I ran the primer coat up and down the walls letting the lust dwindle away. But with its retreat pain stroked my chest in its absence. The pain was slow at first, churning deep within, pushing unwanted emotion towards the surface. Everything that had sent me into a panic now sat threatening to escape once more. I needed to keep working. That seemed to help keep it all at bay. The brush strokes felt like balm to my soul. With each pass the multitude of issues within began to slink back. For the first time in days my mind felt clearer. This solitary task held no conflicting emotions or growing hysteria–it was wonderful. By the time I was finished, I collapsed in the center of the room from complete exhaustion. Time was of no consequence, slowing to let me have these moments of peace; giving the reprieve I had been seeking for the past few days.
I sat alone in the center of the room letting the peace and quiet wash over me. I was numb to the world, unable to see or feel what was going on around me. A shocked gasp echoed through the hollow room stealing away my peace. I wanted to rage my anger at the intrusion. But a low predatory growl kicked the door open, letting in all that I had worked so hard to hide away.
I swirled around, giving my full attention to the other occupants of the room. Their entrance had shattered my self-imposed blindfolds letting in all that I had kept out. I took in what I had done and nothing came to mind. No memory of actually putting paint on the wall would form.
"Who am I?" My voice came out harsh and unrecognizable.
Jonathon's murderous expression was not focused on me but the wall directly behind me. Rage radiated off him, escalating my hysterics. Jo's wide green eyes where filled with nothing but shock. Jonathon spun, storming out of the cafe and the door slammed with such force it shook the foundation. I wanted to chase after him and fix whatever the cause of his anger was. Jo remained frozen in the doorway, soaking in the painted room and unaware of his departure. Crimson streaked tears splattered the tile beneath me as I rose from my position on the floor.
My movement broke Jo from her revere and she sprinted the short distance between us arms already outstretched. She threw herself at me causing us both to fall to the floor. She didn't care one bit that the paint would ruin her steam-punk styled dress. Her actions had stopped all notions of following Jonathon pulling all my focus to her and this moment. I still tried to find any piece of memory that would tie me to what was painted on the once white walls. But there was absolutely nothing. It was like I was a pilot who just set the plane on auto pilot and stepped away to let the machine do what it was designed to do. In this case I had mentally stepped aside and let something else take hold.
"Beautiful!" Her reaction was unexpected given how Jonathon had just stormed out of here like a man on a mission. I pried each of her arms from around my chest, one by one, setting us on the floor. Childlike wonder filled her eyes, enraptured by my madness given life. I scrutinized her face for any signs of worry or anger but none came, there was only excitement. She left me on the floor while she spun through the room, careful of the paint.
"You are here." Her statement was breathless when she finally came to a stop. I heard her but my instability made comprehension impossible.
"What?" I finally choked out. Jo jumped seeming startled. She must not have realized she had spoken out loud.
"I mean....how are you not working as an artist selling your work to reach people and art galleries?"
"I can't draw," was all I could say. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up making her eyes even bigger.
"Bullshit!" She grabbed my head forcing me to look at what I had done. I knew my mind could not handle it but here Jo was forcing me to really see what I had done.
We stood in a pitch dark night; the fan hung sleeping above us. Crimson swirled along a black canvas tossing twinkling stars around the room. The movement settled around vast naked trees that grew along one wall. An orange hued moon played peek-a-boo between the branches. The mural felt eerily familiar, but I knew I had never seen anything like it. The magic of the false night settled over me, lending me some of its calm. I came to the stark realization that I was utterly alone. Not alone by definition. Jo still stood next to me, but the churning emotions, hell even the place they came from, was gone.
I shuffled through all my dreams that I have had through the years. They never left nor faded—just remained the same. More like memories. There it was in more than one of my dreams. I had painted a picture of an image that had followed me through my dreams. It was a match. The only detail that would have made it perfect would be if it the swirls could glide along the wall just as they had in my dream.
