The Harrowing of Hell, part 2
Things hadn’t improved much the next morning. Derek spent an hour pulling strings and still drew a blank. As a consequence he came in late to the morning meeting - the girls were twitchy and impatient.
“Where’s Nick?”
“Tapping Frances for information,” Alex said. “And, before you ask, I don’t have an answer. There’s nothing on their computer except the official press release.”
“He isn’t in hospital,” Rachel added. “I guess he wasn’t injured badly enough to need admission.”
“I checked with the ER at the General and all the local clinics within easy reach of the Heights,” Kristen took her turn. “If our John Doe needed treatment, then he must have been looked at by the police surgeon - he didn’t attend anywhere else.”
Derek acknowledged their work with a brief nod. “So where do we go from here?”
“Do you really think the attack victim is Sloan?” Alex asked.
“Elise believes he is.”
“That bitch can’t be trusted!” Kristen snapped.
Derek silenced her with a lift of that eyebrow. “I don’t trust her, but I am prepared to listen to her. If I could get in to see this mystery man, then all our doubts could be laid to rest.”
“First we have to find him,” Rachel said.
“Unless Nick hits pay-dirt, that won’t be easy,” Alex admitted.
Dominick appeared in the doorway. “Sir, I know we’ve had no warning from the gate, but there’s a young lady here who says she wants to see you... “
“Merci, I don’t need to be announced, thank you!” Elise stepped past the butler. “Hello, Dr Rayne. I decided to accept your kind invitation to visit your island, albeit a little belatedly.“
“You’re only - what is it? - a year or so late,” Derek said with a smile. “But you’re welcome all the same. May I introduce my colleagues, Alex Moreau and...?”
“Miss Adams,” the silversmith’s voice was abruptly glacier-cold and there was loathing in her eyes. “I’m surprised to find you here. Didn’t the climate in Boston suit you either?”
“I think I’ve more right to be here than you,” Kristen said, acidly. “How dare you come into this House!”
“It is my House,” Derek reminded. “And Elise is a guest here... “
“If you say so!” In a sharp, sudden movement, the blonde girl rose from her chair. “But that doesn’t mean I have to stay in the same room as her!”
“Kristen!” Derek scowled at the girl’s retreating back. “Come back here!”
She ignored him, pausing for a moment as she drew level with Elise. “You don’t fool me with your act - I know what you are!”
“Do you, petite fille?” the green-eyed woman laughed, a nasty sound stripped bare of all humour. “Oh, I don’t think you do... or else you wouldn’t walk away from me - you’d run!”
Kristen tossed her head and pouted defiantly at the threat, but she fled all the same.
Derek sighed. “I must apologise for that. It was unforgivably rude.”
“And Miss Adams does rude very well!” Elise shook herself, as if unruffling her feathers. “I’m sorry too, moi aussi. I’ve little love for any of the members of the Boston House; in fact, few Legacy Houses treat me as cordially as yours. I guess I must be persona non grata at the moment - the enemy of the month.”
“You aren’t my enemy,” Rachel declared, breaking out her most brilliant grin. “Definitely not, after you helped break Kat’s coma and bring her back to me.”
Elise looked confused. “I don’t deserve your gratitude, Dr Corrigan. I did nothing - no, really, nothing at all. Kat came back on her own. She’s a very resourceful girl, strong and smart.”
“And she thinks very highly of you. She still has dreams about you, wonderful, inventive things, full of ghosts, mythical beasts and magic!” Rachel laughed. “She tells me all about them - such an imagination!”
“And you think them dreams?” Elise shrugged. “Eh, bien, whatever fits in with your belief system... “
“What brings you out here?” Derek asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground and indicating that they should sit back at the table.
“I’ve always fancied taking a look around this house,” Elise sat cross-legged on her chair, as fey as ever. Today she was dressed in shades of chocolate and spice, a cinnamon print cotton skirt and a dull orange vest top under a baggy brown cardigan with floppy sleeves and huge pockets. The buttons were on the wrong side and it was so big it almost swamped her - she must have stolen it from a man’s wardrobe. With the added dark amber beads and battered sandals she looked like a refugee from a 60’s sit-in. Derek could imagine her singing ‘We shall not be moved’ and ‘The times they are a’changing’. The sunlight brought out the red in her hair, turning it to pale flame. “Late Victorian high-gothic at its best, all gargoyles, stained glass and dark wood. C’est merveilleux - a period piece.”
“We could give you the tour,” Alex offered.
“Why are you really here?” Derek demanded. “The truth, remember?”
