Wandering Soul

by Cassandra Chandler

  “Finished? Have you been up all night?”

  “I was unable to sleep.”

  “You should have woken me.”

  “I hardly think so. You need your rest, and I have much to catch up on. When I tired of reading, I came here. I hope that is all right.”

  He set the brush aside and turned back to her. The sun struck his tousled hair, tiny highlights of lighter brown appearing that she had never noticed before. It was wavier than she’d seen it as well, and his jaw was shadowed from not shaving.

  The confidence she’d felt that morning about just being friends vanished. She wanted to touch the rough stubble on his cheek, to curl up next to him as they read together. She wanted to wake up with him beside her every morning and go to sleep in his arms every night.

  Elsa shoved down the urgent longing that pressed against her heart. “What did you paint?”

  “You are welcome to look. Allow me to help you.”

  Dante started toward her, but she knew that meant he was planning to carry her. The thought of him holding her was too painful to bear at the moment.

  “I’m much better this morning.” She briskly walked toward the canvas. His smile faltered, but she tried not to think about that.

  Curiosity helped her push aside her melancholy as she neared his work. She wondered what he had chosen as his first subject. The painting surprised her.

  Flowers from the garden outside gracefully filled the canvas, captured in breathtaking colors. On one long, green leaf, an emerald lizard sat, staring out at her with inscrutable golden eyes. The brushstrokes were confident and bold, adding movement to an otherwise still scene.

  Elsa felt a sense of awe and wonder wash over her like an ocean wave. It lifted her from her body, but set her back down a moment later. The odd sensation happened several times before she realized that his painting was activating her ability, but the only place it could take her was the present moment—the present spot.

  She had never felt anything like it. It was beyond contentment, beyond peace. A feeling of home.

  Warmth surrounded her. She was being supported by someone, enfolded in that emotion. It wrapped around her like an embrace. Like Dante’s arms.

  He was holding her up. Her knees had gone weak and she was leaning against his chest. His strong arms were wrapped tightly around her.

  The left side of his face was closest to her as she looked up at him. His eyes were as blue as ocean water over white sands.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.”

  “You started to fall again.”

  “Did I?” She felt her body again like waking from a dream. It had been a long time since her power triggered without her controlling it. “I think I need to sit down.”

  Dante lifted her from the ground and, as lightly tethered as she was to her body, it felt like a dip on a roller coaster ride. She let out a giggle and was mortified. She definitely needed more sleep.

  “Sorry.”

  Dante’s concern softened into a smile that quickly grew. “Whatever for?”

  His smile didn’t fade as he carried her outside onto the patio and set her on the lounge chair. He pulled another chair close, closer than he’d done the day before, and sat next to her, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Here we are again,” she said.

  “I can think of nowhere else I would rather be.”

  Elsa laughed, then realized she agreed. No matter what became of the two of them in the future, right now, the present moment, was absolutely perfect.

  “Me too. Your painting is amazing.”

  “Yes, literally stunning, it would seem.” His tone was teasing, but then grew serious. “Unless you are having some sort of relapse.”

  “No, not at all. The painting just triggered my ability unexpectedly.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Right. I haven’t explained how it works yet.” She took a deep breath and dove right in before she could talk herself out of it. “The way I travel is through works of art. If a piece is especially filled with emotion, either by its creator when it was made or by events that happened around it, I can latch on to that energy and travel to those moments.”

  “My painting caused you to travel through time?” Dante looked perplexed, his eyebrows furrowing.

  “No. Well, yes. I’m not explaining this well. Your painting made my powers activate, but there was nowhere and no…when for it to take me.”

  “And so it made you faint?”

  “It made me start to travel, but since I was already at the destination, I didn’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean…”

  “Don’t worry. It was really pleasant, actually. I’ve never felt anything like that.” She laughed again and clasped his hand. “What do you call the piece?”

  “I had not considered a name. But I would think In the Sun should do nicely. My little friend seemed to be enjoying herself immensely as I worked.”

  “It’s a beautiful painting.”

  “I am glad you like it.”

  He lifted Elsa’s hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. The gesture had felt completely natural, but it took them both by surprise. Dante’s eyes widened and he quickly lowered her hand again, shifting in his chair.

  Elsa couldn’t think of anything to say to cover the awkwardness of the moment. He cleared his throat and saved her from having to try.

  “If you travel through art, how is it you discovered me? I spent my life in the circus and the theatre. There were no great works of art around me.”

  Apparently, he wanted to act as if that precious kiss hadn’t happened. She could do that. Elsa was becoming well-practiced at denial since Dante had arrived.

  “It’s more about the emotions that are experienced around the pieces than their greatness, both that go into creating them and that surround them.”

  Dante was still holding her hand, and she lifted it slightly, keeping her grip on his fingers so he knew she wasn’t trying to extricate herself. Sunlight glinted from his ring, highlighting the etchings of vines that coated its surface.

