Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sidney didn’t know what to do.
Sherlock was not the kind of man to—he didn’t do things like—but she didn’t know what else to do.
She was supposed to seduce him. But she was also playing Doctor Watson, not Sidney.
Not a woman. And while she didn’t think that mattered too much as Sherlock swung in neither and no direction, it still felt… worse somehow.
A betrayal of trust.
A betrayal of friendship.
It felt dirty.
Wrong.
Sherlock was still holding onto the binoculars, watching the scene in silence. His breath coming in shorter, faster gasps. He hadn’t spoken. He seemed unable to look away from whatever he was watching.
Should she…?
Could she even dare?
What if he slapped her away? There was no opium to blame this time. No rampant drug and alcohol abuse to blame it on. And she was taking advantage of him.
“We have our proof. We should go.” She cringed. She had to get them both out of this situation.
“I…y—yes. We should go,” he agreed, but didn’t move. Didn’t lower the binoculars. Didn’t stop watching as Moriarty and her sister—Sasha, how could you?
No, she understood. Deep down, she really did. “Can’t blame the man. She’s a beautiful woman. And he seems smart enough to feed the beast from time to time.”
“Feed the beast.” Sherlock repeated the words as a low murmur as if he were debating them.
“Big, dumb animal…nothing smart about it. Nothing intelligent. Just…simple biological needs. Like eating. Drinking. Sleeping.” It was time to roll the dice.
Time to take the chance. Time to see if she was about to get smacked to hell or about to take this story in a very strange and uncomfortable direction.
She placed her hand on Sherlock’s thigh where he sat in the chair in front of the window. He went rigid, but didn’t move.
And he didn’t lower the binoculars, though his grip on them was tighter than before.
“Just people, fulfilling mutual needs. Things they were born with. Things outside their control…” She slipped to her knees in front of him, wincing as she put pressure on her bad one. But she’d deal. She gently urged Sherlock to part his legs. To her surprise, he let her.
Christ, he was in a state. It already looked painful.
Whatever Moriarty and Sasha were doing, watching it had Sherlock ready to burst.
She wasn’t jealous. No. Not at all. Not at all.
Not even a little bit.
Not even a tiny little bit.
Besides, now I get to have him. She ran her hands up his thighs, smiling to herself as he shuddered at her touch. He was definitely the kind of man to whimper. Good. She liked the ones she could break.
Clasping his belt buckle, it was time to show him exactly what she was capable of.
Sasha woke up lying on the floor of a library. With its large, black and white marble tiles and dark lacquered wood.
This wasn’t a rented flat.
This wasn’t Sherlock’s London.
And she wasn’t Irene Adler.
Shooting up to her feet, she spun around, searching for Vile. She was out of the story, and she had just—that meant—and now she was here? And that meant—
“Oh, calm down, will you?”
Vile.
His voice came from above her. Literally up. Blinking, she did the logical thing, and looked. She knew there was a balcony level, but it didn’t seem like that was where the voice came from. No, it sounded like for some weird reason he was—
Yes.
That was exactly where he was.
Looking up, she found Vile standing on the ceiling. Upside down, like that dance scene from Dancing In The Rain. Gravity didn’t seem to affect him. His tie, his hair, nothing was sticking “up” or rather, “down.” However it worked.
“How embarrassing.” He hummed, reaching over and running his finger along the lip of one of the elaborate glass chandeliers. “I really must dust up here more often.”
Reflexively, she backed up, the strangeness of seeing him on the ceiling giving her a momentary bout of vertigo, like she was in a funhouse. In the motion, her ankle caught on the edge of one of the chairs at the long library tables. She tripped.
In the next split second, a few things happened all at once. Too fast for Sasha to register at first.
Her ankle caught the edge of the chair.
The world tipped as she fell backwards.
She let out a gasp as she began to fall.
Something rushed toward her—a great and horrible darkness. But worse than the darkness that came screaming at her faster than should be possible were the great many things she could sense within that pitch-black nothingness. A nothingness she couldn’t see, but that she knew was not empty.
And in her mind’s eye, she could see screaming faces, twisted in terror, howling at her in rage and terror—a million deaths, all tangled together like the roots of trees. It made her ears ring, though their gaping maws gave out nothing but silent screams.
But as quickly as the horrible vision came, it was gone.
And Vile was standing at her back, his arms around her waist.
