Duplicity

By G E Griffin

Have you ever wished you knew what someone was thinking?
Trust me, you really don’t.
Everyone else’s thoughts invading your mind, whether you want them to or not?
It’d drive you crazy.
Or at least make you seem crazy to ‘normal’ people.
Until you found a way of shutting them out.
That’s what I did, that’s how I survived.
Abandoned as a baby.
Growing up in care as that ‘weird kid’.
Bounced around from one foster family to another.
Never fitting in, always different, the odd one out.
That was me.
Until it wasn’t.
Until Ethan came for me.

Claudia had no idea.
Not a clue.
She was just a young girl.
Difficult, feisty and independent.
A loner, but a survivor.
And an incredibly gifted Empath.
As am I.
Turns out we’re a match.
That’s why I was sent to retrieve her, bring her into line and utilize her talents for the greater good.
World peace and all that.
That’s what the British government expected from me.

Neither of us went looking for this unique connection.
But it came looking for us.
Forced itself on us and then refused to disconnect.

Now it’s more than just duty binding me to her.
Yet I still put duty first.
And risk losing everything.

Duplicity. A paranormal romance set in the murky world of international espionage

• Language: English
• Publisher: G E Griffin
• Release date: Apr 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463028551

G E Griffin

Wife, mother of three grown up daughters, and now an author. How on earth did that happen?​I've always loved a good romantic story, and I've always had an over active imagination. And doesn't everyone have stories going round in their head all the time, to help them escape from boring mundane jobs, or the usual everyday life dramas? Apparently not, according to my very practical and down to earth engineer husband.However, it wasn't until my youngest daughter flew the nest to head off to university, and I needed to find a way to overcome empty nest syndrome that I actually started writing these stories down.I live in Surrey, in the south of England, where I watch the seasons roll by from the window of the little study where I sit and write.Apart from writing, I love photography, and travelling to places where there are beautiful gardens and scenery to admire. But I think my favourite hobby of all is people watching. That, and more years of life experience than I care to admit to, are what I use to draw on when I'm writing.

Book preview

Playlist

Not Like Other Girls - The Rasmus

Your Biggest Mistake - Ellie Goulding

Ordinary Life - Kristen Barry

Set Fire To The Rain - Adele

Skin - Rag ‘n’ Bone Man

Wicked Game - London Grammar

Lost Without You - Freya Riding

Acknowledgements

To Sue B for her editing and proof reading skills.

To my blog readers who helped me find my way to become an author.

To V, for your friendship, support and encouragement to continue writing, and for all your amazing graphic skills. None of this would have happened without you!

And of course, a huge thank you to my husband and three daughters for their endless support.

Duplicity (do͞o-plĭs′ĭ-tē)

1. Deliberate deceptiveness in behaviour or speech.

2.  An instance of deliberate deceptiveness; double-dealing.

3. The quality or state of being twofold or double.

Prologue

GCHQ Bude, Cornwall, England

Are you sure about this? Have the readings been substantiated and verified?

Yes sir, they’ve been checked and double checked. There’s no mistake. These are some of the strongest unsub readings we’ve ever encountered. Most likely a newly emerging throwback, instinctively drawn back here to the hub. Early indications suggest they have high functioning, full spectrum Enhanced Perception Syndrome. Although it’s not confirmed, signature profile suggests a male. We recommend getting an agent on the ground immediately to bring them in ASAP—with the strength of signal they’re currently emitting, there’s little doubt other interested parties will also be honing in.

Can’t have that, can we? Not when this is right on our doorstep. Which of our available agents has the closest parity?

Agent Cooper is a near perfect match, so he should be able to easily locate the unsub once he’s in the vicinity. However, he’s just about to go on leave after completing his last mission.

Ah, Ethan Cooper, yes. Well, I’m afraid his leave just got cancelled. Set up a code red operation to ensure Cooper has the necessary back up for this retrieval—I don’t want any fuck ups, not when we’re desperate for a new operative and this lead looks so promising. Let’s just hope they haven’t been totally screwed up before we can get to them.

Chapter One

Claudia

I sighed as I cleared away the tables at the beginning of my morning shift at The Busy Bean coffee shop, praying that unlike yesterday, I wasn’t going to break anything. I wasn’t usually so clumsy, but being tired, tense and constantly on edge was clearly taking its toll.

