New chapter! Had fun writing this one :)
Chapter 4: Friction
We spent the rest of the evening wandering around the gathering, talking to different guests in the hope of picking up some more useful tips. At least, I talked to people. I didn't know what Kurtis was doing. He kept wandering off without saying anything, then reappearing at my side just as suddenly, usually while I was deep in conversation with someone. It was frustrating, and after a while I thought we may as well leave. We probably had enough information to go on.
We made our way down to the foyer. "Do we need to call by the hotel to pick up your things?"
"No need. I left my stuff in the cloakroom." He disappeared to collect it while I fished my car keys out of my bags.
"Travelling light, aren't you?" I remarked as Kurtis returned. All he had was a single black holdall, and it didn't look very full. "I've got everything I need," he replied.
I led him to my car. He gave it a look not unlike the one he had given me earlier.
"Now that is a thing of beauty, " he said. "Aston Martin?"
"Yes. DB4 Vantage, 1962." I watched while he walked around the car, stroking a hand across the dark green paintwork of the bonnet. Normally I would want to break someone's hand for touching my car, but decided he was being respectful enough that I could let him off. We got in, and Kurtis threw his bag into the back seat.
It took a while to get clear of London, but once we did I showed Kurtis what the car could do. I gathered that if anyone was likely to share my love of speed, it would be him. I was right.
"God, that's something else I missed while I was laid up in hospital. My bike. Haven't been able to take her for a decent spin since I got out, either."
"Well, if you're good, I might let you ride one of mine."
"You have motorbikes?"
I grinned. "One or two."
"Wow. And you'd actually let me ride one? You must be very trusting."
"I trust you," I replied. "You looked like you knew how to handle a bike when I saw you in Paris." I glanced sideways at him. He was looking at me and smiling appreciatively. I wasn't sure if it was because I'd told him I trusted him, or because I'd admitted that I remembered watching him in Paris. "Anyway, I said only if you're good."
"How good do I have to be?" he teased.
"Very."
It was good to be alone with him, and I sensed his mood lightening. He had seemed preoccupied and uncomfortable at the banquet, and hadn't been terribly helpful to me, particularly when he had scared Nikolajev off. I guessed that it was because he wasn't good with crowds, especially crowds of upper class English archaeologists, and I could forgive him for that.
As we drove, we caught up on the things we hadn't been able to talk about earlier. I filled him in on my research findings, in particular the references I had found to an underground 'ark' that had been the last stronghold of the dying Nephilim. This all seemed to tie in with what Nikolajev had told me about the underground cities in Cappadocia, and I was excited by the strength of the new lead. Kurtis was able to fill in some of my gaps with his knowledge of the Cabal, whose aim was to bring the Nephilim back from extinction.
This was something I had been curious about since our second encounter in the Strahov – Kurtis' past. He had told me then that he and his father were initiates of the Lux Veritatis, an ancient order who battled the Cabal. The Periapt shards that I had used to kill Eckhardt had been passed down through the Lux Veritatis for that purpose. It was all very intriguing, and I asked him to tell me more. He explained that he was the last surviving member of the order, and that like his father and the other initiates he had enhanced mental powers; specifically, he could move objects telekinetically. I nodded, remembering how he had thrown doors from their hinges without touching them during our escape from the Louvre.
"Is that how you control that weapon, too?" I asked.
"The Chirugai? Yes, although I think there's a little more to it than that. It's as though it's connected to me somehow, like an extension of my body. The Chirugai came via the Lux Veritatis too. You have to be an initiate to control it."
"Ah," I said in realisation. "That's why it led me to you."
"What?"
"I never had chance to tell you. When I found you, in the Strahov, it was because I picked it up - the Chirugai – and it moved in my hand, like it was pulling me towards where you were. That's how I knew that you were still alive." It was an emotional memory, but I tried to hide it.
"Well I'm glad you did," he replied gently. "I'm surprised, though. Normally no one else can pick up the Chirugai without losing fingers. It must like you." I smiled.
He grew quieter as we drove, and I guessed he must be exhausted. We were nearly home. I suddenly realised that Winston was away this weekend on his monthly visit to his sister and her husband in Kent, and started to feel – of all things - nervous. Kurtis and I would be completely alone in the house.
"So," I said, to distract myself. "Do you have any other super powers that I should know about?" When I glanced over he seemed to be thinking, and was trying to hide a smile. I wondered if he was telepathic, too, and prayed that he wasn't. I definitely didn't want him reading the thoughts I was having at that moment. Then again, the effect he had on me was so strong that he probably didn't need to read my mind.
"No," he answered, after a moment. "Do you?"
I laughed. "I wish I did." I'm so curious about you, I wish I could read your mind, I thought.
* * *
When we arrived at the house it was past midnight. As we passed through the gates, Kurtis stared ahead in disbelief.
"You live here?"