“I understand that you’ve been dabbling in a rather fruitless game - cherchez l’homme?” her eyes were playful again. “Well, I’ve found him for you.”
“Where?”
“A little place on the coast called Bedlam. I’ll take you there,” she saw the warning in his frown and smiled. “It’s a hospice near Pacifica that some misguided soul saw fit to name Bethlehem Lodge.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Alex exclaimed. “It’s run by the Phoenix Project, isn’t it? They provide care for AIDS sufferers and people with terminal diseases.”
“One of my patients was helped by them,” Rachel added. “He was too ill to work, almost broke and at his wit’s end. They picked up his medical bills, paid his rent arrears, even provided free vet visits for his dog. Nice guys.”
“How did they get hold of Sloan?” Derek mused. “If it is Sloan.”
“The police were going to commit him into the care of a mental hospital,” Elise said. “Phoenix offered a better alternative - short-term care until he recovers his memory. The thing is, without his soul, he won’t.”
“Unless we can free him. Do you have any ideas on that front yet?”
She looked evasive, distant for a moment. “There are a couple of contacts I need to talk to first, to call in some old favours. Give me a day or two.”
Derek knew better than to press her. “So, how do I find this place?”
“I’ll show you the way - if you can stand my company, that is?”
“It’ll be a trial, but if I must, I must,” he didn’t smile. “Shall we go?”
Outside the house, he looked around in vain for her transport. “Where’s your car?”
“I walked.”
Derek grinned; he was growing rather fond of that shrug of hers. “Not across the water as well, I trust?”
“Mais oui!” she joined in with his laughter. “Hélas, you’ve found out my secret and seen through my disguise! What trick do you want of me next? The water-to-wine transmutation or the kissing-the-dead-better thing?”
The smile froze on his lips as he thought of what Kristen had said about this woman, her words identical to those he’d found in Boston’s report of their botched capture attempt. Powerful, ancient and inhuman. “Do you know that we’ve been watching your activities at the hospital, to find proof that you can work that last miracle?”
“Yes, I know,” All amusement drained out of her eyes. “But you won’t find enough proof to satisfy your scientific criteria, Dr Rayne. I don’t leave any.”
Derek swallowed hard and fled the subject. “We’d better take one of the Legacy’s vehicles. This way.”
Bethlehem Lodge was a low, modern complex of buildings close to the beach. Derek parked in the lot to one side of the hospice and Elise led the way to its entrance with an ease that suggested she’d been here many times before. The receptionist glanced up as they reached the desk, then dropped her pen, knocked the handset off the phone, went pale and leapt up from her seat. “Dr DuBois! I had no idea you had a visit scheduled for today..!”
“I didn’t,” Elise said, smiling. “We’re here to see your mystery patient.”
“The police brought him here yesterday,” the woman recovered a modicum of calm. “We have instructions to keep him isolated - no visitors and named staff only in attendance.”
Derek wondered how his companion was going to sweet-talk them past those prohibitions, but Elise merely nodded. “Sensible precautions. Too much disturbance might prejudice his recovery and drive him deeper into shock. Where can we find him?”
“The west wing, room 24.”
“Thank you.”
Derek followed the red-haired woman, his amazement growing as they walked unchallenged through the corridors; in fact, all of the staff they met greeted ‘Dr DuBois’ with deference or friendly respect.
“They know you here,” he said, as they passed through a set of double doors and entered the other wing. “Do you work for the Phoenix Project?”
There was mischief in her smile. “Yes, I do - in the same way that you work for the Luna Foundation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, the Legacy! Thinks it’s the only secret society in the whole damn galaxy!” she laughed. “You should read some more conspiracy theory, Dr Rayne - you aren’t nearly paranoid enough!”
Room 24 had a security guard at its door. Elise smiled at him and he let them in without a murmur. It was a pleasant room, full of sunshine. A man sat in a chair by the window, dressed in borrowed pyjamas and dressing gown, watching TV with the sound down and smiling at the silent cartoons. At first glance, Derek thought him a stranger - his face was so untroubled, his features totally relaxed, devoid of all sorrow and care. “William?”
Sloan turned to them with a beatific grin. There was no recognition in his blue eyes. “Hello. Do I know you?”
“We’re old friends, you and I,” Derek kept most of the anxiety out of his voice. “Your name is William Sloan.”
“William,” the man said, as if trying it for size. “That’s a good name. I’d like to be called William.”
“You are,” Derek said. “You live in England, with your wife, Patricia, and your two daughters.”
