirt under her cheek, and the hard body underneath. He was warm. She felt comforted.

  “I relived what happened tonight, but it was worse. I suppose I should tell you I’d already decided to break it off with Archie. But I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  She drew air in with a deep gulp, as though drinking water after a long thirst. She lay back, just breathing, savoring the sensation. She looked up at him, to where, propped up on one elbow, he leaned above her. “I’ve never had a dream so vivid before.”

  “No.” he reached out, traced the contours of her cheekbones with the tip of his forefinger. “I don’t think it was a natural dream. You were calling out before you woke.” He paused, his fingernail just touching her skin. She shuddered. Immediately he drew back. “Those kinds of dreams can hurt you. I want to take you to see Cristos.”

  “What can he do?”

  “Teach you how to protect yourself.”

  What she saw in his eyes did look like concern. She stared at him, wondering if she should, wondering if she should risk annoying her bosses by meeting the man everyone heard of but few met. He was derided in Bureau circles, but under the derision was a fear as tangible as the face above her.

  The face with the mouth. The soft, sensual mouth. The mouth that was kissing her.

  His body felt warm and protective, his kiss was gentle, but roused something slumbering inside her. Responding with delicious languor to him Sofie shifted a little, opened her body a little.

  He pulled away sharply. “Breakfast,” he stated, and swung out of bed. “I can hear them in the kitchens, and is that bacon I can smell?”

  He’d pulled away quickly, so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d imagined the flicker of his tongue against her lips. He was right to pull away, she told herself. She wasn’t ready, and they hardly knew each other. Physical attraction wasn’t everything.

  It was something though, she thought, watching his backside tighten beneath those little briefs as he walked to the bathroom. Definitely something.

  *

  Sofie and Evan went down to breakfast separately, so as not to make matters too obvious. All gazes went to Sofie when she walked in. Evan was already sitting down, and she saw the glances go from her to him, and back again, then to Archie and Gwyneth when they entered a moment later, obviously together. No-one said anything

  Breakfast was purgatory. Sofie could have sliced the thick emotions swirling around the room with her butter knife. She hadn’t the nerve to break it, so she ate her breakfast in near silence and then left. Evan had already left, after a quick, assessing glance at Sofie.

  When she went upstairs Sofie went straight to the room she had shared with Archie and collected the few things she’d left the night before. Passing the rumpled bed she hesitated then pulled off the ring Archie had given her. She put it on the bedside table. With any luck there wouldn’t be a scene.

  She knew she was hoping for too much. Walking to Evan’s room she heard his deep baritone laugh from the finds room and continued to the end of the corridor instead. She needed the key to the room, if Evan wasn’t there to let her in.

  Evan was sitting at one of the computers, George the Geek at another machine next to him. Both seemed comfortable, at home with the technology. Evan’s long fingers rested casually on the keys, and he didn’t look at his hands when he typed. George asked a question, one so highly technical Sofie didn’t catch one word in three. Evan answered in the same vein. A different language, just like archaeological jargon could be.

  She came closer and saw Evan had accessed the Internet. A page of symbols was displayed on the screen. Norse runes.

  So he’d started already. He wanted to know so badly he could hardly wait. “Not those,” she said softly, coming up behind him. “I’ve searched the obvious sources.”

  “Have you manipulated the text? Reversed it, turned it upside down?” He asked without turning his head, his attention intent on the screen.

  “No. It came too close to the time I had to leave for the – “she was about to say ‘the wedding,’ then the realization hit her. There would be no wedding, now.

  Evan didn’t seem to notice. He continued to work. “I really need access to my system,” he muttered, “but I closed it down before I left. Now I have to be there in person to re-activate it.”

  “Do your fingers itch?” Sofie knew too long away from fieldwork sometimes made her restless. Perhaps he felt the same about his computers.

  He turned his head to look at her but his attention was caught by something else. Someone else.

  The tension rose several notches. So much that George, usually impervious to the world around him once his face was in front of a monitor looked up too. George got to his feet. “I’ll see you lat
er,” he said, not bothering to give an excuse. He left, not touching Archie where he stood just inside the doorway. Gwyneth was behind him, her face drawn and sick looking.

  Sofie felt sick, too, but more composed. Several things had become clear to her in the last few hours, and relief tinged her sadness.

  “What’s this?” Archie held up the ring.

  “What does it look like?”

  Sofie felt a soft movement of air as Evan swiveled round in the office chair.

  “The ring I gave you.”

  “It didn’t feel right to keep it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we can’t marry now.”

  Archie frowned. “One night and you call it all off? I was drunk, Sofie. I came up to apologize, then I found this. You can’t mean it?”

  Sofie was appalled. “Don’t you remember what you did last night?”

  She didn’t miss the quick glance that passed between Archie and Gwyneth. “Nothing. God, Sofie, do you think I could have done anything, the state I was in? Gwynnie put me to bed and then went to her own room. I woke up with a mouth like the inside of a parrot’s cage and a head that feels as though Arthur has returned just to slice it in two, and you ask me that?” His facial expression changed, the angry lines smoothed into contrition. “Sofie-love, I’m really sorry. I was stupid, it was unforgivable.”

  “Unforgivable. Perhaps not, if that really happened.” Sofie folded her arms under her breasts. “I don’t think so. I think you spent the night with Gwynnie, but Archie, it was when I realized that I didn’t mind that I knew it was over.”

  Archie’s look brightened. “You don’t mind?”

  “No.” Sofie sighed, feeling the still presence of Evan Howell behind her. “I don’t mind, Archie, because I don’t care. It was good, but I let it go on too long. Archie, it’s over.”