Eros (10 page)

‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate,’ Apollo hissed.
‘You really think I’d come to you for help unless I had no other option?’

‘Well, with such flattery, I can’t see how I could possibly refuse,’ Coop commented sarcastically, hanging up the phone.

Skye swam over to the small ladder at the pool’s edge and began to clamber out.
Coop watched as her back turned to him while she scooped up her clothes and padded back inside, leaving a trail of perfectly formed footprints on the grey cement.
Then he left her room and went back to his own chambers to have a very cold shower, completely forgetting about the Sun God.

That night, Skye spent several hours tossing and turning before finally giving up on any semblance of sleep.
She didn’t know if it was the previous night’s nightmare or her disquiet at feeling so alone in the great house, but she wasn’t going to be drifting off into dreamland any time soon.
Unable to continue lying in her bed staring at the ceiling, she got up and padded to the kitchen to get a drink of water, then wandered out to the garden to drink in the cool night air.

Skirting round the pool, she was about to sit at the water’s edge when she caught sight of a small shape slinking off into the bushes.
It was a cat, probably no older than six months.
A smile curving her lips, she put the glass down and quietly walked after it, trying to coax it out.
The animal backed into the undergrowth, large green eyes watching her balefully.
It looked scrawny and skinny so Skye decided to try and crawl in to see if she could catch it.
The least she could do was give the poor thing a decent meal.

She knelt down and wriggled forward, ignoring the damp earth against her nightgown.
The cat remained where it was, staring at her unblinkingly.
Skye pushed herself a little further in then, bit by bit, inched her hands forward, trying to avoid any sudden movements that would scare the kitten off.

After what seemed like an age, and when her fingers were barely an inch away from its fur, it stood up and stretched, then stepped forward and rubbed its head against her hand.
Grinning in triumph, she grabbed it gently round its body and started backing out.
When there was more room to move, Skye carefully turned herself around; the cat was starting to purr in her hands.
Then, without warning, there was a splash from the swimming pool and the animal hissed in alarm, a growl building up in its throat.
It pulled away from her and sped off into the night, nothing more than a streak of black against an already black night.
Annoyed, Skye peered out at the pool to see what on earth had scared the cat, then sat back on her haunches in alarm.

The water was moving, small waves pulling away in opposite directions from the centre of the pool, all the way up one length, then back down again.
It didn’t make any sense.
Skye blinked, watching the water and trying to work out what was going on.
There wasn’t any wind and she was pretty sure that if Mr Kamadeva had installed a wave machine she’d have noticed it by now.
Fascinated by what she was seeing, Skye stayed where she was, staring out at the brilliantly illuminated pool from the gloom of the bushes.
Then things got even stranger.

As she watched, the waves seemed to dissipate but the steel ladder suddenly creaked and she could have sworn she saw it move. Suddenly there was a light whipping sound and a spray of water landed with a spatter onto the hard cement surrounding the pool.
Skye’s mouth dropped open as first one wet footprint, then another, appeared out of nowhere, heading off in the direction of the house with short slapping thuds.
For a moment, the magic footsteps seemed to stop right underneath her bedroom window and Skye’s heart felt as if it were in her mouth.
Then they continued onward.
The small door leading up to the main house opened as if of its own accord and then closed again.

Skye remained where she was for several minutes, her brain unable to process what she had just witnessed.
 
Eventually, she scrambled out from the undergrowth, walked over to the pool and stared down at the ground.
She hadn’t imagined it.
There, drying on the concrete, was a trail of wet footprints.
She knelt down and traced one gently with her finger.
It was quite large, as if it belonged to a man.
Skye sat down cross-legged next to it, watching it fade away as the water dried, and she tried to work out what she was seeing.

***

Several hours later, Skye was in the kitchen, flicking through various news items on the internet.
She read through one then another, occasionally taking a bite of an apple and then reading some more.
Taking care to breathe through her nose, she kept all her senses as alert as she could.
When she thought she heard the floor creak and a light woody smell reached her nostrils, she stood up, walked to the fridge and pulled it open, looking inside.
Then she swayed ever so slightly from side to side.
She put her hand on the edge of the fridge door as if to steady herself, but it didn’t work and her knees began to buckle underneath her.
The ground rushed up to meet her and she landed with a heavy thump on the cold marble tiles.

Coop stared at her supine form in panic, not sure what had just happened.
He rushed over to her and bent down, trying to lean in over her face to check her breathing.
He could see Skye’s chest was moving up and down but she was taking short shallow breaths as if she couldn’t quite get enough air.
Attempting to remember what little he knew about first aid, he moved his hands to her side to roll her over into the recovery position.
And that was when she grabbed him.

As soon as Skye’s hands connected with what felt like warm skin, a bizarre mix of exultation and fear rushed through her.
The fact she’d been right, that she was living with the Invisible Man, didn’t entirely make her feel better.
Reacting quickly, she wrenched on the invisible limb, ignoring the deep grunt of pain she heard from her prey, and twisted round, hooking one of her legs round what she presumed was his torso and locking him into place on the cool marble floor.
Then she stared down, realising how ridiculous she must look, hovering about half a foot in the air, even though she was actually straddling what felt like a very warm, very hard body.

‘Why don’t you tell me,’ she said through gritted teeth, trying not to look as scared as she was feeling, ‘exactly who you are and what the hell is going on?’