When I’d fled down to Cornwall from London a few days back, the fare had taken a large chunk of my funds, so I really needed to keep this job if I didn’t want to end up sleeping rough on the beach again. Luckily Stuart, the café owner, had been rushed off his feet when I’d walked in and offered to take any of the split shifts everyone hated. Didn’t matter what shitty hours I worked, as long as I got some reasonably legit cash in hand.

At that point, I’d definitely thought coming to Cornwall had been a smart move. Now I wasn’t so sure, but no matter how things turned out, I’d get by.

I always did.

If only I could get a decent night’s sleep, I’d be able to cope so much better, but my recent unsettling dreams had me waking up hot, bothered and exhausted.

Great.

As if I didn’t have enough to contend with, my stupid hormones had decided now was a good time to add to my issues with some movie quality erotic dreams.

The sad truth was that no matter where I ran, there was no escaping the fact that I was a freak, and constantly shielding it was exhausting.

But the previous night, it’d felt as if someone had broken through my shields as I dreamt about a guy.

And not just any guy.

Oh no, of course my stupid over active imagination didn’t waste time fantasising about some weedy little runt, so my virtual boyfriend was hot.

Tall, broad shouldered, and very well-muscled, in his late to mid-twenties, with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw line.

He seemed so realistic as he murmured ‘Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone, I’m going to help you,’ in such a calm, reassuring way, along with a sexy smouldering smile, that my insides turned to mush. He made me feel so safe and protected that I’d actually felt resentful when I’d woken up and he’d evaporated along with the dream.

Yeah right.

As if I subscribed to all that knight in shining armour crap.

Then, when I started my shift at the coffee shop, I felt a strange sensation, like birds fluttering inside my head. I looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary so I ignored it, but instinctively pushed up my mental shields another notch as I carried the dirty cups out to the kitchen. At least I hadn’t dropped them, so that was a plus.

Black coffee to table seven, Stuart barked as he put his head round the door. And make sure you don’t chuck it over the customer, eh?

Sure. I quickly dried my hands as I hurried to get the order. Being shouted at by my fat sweaty boss certainly wasn’t helping my jittery nerves and short temper, but I gritted my teeth and plastered on a fake smile. I knew Stuart had in mind ways I could keep him sweet, but I wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

The customer at table seven was sat with his back to me, but as I went to put the coffee down on his table, I gasped and dropped it on the floor instead.

It was him.

The guy from my dream.

He was real and he was here, staring intently at me, and every bit as good-looking in person as he’d been in my dreams.

To cover my confusion, I knelt down to mop up the spillage on the floor with some paper napkins I hastily grabbed.

Sorry, I mumbled.

No worries, he smiled, as he crouched down beside me.

He was wearing a green uniform with ‘Paramedic’ etched on the top pocket flap, along with a Royal Cornwall NHS hospital logo. When he reached over to put his hand on mine, I recoiled as a surge of what felt like electricity shot up my arm.

Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone, I’m going to help you.

He hadn’t spoken out load, yet I clearly heard his words—the same words I’d heard in my dream—along with the weirdest sensation of someone looking around inside my head. I instinctively pushed this force away as I stood up and backed away from him.

Get away from me, I growled.

I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t like it, especially as this guy was somehow preventing me from reading him, something I’d never experienced before. Who the hell was he?

Please don’t be afraid. I’m here to take care of you, he said out loud this time, as he took hold of my hand again. Once again, I felt a surge of power reaching into me, but I managed to block it before it got very far.

I snatched my hand away, and turned to run to the kitchen, just as Stuart appeared.

For fuck’s sake! What have you done this time? he groaned.

Don’t worry, I quit. You can poke your crappy job where the sun don’t shine. I tore off my apron and shoved it at him as he stood there gawping, then hurried through the kitchen, grabbing my bag and coat as I headed for the back door, desperate to get away.

What had just happened? What was this guy trying to do?

But he was one step ahead of me as he’d already made his way round to the back of the shop, and in my blind panic I ran straight into him.

Let go of me! I yelled when he grabbed hold of my arms.

Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. You can trust me, he insisted.

An older, slim, blonde woman stood behind him, wearing the same green paramedic uniform, and there was an ambulance parked on the side of the road with its doors open.

