Wandering Soul (17 page)

The strange intensity was still in his gaze as he pulled back to look at her. He wasn't smiling, his lips instead set in a grim, determined line. Without saying anything, he carried her to the bed and set her down on it, crawling in behind her.

Even though she still wanted to argue, to run away, the look in his eyes said that he would not be dissuaded. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest, as if he would never let her go. Elsa knew deep in her heart she never wanted him to.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Those eggs are done cooking,” Winston said. “I can smell them from here.”

“I am aware of their state. Now please relax and rest, as your doctor has ordered.”

Dante emptied the pan of eggs and diced peppers onto two plates that already held buttered toast with jam. When he picked up the plates and turned toward the table, Elsa was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

His chest felt full at the sight of her. Her hair framed her face in a mane of chaotic gold and her lips were still swollen from his kisses. She stared at him with unfocused eyes and the deep teal top she wore was on backward.

It had been a delightfully long night.

“Good morning.” A crimson flush spread up from her chest.

Dante turned back to the stove to hide his broad smile. He set down the plates and rearranged the toast. “Good morning.”

“Oh, there you are,” Winston said. “I was wondering if you were ever going to get up.”

“I guess Jazz's party wore me out.” Her chair squeaked across the floor as she sat at the table with Winston.

Dante picked up the plates again, carrying them to the table. He let Winston know where the food was on his plate using the placement of time on a clock face. “Your eggs are at six o'clock, toast at twelve. The coffee will only be a moment.”

Winston nodded at Dante, but was not quite done with Elsa. “Are you feeling all right? It's not like you to sleep in so late.”

“I'm fine, Winston, really. But how are you? Are you still feeling better?”

“Fit as a fiddle. I've been trying to tell you both. Coddling me like I'm some kind of baby.”

“Winston, we care about you,” Elsa said. “We're just trying to make sure you're okay.”

Dante did not try to hide his scowl. “But we are aware that you are no longer reliant upon us, and shall proceed accordingly out of respect.”

Winston's brow knit and a curious smile lit his features. He laughed and shook his head, then began to eat.

The firm set to Elsa's lips as she frowned at Dante told him that she perceived his point, whether she agreed with it or not. He would simply have to show her the truth of his words.

Dante walked back to the counter and prepared coffee for the pair. He carried the mugs to the table and set them near their plates.

“Aren't you joining us?” Elsa asked.

“I have made other arrangements.”

“What kind of arrangements?”

“Rachel will be arriving shortly to take me to the city for the day. I will be back by this evening.” He placed the skillet in the sink and began to wash the dishes from preparing breakfast. “I apologize for the short notice, but the opportunity only arose this morning.”

Elsa scooted toward the edge of her chair. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

Winston laughed. “Listen to this one, Dante. That Rachel will wear your feet down to the ankles.”

Dante crossed back to the table, then placed his hands on Winston's shoulders and squeezed them gently. “I assure you, everything will be fine.”

Winston laughed again, reaching up to pat one of Dante's hands.

Elsa's frown remained. “I hope you two have fun.”

“It will certainly be an adventure.” Dante could see the lines of strain around Elsa's eyes. She still had so little faith in him—in them. He would prove to her that they could have a future together.

To help her along that path, he said, “Have you made any progress with your book?”

Elsa leaned back, the line between her brows deepening. “Not really.”

“If it is not too bold of me to request, perhaps you could give it some thought today. I very much look forward to discovering how it ends.”

“Me too.”

A horn sounded outside, and Dante said, “I am summoned.”

He leaned down as he walked past Elsa, resting his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly as he bent his head to hers and kissed her soundly. He lifted his hand to her cheek, then trailed his fingers along her jaw and chin.

“I am still hoping for a happy ending to that story.” He did not wait for a response, eager to get underway.

As he walked through the foyer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Garrett's mask. With the day Dante had planned, he preferred to keep his face covered. He wanted no distractions. The fit was snug as he pulled the mask in place, but not uncomfortable.

