The Immortal Bind

by Traci Harding

  THE UNKNOWN WOMAN

  Liz didn’t usually take time out of her busy schedule to attend functions outside of the fashion industry; especially when the invitation had come via some random stranger insisting she must come. But as she had noticed the exhibition advertised quite heavily, and the artist was a bit of a dish, she was intrigued enough to venture an appearance. She preferred engagements where she knew she was going to know people. It was awkward flying solo sometimes, but that couldn’t be helped, it was difficult to find straight, handsome, eligible bachelors, her own age, in her line of work.

  The gallery was very stylish and although the artworks closest to the door were rather dark and haunting, she was impressed enough to continue inside to see more. Turning a corner, she beheld a feature wall that was entirely filled by one painting — at the centre of which was a portrait of Sara. Liz gasped upon seeing herself depicted too. The images were giving her chills, right to her core.

  ‘Who is this guy?’

  ‘He’s very good, isn’t he?’ Liz looked aside to find a cheerful, buxom woman, beautifully adorned with antique jewellery.

  ‘Do you know the artist?’ Liz queried, still a little breathless.

  ‘I appraised some of his jewels. I deal in antique jewellery,’ she advised and held out a hand to introduce herself. ‘Selene Love.’

  ‘Elizabeth Whitely.’

  ‘Ladies!’

  A very handsome gent, dressed to the nines, with a glass of champagne in each hand, offered the drinks to them in greeting.

  ‘Thank you.’ They both accepted.

  ‘Simon Dobbs. I’m the artist’s manager, if I can assist in any way?’ Then the oddest look crossed his face, as he gazed at Liz. ‘Have we met?’

  Oh really? That had to be the oldest pick-up line in the book and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t believe so. Liz,’ she obliged.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Simon clicked his fingers. ‘A few weeks back, stairs, basement antique shop off Portobello. You were wearing a lemonade pink suit and a fabulous set of heels.’

  ‘You’re right!’ Liz was so impressed.

  ‘I remember because I was very tempted to ask you to lunch.’

  God, was she blushing? ‘So, why didn’t you?’

  ‘Right,’ Selene threw up a hand to bow out of the conversation.

  ‘Three is a crowd. Moving on.’ She waved and left them to it.

  ‘I was on a last-minute hunt for a gift for my closest friend.’

  Simon pulled a sad face.

  Inside Liz was freaking out. She’d never really experienced kismet but she was fairly sure this was it. ‘How peculiar . . . I was too.’ It was difficult to wipe the enchanted grin from her face, but he was having the same difficulty.

  ‘So what brings you here, Liz?’

  ‘Your invitation.’

  Simon was clearly delighted and yet perplexed to learn this.

  ‘You rang me yesterday and begged me to come.’

  ‘Oh my gosh, you’re that Liz! Elizabeth Whitely.’ Simon looked up to the painting. ‘You’re the other woman.’ He looked between the painting and her several times to draw a comparison. ‘Wow.’ He seemed to be processing something in his mind. ‘You’re Sara Dash’s partner? I saw your fashion spread in Retro Chic, very impressive.’

  ‘Ditto.’ Liz’s face was really starting to ache. ‘I saw your advertisement for this exhibition in there. The Unknown Woman.’ Liz noted the name of the work and smiled. ‘But if you know who she is, why call it The Unknown Woman?’

  ‘It’s . . . a long story.’ Simon waived an explanation. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Maybe . . . do I get a prize for finding her?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  To Liz’s great delight Simon took hold of her hand, frightfully excited about something, and led her back into the foyer devoid of people. ‘Can you call her?’

  ‘No, she’s offline at the moment,’ Liz was sorry to advise. ‘Why is your artist painting my partner?’ It all seemed a little suspect. The man before her was just too good to be true, and that made her wary.

  ‘Okay,’ Simon appeared to be preparing for a confession. ‘I know this is going to sound nuts, but it all started when I bought my friend, Jon, this big old chair.’

  That was it, Liz was dumbfounded. ‘Big violet crystal in the middle of the headrest?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Simon concurred. ‘It’s in the painting.’

  ‘I didn’t even notice that bit.’ She was now dying to go take a more in-depth look at the work.