Let go of me, you fucking pervert, I screamed, lashing out, kicking and struggling, but he was so much bigger than me that I couldn’t escape.

A middle-aged couple who happened to be walking by with their dog stopped and stared in horror at the commotion.

It’s okay, no cause for concern. We’re paramedics responding to an emergency call, the guy calmly informed them. The casualty is hallucinating due an adverse reaction to an illegal substance we believe she’s taken. We urgently need to get her to hospital, so if I could just ask for some space while we get this situation under control?

Oh, yes, of course. The authorities really ought to do something about these youngsters on drugs, causing trouble and making a scene in a nice area like this. It’s disgraceful, the woman muttered as she tugged on the dog’s lead and walked away, glancing over her shoulder as her husband nodded and tutted his agreement.

Please just try to keep calm. You really don’t need to worry, I promise we’re going to take very good care of you, the female paramedic murmured warily as she approached me, while the guy tightened his grip still further.

What the fuck was going on? Had somebody reported me, decided I needed a trip to the funny farm? Something inside me snapped, making my blood literally boil with fury, and instincts I was barely aware of kicked into place, enabling me to deflect the waves of energy, even though the resulting pressure in my head made it feel as if it was about to explode.

Shit, she’s so bloody resistant! The guy ground out, still keeping his vise like grip on me.

Ethan, you’ve got to act before she totally loses it. I’d hoped we could avoid testing out the transmuting option, but as she’s clearly about to go episodal, I don’t think we have much choice, the woman urged.

Yeah, I already figured that out. Sorry about this, little girl. Would’ve been far easier if you’d just come quietly. But we’ll try it this way instead.

He closed his eyes and concentrated as his fingers dug into my arm. All the resistance suddenly went out of me, as if someone had flicked a switch. He caught me as I went limp, scooping me up as if I weighed nothing and carrying me into the back of the ambulance, where he strapped me onto the stretcher. I wasn’t unconscious, just stunned and unable to speak or move as he closed the door. All I could do was listen helplessly.

Well it worked, but as we don’t know for how long, I’d better give her a shot to put her under before it wears off, the female paramedic frowned, reaching into a rack of drawers in the side of the well-equipped ambulance.

Is that really necessary? They want her assessed straight away, which won’t be possible if she’s totally out of it, the guy argued.

Yes, but you saw how strong she is, despite being a newbie. The last thing we need is her going full blown episodal before we can get her back to the hub.

Okay. I guess the boss is just going to have to be patient, the guy reluctantly agreed.

I could only watch helplessly as the needle entered my arm, and the world slipped away.

Chapter Two

Claudia

As a new born baby, I’d been left in the ladies’ toilets at St. Thomas’ hospital in London, most likely by my mother, who had then disappeared without so much as a backwards glance, never to be seen again.

I was named Claudia May Thomas.

Claudia, after the cleaner who found me, May because that was the month I was found in, and Thomas since I was found at St. Thomas’ hospital.

No trace was ever found of my mother, no clues gained about her identity, so it was assumed she’d probably been a teenager too scared to tell anyone she’d got herself knocked up, and had given birth in secret. I suppose I had to be grateful that she’d left me somewhere warm, somewhere I’d be found, rather than stuffing me in a bin bag and putting me out with the rubbish.

Before I could be put up for adoption, the authorities were obliged to establish whether I had any family who might want me, so in the interim, I was shunted from one temporary foster family to another. Apparently, I was a very difficult baby, never settling, continually crying and screaming, leading to concerns that I had developmental problems. I’ve always thought a more obvious explanation was that I was just a very confused and frightened little baby, but that was far too simple an explanation for the ‘experts’. By the time I could officially be put up for adoption, I’d already been categorised as ‘difficult to place’, and for all kinds of reasons, I never did get taken on by anyone long term.

A large part of the problem was that when I was old enough to talk and express myself, I didn’t comprehend that it wasn’t normal to be able to hear other people’s thoughts in your head, or to see shimmering coloured auras around a person that indicated their mood. I ended up being diagnosed with psychotic episodes after being bandied around from one specialist to another, until eventually I ‘cured’ myself by learning to shut up, keep my thoughts to myself, and stay away from people as much as possible. I developed a chameleon—like ability to merge into the background, which wasn’t that hard as physically there was nothing remarkable about me. I was small and slight, with light brown hair and pale blue/grey eyes. Bland and nondescript about summed me up.

