Page 74 of Gates of Tartarus

“Come on, Maela girl. I think we’d better put you to bed.” Kavi gets up, and I smile happily at him. “Iknewit! Alright, Kavi, darling! Lead the way.” I glance sideways at Emlyn and Jorge and whisper loudly, “He has buns o’ steel, you know.”

I flex my hands and make a grab for them, and Kavi picks me up, cradling me. “OK, Maela. There’s a good girl.” I burrow into his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in the spice of him. I feel so drowsy all of a sudden, my limbs heavy. From a distance, I hear someone say, “I think I need a beer” and Kavi reply, “One for me too, please?” And then he’s carrying me out of the room, and I fall asleep.

???

The smell of chocolate-chip pancakes tempts me awake. For a moment, I lie there, basking under the duvet, then the events of the night before come flooding back. I flush crimson, mortified at my behavior, but the drug-induced homage to Mata Hari has brought my feelings wide out into the open. We’ve just started dating. Aren’t they supposed to want to rip off my clothes? Don’t men think about sex every ten seconds? I sigh: to be fair, if my emotions are all over the place, it can’t be easy for them either. It was only a few days ago that I was freaking out. Am I really ready for a threesome? What would it be like, actually be like, to be n-a-k-e-d with two or even all three of them? I feel a little faint. Jorge, Kavi, and Emlyn. Unclothed. Prowling around. I gulp.

In the kitchen, Emlyn’s at the stove. I’m hovering at the door, unsure of how I want to play this, when he catches sight of me, smiling warmly at me and asking if I’m hungry. I nod and take a seat.OK, Maela. Let’s just pretend last night never happened. Be cool.

Jorge and Kavi amble into the kitchen. Jorge’s yawning, and his hair is sticking up at odd angles. Kavi’s coming in from a run, good grief.

“Morning!” I chirp. “Sleep well?”

Jorge yawns again, and Kavi elbows him. “You’re becoming a lightweight, old man. One movie marathon, and you’re done.”

Jorge looks at him sourly. “I hate morning people. You’re smug and annoyingly cheerful.”

Hah, I think, as the two of them continue to needle each other.I’m going to get away with this. Just because I… Oh Christ! Did I really lift up my shirt? A wave of humiliation flashes over me, and Jorge looks over, his hazel eyes warm with understanding. His lips are twitching, though, and all of a sudden, it’s OK. I start to giggle: “Sorry, guys!” There’s an immediate release of tension ‘round the room, as if they too were wondering how best to deal with last night’s episode. I think back to their startled, scarlet faces and snort with laughter. “To be fair,” I say, wiping my eyes, “I was on drugs.”

Emlyn’s grinning as he places a plate of pancakes in front of me. “I like the part where you jumped up and down and almost turned me into a eunuch.”

Jorge chimes in: “Who knew she had such a wicked streak?”

“We’re going to have to talk about your penchant for kinky sex,priya.”

Their eyes are dancing as they discuss my attempted dance of the seven veils, but the ribbing is kind.

???

Elizabeth calls late that night, so late I’d usually be asleep, only I’m hooked on a novel and don’t want to put my Kindle down. As it is, I’m propped up on extra pillows in my four-poster bed, with the duvet tucked securely around me, in my jammies. I’ve chucked the old, white, sateen ones – I’ll use them for cleaning or something – and treated myself to a new, dark-blue pair. I like my cami-set, but it really is too late in the year to go wandering around half naked. Goose-pimples don’t exactly say “shag me”. My new pajamas are dashingly 1930s, I think, and make me look alluringly chic. At least, that’s the hope.

The ringing of the phone takes me by surprise, so that I have to scramble to unwrap myself and am slightly breathless by the time I answer.

“Maela! Not too late, I hope? I meant to call straight after my meeting with Agents Smith and Donovan but was delayed. We’re preparing for a benefit, in London actually, and there are a million details. I’m afraid I’m not very good at delegating.” As ever, Elizabeth sounds coolly amused, as if we’re sharing a private joke.

“No, no! I was awake. So, how did the meeting go?” I’m intensely curious about Kailani and her team. The agents sound a bit of a handful, and Kailani and I are apparently, according to Elizabeth, feeble – although I prefer “tactful”.

She tells me that she met with a sketch artist, although she’s not satisfied with the end result. “I have a very clear picture in my mind, but I’m afraid I’m not good with descriptions. I couldn’t tell you the shape of my own face, so how I’m supposed to be able to describe that woman’s, I do not know. Honestly: round, oval, square? When I was a teenager, I once tried tracing the contours of my face on the bathroom mirror. All I ended up doing was wrecking a perfectly good lipstick. My face shape didn’t match any of the drawings in the magazine. And noses? What’s the difference between a Grecian and a Roman nose? And why would he think I’d know it? An attractive woman in her mid-thirties, dark-blond hair, brown eyes. I did my best, but…” I can almost hear Elizabeth shrug.

“I sympathize. The best I could come up with was Julia Roberts with Charlize Theron’s coloring. Or was it the other way around?” I bite my lip, trying to remember.

“Julia Roberts? Hmm, the nose, maybe. But the lips were more… more…”

“Heart-shaped? Bow-shaped? Full?” I suggest.

“Stop!” she laughs. “You sound like that poor man. I think he was ready to throw his board at me by the end.”

“Well, whatever you came up with, I’m sure it was better than mine.”

“You still can’t remember?” she asks curiously. “Maybe you have some sort of mental block? I wish I could tell my scientists about you. Of course, knowing them, they’d probably try to dissect your brain while you’re viewing.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. “Sounds tempting. Do pencil me in.”

Laughter trills out of her. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let them. Besides, I think they would want to have a go at Kailani first. We’re discovering more and more about the brain every day, but a scan of hers could really speed up our research.”

“Well, I know you think we’re spineless, but I can’t see her being any more excited about a barrage of tests than I am.”

“Maela! I just think talented women should stand up for themselves. But you’re right,” she concedes, a note of regret coming into her voice, “the tests would undoubtedly be intrusive. Although the benefit to science! We’re still categorizing. And, of course, there are real-world, humanitarian applications. Take blocking, for instance.”