Fugitive (sequel to Becoming Atlantian)

Fugitive - Chapter 8

"Here you go." Andrew murmured as he handed a steaming mug of tea to Aubrey.

Smiling her thanks, the red head watched as he crossed the room and gave a matching mug to the pale faced woman seated opposite. Every few seconds her body would shudder and tremble as if plagued by a feverish chill. Obviously communing with spirits was even more arduous than it looked.

Blowing onto the steaming tea, Aubrey watched the woman as she struggled to hold onto her mug. Even after ten minutes Evelyn appeared as if she would be blown over at every minute. It didn't stop her from fluttering her lashes at Andrew at every opportunity. He didn't seem completely unaffected by the older woman's attention either.

Rolling her eyes, Aubrey sipped on her tea to try and hide her impatience. The prophetic words which had spilled from the other woman's lips were spinning around her head over and over again in a constant loop leaving her feeling more than a little unsettled. Saviour or destroyer? It was as if her life was suddenly so much more and it wasn't necessarily a good thing. At times she almost wished she was back in the library sorting books on to the correct shelves. The Dewey Decimal system was a lot easier to deal with. Even after she had woken up inside her coffin and been told of her new destiny, Aubrey could never have imagined this for herself.

Andrew came and perched on the arm of the chair Aubrey was sitting on. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She closed her eyes and let a slow breath leave her lips. She hadn't even realised how much she needed even a modicum of comfort. He didn't look at her or show any signs that he had spotted her sign of weakness.

Aubrey laid her free hand over his and gave it a small squeeze in acknowledgement before returning her attention to the cup before her.

"Let's get on with this." Evelyn ordered after a moment of silence, chugging the hot tea before she set her tea cup on the small coffee table and then pushed to her feet.

She attempted to take a step but just staggered forwards. Andrew hand left Aubrey's shoulder abruptly as he rushed to the weakened woman's side and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her before her legs could give out. Evelyn looked up at him though her lashes and gave him a soft womanly smile. It was a smile which spoke of more than just gratitude. Aubrey bit her lip to stop a giggle from escaping as she watched the man blush hotly in response.

"If you'll help me over, we can see if we can sort out this sticky situation you've got yourself in." Evelyn said calmly, her voice strong despite the weakness in her body.

The pair hobbled over to the sofa where Merlin's unconscious form was convalescing. Aubrey disliked the fact that his face had not changed since they had stolen his body from the room at the Cathedral. No growth of facial hair, no twitch of a muscle, no sign he was even alive except for the barely noticeable breathing. He may as well have been dead.

"I've heard about this curse but I have never seen it in effect. It's quite extraordinary. Of course there are modern drugs which can cause the same symptoms but their effects are temporary. This is true magic of old." Evelyn murmured as she stretched out both of her hands and held them above the prone body.

Aubrey shivered at the tone in the woman's voice. There was admiration and something more – almost lust for that dark knowledge.

"Do you know how to get rid of the curse?" The red head asked, her eyes watching every move the other woman made.

Andrew shot an impatient look over at her, his hands still holding onto the seemingly frail woman's waist as she continued examining the body.

Evelyn moved to the end of the sofa when Merlin's head rested and let loose a sigh. "If I'm to believe the stories, true loves kiss is the cure to a sleeping curse. This, however, is real life and not some bloody fairy tale where everything can be solved with the magic of a kiss."