  ‘It really is a rather long story . . . but, in short, I just think Jon and Sara are meant to meet. There must be some way to contact her? Please . . . if I’m wrong, then no harm done.’

  He had the most lovely big blue puppy eyes — and how could she not trust a man who could actually define lemonade pink from every other shade of pink? ‘I can call someone I know who will be with her.’

  ‘Yes! That would be fantastic!’

  Liz hit dial on Willie’s number. ‘Hopefully they’re not on a flight.’

  Simon crossed his fingers.

  * * *

  Willie had literally taken one step out of the elevator into the foyer of his apartment when his phone rang, and if it had been anyone other than Liz, he would have let it go to message.

  ‘Lizzie.’

  ‘Willie-J! Where are you?’

  ‘I literally just stepped out of the elevator at home. I’m absolutely rooted.’ As he said this, all the lights went out, and as it was verging on sunset, he could barely see anything.

  ‘Is Sara with you?’

  ‘I’m going to have to call you back.’ Willie put down his luggage, he had an uneasy feeling about this. ‘. . . in five.’

  ‘Willie please—’

  ‘Won’t be long, promise.’ He hung up and tucked his phone away.

  ‘Hello my lover.’ Tyrell’s voice came through speakers in the foyer; they were a new addition since Willie had left.

  ‘Tyrell?’ he called back. ‘Turn the lights on and stop fucking about.’ The recollection of Sara’s account of being choked to death by her lover, after Thorkell and his demon had brainwashed him, was playing heavily on his mind. The demon had been dispatched. Surely any power he held over the material world and those in it had also abated?

  ‘I’ve been thinking very bad things about you since you been away.’

  That did not sound especially encouraging. ‘Tyrell, I’m really fucking tired, and I’m not up for any more revenge-killing, vendetta bullshit! If you’re going to kill me, just get the fuck on with it!’

  The door to Tyrell’s apartment opened and his bodyguard-cum-boyfriend stepped out into the corridor, appearing a little sheepish. ‘That was supposed to sound sexy.’

  ‘Sexy!’ Willie was fit to burst. ‘You scared the fucking shit out of me!’

  ‘Sorry, baby.’ He shrugged. ‘Just wanted to do something special to welcome you home.’

  Then Willie noted his ever-so-straight-laced boyfriend was naked to the waist and dressed in the white trousers of a Raj, complete with gold sash. ‘What are you wearing?’ The look did bring a smile to Willie’s face.

  ‘Just going with the whole Indian theme . . . see?’ He ducked inside and emerged with a huge sabre, which prompted Willie to back up again.

  ‘Jesus wept!’ Willie really couldn’t tell if he was being toyed with or not.

  ‘Okay, clearly not a good look.’ Tyrell dropped the sword and threw up his hands in defeat.

  ‘Naw.’ Willie didn’t want to discourage him. Tyrell never did anything playful and silly; he’d obviously missed him a lot. ‘Large stabbing weapon.’ Willie kicked the item out of his path. ‘Not sexy. But tall, dark Raj . . .’ he backed Tyrell back into his apartment

  ‘. . . is a very good look on you.’

  * * *

  ‘Come on, Willie!’ Liz sat sipping champagne and constantly checking the time on her phone.

&nbs
p; ‘Maybe you should just call him back?’ Simon was eager to have some news that might bring Jon out of his melancholy.

  His friend was making a good show of being sociable, yet Simon knew that inwardly he was joyless. Before he’d got the chair, Jon had been a bit of a miserable bastard; now he was a sad, miserable bastard. But that would all change if they could only find this bloody woman! Whether it worked out between them or not, everybody could move on.

  ‘He’s only just walked in the door, give him a couple of—’ Her phone rang and as Liz took the call she winked to assure him it was the call they were waiting for. ‘Hello. That’s fine, I just— Really? I’m sure it did. Look—’ She looked to Simon and rolled her eyes, unable to get a word in with her caller.

  When Simon had first seen Liz depicted in Jon’s painting, he’d quietly considered she was rather lovely and that the artist might have exaggerated her allure, but she was astonishingly beautiful in the flesh. Her smile was an intoxication he just couldn’t get enough of. How could any woman be so perfect from head to toe?

