Page 62 of Gates of Tartarus

Magda’s on the phone again, sounding disgruntled. “I’m running low, and we can’t rely on– yes, I know I have partial immunity but– you say that, but we can’t be sure. I don’t like it,” she spits. “I’m too exposed… Calm down? Why don’t you call up Boy Wonder…? You’ll take care of it? How…?” After a minute, she starts to laugh. “Alright. That should work.” There’s a knock from behind. “I have to go.Unemi ái.” Magda hangs up and tosses the phone on a chair. Then she saunters past me through the rather nicely appointed hotel room and opens the door to reveal a human pork pie standing on the other side. He’s portly, to put it mildly, with a shiny, rubicund face and fair hair, thinning on the top and sides.

“Robert,” Magda purrs. “Come in.” She closes the door and walks to the sideboard, picking up a decanter of what appears to be whiskey. “Drink?”

“No time, m’dear. And what drink could compare to you?” he leers.

Magda shakes her head. “I should make you leave.” But she’s smiling at him and unbuttoning her blouse.

I decide I’ve seen enough. I’m more than familiar with Magda’s assets and don’t need to be scarred for life by the sight of her companion’s. I slide back down the rope to tell Emlyn and Seef what I’ve discovered.

It doesn’t really make much sense. She has partial immunity to something and is running low on something else – a tropical disease and medication? Some sort of drug at any rate. Maybe she’s built up a tolerance? And “Boy Wonder” again? Their supplier? And if I don’t figure outenema-ooeysoon, I’ll go crazy. Emlyn and Seef laugh when I describe her visitor. I’ll meet with a sketch artist, but he’s probably some rich businessman she’s picked up on her enforced holiday. Then Seef leaves, in his usual curt fashion, and Emlyn looks over at me, eyes dancing.

“Maela,” he begins. The phone rings, cutting him off. “Sorry.” He picks up, listening: “What! I’m on my way.” When he gets off, he looks at me, dazed. “I’m sorry, Maela, I’ve got to go. My mother’s in the hospital. Suspected heart attack.”

I gasp. “Is she OK?”

“She’s stabilized, but they’re doing tests.” Emlyn shuts off his computer and grabs his coat and briefcase, and I follow him down to the lobby, where he asks Moneypenny to ring me a taxi. Even as he’s worrying about his mother, he’s thinking about my safety, and I feel a pang as I watch him leave the building. Poor Emlyn. He lost his younger brother only a few months ago, and now his mother’s in the hospital.

Kavi and Jorge aren’t at home when I get there, and I’m secretly glad. I know it sounds ridiculous and horribly self-centered, but I can’t help feeling that what’s happened to Emlyn’s mother is all my fault. I leave a note for them, explaining what’s happened and that I’m not feeling well and am going to go to bed early. It’s the truth: I’m physically and emotionally exhausted, and I just want to fall asleep and escape into oblivion.

Sleep comes in fits and starts, and when I roll out of bed in the morning, I don’t need to fake illness: I feel dreadful. Jorge knocks at my door after I don’t show up for breakfast, and I croak at him from the bed that I feel sick and am going to stay in my room all day. He must know that something is up, as he hesitates before asking if I’d like him to bring me some tea, but when I say “no”, he just says to call his cell if I need him. A little while later, I hear him and Kavi leave for Thames House, and only then do I get up and go downstairs for coffee.