I parked in the large adjoining garage and led him through the door into the house.
"Welcome to Croft Manor," I said, gesturing around the main hallway. "I would give you the grand tour, but I imagine you could do with getting some sleep." He put his bag down, still looking around in amazement.
"You live here on your own?"
"Not completely alone. There's my butler, Winston, but he's away this weekend. And I have two cats, Salome and Tosca, but they probably won't show their faces either. They're not too keen on strangers."
"Oh, I forgot to ask you. Did you find anything out from Nikolajev's assistant?"
Kurtis shook his head. "No, he seemed bothered by something. Distracted. He made his apologies and rushed off before I could ask him much."
"Hmm. You seem to have that effect on people," I said drily, thinking aloud. As soon as I'd said it I knew it sounded bad, but hoped he hadn't noticed.
No such luck. He moved around in front of me. "What do you mean by that?"
I forced a smile. "Nothing. Nothing at all," I replied, but there was something in my tone that he didn't believe. I turned away to hang my pashmina over the banister and avoid looking him in the eye. In truth, I was still a bit disgruntled that he had cut short my discussion with Dr. Nikolajev.
"No, wait a minute." He moved in front of me again. "What's this about?"
"Alright." I breathed in and straightened to look into his face. "At the banquet, when I was talking to Nikolajev, I got the feeling that… you put him off." He looked defensive.
"Is that right?" His eyes narrowed. "Or maybe I was putting you off. Not so easy to get cosy with 'Tobias' while I was standing there."
This was ridiculous. "That's not it at all," I argued, hands on hips. "I was really getting somewhere with him before you came over."
He snorted. "Yes, I noticed. You seemed to be having a really serious conversation while he stared deep into your cleavage."
"Is that supposed to sound heroic? Who cares what he thought about me? He had information that was useful to us, and I was succeeding in getting it out of him until you turned up." I could feel myself getting exasperated, but what for? Why were we arguing? We had been getting along so well in the car. I decided I should calm the situation down. "Look, let's just forget it. We made some progress tonight, and that's what matters."
"You mean, you made some progress. I got in your way."
"Why are you being so childish?" We faced off for a few minutes, glowering at each other, and then my anger got the better of me. "Okay then, fine, I was making progress. You weren't even making an effort to be polite."
"Yeah? Well maybe it's harder for me, not having such pretty eyelashes to flash at people," he said pointedly.
There was something dark in the comment, dark and nasty. "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
He threw me a pitying look. "It means," he continued, voice echoing with sarcasm, "that you're great at getting information as long as it involves flirting with every man in the room. But you probably call it being polite."
I felt blood rush to my cheeks, and bristled with outrage. "How dare you," I said through clenched teeth.
"I guess I'm a sucker too, though, letting you pump me for information in the car," he went on.
"If that's what you think of me, then perhaps I should have left you to crawl out of the Strahov on your own," I said slowly, my face hot but my voice cold with fury.
He looked at me for a long moment, and seemed to be preparing another insult, but then he just shook his head slightly, the venom gone. "This can wait til morning. I'm going to bed." He turned and started to climb the stairs. As if his verbal abuse wasn't enough, he was showing absolutely no concern for the fact that he was a guest under my roof. If I hadn't been wearing a dress and heels, I would have run over and kicked him in the head. He disappeared into the guest room and shut the door.
I couldn't speak with the anger that was choking me. To make matters worse, I could feel my eyes prickling with tears of indignation. I forced them back, swearing to myself that I would rather die than let him make me cry. I whirled around in the hallway, wanting to pick something up and break it, but I'd be damned if he'd let me ruin any of my possessions either. I stopped suddenly as I caught sight of his black holdall lying on the floor inside the front door. Maybe his Chirugai was inside, and I could smash it to bits. I snatched up the bag and looked inside. There wasn't a lot inside; boots, some clothes, data CDs, boxes of ammo. And a carefully wrapped package that looked as though it could contain the mysterious weapon. I touched the package, then reconsidered. It probably wasn't a good idea to try anything with an object that had a mind of its own. Or worse, an object that shared a mind with Kurtis. I zipped up the bag and marched upstairs with it. Without knocking I barged into the guest room, only to find Kurtis standing by the bed halfway through taking off his shirt. I stopped in my tracks for a second, taken aback at the sudden sight of his bare skin. He seemed just as startled by my abrupt appearance, and froze. Unable to stop my treacherous eyes from roving, I glimpsed the firmly muscled chest and taut stomach, the latter marked with smooth pink scar tissue, and my insides did an odd flip. A beat later my anger resumed control, and I hurled the holdall right at him, turning and stalking out without seeing what damage I caused. Then I stomped along the landing to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me with far more force than was advisable in such an old house.
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:o Hope you like how this is going, keep reading and reviewing! The action really gets started next chapter (No, not that sort of action, you filthy bunnies.)