“Patricia - another nice name,” Sloan smiled vaguely. “Is she pretty?”
Elise laid her hand on Derek’s arm. “Don’t confuse him with too much information, Dr Rayne. He remembers none of it - the Sloan you knew isn’t here. This poor creature is like a blank sheet of paper waiting for a story to be written. He has no past. All he’s aware of is the present, the now.”
She was right; there was no vestige of Sloan’s acerbic personality left in this empty human vessel. The dawning horror of it struck Derek cold.
“I do know you,” Sloan continued, still smiling at Elise. “You came to the police station yesterday. You said that I’d be taken to a nice place, a place where I’d be comfortable and where people would be kind to me.”
“And did I lie to you?”
“No. It is nice here,” some of the placid contentment left his face. “Except for one thing - they still ask me too many questions.”
“They’re curious,” Elise said, gently. “They want to find out what happened to you and why you can’t remember anything.”
“There’s nothing to remember,” a fleeting wisp of confusion crossed his eyes. “Remember me when I am gone away, gone far away into the silent land...? Oh dear, I’ve lost the rest of the words. It’s part of a poem, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Perhaps you learnt it by heart, a long time ago. Ah, William, don’t trouble yourself over it,” there was pity in the woman’s voice as she quoted the final couplet of the sonnet. “Better by far you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad...”
The door behind them burst open and a short, dark man in a white coat catapulted into the room, panting as if he’d arrived at a run, but still in possession of enough breath to yell at them. “What the devil are you doing in here? Get out! Out, now! This patient mustn’t be disturbed... I gave strict instructions that he receive no visitors! Oh, Christ, it’s the hell-bitch... I mean, it’s you, Dr DuBois! Why are you here?”
“Hello, Rafe,” Elise struggled to suppress a smile. “The hell-bitch? What a cute soubriquet - tres charmant! Do you really think of me in such a negative light?”
“Sorry, slip of the tongue,” the man scraped his hair back from his forehead in a nervous gesture, trying to hide the fact that his cheeks burned crimson with guilt. “I was just surprised to see you here. What’s your interest in this case, and who’s this?”
“Dr Derek Rayne,” Elise supplied. “And this is Dr Rafe Marcos, Bedlam’s brilliant, very talented and somewhat hot-headed Chief Physician.”
Marcos winced. “I do wish you wouldn’t use that name for this unit. What’s your speciality, Dr Rayne, and what brings you out here to see our star patient?”
“My speciality? Dead bones, dusty archeological digs and ghosts of the past,” Derek had to mask his instant, irrational dislike of the short man. “As for why we’re here, William Sloan is an old friend of mine. We went to college together.”
“Is that his name? Sloan?” Marcos glanced at his patient and saw no reaction to the word. “Do you know where he lives? I mean, we could use an address to inform his next of kin of his whereabouts... “
“He lives in London,” Derek said. “And don’t worry - I’ll tell his family what’s happened to him.”
“London?” Marcos shook his head. “London, England? What on earth is he doing here?”
“Sight-seeing, perhaps?” Uncharacteristic sarcasm put an edge on Elise’s voice and Derek guessed that she didn’t like Marcos either. “Or maybe he was here on business? People do travel, Rafe - after all, it is almost the twenty-first century.”
“Most people don’t end up naked and under a bush in a park in San Francisco,” the physician protested. “And don’t give me that dumb mugging story! There isn’t a mark on him, no cuts, no bruises, no blows to the head - nothing to account for such global amnesia. Look, can we take this conversation outside? I don’t believe it’s helpful to talk about this poor man in front of him.”
Sloan showed no interest in their words, his attention back on the silent cartoon. He was smiling again, carefree and unworried, utterly at peace within this little, enclosed world. He appeared unconcerned when they left.
Dr Marcos led them to the end of the corridor into a bright, sunny common-room filled with sofas and armchairs. Two patients were playing cards in the far corner - both waved at Elise, who grinned back - and another was asleep beside an open door to a terrace with views down to the beach. They settled into a trio of chairs out of earshot of the room’s occupants.
“I’ll admit that this is a most perplexing case,” Marcos said, ruffling his hair. “Before we did a scan, my money was on a CVA, but there’s no apparent cerebral damage of any type. Every biochemical test we’ve run has come back normal and the drug screen was negative. What we have here is a fit, healthy middle-aged man with no memory of anything before he woke up on Sunday - and I’m damned if I can come up with a single physical reason why!”
“So you’re considering a psychological cause?” Elise asked.