I spend the morning in bed, lying back against the piled-up pillows and trying and failing to read a novel. All I can do is think about Emlyn and his family and what they’re going through. Then I think aboutmyfamily, and how Ratko could have murdered me, and my parents would have welcomed me home in a body bag. Two and a half weeks ago, that’s when Bojan and Vlado snatched me off the street. The first time someone ever raised a hand to me in anger. I look down at my arms at the fading yellow bruises, almost imperceptible now, and then there are big tears rolling down my face. I’m so tired, and I just give in to the feelings. Too much has happened. Part of me thinks that I must be having a long overdue and healthy reaction, but the rest of me just sobs until I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel gross, so I take a shower. Then I get into my cami-set and crawl back under the duvet. Knowing that Ratko, Bojan, and Vlado are safely dead is a comfort. Maybe that makes me a bad person.Soit. It is what it is. Magda is still out there, but the bitch is on my hit list; and I bare my teeth in what I imagine is the general direction of The Shard, thinking with satisfaction how rattled she was the other day. But Emlyn. I gulp. I’ve killed his mother, haven’t I? We’re never going to be able to repeat that kiss. Not that he’d want to, I think miserably, because he broke it off, didn’t he? I was ready to climb him like a tree, but it’s clear he regretted it and just wants to be friends. So I got a pat on the head instead of a shag against the fridge. Just like Jorge. One brush of my lips, and he realized that I lack sex appeal. Kavi wisely didn’t even attempt a snog, confining himself to hugs. When the phone rings some time later, I don’t bother to answer; Seef the Sadist can just go fuck himself. He hated me on sight. And why? Because I exude man-repellent. I’m surprised Josh Chambers lasted four dates with me last year. And what happened after I slept with him? He got back together with his old girlfriend.

By the time dusk is falling outside, I’ve bitten off all of my fingernails and am stewing in an agony of self-loathing. I’m so deep in my reverie that the knock on the door sounds like a gunshot, and I’m utterly unprepared for Jorge telling me toopen up! I’m shocked; his voice sounds harder, even fierce, and all I can manage is a feeble “go away”. There’s a sigh, then the door is opening and I’m diving head first under the duvet, but the intruders are relentless, and it’s pulled down to my feet. I peek up under my lashes. Kavi and Jorge are standing there, and neither looks happy with me.

“Have you spent the entire day in bed?” Jorge demands. I shake my head “no”; I got up to shower, didn’t I? He’s clearly not convinced, exasperation etched on his face, and looks at Kavi, who scowls, bends down, and picks me up, hoisting me over his shoulder.Well, this is a surprise. For a moment, I luxuriate in the feel of hard muscles pressing into my breasts and stomach, then I realize that my clearly disgusting butt, clad in nothing but a sheer cami, is on display for all the world to see. “Put me down.”

Kavi turns to Jorge, who hoicks his chin, gesturing upstairs. I try again: “Seriously. Put me down.” It’s like talking to a brick wall. Kavi simply settles me on his shoulder and then follows Jorge out and uptwoflights of stairs to the lounge on the fourth floor. I’m agog: I knew Kavi was in good shape, but I’m not exactly dainty. Protests being useless, I take the opportunity to ogle his taut ass flexing under the fine material of his suit.

When we get to the lounge, I’m unceremoniously dumped on the couch, and two pairs of eyes are drilled on me. “Maela, what’s wrong?” Jorge’s voice is gentle but determined, a velvet hand in a steel glove, or maybe the other way around.

“Why would anything be wrong?” Oh wait – I spent the day in bed. “I’m just a little, umm, under the weather.” Yes, that’s better. Should have led with that. It’s just that I’m still reeling from the whole he-man-pick-up-woman-and-carry-her-off thing.

Jorge rolls his eyes. “Maela, Iknow.” Ah, right. How to bluff? How to bluff? “And don’t try to bluff,” he adds, hazel eyes boring into mine.

Shite! OK. “I-gave-Emlyn’s-mother-a-heart-attack,” I say, as quickly and quietly as possible. Jorge looks at Kavi quizzically. “Did she just–”

Kavi bites that full bottom lip of his. “Maela?” He’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Don’t snigger!” I dart to my feet, hands clenched. “It’s true! I went on a maybe-date with Jorge, and his grandmother had a bad fall. I kissed Emlyn the other night, and his mother had a heart attack. It’s all my fault! You’re lucky you’ve only hugged me, because I’ve got a cosmic death kiss! But it’s not my fault, not really, because it’s probably something to do with the drug or something!”