"I flunked art," I said. There was no way I could have done this. My art teacher in high school made me switch electives even before she handed out the first grade of the year.
"Apparently you're a late bloomer," Jo said with a hint of laughter in her voice. I didn't know what to say to that. Shock still had a hold on my thought process. I would have been able to argue with her if I myself wasn't standing right here as evidence of the contrary.
"Wait, what are you doing here?" I asked trying to grab hold of a bit of normalcy. Jonathon had said that nobody was supposed to be at work today. Yet here Jo stood witnessing my insanity painted on the wall.
"I've been looking for you all day. I didn't think you'd be here going all Van Gogh on the place," she said as she gave a nod to the wall with the moon on it. Before I knew it I was smiling just as she was. Bliss. Van Gogh. Yup, that's me alright. I didn't want to know how insanity and artistic ability coincided. I wanted to bask in the silence. So I dug deep inside and pulled out the box that I shoved everything unwanted and stuffed that thought deep inside hoping that I would never have to pull it back out.
"Really? What did you need?"
"Well, I was going to take you out for breakfast but seeing as it is growing late we should probably make that dinner."
"What!" I yelped; so much for that serenity. I bounded past Jo towards the back door. The outdoor view was a replica of my painting. Holy shit, time truly did give me a reprieve. In my mind only a few hours had passed. My stomach grumbled with my realization. I thought I had drawn something from a dream instead I had pulled the night sky in and threw it against the wall. The time that it had taken me to paint the scene was nowhere within my memory. It was as though the time never truly existed. Jo met me in the parking lot with my bag in hand.
CHAPTER NINE
"Maybe we should talk while we walk," she suggested.
Without words I could only nod in answer. I took my bag and slung it on my shoulder as we began our walk, leaving my car behind.
"Where is your car?" I asked realizing that my car sat alone in the lot.
"I walked." Of course she did. It seemed like everyone in this town walked most days. We walked in silence. An awkward tension began to build. Even the night’s call couldn't sooth the unrest that had trapped itself in my mind.
"I think I'm going crazy," I finally blurted breaking the silence.
"Well, if mad artistic talent comes with going crazy then take me with you," she said laughing.
"I'm serious! You saw my tattoo....it glows." I couldn't handle any more joking when I felt like dying inside.
"I thought you said that had stopped?" Worry seeped into each word. She was nervous. We kept our pace even though neither of us had decided where it was we were going.
"That's why I went to the cafe early to find you." I stopped to face Jo hoping she heard just how crazy I sounded. But she looked more fascinated then shocked by the definite crazy that was this conversation.
"Is it still glowing?" she asked, craning her neck trying to catch a glimpse of any sign of the weird tattoo.
"No it's not; that is what's odd. After I finished painting I realized that it was just a normal tattoo again."
"How is that odd? Wouldn't that make you happy?" She seemed puzzled now. How would any of this make me happy? I wanted to scream at her but I needed someone I could talk to.
"Maybe norma
l is only temporary? What if I wake up after another dream with the horrid glowing pain again?" I shot out belatedly realizing I had given too much information.
"Wait, what dreams?" Her voice spiked an octave with the new tidbit of information. I mentally kicked myself for letting it slip. But I knew with her interest piqued there was no getting out of telling her now.
I didn't know where to begin or what to even say so I let silence fall over us instead. The anticipation that rolled off Jo was palpable. I knew I couldn't ignore her much longer, taking a deep breath I began my tale of how my life had gone absolutely bonkers. Her walk turned jittery while listening to the details of my dreams. A fierce wave of protection slammed into me causing me to omit the part where the two men were Sebastian and Jonathon. I made them out to be faceless men as all the other details came spilling out. Relief and exhilaration overwhelmed me at finally being able to tell someone. Maybe now I could get confirmation of my insanity and check into to the nearest insane asylum. But through the whole walk Jo just listened. I kept my gaze averted. I didn't want to see what she thought of me written all over her face.
