Painted Blind (18 page)

I pressed my finger through the plastic and tore it enough to pull out a single magazine. It wasn’t the September issue of
Cosmopolitan
. It was the November issue of Italian
Vogue
. I fanned the pages frantically, but the Venus ad wasn’t hard to find. It was right at the center and a stiff subscription card made the magazine naturally fall open to that page.

As the pallets were unloaded, the driver set a large box at my feet. It was too heavy for me to lift. I knelt down and opened it. Inside were three hundred thousand honey-colored cards, professionally printed with embossed black ink. One card for every magazine in the two trucks.

A stranger named Tyson Ewing just saved my life.

The following morning Aeas shook me awake in the dark. “Your dad just left. Let’s go.”

He drove, because I was too groggy to get us safely to the warehouse before six a.m. Rory and the drivers were already there. The trucks were locked, and though they had been guarded all night, we checked them again. The magazines were stacked and packaged the way we left them.

“Call me eight times a day,” I told Aeas.

He nodded amiably. “You can trust me, Psyche. I won’t fail you.” He climbed into the lead truck riding shotgun and took the radio into his hands. A moment later the trucks shifted into gear and rumbled toward the street forming a line.

Rory and I watched them until they turned the corner and the cloud of diesel exhaust cleared from the air. The next few days were sheer torture. Rory and I went to school like nothing changed. I copied notes and worked on an overdue lab report feeling like a caged animal ready to bash its brains against the bars.

When I got home from school on Wednesday, I found my dad unloading bags of groceries. “What’s with all the food?” I asked.

He set a heavy bag into my hands. “On Thanksgiving don’t we always make turkey, stuffing and your favorite—pumpkin pie with extra whipping cream?”

The task completely consumed me. I’d lost track of the days. Cursed be the dust for making me sick on one of my favorite holidays.

Because I couldn’t eat normally, I celebrated Thanksgiving the way any girl who was wasting away to skin and bones would: I ate only mashed potatoes, gravy and half a pumpkin pie. Usually, that sort of binge was nothing for me. This time, I really thought I might end up with my head over the toilet all night. By sheer will, I kept it down, and I was able to sleep a few extra hours, too.

Early Friday morning, the
Lord of the Rings
theme blared from my cell phone—Rory’s doing. I grabbed the phone hoping for Aeas, but I saw Theron’s number instead.

“Are you ready to admit defeat?” he asked.

“Nope.” I nudged the door closed with my foot so my dad wouldn’t overhear. “You’ll get them before the new moon.”

There was a long pause. “We will count them. You can’t trick the goddess.”

I rolled my eyes. Aphrodite really liked the whole goddess bit, even though I knew better. “You can count them. I even sent you a few extra.” I could almost hear him growing angrier. “What about the second task?”

“I’ll contact you after we count the ads.” The line went dead.

I shivered in the morning chill and got dressed. Rory picked me up half an hour later to film the contest drawing. Much as I dreaded it, it helped take my mind off the delivery.

The warehouse felt dead without the magazines and the Dragonslayers. The garbage bin overflowed with pizza boxes and empty soda bottles. The grinding rail and the couches were gone. All that was left was the kiddy pool full of cards.

I used a snow shovel to stir the cards while Rory videoed. “Okay.” I looked up at the camera. “Time to choose a winner.” I reached down, shoved my hand way into the mess of cards and pulled one out. It was honey-colored with
Tyson Ewing
printed in black. I held up the card and said, “Erik Savage.” If you searched for Erik Savage on the Internet, you would not find a photo, just a description of the reclusive, billionaire CEO of Millennial Holdings, Inc. Erik Savage was Eros’s current mortal identity. “Congratulations, Erik. I will be in touch soon.”

I stuffed the card into my coat pocket, and Rory said, “Cut.”

Eros would probably never see the video on YouTube, but if he did, he would know he was still the only guy in the world who mattered to me. As for Tyson Ewing, if I survived these tasks, I would fly to Italy and personally thank him.

For three full days Aeas was out of contact. I sent him a dozen text messages and tried to call, but his phone went right to voice mail.    As the sun fell behind the mountains for the night of the new moon, I lost what little hope was left. Something happened. Aeas said he wouldn’t fail me, but he did. I drifted into restless sleep and was jarred awake by music.

I felt around the blankets and finally found the cell phone.

“It’s done, Psyche,” Aeas said. “The shipment is delivered.”

Two hours ago I wanted to kill him, but now I nearly wept with gratitude. “Why didn’t you call?” I demanded.

“One of the trucks broke down. It took us all night to fix it, then we were running behind schedule.”

“What about Theron?”

Aeas replied, “See for yourself.” A moment later a picture message came through followed by two others. I opened the first picture and saw a mountain of magazines in the center. The next photo was of the drivers, unloading the last truck. The final photo was of Theron scowling at the delivery. The text said,
Task Complete!

Chapter 18

After my dad went to bed the following Friday night, Aeas appeared on the carpet of my bedroom. He leaned on his elbows with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His brow wrinkled at the screen of his new iPod.

“You said you’d never steal from him.”