“To blank out so much of his memory he must have been traumatised, treated brutally, tortured even,” Marcos was shaking his head again. “The lack of any injuries suggest that didn’t happen. Fear is another trigger for amnesia, but I can’t begin to imagine what level of terror would cause a man to forget everything, including his own name.”
“Yet he remembers a great deal - language, the details of everyday life and much about the world around him,” Elise remarked, half to herself. “He retains the basic program for human life. I find that fascinating, don’t you?”
“He failed our standard test for dementia,” Marcos returned. “He didn’t know what the date was, not even the year, and he couldn’t name the President.”
“Anyone can fail that test. Garfield? Eisenhower?” Elise raised one eyebrow. “DeGaulle - non? Now, would you say I was demented?”
“No, but don’t ask me to certify that you’re sane!” the physician finally smiled. “Forgive me, Dr DuBois, but I don’t understand your concern with this case. Your baby is vaccine research, overseeing the technical side and drumming up the money to keep the project running. Why take time out over a lost memory, even if the cause of it is such a puzzle?”
“Why?” her eyes lost focus, looking inwards, considering the past. “The truth is that I’ve known the man for a long time too, although we were never close enough to regard each other as friends. I owe Sloan a great debt, and helping him now goes some way towards repaying it.”
Marcos frowned. “What did this guy do? Save your life?”
She snapped back to the now with a small, wicked smile. “Au contraire, Rafe - he let me die. Dr Rayne, are we done here?”
“We’re done,” Derek stood up and shook the short man’s hand before he could argue. “Goodbye, Dr Marcos. Thanks for your help.”
“Merci, Rafe,” Elise followed suit. “And keep up the good work.”
As they walked back through the hospice, Derek touched the woman’s arm. “That stuff about owing Sloan - was that just a piece of nonsense to throw Marcos off the scent?”
“Are you accusing me of lying?” she raised her voice a notch, pretending outrage.
“Perhaps you’re merely being economical with the truth?”
“Moi?” she avoided his gaze. “Sloan uncovered some secrets from my distant past. When I found out what he knew, I arranged a little rendezvous in a dark, secluded spot. Our meeting started badly with a few mutual threats, but sense prevailed and we came to an agreement. He swore never to tell - and for that, he has my undying gratitude.”
Derek didn’t even want to think about the kind of threats Elise might make. “What secrets?”
“Uh-uh! You don’t get anything for free!” she laughed. “You want the dirt, you’ll have to dig for it, just as William did. You might not find anything though - I buried it all pretty deep.”
When they got back to the Explorer, Elise paused. “Have you ever seen Sloan like that before? So calm, so untroubled... Maybe I’m not doing him any favours by returning his persona. Maybe I should leave him as he is, free of the world’s chaos.”
“What? You can’t leave him like that! He isn’t himself!”
“But he’s happy and at peace, practically in a state of grace. What right do I have to take that away from him..?”
“No!” Derek caught her wrist, swinging her to face him. “If Sloan had a choice, he’d want to be as he was. If I were in his place I’d want the same, and you would too! You have to bring the missing piece back, you have to make him whole again!”
“Oui, yes, okay!” a sudden fierceness burned in her eyes, dangerous fire. “You’ve made your point. Now, let me go!”
He released her, shaken when he saw the red marks his grip had left on her skin. “I’m sorry! I never meant to hurt you...”
“C’est rien,” she eased back down from anger and her smile came back. “Such passion, Dr Rayne, and such loyalty for a friend! He’ll be in good hands when you take him back to London. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve cleared it all with Phoenix.”
“Aren’t you coming back to the city with me?”
“Non. I feel like taking a walk by the ocean.”
“But I can’t leave you out here... “
“Why not?” she smiled an amiable farewell, slipping out of the passenger seat. “Au revoir, Dr Rayne. See you around.”
“It’s an hour’s drive back into town,” he called after her retreating back. “Elise, come back here! You don’t even have your purse with you... Elise!”
She half-turned and waved at him, then continued on her way down to the shore.
“Damn the woman!” Derek slapped the steering wheel so hard that his palms stung. “Damn it!”
When he caught up with her she was paddling in the surf, with her sandals in one hand and her skirt in the other, hitched up high on her hip to keep it from dangling in the water, for all the world like an overgrown child. The breeze whipped her hair up into a pale strawberry froth and carried her laughter to him. He called her name and she swung around. There was such innocent joy on her face, such delight in her eyes that in an instant his anger was swept away.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” she splashed her feet in the sea-foam, then balanced on one leg to draw a sinuous spiral in the wet sand with her toes. “What is this life if, full of care..?”