We turned onto Highland Street putting Antiques and Oddities squarely in our path.
"Do you know the owner of that shop?" I interrupted myself pointing at Sebastian's shop. Jo's high pitched squeak came in answer.
"I take that as a yes." She must know something about the feud that was plain between him and Jonathon. After all she had worked with him for years
"What is the deal with those two, anyways?" It would be nice to talk of someone else's problems for a change.
"I don't know what you are talking about." Her answer was hurried and definitely a lie.
"Well, do you mind if we stop by so I can thank him for the gift I received?" I knew she would mind by her reaction but curiosity got the better of me and I headed straight to the front door of his shop.
"What gift?" she asked, trying to keep up with me. I chose to ignore her. I had already given away too much and something in my gut told me to keep the gift a secret.
"You can't go in there!" Her panic was clear as I reached the front door of the store.
"Why?" She would have to have a damn good reason for me not walking through that door. A boss was one thing, a guardian was another.
"Jonathon won't like it." Her answer wasn't good enough. I didn't care at this point if he would like it or not. I had questions for Sebastian anyway. Her eyes held tightly to unshed tears begging for me to listen and walk away.
"Screw Jonathon! He’s my boss, not my god damned keeper," I bellowed, bypassing Jo who had stepped in front of me.
She hesitated for a moment before stepping out of my way. I could hear her mumbling profanities under her breath and swearing that this was the worst idea ever. I wanted to promise that if she gave me a damn good reason I wouldn't go in but the words wouldn't come out. The lights in the shop were on but the front door was locked. Undeterred, I began banging on the door. If someone was inside I'm sure they thought I was being chased by a masked murderer. I could see a man much shorter than Sebastian make his way up from the back of the shop. He opened the door almost expectantly.
"Sorry, we're closed." He purred, stepping back letting me in anyway.
"Where is he?" I demanded, the man’s wolfish grin faltered by a fraction when he caught sight of Jo as she followed me in. His hazel eyes swept over her in disgust. Realization stopped me in my search. He was the man at the front desk this morning.
A throaty laugh burst out of him when I stopped my search to gape at the far too familiar face.
"What the hell?" was all I could manage to get out.
Jo's large green eyes darted back and forth between us, clearly not understanding the sudden turn of events. That would make two of us, I thought.
"Shouldn't that be my line? You are the one that just barged in here demanding answers when none were deserved." He stood lounging against a bookshelf, hazel eyes assessing my paint splattered clothes. In my haste I had forgotten to change back into my normal attire.
"Where is he?" I stupidly repeated. I chose to ignore what I couldn't process.
"If you are referring to Mr. Gates he is away on business. I told him I would look after the shop. Is there something I can do for you ladies?" He asked pulling himself away from the shelf, closing the distance.
"We should really be going then," Jo whispered as she tugged on my sleeve.
The look the man shot her pissed me off. Jo was hiding something, but she was still the closest thing to a friend I had.
"No. I'm not leaving here ‘till someone tells me what the hell is going on!" This could not be a coincidence. I rounded on the mystery man that now stood in my personal space.
"Yes there is something that you can do for me. You can tell me who you are and why you were at the Inn this morning." I retorted, slamming my finger into his chest.
Jo sucked in a shocked breath. Okay, so ignoring it wasn't working so well.
"He was at the Inn this morning?" she stammered, shock taking over her features. She stepped back causing a statue to sway from side to side.
"I'm sorry, Alexis, but I have to go." She all but threw at me as she turned and bolted out of the store. I glared at the mystery man, tapping my foot in frustration with this whole week. Everyone knew something except me and I would stand here until he gave that information up.
He glared back with equal stubbornness. We both seemed to be waiting, but I knew with complete surety that whatever he wanted he was definitely not getting it.
"I'm Richland, but you can call me Rich; everyone else does." A name, well at least that was something to start with.