Coop gazed up at her in astonishment and with more than a tinge of admiration.
He had no idea how she’d managed to work out he was there, or indeed that he was invisible, but he was rather impressed.
He could easily escape from her tenuous ‘capture’, but he was enjoying the sensation of her thighs locked around his body.
He relaxed and grinned.

‘Bravo, Skye,’ he purred softly.

At the sound of his voice, Skye stiffened and tightened her grip.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ she yelled, aware of the screech beginning to seep into her voice.
‘Are you some kind of mad scientist?’

Coop chuckled.
‘Hardly.
Merely the victim of a rather undeserved punishment.
Tell me, how did you work it out?’

Skye ignored him.
‘Look, Mr Kamadeva,’ she began.

‘Coop,’ he interrupted.

‘Huh?’

‘Coop.
My name is Coop.’

‘Whatever,’ she dismissed.
‘You need to tell me what is going on here – or else.’

‘Or else what?’

Skye stared down at the blank floor underneath her.
She had absolutely no idea.
Now her suspicions were confirmed, she had no clue what to do next.
Mr Kamadeva, or Coop, or whoever he was, didn’t sound particularly upset or even worried that she’d caught him out.
And if someone could genuinely be invisible, what else might they be capable of?
She had a sudden vision of her body being fried and charred by lasers shooting out from a set of glowing eyes.

‘Or else I’ll call the police,’ she said shakily. ‘Let them decide what to do with you.’

‘How will you get to a phone?’
Coop asked, enjoying himself immensely.

Nonplussed, Skye rocked back for a moment.
‘Er…’

‘Let me help you.’
And with one swift move, Skye felt the body underneath her twist.
There was a pressure in the small of her back and, before she knew it, she was being flipped over until she was lying flat on the tiles and her imperceptible employer was sitting on top of her.
She shrieked and tried to escape from beneath him, writhing in the iron-clad grip on her arms and thrashing her legs.
She pulled one way then another, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t budge an inch.
Eventually, tiring herself out, she stopped.

‘There now.
Hold still, and I’ll get you that phone,’ murmured Coop, releasing one of her wrists and reaching into his pocket.

Skye watched, mouth dropping open, as from nowhere a mobile phone floated in the air.
It moved down towards her.

‘You need to dial 100 to reach the Greek police,’ he added, placing the device in her free hand.

She stared at the phone, then stared up at where she presumed her captor’s face was.

‘Go on,’ he urged.
‘Tell them you’re being held prisoner in a luxurious mansion by an invisible man.
They’ll rush straight over, I’m sure.’

Skye swallowed.

‘Shall I dial for you?’

She watched disbelievingly as the buttons on the phone were pressed down and the number 100 appeared on the screen.

‘All I need to do,’ Coop said calmly, ‘is press the little green button and you’ll have a helpful operator to chat to.
You can tell them everything.
Just say the word, Skye.’

She gazed at the phone, realising the futility of such an action, then shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’

Skye nodded.
She was completely screwed.
Nobody would ever believe her.
She was being held by an invisible man with good taste in aftershave and soft furnishings.
Her mutilated body would probably be found months from now, dumped in a Greek wasteland.
She thought of her parents and how they’d react, and misery seeped through.

Coop watched the different emotions flit across her face.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said softly.

‘You’re invisible!’ Skye scoffed.

He pulled himself off her body and stood up.
‘Yes.
I’m invisible.
But it’s only temporary and, believe me, Skye, I’m not a monster.’

As soon as his weight left hers, Skye sprang up and backed away.
It was a long way to the front door and, even if she made it that far, he’d catch her before she took two steps outside.
Wishing she’d thought this through more, she tried to inject some calm into her voice.

‘So who are you really?’

Coop looked into her dark-brown eyes, realising that there were, along with the very obvious and palpable terror being displayed, little flecks of alluring green.
He liked them, he decided.

‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I’m Coop.’

‘That doesn’t tell me anything,’ Skye hissed.

He walked towards her until he was right in front of her.
She seemed to sense he was there because she immediately tried to sidle away.
He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it gently.

‘Let’s get a drink and I’ll tell you.’

He pulled on her hand carefully, directing her towards one of the kitchen stools then, when she was seated, went to the fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of wine.
Skye watched from her perch as it was uncorked, then two long-stemmed glasses floated through the air and landed on the table in front of her.

‘I don’t want a drink,’ she protested.

‘It’ll be a much more civilised way of explaining my story,’ Coop murmured.
‘Just two friends chatting over a glass of wine about the vagaries of life.’

‘I’m not your friend.
And it’s not even ten o’clock in the morning!’

Coop poured the lightly fizzing liquid into first one glass, then another.
‘So?’

Skye reached out and picked a glass up, lifted it to her lips and drained it.
‘I don’t want a damned drink.’

‘Except you just had one,’ he pointed out.

She stared at her empty glass.
She’d not even registered her own action.
What was wrong with her?
Coop re-filled it then took a sip of his own.

‘As I was saying,’ he said, ‘my name is Coop.
But I’m also known as Cupid.’

Skye’s brain felt fuzzy.
‘Cupid?’

Coop nodded then remembered she couldn’t see him.
‘Yes,’ he replied patiently.

‘Like the cherub?
The naked baby with wings and a bow and arrow?’
The body she’d felt when they’d both been on the floor certainly hadn’t been that of a child’s.

Coop winced.
‘Well, that’s one interpretation.
Personally I blame Michelangelo.
I can assure you, I’m not a baby.’