“We have no time to stand and stare,” Derek completed the quote, then skipped forward a few verses. “No time to turn at Beauty’s glance and watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can, enrich that smile her eyes began.”
Elise grimaced at him. “I ought to know better than that - it’s futile to try and outwit a man with an Oxford education! Why did you follow me?”
“Perhaps I’m too much of a gentleman to abandon a lady out here in the wilderness?” he smiled back at her. “How would you have got home if I’d been mean and left you here?”
“Walked. Hitched a ride,” she sketched a figure of eight in the sand, or maybe it was the symbol for infinity? “Sprouted wings and flown.”
He hoped she was joking. “It’s a long way back to Chinatown, even as the crow flies.”
“Crow?” she stepped out of the water and spread out her arms, flapping them like wings. “Is that how you see me? A carrion-eater, big, black and threatening?”
“No, not a crow. Not a dove either,” he paused. “A hawk, perhaps.”
She laughed at that. “Better a hawk than a harpy!”
They walked along the beach for a while, with Derek picking his way around the flotsam and jetsam on the tide line and Elise dancing along the water’s edge. She paused, tilting her head on one side. “There are dolphins out there, a small group of them.”
He squinted out over the ocean. “I don’t see anything.”
“I can hear them, singing to each other,” she turned to face the ocean and let out a stream of high-pitched calls, a cascade of tumbling musical notes.
“Don’t tell me you can talk to dolphins!” As she fell silent, Derek laughed. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Alpha-Centauri,” her eyes were full of mischief again. “Or was it Amsterdam? I forget - all places are alike to me!”
“You said that you’d tell me the truth!” he protested.
“That was yesterday,” she shrugged. “Actually, it was Brighton. I worked all summer in the aquarium and spent a great deal of time with the dolphins. They have five at Brighton, you know.”
He wondered if she enjoyed being so exasperating. “No-one can communicate with dolphins, not even you... “
“Well, I’m not fluent, but I speak enough to get by,” she giggled. “Which is more than I can say about Latin or Greek!”
Derek lost track of how long they spent on the shore in peaceable silence. The sun’s warmth and the salty kiss of the breeze on his skin lifted his spirits. They walked a little further, then wandered back, and when the Explorer came into view, he found he was reluctant to return to it. Elise dried her feet on a dirty handkerchief and brushed off the sand before donning her sandals again. She was quiet for most of the journey back, letting him concentrate on the late afternoon traffic. He found a space to stop just along the street from the ex-warehouse.
“I suppose that the London House will want Sloan back as soon as possible,” Elise said, as he killed the engine. “Call me tomorrow and I’ll make the arrangements to release him into your care.”
“Don’t you need him to stay here until we free his mind from Hell?”
“We?” she shook her head. “You aren’t a part of this, Dr Rayne. Your Ruling Council gave the job to me and I’m not sure they’d sanction any Legacy House getting involved, especially yours.”
“I’m already involved. Who do you think got Sloan into this mess?”
“And is your guilt the price of admission to this hell-ride? I think not - and your Council would agree with me,” she smiled sadly. “Sit this one out. And, no, it doesn’t matter where Sloan’s physical body is. Once freed, his mind will join it.”
Derek frowned. “William is one of my oldest friends. You don’t have the right to exclude me from your plans to rescue him!”
Elise spread her hands in a gesture of defeat. “Enough! I surrender! You clear it with your own people and you can join in the fun - okay?”
“Fine,” he wasn’t sure that he trusted her to keep the bargain. “And thank you for your help today - and your company. You made a difficult task a lot more bearable.”
“Yes, it’s been a good day,” she leaned across the vehicle and kissed him on the cheek. “Au revoir, mon cher.”
The sudden, brief touch of her lips made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. “Elise...?”
She blushed. “Pardonne moi! Sorry! I forgot - we aren’t lovers yet, are we?”
“What?” His ears must be malfunctioning or else her words were being scrambled on their way to his brain - either way he could make no sense of them.
“Sometimes I forget where I am in the time-stream, like losing your place in a book,” Elise said, fumbling for the handle on the door. “The past and future blur together and I drift for a second. Forgive me - it was just a momentary lapse.”
Before he could say anything else, she was gone, fleeing along the street like a hare with all the Wild Hunt on her tail.