Upon reaching the front drive, Dante waved at Rachel, who was sitting in a green automobile that lacked a roof. Dark glasses covered her eyes, and she wore a kerchief over her hair. She returned his wave, smiling broadly.

He hastened to the side of the house, where he had placed several of his paintings earlier. They were already wrapped, prepared for the journey to Jazz's gallery.

Once the canvases were stowed in the back seat of Rachel's car, Dante climbed into the passenger seat. “Shall we?”

“We are going to have so much fun today.” Rachel pressed her foot on the gas pedal.

He watched everything she did with keen interest, comparing what he had read with the reality of driving a car. He had only ridden in the back of an automobile, where he could not see their functioning.

“Jazz told me I'm supposed to be your personal assistant today,” Rachel said. “So just let me know what you want to do.”

“I hope that you are as full of energy as I have been led to believe, for there is quite a list.” He was a bit nervous to be venturing out on his own, but the rewards awaiting him overcame his fears.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Rachel stopped the car at the end of the long drive that led to Elsa's home and handed Dante a plain envelope. “Jazz told me to give you this. Also, before we run your errands, we need to go to the Shady Palms building. It has all these great newly renovated lofts. Do you know why she wants us to go there?”

“I am uncertain.” Dante opened the envelope and pulled out a note scrawled on a small piece of paper.

“What does it say?”

“‘A little something to start you off',” Dante read. Behind the note was a stack of bills that looked quite unfamiliar.

“Holy crap, Dante! That's a lot of money!”

“Is it? Well, we shall have to hope that it is enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“To begin with, several outfits. Jazz and I agree I need to
update my look
, as she put it.”

“Oh. My. God. I get to help you buy a new wardrobe?”

“If you are up to the task.”

Rachel grinned, turned back to the road, then pressed her foot on the accelerator hard enough that the tires made a horrible screeching sound. Dante clutched his seat as inertia pushed him against the padded surface.

“You might want to fasten your seatbelt,” Rachel said. “Because this is going to be the best day ever.”

He did as she instructed, though the day ahead could hardly compare at all to the previous night. Gooseflesh rose along his arms just at the thought, his skin alive with the memory of Elsa in his embrace, his mind echoing with her cries of pleasure.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat.

“You looked kind of far away there for a moment.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you focused your attention on what lies before us.”

She shrugged and looked back to the road. It was advice he himself needed to follow. He did not like being away from Elsa. He already found himself missing her and not only because of the night before.

He missed seeing her smile. He missed watching her at her writing desk, the sunlight casting a soft glow upon her hair. He missed their stimulating conversation, her gentle touch, and, most of all, her laughter.

They could not reach town and complete their tasks quickly enough. His only regret was that he could not both share these experiences with Elsa and also surprise her with his accomplishments.

It was probably for the best. He needed to show her that he was able to stand on his own, to support her just as much as she had been supporting him.

In the meantime, he enjoyed the feel of the wind in his hair and the bright blue of the sky. The land was exceedingly flat, and it gave the feeling of the sky being right upon them. The thin fabric of his shirt did little to shield him from the sun, but he did not care.

The drive did not take as long as he remembered, whether because he could actually see the operations of the vehicle, asking Rachel as many questions as he liked, or that she seemed to be driving at an extraordinary speed. In either case, the town formed around them, emerging from the dense palms and evergreens.

Rachel navigated several streets, then pulled up to the sidewalk before Jazz's gallery. “I thought we should drop off your canvases first.”

“A wise plan.” He opened his door and stepped out onto the shaded concrete.

She was too quick for him to help her from the car, appearing at his elbow and picking up one of the parcels. Dante carried the rest as they entered the gallery.

Various people bustled about, cleaning up from the dance. Jazz stood in the center, pointing as she gave directions for moving sculpture displays back onto the main floor. She smiled brightly when she saw Dante and Rachel.