He’d caught her from falling.
“I have to go a little bit cosmic horror to move so quickly.” His voice was a quiet, bass rumble she felt almost more than she heard. “But it’s your own fault for being such a klutz.”
She was shivering, her eyes wide, unable to even process half of what he was saying. She was still trying to get over what the fuck had just happened.
“We can play with that genre when you’re a bit more…adjusted to me.” He nuzzled into her hair. “Though I am quite impressed with your level of lasciviousness. I don’t know if I've ever had a plaything quite like you.”
It was those words coupled with his hand that was splaying out over her stomach—identical to how Moriarty had done—that snapped her out of her shock.
She elbowed him hard in the stomach.
He let out a grunt that she knew was mostly for show before letting her slip out of his grasp.
She quickly put a few strides of distance between them and reeled to face him. “That—don’t—don’t do that!”
“Oh, and suddenly we are bashful? I see how it is! Love me and leave me, like they all do.” He laughed, smoothing a hand over his black hair.
A few of the strands still stuck out at bizarre angles, denying his attempt to keep a perfectly tidy appearance.
His unnatural purple eyes still seemed to glow in the dim amber light of the library.
But he didn’t need the purple eyes to remind her that he wasn’t human. It was in his demeanor. His smile. His very presence. It was easy to forget what Vile was like, when she spent more time around his false faces than his own.
“That’s not—I’m not—” She was stammering uselessly. Stopping herself from blathering on more, she took a breath and started over. “Why are we here? I thought we were in the story. What do you want?”
“Well, clearly a round two is out of the question, judging by your attitude.” He began to adjust the cufflinks of his black suit.
“If you must know, my dear, you and I have just crossed a very intriguing line in our professional ‘relationship,’ and I am attempting to be the gentleman by giving you a moment to breathe and establish any new boundaries with me.”
She stared at him in silence for a beat. “Bullshit.”
With an exasperated sigh he rolled his eyes. “I am not lying! For once. You and I have a journey ahead. It seems only the courteous thing to do, does it not? We aren’t even to the first death yet. I wasn’t expecting you to give in to my seduction that quickly.”
Snarling, she clenched her fists at her side. Reaching to the nearest shelf, she picked out the biggest book she could. It was a hefty, ancient, leather-bound thing. Perfect. Gripping it firmly, she stormed toward him. Villain or not. Demigod or not. She was going to beat him into paper pulp.
“What? What did I say?” He took a step back away from her, hands raised. “Did you not want to talk things out? Do you not have anything to say? Or—”
In a fury, she swung the book at his head. He simply dissipated into inky darkness, pooling on the floor like a shadow. She watched as it zipped behind her like he was being cast from some unseen projector, only to have him reform behind her.
Swinging at him again, she knew it was pointless. That wasn’t what it was about, and it didn’t stop her angry scream as she attempted to knock his block off with the huge tome she’d grabbed.
That time, he just stepped out of the way. When she swung a third time, he grabbed the book from her hand. It disappeared into thin air. “Don’t use my own children against me, that’s cruel.
The book might be gone, but her anger wasn’t. She threw herself at him, fists taking the place of the blunt object.
She wasn’t even worth dodging. He just stood there and took it as she pounded her fists uselessly into his chest. “How dare you!”
Vile said nothing, his expression flat and unreadable as she vented at him. He simply rested his hands on her hips and let her empty it all out.
When her anger was gone, sorrow threatened to take its place.
Sorrow…and shame. What had she done? Tears stung her eyes, and she placed her palm flat against his chest. This thing was going to kill her sister.
And likely her, too. It had taken them both from Earth to be its playthings.
To make them dance for its amusement until it killed them.
And she’d fucked it.
Because she’d wanted to.
Not because it’d save her life. Not because it’d get her anywhere. Not because he made her. But because she’d simply wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted the character he played. And wanted the desire he felt for her. The fantasy of it all.
It wasn’t his fault.
She was mad at herself.
He was just…doing what he did. He was a force of nature. Lighting hit things. Vile was a villain.
“Don’t just silently stare at me, it’s weird.” She rubbed her eyes, glad that the tears abated.
He didn’t speak for a moment. And when he did, he was quiet. The almost constant sadistic glee was missing. “I was letting you sort out your thoughts. It wasn’t something I should interrupt by the looks of things.”