Derek sat there for a full ten minutes, an island of stillness in the constant motion of passers-by and traffic, replaying that moment over and over in his mind. Had it been an honest mistake? He doubted that she’d let her concentration slip for long enough to allow such a lapse; after all, it had taken the Boston house a week of concentrated harassment to make her drop her guard. She was a control-freak, just as he was, and all the mood swings and feyness were just play-acting, just a part of the game. Had she been teasing him then, to see what he’d do? Or had it been a real invitation and, if so, how should he react to it? He sighed - Elise was way too weird to second-guess.
Within an hour he’d made up his mind and was standing at her door. He hesitated before ringing the bell, still free to walk away and not make a fool of himself. When the door opened unexpectedly, he almost jumped out of his skin.
“What do you want?” Elise asked, leaning against the doorpost, her arms folded.
“How did you know I was out here?”
“Magic!” her eyes glittered. “Call it a wild guess, if you’re more comfortable with that - or maybe I just smelled the food?”
“I did bring dinner,” he lifted the bag of take-out for her inspection. “I hope you like Chinese?”
“Hate it!” more mischief danced in her apple-green stare. “Why else would I choose to live in this part of town?”
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, on two conditions,” she counted them off on her fingers. “One, you turn off your cell-phone, and two, you take off that ugly tie.”
“Agreed.”
She took the carrier-bag from his hand and let him enter the apartment. He removed his tie, a sombre thing in black and charcoal stripe, and tucked it into his pocket. “Why do you object to this?”
“Because it’s dull, conservative and lacking in imagination - none of which apply to the real Derek Rayne,” she unpacked the cartons of food as she spoke. “Do you want wine with this? I have an unpretentious French red or a rather good Californian white.”
“I’d better stick to water or I won’t be able to drive back to the island.”
“There’s always the sofa,” she offered, with an open, innocent smile. “I can vouch that it’s comfortable - after all, I did spend most of the weekend asleep on it.”
Now that was an invitation - and what kind of idiot would turn it down?
“Wine, then. I’ll try the red.”
“Good choice,” she said.
It was a strange evening, even measured against the sum of his uncommon experiences. He found it very easy to relax in this woman’s company even though he didn’t totally trust her, and within ten minutes he’d shed his jacket, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and kicked off his shoes. They shared the food, enjoying a leisurely, messy meal. When he spilt hoi-sin sauce on the rug, Elise just laughed and blotted up the worst of it, not caring that it left a stain, and when he apologised profusely she fed him tit-bits to silence him, plump prawns and choice pieces of char-sui pork , lifting each morsel to his lips with chopsticks. By the time they’d finished eating, it was growing dark outside. Elise drew the blinds to keep out the night, lit candles around the room and fed a CD into the player, an instrumental piece at low volume that seemed oddly familiar.
“Oldfield?” Derek asked, frowning.
“Quite right, Esmeralda - it’s the Bells,” she said in a strange voice, ducking one shoulder to suggest a hump and closing one eye.“Version three. If you don’t like it... “
“It’s fine.”
They settled down on the sofa with coffee and more wine, and giggled at the banal wisdom and enlightenment of the sayings in their fortune-cookies. Lines from the vocal sections of the music slipped into his mind like surreal prophesies - ‘you can’t stay, you can’t stay’ and ‘the man in the rain picked up his bag full of secrets and journeyed up the mountain-side - and nothing was ever heard from him again’. He shook his head and slowed up on the wine.
Afterwards, Derek couldn’t remember what they’d talked about, just scraps and fragments of the whole. They’d touched on his time at Oxford - Elise had been there, of course, and knew of the Botanical Gardens and the delights of the Ashmolean Museum. Tibet was mentioned, and he won a confession from her that she’d lived there for the best part of a year, on a retreat in a monastery. He pitied the monks - she’d be temptation enough to cause even the staunchest celibate to stray from the true path. From there they’d skipped to history, then archaeology, with a quick digression into the state of medical science and the latest discoveries in astronomy. At no point did they ever get close to anything personal, emotional or otherwise dangerous.
When Derek yawned for the third time, he glanced at his watch. It was after midnight.
“Tired?” Elise asked, smiling in sympathy.
“Aren’t you?”
“A little,” she stood up and stretched. “Let’s call it a night. I’ll get you some bedding.”
She brought back an armful - a couple of blankets, three pillows and the quilt. “Use whatever you need.”
Derek was reluctant to let her go, even into the next room. “Thank you for this evening - I can’t remember the last time I had such fun.”
“I’m sure that the Legacy doesn’t approve of such frivolity,” her eyes glowed with amusement, bright apple green. “But, yes, it’s been a treat for me also, to have such intelligent and agreeable company. Bonne nuit, Dr Rayne. Sleep well.”