In answer, Kavi only looks at Jorge, one eyebrow raised. “Jumping the gun a bit, isn’t he?” Jorge narrows his eyes. “Not what we agreed.” Huh? Men make no sense sometimes. “Querida, my grandmother didn’t have a fall because we went out; and I agree that wasn’t a proper date; I’ll make it up to you. She fell because she is a stubborn old mule who didn’t want to wait for my sister’s husband to replace a lightbulb in the ceiling. Emlyn’s mother has had a shock, a good shock, but the death of her son’s murderer has probably churned up a lot of painful feelings. We don’t know that she’s had a heart attack. But we do know that you don’t have a cosmic death kiss.”

I look down, sticking a finger in my mouth to nibble on the remains of a nail. “Well…” I mean, obviously, if he’s going to use logic! And now a hot wave of embarrassment flushes over me. I can’t believe I just said all of that. Out loud! It’s got to be a side effect of the drug, right? Scrambled-brain syndrome? That was a symptom. Too much! Too much! Oh God. My mind’s going, isn’t it? My mind’s going. My – finger is being drawn out and enveloped in the hot cavern of Kavi’s mouth. He sucks lightly, and I look up, mouth falling open. His jade eyes are luminous, as he brings his face down to mine. And then he’s kissing me gently, questioningly, and I sigh in surrender. He sips at my mouth, and I shiver. His mustache tickles my upper lip, making me rub my chin against his beard, reveling in the sensation, in the contrast between rough and smooth. Kavi smiles, releasing me with one last pull of my bottom lip, then turns me gently.

Jorge’s gazing at me, eyes deep pools I could fall into. He reaches for me, and I go without hesitation into his embrace, letting the scent of mahogany, bergamot, and black pepper envelop me. His mouth feathers over mine, hovering, and then he takes my lips, no tender kiss this but darkly passionate, as if he’s releasing weeks of pent-up longing. He angles my head, deepening the kiss, and I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, clinging to the silken strands. I’ve gone past thinking, can only feel, when I hear a slight sound at the door; and I open my eyes to see Emlyn standing there. All of a sudden, I realize what I’ve done – what I’mdoing– and shock has me going rigid. I’ve just kissed Jorge. And before that I kissed Kavi. And two days ago, I kissed Emlyn. I spring away from Jorge, feeling hot and cold and yet horribly aroused, and bring my hands to my face. Emlyn’s coming into the room, and I’m wondering if I can slip past him out the door and back under the duvet, when Kavi’s hands settle on my shoulders, pulling me back against him. “Breathe,priya.” Breathe, yes, that would be good. My eyes dart from Emlyn to Jorge, who are both sitting down on the couch, one on either side. Why are they so calm? I give a little wiggle, because really, this conversation can wait; but Kavi picks me up and sits down, settling me on his lap. His arms are like adamantine around me, making me feel warm and safe, but I’m not going anywhere soon.

Jorge smiles reassuringly at me. “Querida, don’t feel guilty. This isn’t how we planned to tell you, but we couldn’t have you feeling bad about yourself. And someone clearly couldn’t wait,” he adds, with a pointed look in Emlyn’s direction.

Emlyn raises his hands and shrugs. “Can you blame me?”

I’ve got scrambled-brain syndrome, haven’t I? This is all a giant fantasy. I’m not really here; I’m still in bed. My mind’s taken all of the lust swirling around inside me, and it’s playing out in glorious technicolor. Next thing you know, little rabbits will come hopping in to help me do the dishes to the sounds of “Once Upon a Dream”. I give another little wiggle, and Kavi groans. “Maela, please! Sit still.” Ah. Right then. I’m a naughty littlesalope.

“Maela!” Jorge says sharply. “Stop it! The truth is–”

“We’ve decided to date you,” Kavi interjects, nuzzling the top of my head.

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