Swinging his holdall to the floor he strode in the opposite direction, to the windows and their glorious view over the city he loved best in the world. “Satisfied?” he threw over his shoulder at Bent.
He was gratified to see the look of pleasure in Sofie’s face. She’d been through enough. At the very least he could give her a place of tranquility. She seemed to fit here, in some way he couldn’t quite define. Nothing screamed out at her to leave, like he imagined it was doing to Bent.
Harry Bent ignored the silent screams and walked around the large room, opening a closet door when he saw it and peering inside. “I thought you wanted to check the security?” Evan said. He opened a panel by the window and flipped a switch.
Two small screens, high above the other equipment came on. “Security cameras,” he explained. “There’s the space outside the front door, and there’s the street outside the building. I can change the views. The other residents have something similar, but I’ve refined mine a little in line with Department requirements. The pictures are better, and there are a few warning signals I’ve built in.” He tried to sound casual, but securing his apartment had taken some time, and he was proud of it. “Outside there’s an iris and palm print identifier. There are only two people who can use that. Myself, and my mother.” He turned his shoulder. He wanted Harry Bent out of here, so he could be alone. At least, except for Sofie, but strangely, he didn’t consider her an intrusion on his carefully cultivated privacy. He’d chosen this apartment because it was quiet, isolated, and he knew no one nearby. Now he was letting someone in.
Harry Bent took his leave, pausing at the door to say something quietly to Sofie. Evan didn’t doubt it was a warning of some kind, but whether it was against himself or Cristos he didn’t know and couldn’t guess.
As soon as the officer had left Evan strode across the room to his computers. Flicking a switch he turned on the mainframe and a couple of screens. The wall of equipment flickered into life. He felt his tension ease at the low hum he never noticed unless it wasn’t there filling the air with electric possibilities.
“Come over here. I’ll get you into the system.”
Sofie walked over, the wariness in her eyes clear to see. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Put your hand here and look into this. Try not to blink.” He tapped out an instruction on the nearby keyboard as Sofie obeyed his instructions. “There. Now you can come and go. There’s a combination lock outside, and a key lock, but the real guts of the security are the palm and eye recognizers. I’ll give you the combination and a key.”
“Thank you.” He turned and looked at her. She was a treat for the eyes, for his eyes anyway. She brought the same tranquility he felt when he first sat in his office chair before his screen, and no woman had ever come close to that. He wondered what else she had to offer.
“I’ll show you your room.” Picking up the suitcase on his way past, he led the way up the stairs to the bedroom. Evan preferred to use the sleeping platform; he hardly ever went in the bedroom. The room was bare and pristine, the low bed covered with a comforter in a plain white slipcase.
Sofie took a moment to look around. “No shelves for my ornaments, I see.”
When he tried to suppress his horror she burst into laughter. “Don’t worry. It was all Elaine’s and her mothers. All those china things used to drive me mad. This is far more to my taste.”
Evan grinned. “Okay, so you got me. It’s not my thing, all that frou-frou. But you’ll need a shelf for your books. Shall I find one for you or do you mind using the shelves downstairs?”
“That would be fine.” She turned around, almost colliding with him. Evan stepped back hastily and left the room, going down the stairs again.
He went into the kitchen to fix coffee after he’d shown her a relatively free shelf, and heard the thump of books settling onto wood. But when he returned with a tray she had stopped, staring at some volumes on the shelf above the one she was using. “Take them down if you want,” he suggested, depositing the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
She brought a couple over. He knew what they were. He wondered what she would make of them. Settling down next to him she opened The Book of Thoth. “Crowley. Wasn’t he mad? Didn’t he call himself The Beast?”
Evan grinned. “That’s all most people know of him, if they’ve heard of him in the first place. Cream?” Absently she nodded, her attention on the book.
“These are lovely drawings.”
“Done by Crowley’s friend Lady Frieda North. They’ve been turned into Tarot cards. Do you know anything about the Tarot?”
“My father taught me to read them. He had a Romany background.”
Something clicked into place in Evan’s mind. She must have some kind of natural ability. Cristos could smell them out, and he was rarely wrong.
That hair, twisting in unruly curls out of its fastening at the back of her head, the lithe, slim, gorgeous figure – he could see her in his mind’s eye, dancing in front of a campfire, a swarthy man playing fiery notes on the guitar.
Quickly, before the stirrings in his pants could turn into anything definite Evan forced his mind away from the vision and back to reality. It didn’t help. Sofie in the flesh, in his apartment, drove his mind to thoughts he shouldn’t have, didn’t want. He hadn’t felt like this since – since –
Since Meghan.
And for the first time, thinking of his sister didn’t deflate his desire. Looking at Sofie seemed to soothe his fire to discover the bastard who had killed her, and calm the agitation he always felt when he remembered what could have been and what nearly had been. He closed his eyes.
“Evan, is something wrong?”
He opened his eyes and allowed himself to take in her soothing presence. “Not really. A slight headache, that’s all. Drink your coffee.”
She put the book aside so as not to spill on it, so Evan picked it up. “This is why Cristos wanted me.”