However, the damage had been done; labelled as a problem, I never fitted in, never belonged anywhere, always the odd one out. But as I was reasonably bright, I compensated by immersing myself in books of every kind, losing myself whenever possible, spending hours hidden away in libraries to escape reality.

Of course, there were many times when it wasn’t possible to escape from who I was, times when I thought I might actually go mad. That’s what having an inside track into other people’s thoughts can do to you, times when ignorance would definitely have been preferable. I coped by forcing myself to zone out, and pull up mental barriers to block out other people’s thoughts. It wasn’t easy, but in time I perfected the technique, enabling me to choose whether to use my ability or not, thereby keeping the thoughts of those around me firmly shut off unless I chose otherwise.

But ignorance had its down side too. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say, and I learned the hard way that people were rarely as they seemed. Not all social workers and foster carers were good people; some were downright evil, hiding their perverted preferences behind a pseudo-caring façade.

Those were the dark times.

But luckily, I also had some good years with some decent foster parents intermingled with the not so great ones. It was just a shame that every time I got settled, something always seemed to happen and I ended up being moved on.

In any case I survived, and told myself that there was no point in dwelling on the past. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ and all that. It didn’t always work, as proved by my intermittent nightmares, but I tried my best.

Maybe because I was small and weedy, I hit puberty late, remaining skinny and flat chested until I was eighteen. Then I suddenly made up for lost time with a growth spurt virtually overnight, ending up more or less average height, still quite skinny, but with the addition of some curves and an impressive pair of breasts.

My boobs still took me by surprise whenever I caught sight of myself in the mirror, but they were an inconvenience for someone who hated drawing attention to themselves. Gaining a few curves meant blokes of all ages suddenly had great difficulty looking anywhere but at my chest if I wore anything remotely revealing or clingy, as if I didn’t exist as a person.

I took to wearing baggy, shapeless clothes to conceal my body as much as possible, but it wasn’t always enough to deter the unwanted attention.

Case in point. Gareth, my latest foster family’s twenty-five-year-old son, who had always totally ignored me, suddenly started following me around, ‘accidentally’ walking in on me when I was getting undressed, that kind of thing. I reluctantly forced myself to read his thoughts, and discovered that hours of watching hard core porn had led to him becoming obsessed with fucking me in every conceivable position his filthy mind could come up with. His overactive imagination made me sick, but as it was only in his head, he hadn’t actually done anything, I was powerless to report him to anyone.

I’d tried that in the past and it had got me nowhere fast, other than gaining a reputation as a fantasist and trouble maker. As my foster carers thought the world of their precious son, I knew they’d take his word over mine, so it’d be a waste of time involving them. And who knew, maybe Gareth never would act out his personal porn movie, but I didn’t think it wise to hang around and find out.

So, despite having been relatively settled for the last couple of years, I couldn’t see any option other than to get away. I’d come with a reputation as a repeat runner, so my foster carers would hardly be surprised if I left. In all honesty, they’d probably be relieved to be shot of me, as lately I’d morphed from a quiet and reserved girl into an angry and volatile one.

I left the suburbs and headed into London, and counted myself lucky to get a place in a hostel for the homeless. Not the greatest place, but better than sleeping on the streets.

After I’d been in the hostel a day or so, a girl I’d seen hanging around came over.

Runaway? she asked, staring at me. She was probably only a year or two older than me, but her heavy makeup, bright blue hair, piercings and tattoos made her look much older and street wise. I’d never got into that kind of body art, never wanting to draw attention to myself, but I did admire how fierce it made her look.

Maybe. I shrugged noncommittally.

I’m Gemma. You’d better stick with me otherwise you ain’t gonna last five minutes. I know how things work around here, and I can make sure you get in with the right people, she stated as she continued to stare at me. Her aura was slightly off, but when I probed a little deeper, she was thinking I didn’t stand a chance on my own. What’s your name?

Claude.

That’s a bloke’s name.

Short for Claudia. And thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.

"It’s

Reviews for Duplicity

[Liz · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Something a bit different and original, I enjoyed the espionage angle and thought the paranormal aspect was believable.