The couch was somewhat lumpy and too soft, but he’d spent the night on worse beds. Derek arranged the cushions and pillows to his liking, then pulled the quilt up to his chin. He’d never noticed that Elise wore perfume, but the fabric was full of the scent of her, subtle and spicy, like rosemary under Mediterranean sun or mulled wine simmering on the fire at Christmas. Smell is the oldest of senses, hard-wired into the ancient, reptilian hindbrain. It can conjure deep-buried memories and bypass rational thought to call up hidden emotions. He took a deep breath, savouring her fragrance, finally admitting to himself how much she aroused him, how much he desired her. Oh, hell, he thought, I sure know how to pick them, don’t I? Always the dangerous ones, the ones with an aura of mystery about them. Perhaps that element of risk was what attracted him in the first place.
The light was still on in Elise’s room - he could see the thin golden line that outlined the door, which was ajar. It made no sound at all when he pushed it open.
She was sitting on the bed with her back to him, combing that wild hair of hers. Her pose reminded him of the statue of the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen, lonely and forlorn, lost in a world that could never be hers. She was naked; her skin glowed in the yellow tungsten light, pale and perfect, curiously devoid of freckles. She knew he was there - her hand froze in mid-air.
“Turn around, Dr Rayne,” she said, very softly. “Go back to the couch and forget this.”
“I can’t.” That wasn’t true. “I won’t.”
Elise set her comb aside, rose to her feet and faced him. So beautiful, as flawless as any classical statue of an ideal female form - the sight of her took his breath away. He couldn’t move as she approached him. “It’s madness for us to get involved with each other... Lunacy!”
“I don’t care... “ he caught her shoulders, drew her to him and kissed her. She tasted of wine and honey, of ginger and sesame oil. Then her hands were caressing the back of his neck and running through his hair, sending delicious shivers down his spine. His found her breasts and she drew closer to him, the feel of her body against his sweeping his senses away. When he regained a little control, somehow he was naked too, lying flat on his back on the bed, with Elise sitting astride him. As she leaned over him for another kiss, he felt a small, cold pang of fear.
“What’s wrong?” she paused. “Not afraid of me, surely?”
“No. My last lover... I mean, the last time... “ The memories came thundering back, memories of being helpless and taken against his will, of his all-consuming obsession with Jess... He couldn’t bear to say her name, couldn’t even shape it inside his head. “She hurt me, terribly... “
Elise eased back, shifting herself so her weight was on his thighs, giving him some space. “Tell me about it.”
“She was the fiancee of a dead friend, only she wasn’t... She almost killed me - she was possessed by a demon, a creature called Lamia... “
“A lamia?” she laughed. “And I thought they were all extinct! My, but you precepts do lead exciting lives! Forget her. She isn’t here now - but I am.”
“Elise, I’m not sure I can... “
“Relax, Derek - I’m not a lamia,” she took his wrists in a gentle grip, placed a kiss in each of his palms and lifted them over his head, pressing them down on the bed in a weird parody of what the snake-demoness had done to him. Terror washed over him as she came in close, nose to nose, her hair falling in a soft veil around his face, her breath warm on his cheek. She purred, the sound resonating deep in her throat, no mere human imitation but the purr of a real great cat. “I’m far more dangerous than that!”
“Elise...!“ he struggled beneath her, but she held him easily, her body sliding over his, taking him within herself. Derek cried out at the soft, velvet feel of her, caught between fear and pleasure.
“Don’t fight so hard,” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t want to hurt you... Ah, sweet fire, that feels so good...!”
Then her mouth was on his and his hands were free to touch her and each time she moved he was swamped with another wave of ecstasy, intense and endless, and he wanted to kiss all of her at once, as she seemed to be doing to him, and his fingers were knotted into her hair... Elise moaned and writhed in his arms, reaching her climax, and the motion carried him to one of his own, sudden and overwhelming, like falling into fire...
When his mind cleared, he found he was still panting for breath. Elise was draped over him, her head on his shoulder. For a long time they lay still, tangled together, then she languidly lifted herself up on one elbow to look down into his face, smiling. “After the famine, a feast! How is it with you, Dr Rayne?”
“Good... “ he was suddenly grinning like an idiot. “No, better than good. Oh, Christ, for one stupid moment back there I thought you were going to kill me!”
“It was only a little death,” she kissed his cheek. “After that, I could use something to drink. Do you want some more wine?”
