Killing Eva Read Online Free PDF Page B

rising decibel and suddenly was so loud that she felt as if her entire body might split in two. She was bent double, screaming now.
    Agony.
    She couldn’t end the pain, she knew that. There was no way to stop this anguish that had sliced through her and opened her up from stomach to heart. She would be stuck, forever – screaming.
    Eva awoke with a start. She was sweating heavily. She reacted instantly to the darkened room and lurched for the light switch, knocking a book and a bottle of water on to the floor as she did so.
    She pushed herself upwards against the headboard and ran a hand through damp hair.
    The room around her was entirely still; outside the windows, a velvety darkness enveloped the peaceful sleepers of London.
    She realised she was shivering, reached for a white robe that lay on the chair next to the bed and pulled it over her shoulders.
    Her first nightmare in more than six months.
    Eva had the distinct impression her dream had a vaguely religious undertone, that she had somehow dreamed herself into a state of purgatory.
    She leaned back against the pillows and sighed out loud. While no one else had held her accountable for those two deaths in Paris, she seemed unable to allow herself to forget them. She was her own worst enemy, judge and jury.
    One had been a fight to the death – if Eva hadn’t fired that fatal shot, she would have been killed, without a doubt. As for the other, it was an unknown assassin wielding a needle filled with the virus that would have killed her exactly as it killed him if she hadn’t pushed the plunger home into his flesh. He had died quickly and she had never forgotten the look on his face as his organs collapsed and the virus took control of his body, reprogramming his own immune system to kill.
    â€˜I had no choice,’ she said out loud. Her voice sounded uncharacteristically weak and strained.
    I’m actually going crazy.
    She dismissed the thought, threw back the bedcovers, pulled the robe around her and belted it tightly. The air in the flat was cold and she could see her breath as she walked through her bedroom, along the boards of the hall floor and into the large open plan living room and kitchen. She had specifically chosen a flat with a minimalist feel – clutter did not work for her. She stood at the kitchen island and waited for the kettle to boil. For some reason, she felt as if she was not the only person in that room. It was almost as if she was waiting for someone – or something – to speak. But no one did. Nothing moved.
    Eva turned back to the stainless steel kitchen area and retrieved her favourite mug from one of the cupboards; a heavy, insulated piece of stoneware designed to keep tea warm for ‘up to an hour’. The clock on the kitchen wall read 5am. It was virtually morning. She gave up on the idea of going back to sleep, of entering that purgatory place again, and made herself tea with two strong caffeinated teabags. Milk, no sugar. Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, she made her way back into the bedroom.
    As she walked through the darkened hallway, all the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
    Eva walked faster, quickly closing the bedroom door behind her.
    When she reached the bed, she put the tea down on the bedside table before taking a large bite of the apple. For a moment she contemplated wedging a piece of furniture against the door but decided the fearful little girl apparently inhabiting her imagination did not need any encouragement.
    She climbed back into bed and pulled the still warm covers over her chilled skin.
    After a few sips of tea and the rest of the apple, Eva reached for her laptop and opened it. Instantly, it jumped to life, showing her the search engine she had been using the night before to look for information on ‘kolychak’.
    She stared at the screen.
    There were two hits at the top of the list she was pretty sure had not been there the night before. Nothing