Title: Cold Mirrors (1/4)
Author: Emma
Characters: Canonical Torchwood Three members… sort of.
Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Summary: Toshiko is drawn into a web of lust and murder...
Author's Note: This is Adam
Author's Note: "Because no one has more thirst for earth, for blood, and for ferocious sexuality than the creatures who inhabit cold mirrors" Alejandra Pizarnik
Author's Note: In my grandfather's day, like today, it was not unusual for a man to make a remark to a woman passing by. Unlike those of today, the abuelo's piropos were witty, funny, and daring. Si la belleza fuese pecado, no tendrías perdón de Dios, means if beauty were a sin, God could never forgive you.

Tosh gave the ginger cat a final pat. 'I'm bored too but I have to attend this. Human business.' She giggled at his contemptuous hiss. 'Look for me later. There's always food left over.'

“Oye, niña, si la belleza fuese pecado, no tendrías perdón de Dios.”

Toshiko whirled, throwing her arms around the grinning man standing behind her. “Manuel! It's so good to see you!”

Strong arms lifted her off her feet. “Toshiko, beautiful Toshiko. Your nasty Welsh boss finally let you out of Cardiff, did he?”

“He is not nasty and he is a Scot,” she retorted, pushing on his shoulders until he set her down. “And where is Anamaria?”

“Right here,” said an amused voice. “Watching the two of you make a spectacle of yourselves. Though I will admit that Manuel is right. You are looking quite stunning tonight.”

Tosh made a mocking little courtsey. “Praise from the expert is praise indeed. How were the Paris shows?”

“Boring. Crowded. Filled with starved-looking starlets aspiring to become belles horizontales, and failing miserably.” Anamaria waved the whole fashion society scene away. “But you! Manolito tells me you're presenting a paper that has the whole conference buzzing. And wearing clothes like those! Who is your designer and why haven't I heard of him?”

“Her name is Rhiannon Crandell and she's not a designer, she's a painter. Designing clothes is her way of relaxing.”

Anamaria gave an experienced once-over to Tosh's chic Egyptian blue sheath with the plunging back and the embroidered and beaded design of peacock's feathers wrapping around the waist and hip. “She's in the wrong business. Speaking of which, have you seen Kathy Vaughan yet?”

“No, I haven't.”

“Well, my dear, she's shown up with Adam Kingsmark!”

Tosh frowned. “Who?”

“Don't you remember him? No, I suppose you wouldn't. He wasn't one of the geek brigade. Romance Literatures. Tall, blond, not great looking but interesting to talk to and with a reputation for knowing exactly how to make a girl really happy.”

“Ladies,” Manuel said, “I hate to interrupt the gossip fest, but Professor Brown is coming in this direction. Toshiko, my love, you are summarily chosen as sacrificial lamb.”

“Cowards,” she said, waving as they oh-so-casually meandered towards the exit. Tosh took a deep breath and set her face into a welcoming smile. Prof. Brown had to be the biggest bore she had ever had the misfortune of meeting – and she counted all the politicians that had crossed her path since she had joined Torchwood – but he had been a damned good teacher.

“My dear Miss Sato.” He caught her hand in his thin, bony one. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Now he was closer, Tosh could see the fine tremors that shook his tiny frame. It startled her to realize he was actually an old man. “Professor Brown. It has been quite a while.”

“Indeed. I was not planning to attend, you know, until I read a review copy of your paper. One of the few pleasures of meetings such as this is to sneer at one's colleagues when one's former students manage to show them up. Your paper has put the cat among the pigeons. According to Miss Vaughan, even at her rarified government levels there is... ah... buzz. As a matter of fact, she was hoping to see you tonight.”

Tosh snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter's tray. “Was she?”

“Positively on tenterhooks, my dear. She's seated in one of those tables over there, with her fiancé.” She offered his arm. “Shall we go?”

She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Fiancé?”

“Adam Kingsmark. You might not have met him, but he took one of my courses for non-science majors. Trying to impress his beloved, he confided in me, and needing a decent grade. Ah. Here they are.”

Toshiko studied the couple staring into each other's eyes and felt a twinge of envy. Or maybe, she told herself, it was just simply the knowledge that there was little chance she could have what Kathy had obviously found. She loved her life, but there were times, like now, when a small pain lodged herself under her breastbone, and she felt her loneliness like a living thing.

“My dear Miss Vaughan, look who I found.” Professor Brown crowed with delight. “I thought I would bring her to you immediately.”

Kathy Vaughan jumped up, looking delighted. Toshiko gave herself a quick mental shake and smiled back. They did the handshake-and-air-kiss-on-both-cheeks of long ago acquaintances.