“Please,” he watched her walk across the room, still mesmerised by her loveliness, by the grace of her movements. She came back with a single glass of the white; he sat up and they shared it.
“Tell me something,” Elise brushed her hair back from her face. “Am I stepping on anyone’s toes? Are you involved with anyone else?”
“It’s a little late to ask that!” he said, with a wry smile. “But, no - there’s no-one.”
“I find that hard to believe, when you share your House with Alex and Rachel - two beautiful women!”
He knew she was teasing him. “Three. You forgot Kristen.”
“Quite deliberately, I assure you,” her eyes glittered with malice.
“You really don’t like her, do you? What did she do to upset you?”
“Nothing. She’s a spoilt child - she annoys me,” Elise wrinkled her nose. “Let’s talk about something else.”
He framed the question that had been bothering him all evening. “Back in the Explorer, you said that we weren’t lovers - yet. Did you know that this would happen?”
“I hoped it wouldn’t. It complicates things,” she shook her head. “I should know better - there are some things that can’t be avoided.”
“You make me sound like an obstacle to be overcome!” he protested, only half in jest. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Absolutely not!” A smile lit up her face, so warm and tender that it washed all of his misgivings away. “You’re welcome in my bed and always will be. Tell me, Derek, do you believe in reincarnation?”
“It’s a nice concept, the safety-net of another life after this one, with rewards or punishments for deeds done. Do I believe in it? Without a single scrap of proof - no.”
“You should,” her eyes clouded, suddenly awash with pain and sorrow. “Most souls have lived before - very few are new to the game - and yet there’s no way of proving it, nothing concrete, nothing solid. There’s regression, of course, memories conjured under hypnosis, but most of that is false, pretty delusion, nothing more.”
“But you do believe in it?”
She nodded. “I remember, more than I care to. We’ve been lovers in past lives, and we will be again, in future ones - that’s our blessing and our curse. You’re always the seeker, the warrior-mage... “
“And you? What are you?”
“Just me. Always just me,” she took the empty glass from his hand and curled up next to him. “Now, tell me more about your encounter with this snake-woman, this Jessica... “
Derek froze. “I never told you her name. Did you take it from my mind?”
“Your head is locked up as safe as a strong-box,” she ran a fingertip across his forehead, resting it lightly in the hollow of his temple. “All psychics are, to protect themselves from intrusive emotion and raw evil. In spite of such defences, thoughts sometimes leak out - I catch them.”
“So you are a telepath?”
“Names, categories, little boxes!” she tickled the back of his neck with her other hand. “Don’t you ever take any time off from your scientific investigations? This Jessica, this serpent-creature - do you still have nightmares about her?”
“Not often, but, yes.”
“You won’t have any more,” her smile was gentle. “You’re free of her - those memories no longer have the power to haunt you. Consider it a gift.”
It was true. There was no slippery darkness when he thought back to that night, no taint of horror. “When did you work your magic on me?”
“In that moment when all your wards were down, when you were at your most vulnerable.” Was there a hint of a threat in her voice, a subtle predatory gleam in her eyes? “Now I’ll walk in your nightmares instead - like St Patrick, I’ve cast out the snakes.”
Derek wondered if he should be more wary of her, but she was too lovely to fear. He was drunk with the taste and feel of her, his body was utterly relaxed and his Sight was untroubled by the closeness of his almost-enemy and not-quite friend. “Why should anyone have bad dreams about you?”
“That poor girl in Boston does,” Elise shook her head. “And she rejects all my efforts to help her. Kristen must have told you all about the incident - and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve read the report?”
“I have,” he was playing with fire tonight, so a little more probing wouldn’t hurt. “It said you were powerful, ancient and inhuman - is that true?”
“Do I look ancient?” she demanded, in mock-outrage. “And which particular bits of me aren’t human? Go on, point them out - if you can find them!”
“You said yourself that you were more dangerous than a lamia,” he reminded. “More dangerous than a shape-shifting demon?”
That impish glint was back in her eyes. “How do you know I can’t shape-shift?”
“How do I know you’re not a demon?”
“You’d know. Could you get this close to something so evil and not be aware of its true nature?”
“I suppose not,” Derek reached up to touch her cheek, tracing the line of it to the curve of her lips.“What kind of creature are you?”
“Just because we’ve had sex doesn’t entitle you to know all of my secrets!” she licked his finger. “I’m not a soul-taker or a dream-thief. I don’t want anything from you, except pleasure - and I’ll return that tenfold, with interest. Would you care for another instalment?”
This time he didn’t hesitate, far beyond caution and fear.