  “My mother’s ring?”

  Elsa nodded. “Did you know that Heinrich made it for her?”

  “I did not.” Dante looked at the ring as if he was seeing it for the first time.

  “This ring has seen so many important moments in people’s lives.” She ran her thumb over its surface reverently. “I’ve seen them all. Amazing moments. Painful moments.”

  She tried not to, but she found herself staring at Dante’s mask, remembering that horrible moment when he’d been burned. That was the worst moment she had ever witnessed. She wished she could scrub the memory from her brain.

  If he saw her looking, he didn’t mention it.

  “Would you tell me?”

  “Some things are better left in the past.”

  “I thought I made my opinion on that matter clear.”

  She shook her head. “But this is bad. Really bad.”

  “It is knowledge I am strong enough to bear. Can you not have faith in me?”

  A glimmer of something bright and possible fluttered in Elsa’s chest. She realized that she actually could. The feeling flooded her body with warmth, with hope. She wanted to let it soak in soul-deep, but Dante was waiting.

  This would be hard to say and harder yet for him to hear. She tried to get her thoughts in order, to figure out the best way to tell him.

  “The first time Heinrich told your mother he loved her, he gave her this ring.”

  “That does not seem so terrible.”

  “That part wasn’t. But they started off in a bad place, even though they loved each other deeply. Heinrich left his wife for your mother.”

  Dante’s smile vanished
, his lips tightening. “It troubles me to think that she would have become involved with a married man.”

  “You never met Heinrich’s wife. She was horrible. Klaus was her son, and she was wealthy enough to have easily supported him. But when Heinrich left, she insisted he take Klaus.”

  “She abandoned him,” Dante said. “That is why Klaus hated me.”

  “There was more to it.” Elsa’s stomach was in knots as she went on. “Your mother was Klaus’s governess and much more of a mother to him than Heinrich’s wife had ever been. In all my travels, I’ve never seen someone as kind as your mother. She was so cheerful, even in the face of terrible circumstances. She started over with nothing twice, sacrificing everything for the people she loved.”

  Dante was silent for a few moments, then said, “You were observing my mother when you discovered me.”

  “Both of your parents, actually. I found your mother first. She painted too. Not just sets and banners for the circus, but actual paintings.”

  “Did any of her paintings survive?” He leaned a bit closer to Elsa.

  She smiled, and shifted toward him as well. “There’s one in the library. A landscape.”

  He looked toward the studio doors, as if he was about to run to the library. Instead, he turned back to her.

  “The emotions surrounding it must have been strong. I hope they were happy ones.”

  “For the most part, they were. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to love others the way she did.” Elsa’s own pain rose up, pinching her throat shut. She had to push away the memories to go on. “I think she would like that you’re painting. You definitely have a future in it, if that’s what you want to do.”

  “I would scarcely know how to begin.”

  “I can help with that. Do you remember Garrett talking about Jazz last night at dinner?”

  “Are you referring to the music or your friend?”

  Dante grinned at her, and the logical thoughts progressing orderly through Elsa’s mind scattered like startled birds at the sight of that playful smile.

  Finally collecting herself, she said, “My friend.”

  “With the art gallery.”

  “I could arrange an introduction.”

  “Perhaps when I have a few more pieces to show her.”

  “Just let me know when you’re ready. We can have her over for dinner or something.”

  He smiled and said, “I must confess, I quite like having you to myself.”

  Elsa ignored the way her heart danced at his words, the fluttering in her stomach that made her feel as though she could fly. She focused on everything he needed from her.

  “You don’t really have much choice of company at the moment.”

  He leaned back a bit, looking perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we have to be careful right now. You don’t have any form of identification. We can’t explain how you’re here, where you came from or how you entered the country.”

  “If it will help, I have been working to learn modern speech patterns and adjust my accent.”

  “How?”

  He cleared his throat and, in a passable American accent, said, “I watched a lot of TV last night before I hit the studio.”

  Laughter burst from Elsa’s chest. She couldn’t stop it. Hearing him talk like that was so incongruous.

  “Was it that bad?” he asked, reverting to his normal accent.

  “No, it was actually really good. I’m just not used to hearing you talk that way.”

  “Maybe you should get used to it.” He once more adopted the accent, making her laugh even harder.

  When she had regained control again, she said, “Pretending to be American is one thing. Proving it is another. I haven’t figured out how to manage that yet. And I can’t ask anyone about it, because that would lead to questions that could cause problems for us.”

  “Do not think on it any longer,” he said. “We will sort it out, eventually, and should not let it spoil the current moment.”

  Elsa wished she could push it from her mind, but then Dante brought them back to the subject of the ring. Working out how to get him papers would have been a more comfortable topic.