  ‘Willie, please listen, I just need to know—’ Liz’s eyes became transfixed on the entrance to the gallery. ‘Never mind.’

  When she hung up the call and rose, Simon was about to query the move. ‘Elizabeth?’

  ‘Sara?’

  ‘What?’ Simon’s heart skipped a beat as he beheld Jon’s unknown woman approaching his new love interest and embracing her warmly.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ both women asked at once, bursting into laughter, overjoyed by the synchronous meeting.

  ‘You first,’ Liz insisted, and Sara pulled their edition of Retro Chic magazine out of her bag. ‘I picked this up at the airport in India.’ She had it open at the page after their spread, where the exhibition was advertised.

  ‘Yes!’ Simon uttered under his breath. He’d been the one who had insisted on Jon using his own image in the ad. This was exactly how Simon had found and attained Dashing Design’s company contact number, through his connections at the magazine. He hadn’t mentioned his investigations to Jon as Simon didn’t want to get his hopes up before he was sure he’d secured a line of contact with Sara.

  ‘How about you?’ Sara shoved the magazine away, even though Liz still appeared somewhat perplexed by Sara’s motivation.

  ‘I was invited by this gentleman.’ Liz brought Simon to her friend’s attention, and when Sara looked to him, she gasped.

  ‘It’s you?’

  Simon was gratified to know that she recognised him, as nothing about this affair surprised him any more, but that was going to make this next part of the plan much easier. ‘Come with me. Please,’ he thought to add as he took hold of Sara’s hand to lead her away.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Sara looked back to Liz for answers.

  ‘I think he’s harmless,’ Liz folded her arms and followed. ‘He seems to do this with every new woman he meets.’

  * * *

  Poor Liz appeared rather put out to have lost this gentleman’s attention. Sara had no clue what he had to do with the current situation, but she did know he had been a friend to Jon in the past. She was thrilled to have a name to put to the face of her karmic companion now. Sara had promised herself she would not try and force their reunion, but when she had seen his picture directly after her article she’d felt that had to be a nod from the gods that maybe they were meant to meet after all.

  Her guide brought her to a stop in the gallery. ‘Please stay right here. Don’t go anywhere.’

  Simon backed up, turning his attention to Liz as she joined Sara. ‘I’m terribly sorry about this, I’ll be right back.’

  ‘Got it.’ Sara was rather amused by his excited, yet panicked, state as they both watched him wind his way quickly through the crowd, apologising as he went.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Liz was completely baffled by the evening’s proceedings.

  ‘Kind of,’ was the best response Sara could come up with.

  ‘He’s a doll.’ Liz obviously fancied him a lot, which was hardly surprising considering their history. ‘And so extraordinary. I mean, he just calls me out of nowhere, insisting I come. I think this picture is at the heart of it all.’

  Liz motioned to the feature wall they were standing beside that Sara hadn’t had the chance to glance at.

  Sara gasped upon catching sight of the major work, flabbergasted to see their entire karmic story laid out on the huge canvas, with her own face at the heart of it all. ‘He remembers . . . everything.’

  * * *

  Why was Simon not surprised to find Jon reclining on a lounge in the office where they’d had drinks prior to the exhibition opening?

  ‘Jon . . . why are you in here?’

  ‘Because it’s quiet.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be mingling.’

  ‘Hey, I had a very long chat with Richard and Connie Brooks about my ideas for Rosalind’s grave piece. I had a drink with Selene, and the gallery people earlier — I’m all peopled out now, and there’s only half an hour to go.’

  ‘I need you to come with me.’ Simon didn’t fancy his chances of keeping his surprise a secret.

  ‘Not for a million dollars.’ Jon closed his eyes once more.

  His friend looked very comfortable where he was, so Simon just came right out with it. ‘Sara is here.’

  ‘Ha!’ Jon laughed. ‘Nice try . . . you are so full of shit—’

  ‘I shit you not.’ Simon’s attempt at being serious came off false, as he couldn’t stop grinning.

  ‘There you are!’ Selene blustered in, and then gasped as she saw Jon sprawled on the lounge, seemingly appalled by his complacency. ‘Why are you still lying here, when she is out there?’

  Jon sat up, still rather dubious. ‘Is this a trick?’

