“Right. So, um, anyway, do you fancy a quick game of Guitar Hero?”
Mimi cleared her throat but when she spoke her voice was still rusty from disuse. “You can kiss,” she said as unemotionally as she could.
“Thank you. So can you. With passion, unlike your friend, who just stands there and expects me to do all the work.”
“Oh, don’t slag Anna off. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“No. You’re right.”
“And that’s not just a kiss, is it? There’s something else to it. You do it for a reason. There’s some kind of power in it.”
John’s eyes, the only part of him she could clearly see in the darkness, were bright and hard with suspicion.
“Not enough power, obviously,” he remarked drily, then he leaned back into her. “Let’s try again.”
“No, don’t!” Mimi rasped into his approaching mouth. “It doesn’t work on me the same way it did on Anna. That much ought to be clear.”
“Shut up.” He pressed his lips firmly to hers again, putting every ounce of otherworldly force behind the embrace, not stopping until her chest heaved and she was gasping into his lungs, giving him every last breath.
“John,” she panted. “John, listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen to you. I want you to listen to me. And then I want you to act on what you learn. That’s the only way this can work, Mimi. If you can’t do that, we’re as good as doomed.”
“Hold on.” Mimi strained against the bonds, urgent in her need to speak to him. She knew he would have no scruple in killing her if she didn’t meet his requirements—especially now that she knew a little about him and his background. “I can’t help it if I’m not like Anna. I don’t know why your kissing trick hasn’t worked on me in the same way.”
“It has had a limited effect,” John sniffed, his pride wounded. “You do want me. At least.”
“Yes, yes,” Mimi said, humouring him, seeing that his ego was his Achilles’ heel, storing up that information for later use. “I want you. God, you’re hot. But I’m not in thrall in the way Anna is. I don’t know why. I’m sorry. Perhaps this would all be easier if you had control of my mind. But look! I’m prepared to listen to you. I’m prepared to maybe even help you. Just tell me what it is you need from me. If I can do it with a clear conscience, I will.”
He wavered. “I should just kill you.”
“Kill me when you have to. Right now, you don’t have to. Let me help you, John. Let me in.”
“I don’t trust you,” he said at length.
“But you can read my mind. You will know if I’m scheming. You have the ultimate weapon of power over me. Let me out of this contraption and we can talk about how I can help you.”
Mimi listened to the rhythm of pacing footsteps for what seemed like a very long time. Then a light snapped on and she cried out, screwing her eyes shut in pain. When she opened them again, she could see John, surrounded by a corona of fluorescent light that died away as her eyesight accustomed itself to the glare. He was directly in front of her, unsmiling, slouching with his hands in his trouser pockets. Looking around, Mimi saw that the room was like a laboratory, or a factory floor. Strange machines, jars and test tubes were dotted around while a central computer took up much of the basement’s space. She began trying to map them out in her head, but John knew what she was doing, and he distracted her immediately.
“Don’t think about that,” he snapped. “It won’t help you. Let me have a good look at you, Miranda.”
“I hate being called Miranda. Mimi, please.”
“Oh, I like Miranda. Miraculous. As well you might be.”
He stepped forward, then plunged down until he was leaning his forearms on the arms of the prison-chair, next to hers, bent right over her, his face searching hers as if looking for clues.
Mimi breathed him in. He was so like a man. How was anyone supposed to realise that he wasn’t?
“I like your smell. You’re substantial. Not floaty and ephemeral like Anna. I like your brain. You don’t accept things at face value. You are sceptical. It might be an inconvenience for me, but it’s a quality I admire all the same. You are confident. You can act. You are a convincing liar. You are an opportunist. You are capable of being manipulative. But you are unselfish. You are, at heart, altruistic, yet you are also a pragmatist. You use humour to defuse tension. You are not an anxious person and you are emotionally and psychologically stable. You enjoy the pleasures of life—eating, drinking, sex, friendship.”
Mimi blinked into his eyes. “Bravo. Now do Scorpio.”
“There. Humour defusing the tension. Tell me I’m wrong, on any of those points.”
“You aren’t. You’re right. Can I do you?”
John chuckled. “I don’t think I want to hear it. Besides, I know what you think of me. High-functioning sociopath about covers it.”