“You remember Adam, don't you?”

Tosh started to shake her head, but before she could say anything she found her hand grasped between both of his. Something stirred in her memory and suddenly she was leaning out of her study window, looking towards the river, watching a young man jogging along the towpath.

“You're the runner! I used to watch you from my window. Every morning at seven, rain or shine.” She waggled her champagne flute at Kathy. “You never mentioned the handsome young man I used to babble about was your fiancé.”

Kathy giggled. “Adam and I didn’t really know each other at Uni. We met up again last year in London.” She frowned. “I really want to pick your brains about this paper of yours, Tosh, but I’ve been feeling under the weather all day and it seems to be getting worse. I think I’m for an early night. Can we do lunch tomorrow? There’s nothing scheduled.”

“Lunch it is.”

Toshiko spent the next two hours catching up with people she barely remembered. Amazing, she thought, how success brought the rats out of the woodwork; some of those same people wouldn’t have given her the time of day when she was a student. After careful consideration, she decided to let it amuse her. Professor Brown was basking in his incidental fame, and Toshiko found that she enjoyed his pleasure nearly as much as her own.

Finally the old man set down his glass. “Well, my dear, it has been most entertaining, but it is time for me to go to bed. I am very much looking to your presentation on Monday.”

“Actually,” Tosh said with a giggle, “so am I.”

Toshiko watched him leave, then wandered out into the terrace to admire the gardens in the moonlight. The Elizabethan mansion had been willed to the College by a wealthy alumnus who had had the good taste to convert it to a successful hotel before dying, thus ensuring a healthy income stream for his alma mater. The annual Conference cum alumni reunion always took place in it. She had heard wonderful things about the gardens.

She walked towards the river, following a well-disguised spiral path that made the gardens seems much larger than they really were. She moved among trellises loaded down with heavily scented dark-hued antique roses, past beds crammed with herbs and lined with cockle shells. She peeked into grottoes where statues of gods and goddesses presided over small, tinkling streams that fell into greek amphoras. Every element was exactly what and where it should be.

At some point she came to realize the path was climbing, away from the river, through a small stand of orange-flowering witch hazel and past a miniature knot garden, to come to a dead end in a clearing in front of a folly. As she approached it, she was startled to see someone coming towards her from the other side of the folly, but after a moment she realized that there were tall, narrow mirrors where the walls should be; she had seen herself. Smiling at the joke, the turned away, wondering if she had to go back the long way, then sighing in relief as she noticed a much smaller trail with a discreet signpost reading house.

“I'm glad you came.” Adam Kingsmark stepped out of the folly's shadow. “I didn't know if you would.”

He stopped much too close. Toshiko's instincts were screaming but she couldn't find a reason to move. She looked into his eyes as he reached for her, taking her hands in his.

“The moment I saw you I knew we would be lovers.” His breath caressed her skin as he brought her hands to his lips. “You did too, didn't you?”

Her head nodded, almost against her will. Adam pulled her closer until he could wrap his arms around her. “I will make you happy, Toshiko. Happier than all your previous lovers. Happier than anyone ever will. Take me to your bed, Toshiko.”

Her arm moved to wrap around his waist. Adam smiled down at her and bent down to press his lips to hers. Toshiko could feel her heart beating wildly; there was a feverish hunger building inside her, a craving for Adam, for his touch, for his body. She reached for his head to hurry the kiss.

A deep-throated yowl echoed in the darkness. The sound pierced the fog in Tosh's head and she jumped away from Adam. The ginger cat stalked into the clearing to plant himself in front of Adam, back arched, the tenseness of his body signalling danger in every direction. Adam snarled, his face contorting. The look he gave Toshiko made her step back.

“We are not finished, you and I, Toshiko,” he said as he turned to go back into the shadows. “There is too much between us, too much passion, too much of everything I want.”

The ginger cat hissed, moving to stand by Toshiko. Pick me up. His kind cannot abide us. We can see them as they truly are.

She learned down to cradle her in his arms. She could feel the desire turn to panic and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be safely in her own bed. She ran up the signposted trail, past some startled guests strolling in the terrace, and straight up the stairs. In her arms, the ginger cat purred approvingly.

She fumbled with the old-fashioned key but finally managed to get her door open. Once inside, she simply collapsed, trying to slow her breathing, gain some form of control. Think. She needed to think.

They live in mirrors. The ginger cat growled. They can use them to hunt. I will stay with you until daylight.

She stared at him, then opened her tiny evening purse to find her telephone. Hooking the ear piece into place, she tapped a quick sequence.

“Owen? No, I'm not OK. I need help.”