  “You said my mother sacrificed everything twice for those she loved. She never spoke of any hardships with me, though I was quite young when she passed. I had only thought of her as happy.”

  “She took everything in stride. But she made some hard choices. She left her governess position to be with Heinrich, even though he had no real way of supporting them. Then she left Heinrich after you were born and set out on her own. It was an amazing act of courage.”

  Dante sat back in his chair. His chest deflated, as if her words had knocked the wind out of him.

  “I had always assumed that my father abandoned us. That it was because of…” He finished his sentence by turning his face away from her, for once hiding his mask from her view.

  Elsa sat up, sliding her legs over the side of the lounge chair so that she could be closer to him. Their knees touched, but she ignored the pleasant heat that spread through her body from the contact. She tightened her grip on his hand.

  “She left because of Klaus. I think he was jealous of the attention you were getting.”

  Dante stared at her silently, waiting for her to go on. With a deep breath, she plunged forward.

  “You were just a baby. Your mother left you alone with Klaus for just a few moments, and he…” Elsa’s throat nearly closed up, as if trying to shield Dante from learning the horrible truth. “There was a candle. It had burned down into a pool of molten wax.”

  She shook her head, closing her eyes to try to shut out the memory, but it only became sharper. Dante’s wailing, his mother wiping the hot wax from his face, even though it was burning her, and Klaus standing nearby, glaring at them both.

  “Klaus did this.” Dante’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Elsa felt sick. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, what he was thinking. He stood up and stepped away from her. She couldn’t let go of his hand at first, but forced herself to release him.

  Straightening his shirt, he said, “If you would not mind terribly, I should like to be by myself for a little while.” His voice was rough as he spoke, and he didn’t wait for a response before he left.

  She thought about following him, but what could she say? His scars had caused him so much hardship.

  Based on Elsa’s descriptions, Garrett thought Dante might be able to have reconstructive surgery to remove some of his scarring. But it seemed an awful time to broach that topic. She wanted Dante to know that people had changed. He didn’t need to alter his appearance to have a happy life. Others would accept him as he was, like she did.

  The thought of Dante going through more pain because of his scars, of taking the risk of surgery, terrified her. She covered her eyes, willing herself back under control. He needed her to be strong.

  Some of the fatigue from the day before was returning. She leaned back in the lounge chair, thinking she would rest a bit to give Dante time to process what he’d learned, then find him so they could talk.

  Not much later, Elsa heard soft footsteps approaching. She opened her eyes and saw a man hovering over her, backlit by the sun. At first, she thought it was Garrett. The man had the same shoulder-length blond hair, but he was too short and slender.

  Her stomach lurched as she realized that she didn’t know this man. She started to get up, but he was so close that she didn’t have room to stand. The table blocked one side and the man blocked the other. Elsa did her best to put on a stony gaze, conveying only disapproval and hiding her fear.

  “It’s a lovely morning,” he said.

  “For trespassing?”

  The man laughed in response. It was a rich, throaty sound, but made the hair on her arms stand on end
. He pulled over one of the chairs from the patio table and she tried to get up again, but he shifted even closer.

  “Please, stay comfortable.”

  “If you really want me to be comfortable, you’ll tell me who you are.”

  He sat next to her, smiling, though the smile didn’t make it to his pale blue eyes. “You really don’t remember me? Elsa, I’m crushed.”

  She didn’t like that he knew her name. She tried to think of when they might have met. His features were remarkably handsome, but the smile that pursed his full lips seemed cruel, and the lines around his eyes as he squinted in the sun made him look angry.

  “I thought our date went so well. I was disappointed when you didn’t call.” His voice was as smooth as snakeskin.

  Elsa suddenly remembered a dinner Jazz had set up a few months back with one of the new artists from the gallery. Jazz called to say she couldn’t make it after Elsa had already arrived, so she tried to cover for her friend. Elsa vaguely remembered listening to him talk about art and the gallery, but she had been so distracted with her plans to bring Dante to her time she’d only half paid attention.

  Back then, she knew there were only a few events left in Dante’s ring with strong enough imprints that she could use them to travel. She could sense the energy dwindling and she was getting desperate.

  The random nature of her powers meant that she never knew when or where a piece of art was going to take her. The first time she saw Dante through his ring had been the day Heinrich died. The next trip took her to the day Heinrich offered Dante a job with the theatre—years earlier in Dante’s lifetime. The third event took place between the two moments. He was helping with a performance, running around on the catwalks to operate incredible mechanisms he had developed for a play.

  She had also visited times when Mary owned the ring—after the fire. Elsa knew Dante would be in the theatre while it burned. That would be the one moment when she could try to save him. And she had no idea when the ring would drop her there.

  When she had met this man sitting next to her, whoever he was, she was focused on getting the play off the ground to hopefully boost her power, preparing her house for Dante’s arrival, and figuring out how she could help Dante establish himself.