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The Lovecraft Affair |
Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
A surge of relief swept over Illya at the sight of Napoleon. His last clear
memory was of sitting in a car with his partner...urging Napoleon to leave
the property for his own safety. He was about to greet him warmly when he
felt his wedding ring start to grow warmer and a voice in his head told him
"this man is your enemy...you must destroy him." Illya clutched at the edge
of the table as he fell into a chair next to his 'wife'. His knuckles were
white as he tried to ignore the voice in his mind. "Kill him...KILL HIM!"
The voice in his head was familiar, and as Illya focused his eyes on the
woman he had been forced to marry, he realized that it was her voice,
forcing its way into his mind trying to make him do her bidding... His hand
stretched out towards a dagger that had been placed prominently in the
center of the table. Even as he pulled it from its sheath, the small
rational part of Illya's mind wondered just what sort of breakfast was being
served that required a knife that sharp and with writings in a strange
language on the hilt.
Napoleon watched in horror from the doorway as Illya picked up the knife. A
quick glance at Ariadne left him even more unnerved as he saw the expression
of concentration on her face as she mouthed the words, 'kill him...kill
him'. He made a move towards the table only to be stopped by a word from
his 'traveling companion'.
"No, Mr. Solo, we must see how far under their influence he is."
Illya's face was wracked with pain as he held the dagger. He tried to drop
it, but an unknown force had it glued to his hand. Ariadne's voice in his
head intoned, "Once you touch the dagger of the ancient ones, it must taste
blood or you will never be able to drop it...use it on Solo...kill him NOW!"
As the last word slammed into his brain, Illya rose from his seat and turned
towards Napoleon.
There was an expression of satisfaction on Ariadne's face as Illya
approached Napoleon and raised the dagger. His hand was shaking and a bead
of sweat ran down the side of his face.
Napoleon could stay silent no longer, "Illya, look at me. It's
me...Napoleon. Put down the dagger."
"It's too late, Mr. Solo. Illya hears only me," said Ariadne triumphantly
as she held up her hand. The wedding ring was glowing with a strange light.
"Our blood has been shared, we are as one. Nothing can break that bond now.
He is mine to play with."
"We'll see about that," muttered Napoleon under his breath. "Illyusha...you
don't have to do this...she can't make you do anything you don't want to.
Fight it Tovarish, you can do this." Even as he spoke, he was reaching for
the dagger, ignoring the protests from Lovecraft.
But Illya was too fast for him. Turning to face Ariadne, he said, "It needs
blood? I'll give it blood..."
"NOOO!" screamed Ariadne, but the connection was broken as Illya abruptly
slashed the palm of his left hand.
He fell to his knees, the dagger clattering on the ground as it dropped from
his nerveless fingers.
"Fool," sneered Ariadne, "Do you think that you have won? I will have your
spirit in my hands before you see another morning." She swept angrily out
of the room.
Napoleon was beside Illya in an instant, wrapping his arms around the
Russian and leaning him against the wall. He could feel Illya trembling
even as he reached for a handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood. "Now
Mr. Solo, this is your chance to create your own bond," he heard Lovecraft
say. "Quickly!"
"What are you talking about?" Napoleon asked his 'guest' silently.
"The bond between Mr. Kuryakin and Ariadne was fixed by blood...if you can
create a similar bond..."
Understanding flooded through Napoleon's mind. He reached for the dagger,
which was lying beside him, only to stop before his hand reached it. No, it
was a thing of evil and no good could come of a bond created with its help.
"Good," he heard Lovecraft say, "You are beginning to understand."
Napoleon ignored him, as he reached for the knife, which he always carried,
concealed in his shoe. Gritting his teeth, he placed it against the palm of
his hand. "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you," he muttered as
made the cut, then reached for Illya's hand.
"No," said Illya, pulling his hand away. "This will place you in great
danger..."
"So what else is new, partner...we're in this together...for better for
worse..." Napoleon took Illya's hand and gripped it with his own.
"In sickness and in health," recited Illya as their blood mingled and
dripped upon the floor.
"For ever and ever," quoted Napoleon, squeezing Illya's hand.
"Till death do us part," they said together. Napoleon put his good hand
behind Illya's neck and pulled him close. "We're going to get through this
together Illya," said Napoleon softly. "I promise."
He kissed Illya gently on the lips, only to pull back in shock as a sudden
rush of energy flowed between them. "What the hell?"
"That, gentlemen," came the voice of Lovecraft, "is just the beginning."
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This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit. |