“The Crowley?”
“Yes. Do you know what his specialty was?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Sexual magick.”
Her eyes opened wide, but she said nothing. Evan riffled through the pages. “He said ‘do what thou wilt is the whole of the law.’ He’s very misunderstood. He wanted to go beyond morality, beyond good and bad. Like his colleagues, he believed that magic itself isn’t evil, just the way it is used. He might have been right.” He glanced at Sofie, who pursed her lips to sip the hot coffee.
She smiled, in a friendly manner. “I missed American coffee. We have lots of Starbucks and the like, but making a good cup of coffee seems beyond the average British hotel landlady.”
He grinned back. “I noticed.”
“Tell me about sexual magick.”
Evan picked up his cup. “I don’t think I can.” He took a sip and savored the bitter brew, rolling his first sip around his tongue before swallowing. “It’s necessarily personal.”
“Still. I’m not a virgin, you know.”
His groin tightened, and he very much feared the danger was to him, not to her. “All right. When I had sex for the first time it was overwhelming, but it was only later I realized my experience didn’t tally with other people’s. At the moment – “he avoided looking at her – “at the point of orgasm, my mind seemed to open. I could tell what she was thinking, I could send her my thoughts.” He put his cup down, empty. Sofie was right. Good American coffee was hard to find in places like Tintagel. “At first I thought it was just my first experience, but it happened again. I could read the thoughts of anyone around me. So I started reading. I found Crowley pretty quickly. Just as well I lived here, in New York, because in many states, his books were banned, and I wouldn’t have found my answers until the Internet got up and running.”
He reached for the coffeepot, but so had she. For a brief moment his hand closed over hers. He forced himself to release it and let her pour the second cup. His heat went up another notch. He went back to
his story. “I started to experiment, found I could control it. Cristos got to know.” He’d tried to make it understandable. His discovery of computers had enhanced rather than deterred his experiments. “He can’t imagine doing this and not putting it to practical use.” He turned to her and grinned widely. “I said I’d lost the ability, but he didn’t believe me, sent someone to find out. A particularly foxy redhead.” Sofie grinned back. At least she wasn’t offended. “I guessed. So, while we had a good time, I kept myself closed. Ever since he’s been trying to catch me out, sending women to me. I’ve told him what that makes him, but he keeps doing it.”
“He didn’t send me.”
“No. I came looking for you.”
The suggestion hung in the air, implicit but unspoken. When he looked at Sofie he saw, just for a moment, his own desire reflected there. As though they’d already made love.
Chapter Eight
Archie came closer, smiling in that particularly charming way of his, so it was natural for Sofie to open her arms for him. She loved the way he could engulf her, cover her with his body so that all of her was warm and content. They were standing, but he bore her down into the soft earth. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love out of doors.
He kissed her. “This is me, Sofie-love,” he murmured. “I’m the only one who can make you happy. You know that, don’t you?”
“Hmm.” Sofie was happy to stay where she was. It was easy to let Archie warm her. Too easy. The warm English sun beat down on her bare shoulders and she found herself vaguely worried about his back, also bare to the sun. Archie was very pale skinned, and he burned easily. She would ask him to find the sun lotion.
Accordingly Sofie put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away a little.
He stared at her, and she forgot what she meant to say. His pale blue eyes shone with humor, but as she watched they began to change. First a soft gray, the way they looked in some lights sometimes. But they didn’t stop there. The gray became paler, fading into an unnatural light color. She stared. His skin darkened as she watched, and the small fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened.
It was as though he’d hypnotized her with his fixed stare. She couldn’t look away. His hair darkened, the blond becoming a deep brown, then black, through incremental stages of russet and tan. His face lengthened and the mouth tightened to a cruel line.
At last, she could move. Struggling, she tried to get out from under him. His laugh was deeper than Archie’s laugh, but the body was just as strong. When she tried to bring her knee up he clamped it down with his thigh. He was still laughing, but it faded, like a clock running down. “You can’t get away from me,” he growled. “You’re mine until I say otherwise. I’m coming, Sofie, and when I do, I’ll do what I want to you. Just like I did with Gwynnie.”
Sofie struggled to scream, but couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t get away. Had her father died like this, struggling to get up, to try to get help? She couldn’t do that, she couldn’t!
Thrashing with her arms, trying to get away she felt rather than heard another voice, a masculine voice. “Sofie! Sofie!”
With a gasp she sat up. It was dark, she was in New York and Evan was sitting on her bed, stark naked.
“Oh!” Breathing deeply she tried not to look, lifting her panicked gaze to his face.
“You were dreaming. You woke me.”
“I’m sorry. I – oh!”
The dream surged back with all its horror and when he put his arms around her she didn’t resist. “Sofie, what was it? What scared you?”
“It was Archie. Or rather, it wasn’t. He changed to someone else, a stranger. A man with black hair and pale gray eyes. And he wanted to kill me.”