“There you are! I was hoping you'd stop by.” She hugged Dante, kissing his left cheek, then stepped back. She looked him up and down and shook her head. “You cannot leave your house like this if you want to change your image.”

“Rachel shall be helping me with that today,” Dante said.

“Good. And thank you.” Jazz smiled at Rachel, then pointed to a side room. “You'll be in there, Dante. Let's see what you've brought me so we can start to plan where to place things.”

Once they had set down their burdens, he scanned the room, envisioning his paintings on the walls.

“There is another painting I am currently working on which I should like to be the focus. It is a bit larger than the others, but I think it would go well on the wall opposite the door.”

“Is it another landscape?” Jazz was already busily removing the brown paper covering his canvases.

“It is a portrait.”

She paused long enough to give him a cryptic smile. “Okay. That'll be good to break up the rest. Also, that reminds me…”

She gripped his arms with surprising strength and swung him around so that his back was to one of the blank walls. She then pulled out a small rectangular object from a holster on her belt and pointed it at his face. He was unsure what to expect, but she merely tapped it, then put it back in place.

“What was that?”

“I just needed a picture,” she said.

“That tiny device is a camera?” Dante's voice was louder than he anticipated. He had not read about cameras as of yet. The level of advancement was quite amazing.

Rachel had been standing in the doorway, glancing from one wall to another, but she fixed her attention on him. “They don't have camera phones where you come from?”

It was a phone as well? He wanted to ask so many questions, but he knew he had already piqued people's interest in a dangerous arena once more.

Instead, he cleared his throat and tried to sound more modern. “Where I'm from, the people were much more old-fashioned. This sort of thing wasn't ubiquitous.”

Jazz let out a brief laugh. “They
were
old-fashioned? What, did a meteor blow up your home town?”

Scrambling for an explanation, he said, “I merely meant—”

“Relax. I'm just teasing you.” Jazz smirked. “I'll be sure to add getting you a phone to my to-do list.”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.”

They spent the better part of an hour planning which paintings to place on each wall. Rachel had a keen eye for aesthetics, but listened attentively to all of Jazz's advice. When they were done, Jazz pulled a key out of her pocket.

“By the way, this is for you.” She tossed the key toward Dante. He plucked it from the air and turned it over in his hand. The number 3B was inscribed upon it. Jazz said, “Hurry up with your business so you can get back to the easel.”

“Of course. And Jazz…” He found himself a bit overcome at her generosity. Recalling her penchant for being direct, he simply said, “Thank you.”

Jazz smirked at him again and nodded. She headed back to the main room of the gallery, giving out more orders.

He was prepared to leave, but Rachel gripped his hand tightly and pulled him toward a room with a rope stretched across its entryway.

“Before we go, you have to see Michael's exhibit! It hasn't opened yet, but I'm sure he won't mind.” She unhooked the rope so that they could enter, then reattached it behind them.

Dante truly wished she had left the exit open. He wanted to leave the instant he saw Michael's paintings—portraits of women in dark reds and grays. They were nudes, though most at least had sheets draped over parts of their bodies. But those bodies…

Each was elongated, hunched, curving in ways that were barely human, yet somehow bespoke of a despair and horror that resonated within him. The women were either covering their faces with their hands or looking away, as if hiding some shameful secret.

Dante had the strangest urge to try to reach into the paintings and pull the subjects out, to save them from having to endure an eternity on such bleak canvases.

“They're powerful, aren't they?” Rachel's voice had taken on a serious cast that Dante had not heard from her before. In the darkness of that room, it was fitting.

“Indeed.” He was uncertain what else to say. She had not let go of his hand, and was staring at the paintings with something of a stunned expression. He remembered his concerns from the masked ball. “Rachel, are you all right?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

He could think of several reasons, first among them that she was involved with the man who had created such monstrous works. In any case, Rachel did not give Dante a chance to respond.