“And you mean that literally. Since you can read—” She sighed. Resting her forehead on his chest, she shut her eyes. She wasn’t seeking comfort from him. She just needed something to lean on, and he was there. “I don’t need you mocking me.”
“I was not mocking you.”
“Yes, you were.”
“How? When?”
“You saying you didn’t expect to seduce me that quickly.” She lifted her head to shoot him a vicious glare.
“That wasn’t me mocking you! That was—” He blinked. His expression fell. “Oh. Look, simply because you inferred that I implied it made you a loose woman, does not make it my intended meaning.” He wagged a finger in her face. “And I am not responsible for your gross misinterpretation of my words.”
Narrowing her eyes, she figured she’d let him dig that hole deeper. “All right. What did you mean, then?”
“Simply that when we met you seemed to be a far moodier and weaker-spirited creature that would not be nearly so amenable to enjoying—unngh!” Vile doubled over in pain as she drove her knee up into the space between his legs.
She was getting better at hiding things from him. Turning on her heel, she stormed away, leaving him to suffer and grip the table to keep from toppling to the floor. She wasn’t sure if she’d actually hurt him—or if she only hurt him because it made narrative sense for it to hurt.
It was probably the latter. Little by little, she was starting to figure this shit out.
“Think you’re clever now, do you?”
The room went pitch black.
The floor opened up underneath her.
Sasha fell, screaming into the abyss.
“We’ll see about that.”
Sidney woke up, sitting in a chair, staring at the bookshelf. She was sitting at a long library table. The surface was smooth and lacquered in a golden oak color. Sunlight was filtering in through stained glass windows that depicted heroes from every genre she could imagine.
Looking down at herself, she blinked. She was herself. Dressed as herself. And her knee didn’t hurt.
Where had she been a second before? She’d been in a dark flat in London, dressed as a man, playing Doctor Watson, and she’d—
Oh. Her cheeks went warm. Oh, I hope Virtue’s not mad at me…
“I’m not. I’m—a little embarrassed, but—”
Sidney flew up to her feet so quickly she tripped on the edge of the chair. In the blink of an eye, Virtue was there. He caught her in his arms, keeping her from crashing to the ground. He chuckled with a faint, shy smile. “Careful.”
“I’m so sorry, about—I just—I know it was wrong, I just—” She straightened up, her hands resting on his chest.
“You’re trying to stay alive. And it means maybe Sherlock might do something unique. Interesting.” Virtue’s smile deepened a little. “I truly understand.”
“Did my sister really…”
“She did.” His expression fell. “In full, on-the-page detail, I’m afraid.”
“Wait.” She furrowed her brow a little bit at him. “Sasha—but—” It took her a second. She shook her head. “No. No, that's not fair! We had a fade-to-black!”
“Well—I mean—it’s rather rude to assume, I didn’t know if you would be all right with—” Virtue’s cheeks went pink. He was blushing. “It seemed forward to think you would want to—”
Sidney grabbed him by the lapel of his suit coat and dragged him down into a kiss. She held it for a long moment before slowly breaking away. “Do you have your answer now?”
“Mmmh.” He blinked before casting her a goofy, dreamy smile. “I do.”
“Why are we here?” She looked around at the library. “Not that I’m complaining. I prefer the library and me and you over London and Watson and Sherlock.”
Virtue sighed. “It seems Sasha and my brother are having a bit of a…moment.”
Judging by the way he said it, it didn’t sound like they were going for a sexy second round. More like the violent fallout that would be the aftermath. She hoped Sasha would be all right.
“She will. Vile needs her.” He hugged her close. “And he needs her willing to compete. He’ll scare her, but he won’t do anything permanent.”
“Scare her, huh?” She nestled close to him. “Who knows, maybe he’s finally cracked the code to my sister and they are going for a sexy second round.” She chuckled.
Virtue made a face of confusion and disgust in equal measure. As if the concept of anyone wired like that was both impossible and horrifying. She didn’t get it herself, to be honest. She didn’t think her sister was one of those people—but who knows. Maybe she was wrong.
And she just hoped that if she was, it wound up being an advantage…and not the thing that got them both killed.
“Will it work? Her plot?” She looked up to Virtue. “Will it get us out of here?”
He sighed. “I honestly don’t know. We haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet.”
She supposed that was fair.
Good luck, Sasha.
Something tells me, you’re going to need it.