Evan’s arms tightened briefly. “A nightmare. That’s all.” In his arms she felt safe. She lifted her gaze to his face. He was watching her closely in the dim light filtering in from the window. She must have forgotten to shut the blinds. The gray light of dawn seeped in, touching his dark hair with silvery light. She didn’t move away, although she probably should. “I dreamed I was with Archie, and he was like the old Archie. Then he changed. He tried to kill me and then he said he would do to me what he did to Gwynnie.”
“Oh. I think we’d better check up on Gwyneth.”
“Do you believe in prophetic dreams?”
She smiled up at him, but he wasn’t smiling. “Do you?”
“I’ve known it. Working for Cristos has made me more aware of things I wouldn’t have believed before. Everything is dangerous, Sofie, if it’s used by someone who knows how to use it.”
His hands moved gently over her back, sending delicious waves through her body. She decided to tell him what had started her dreams. “My father was murdered five years ago.” His murmur of sympathy was soothing, emboldening her to go on. She hadn’t told anyone before. Everyone who needed to know had found out from the papers, or from relatives. “He was a bus driver and he worked shifts. He caught the late train home, and left the station. It wasn’t far to our house. Someone mugged him in the car park, stabbed him and left him for dead. They took what he had on him, which wasn’t much. They never caught whoever did it.”
She’d tried to be deadpan, but even that dry retelling had brought it all back. He lifted a hand to brush her cheek, touch the wetness. “What a terrible thing.”
“It was. That’s why I turned to forensic archaeology. I already had my first degree, and I was going for a doctorate. I switched courses after I went back.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to help. I don’t think it would have helped with Dad, but you never know. I couldn’t carry on studying old bones when I could make a difference by studying newer ones.”
Talking about her job seemed to calm her, and he must have known it, for he let her continue. “Archie didn’t like it. I met him soon after, and he wanted me to come back to mainstream archaeology, but by then I’d been bitten by the bug. It was better than the pills they gave me after Dad died. It made me feel better.”
“Hmm. I’ve always found peace in work.”
She smiled, shaky but she was feeling better now. Not quite well enough to pull away, though. “I saw.” She’d read his books while he worked on his computer, completely absorbed by the screens. When she’d suggested they eat, he’d seemed surprised, and only then admitted he was hungry.
“There are other ways to find peace,” he murmured, and bent his head.
Sofie saw no reason to protest. His lips were warm, coaxing hers apart. They felt good. She let herself relax into his arms, and a little voice inside her reminded her of the realities. What are you doing? You’ve only known him a few days! She didn’t care. She ignored the voice.
His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, lift her a little for a better angle to accept him. Ignoring the warning voice in her head, Sofie lifted her arm and curled it around his shoulders, allowing her hand to spread, to touch his bare skin. His gentle moan told her he liked it. He drew her closer, pushed his tongue into her mouth, touched her inside.
The kiss lasted a long time. They caressed each other, hands moving gently, smoothing over warm skin. It was when he touched her nightshirt, pulling it that she drew away. “You don’t want this?” His voice was low.
“I’m not sure. It’s so soon. I was supposed to be married in a few days.”
“But you’re not going to be married.” His hold loosened and he lifted his hand to touch her hair. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you. How do you get such incredible hair?”
“I was born with it. It’s a curse, it won’t go into anything resembling a fashionable cut.”
“It’s beautiful.” His low purr almost persuaded her, but he caught a curl, and tugged. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right. I do it all the time.”
She was still holding him, he was holding her, her hands touched his bare skin. “I only came when I heard you cry out. I didn’t mean to stay. I’ll
go now.” But he didn’t let her go. “It is lovely, you know.” Softly he combed his fingers through her curls. “It has a life of its own.”
“That’s what I’ve always thought.”
He heaved a sigh. “I should go.”
This time he did release her, lowering her so she lay back on the bed. He stared at her. “It’s probably not wise, in any case. We’re stuck here together till they catch that maniac.”
“Yes.”
But she wanted to. She watched as he stood and left the room, her gaze lingering on his well-shaped butt. No, it wasn’t wise, he was right. He was a felon, a man she hardly knew. They might have time. It would be good, but it was too early.
She was still telling herself she shouldn’t think of him that way when she fell asleep, dreaming of being held closely to a warm, male body.
*
Sofie was sitting on the sofa, reading one of Evan’s Crowley books when the bell rang. Evan looked up from his work, and saw him first. “It looks as though your Archie has tracked you down.”
“What?” Sofie looked at the screen. She’d barely been here a week. “I wasn’t expecting him for awhile yet. He had the dig to conclude, his reports to make, and he’s not due to take up his new post until next month.”
Evan shrugged. “He thinks we’re an item. Do you want him to carry on thinking that?”
“It might be for the best.”
It was dangerous, being this close, but in a strange way, Sofie wanted it. The warmth in Evan’s eyes when she consented told her he was still interested, and she knew she was. They had danced round the issue for days, while they’d researched, learned and got used to each other. They’d even exchanged a kiss or two, but they had been of the friendly, casual variety rather than the deep, exploring kisses Sofie wanted, but knew she couldn’t risk. It was too soon, she told herself. And she still wasn’t sure about Evan. She trusted Harry Bent and his instincts, and he didn’t like Evan Howell.
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