  ‘Five lifetimes of being star-crossed lovers, do you really think we would prank you about something like that?’ Selene placed her hands on her hips, self-righteous, and Simon folded his arms to agree.

  ‘Four lifetimes,’ Jon corrected. ‘I don’t think this lifetime really counts . . . yet.’

  ‘Well, it will bloody well be five,’ Selene countered, ‘if you don’t get out there and do something about it.’

  * * *

  ‘But how could she be here?’ Jon nearly suffocated on a rush of excitement imploding inside him at the realisation they were serious. ‘She’s supposed to be in hiding in Australia right now.’

  ‘No idea, sweetness.’ Selene motioned to the door. ‘Why not go and ask her, she’s looking very bemused beneath your major work.’

  Jon looked to Simon, who was grinning broadly and nodding in encouragement.

  ‘Whoa!’ He took a moment to process, and as the office had a mirror he thought to check his reflection; he was so glad he’d gone to a little effort to look presentable.

  ‘Oh God.’ Selene rolled her eyes impatiently, and dragged him away from the mirror before shoving him towards the door. ‘You look gorgeous, as always, just go.’

  ‘But, what am I going to say to her?’ Jon doubled back, a little overwhelmed, now it came down to it.

  ‘Do you want me to hold your hand, is that it?’ Simon teased.

  ‘No!’ Jon held out both hands to stave him off. ‘Please don’t help, or touch my furniture.’

  ‘That hurts.’ Simon grinned, obviously not feeling so guilty now.

  ‘Here goes everything.’

  Beneath his major work stood two women; the blonde, who looked to be Sara from behind, and the redhead, whose life had become interwoven with theirs more than once.

  The moment felt hyper-real, rather than surreal; there was a mass of conflicting emotions all fighting for presence in the moment, but what he felt most was gratitude. Just to confirm she was alive and well would be a truly sacred gift.

  As he neared, the redhead spied him coming and quietly stepped away from her companion, who had her eyes fixed on the painting, as he came to stand beside her. It was thrilling to glance aside and confirm that it
was truly her. ‘The work does not do the muse justice.’

  * * *

  His voice was the sweetest music to her ears, just as it had been in that elevator in Somnath. ‘This muse has proven very dangerous, you might be wiser to seek another.’

  ‘Are you still in danger?’ His concern was so endearing.

  ‘No.’ She smiled to reassure him. ‘I returned the demon to Somnath.’

  ‘Somnath! But I was there only days ago.’

  Sara smiled, well aware. ‘We must have just missed each other. I am guessing you unearthed the stones in Suffolk?’ That made perfect sense in retrospect. ‘That is brilliant, I completely missed that clue.’

  ‘I believe you had bigger problems,’ Jon granted, with a grin. ‘I’d love to hear how you managed to defeat Thorkell.’

  ‘Only if you tell me all about how you found those stones.’

  ‘Coffee?’ Jon suggested, backing towards the gallery exit.

  ‘Tea,’ Sara agreed, and they departed, leaving all their breathless bystanders feeling a little deflated.

  * * *

  ‘That wasn’t quite the big romantic reunion I was expecting,’ Selene commented, rather stunned by the anticlimax. ‘The most gorgeous couple in existence and they didn’t even kiss?’

  ‘Jon was never much of an exhibitionist.’ Simon shrugged.

  ‘Sara isn’t either,’ Liz concurred.

  ‘After all, they’ve only just met.’ Simon’s eyes became transfixed on Liz. ‘They need a bit of time to get to know one another.’

  ‘Or just another drink perhaps?’ Liz served him a devious smile and handed over her glass.

  ‘Leaving!’ Selene placed her glass on a passing waiter’s tray, fanning herself. ‘Happy endings all round, my work here is done,’ she announced winningly.

  Simon and Liz looked to one another, confused by Ms Love’s behaviour — perhaps she was a little tipsy from too much champagne and romance.

  ‘I hope you all live long and prosper.’ She blew kisses to everyone, then left the gallery, never to be heard from again.

  ‘Well, that was rather odd,’ Simon concluded, unfazed. ‘But not in a bad way.’

  ‘This entire evening has been completely bizarre,’ Liz agreed. ‘Thanks ever so much for inviting me, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’