"Well....Richland. Why were you at the Inn this morning?" I couldn't call him Rich. Something about it didn't feel right. His cocky demeanor wavered just a fraction.
"Sebastian asked me to keep an eye on you," he said quickly, regaining his stubborn glare. The idea that Sebastian was now having me watched instead of following me home or showing up at my work caused a low growl to escape from between my lips. Chills ran along my spine. Never in my life had I been so angry. Richland's eyes narrowed with shared anger.
"Why?" The bass in my voice caused him to flinch. His anger paled in comparison to mine.
CHAPTER TEN
"It's true," he breathed, ignoring the vehemence in my question.
"What's true?" I ground out. My patience was growing thin. I balled my hands into fists at my sides. I wanted him to ignore me one more time. The urge to hit him was far too overwhelming to ignore. Never in my life had I struck someone else but never in my life have I been so completely consumed with rage. He blatantly ignored my visual warning and ran his hand through my already loose pony tail; releasing it from the band so it could flow around my face. His touch felt familiar. It felt like something I had been missing for far too long. The feeling wasn't lust or want–it was something much deeper.
"So different but still the same." His declaration sounded startled.
I held onto the ghost of his touch long after his hand had dropped back to his side. The feeling of home rang through my mind atop everything else. My anger momentarily put on ice.
"Who am I?" My echoed question came out as a whisper. This time though it felt more out of longing than desperation. I stared into his eyes for what seemed like forever, watching them dart back and forth. Richland knew something. I could see it in his eyes that were so much like mine. That must be why he seemed so familiar. We shared the same color eyes.
My backpack vibrated, startling me.
I fished the phone out of my bag. "Yes?" I clipped out after practically smacking myself with the phone.
"I see you figured out how to answer your cell phone." The smooth voice on the other end slid along my skin like butter. I watched Richland's hazel eyes grow round with realization before he slid back into the nonchalance that he wore like a coat. Jonathon sounded much more like himself. He had flipped like a coin to the side that was more normal. But
I didn't play those types of games. I needed answers and right now Richland was my top priority.
"Is the cafe still standing?" My irritation was overriding my common sense. None of my emotions seemed to work properly when it came to him. "Does this call have anything to do with work?" I continued without giving him time to interject.
"We need to talk." The sadness behind that statement caught me off guard for a moment before quickly correcting myself.
"Did Jo run and tattle on me?" I heard myself snap. I felt disconnected to him and whatever he needed to tell me. Maybe he called to fire me for breaking some golden rule I knew absolutely nothing about. Richland studied me, astonishment clear on his face. I stared into Richland's eyes that were so much like mine. The more I searched them the more I felt as though I was staring into a mirror. He was short for a man, closer to my own height. I wasn't used to men that were eye level with me, but Richland wore his short stature well. Something paced along my memories like a trapped animal that pined for her freedom. A loud agitated voice against my ear yanked me from my assessment.
"Huh?" I blurted clearly distracted by my own mind.
"I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?" His anger was clear in his tone.
"Actually, you were. When we are done I'll be sure to call you back so we can have that talk." I smiled in satisfaction at the implications in my open ended response.
"You have an hour," Jonathon ground into the phone. The beep that followed let me know that it was a demand not a request.
"An hour," I mumbled under my breath. Who did he think he was, my dad?
Richland's laugh was unexpected. He was bent over holding his gut from the sheer hysteria. I let him have his fun as I worked to suppress my mounting irritation.
"It's about damn time!" He chuckled.
At this point my urge to punch him was so strong I had to use my other hand to stop myself mid swing. So instead I stepped forward and shoved him so hard he flew back into a cream Victorian sofa with intricate beading in the pillows. It tipped back with an audible crack. Me, being allergic to exercise, could not have possibly been strong enough to cause that. Thank God the sofa righted itself instead of crashing into other merchandise. The gasp from my victim let me know he was just as surprised as I was.
Aconite (The Elektita Series Book 1) Page 6