“You’re welcome. I assume you would do the same for me if the situation was reversed.”
“Rescue you from a sex-maddened connoisseur of balloon art? Absolutely. That’s what allies do.”
“Good to know.”
He released her arm. She realized immediately that she missed his touch.Don’t get accustomed to it.
A thought occurred to her. “I wonder how long the effects of the suggestion last?”
“Good question. Probably not long, considering how weak the currents are.”
The next installation was titledInto the Woods. They walked through a small forest composed of columns of light projected downward from concealed fixtures.
“I have to admit that I like this artwork,” she said. “Maybe because it’s interactive.” She caught the faint pulses of energy from a nearby tile and knew she was supposed to be sexually aroused. “Forget it. The hypno-tile ruined it for me.”
She turned the corner…
…and froze at the sight of the life-sized sculpture at the end of the short passageway. Her pulse slammed into fight-or-flight mode. Icy perspiration trickled down her sides. She shivered as adrenaline-fueled panic threatened to overwhelm her.
Luke came up behind her. “What’s wrong?”
She could not speak.
“I see,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.
It was impossible to tell what the sculpture was made of—molded, high-tech plastic, perhaps, Sophy thought. There were two figures, a male and a female. The woman appeared to float in midair. The folds of a dark purple cape whipped around her. In the shadow of a hood, her eyes blazed, wildfire hot. Her gleaming red nails were sharpened into claws. The crimson lips were parted in predatory sexual hunger, revealing the pointed tips of white teeth. She held a set of gleaming metal chimes in one hand.
A partially nude male was sprawled beneath her. Asleep, perhaps. Or dead.
The white card on the wall did not give the name of the artist, just the title of the installation.Succubus.
Twenty-One
“Want to tell me what’sgoing on here?” Luke asked quietly.
He did not take his eyes off the installation labeledSuccubus. It required raw willpower to suppress the fury heating his blood. He wanted to smash the artwork and then destroy the artist who had created the monstrous sculpture. Unfortunately, at that moment neither option was available. But sooner or later…
“He’s here.” Sophy sounded as if she could barely breathe. “Somewhere. He’shere.”
A man and a woman entered the display space. They were both giggling in the odd, artificial way that indicated they were still partially under the influence of the previous installation.
“What the fuck?” the man rasped.
The woman gave a small, stifled yelp.
“Forget it,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No problem.” The man pivoted and headed toward the intersecting hallway. “I didn’t come here to see a fucking horror show.”
Luke focused on the one thing of which he was certain: Sophy knew the artist.
“Sophy?” he prompted softly.
She did not respond. She stood in front ofSuccubus, staring at it as if she, too, was an immobile work of art. The energy in the atmosphere around her was charged with a toxic mix of rage and panic and disbelief.
He did the only thing he could think of—he tightened his grip on her shoulder and tried to soothe the wildly sparking currents of her aura with some of his own energy. Seeking resonance.
“Stop trying to make me calm down,” she said, her voice shivering a little. “I’m not a startled horse. I’ve got every right to be pissed.”