Aeas suddenly had money to spend and was blowing through it fast. He bought clothes and furniture then filled his apartment with electronics. He looked up, surprised. “I didn’t.” He held out the iPod. “Can you help?”

I scrolled through the menus and showed him how. When the music started playing in his ears, his expression brightened. “Are you going to explain?” I persisted.

“I sent for personal assets, then sold them for your currency.”

“What kind of assets?”

“Diamonds.” When my mouth dropped open, he added, “Only a handful.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. “For the clothes you bought me.”

“Keep it. You have no concept of what it means to be a guest,” I mimicked.

His mouth flattened into a scowl. “I didn’t mean you had to do the same for me.”

“So, you could stay long-term if you had to?”

“Yes, but I would have to give up my horse, and I really don’t want to.” So, that was how Aeas got around. He flew. “He stays in the back yard. But, don’t worry,” Aeas assured me, “he’s under strict orders to relieve himself in the field outside of town.”

I snorted. There was an invisible, winged horse living in my back yard. Could my life get any weirder? “I wondered why there were hoof prints in the alley.”

“I hope your dad didn’t notice.”

“The horse takes messages to your family?”

He shook his head and thumbed through the music. “Eudora. I couldn’t tell my parents I was banished. It would shame them.”

“You think Theron will call tonight?” I asked.

“I expect him to give you the task soon. I hope he’ll call.” What he meant was, he hoped Theron wouldn’t visit, which explained why Aeas camped out on my floor instead of watching high definition television at his apartment. Theron was prone to violence against mortals at any provocation, and I’d just made myself target number one.

Having Aeas on the floor by the closet did make me feel safer, but I tossed and turned until two a.m. before sinking into deep sleep. I heard voices in my dreams; one I had been aching to hear for weeks.

“Figured I’d find you here,” he said. “Made yourself right at home, didn’t you?”

“If you’re accusing me, speak plainly,” Aeas replied. Then he added, “You look like you’ve been to Hades and back.”

“I’m fine,” was the muttered reply.

“When was the last time you slept?” There was a pause, then the exclamation, “Judge of Olympus!” Aeas exclaimed. “You have it, too!”

“I’m
fine
. But you can’t get enough of her, can you?” He made no effort to hide the jealousy in his voice.

“I want to go home.” Aeas’s reply was just as angry. “And I don’t want her to die because of you.”

“She won’t die.” Eros scoffed. “It was just a little dust.”

Eros!

Suddenly wide awake, I scrambled out of bed.

“See for yourself,” Aeas whispered.

“Aeas!” I felt around the room frantically. “
Aeas!
”

“Here.” He appeared in the far corner. He stood rigid, fists balled and shoulders tight.

I grabbed handfuls of his shirt. “I heard… Is he
here
?” I sounded hysterical, but I couldn’t help it.

“You were dreaming.”

“No, I heard you talking.” That voice pulled me out of my dreams. I didn’t imagine it.

Aeas’s expression hardened, and he peeled my hands off his shirt. “I was on the phone,” he said finally, “with Rory.”

“But I was sure…”

He shook his head.

Grief stole my strength. I stumbled back. My legs refused to hold me. Aeas made no effort to catch me as I slid to the floor against the wall. I clutched my belly and waited for the nausea to pass. “Did Theron call?”

“He sent a text. You’re to meet him at nine o’clock. Local address.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost eight-thirty,” he replied.

I pushed myself off the floor. “I’ll change. Wait in the hallway.”

“You’re going to undress in here?” Aeas asked as I pushed him out the door.

“It
is
my bedroom.”

He tried to claw back through the doorway. “I think the bathroom would be better.”

“Just wait out there.” I pushed his hands off the doorjamb, then closed the door in his face. The dream seemed so real. I thought I smelled cinnamon in the air. Echoes of Eros’s voice floated through my mind, jealous of Aeas. If only that were true. If only he were driven to fight for me. But there I was—dreaming again.

With Aeas in my room I slept fully dressed. I stripped off my T-shirt and flannel pants, then stood in front of the mirror in a bra and panties revealing what I hid under my clothes. My hips were all bones and no meat. There were deep dips above my collarbones, and every rib showed. Blair would be thrilled that I now had the skeletal build to work runway in earnest. Too bad I was never going back.

My face, too, showed the strain. My skin was paler, not an attractive translucent tone, just stark. Dark circles swept from the bridge of my nose past the center of my eyes. Gone was the healthy summer glow. I turned away and pulled on clean clothes.

Theron today, another task tomorrow.

“We have another problem,” Aeas said when I opened the door. “I found these on your dad’s dresser.” He scowled at the window and placed a stack of pamphlets into my hand. They were hospital brochures from specialty centers around the country. One treated eating disorders, another specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder. They ran the spectrum all the way to schizophrenia.

“He’s planning to send me away, but he doesn’t know where.”

“It would seem that way.”

“If I’m locked up, I can’t complete the tasks.”

“Get better,” Aeas answered flatly.

I pulled on my coat and pocketed my phone. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that one.”

The address took me to a two-story Tudor home with steep rooflines. A real estate sign in the front yard boasted “SOLD” in red across the bottom, but the information box was still hanging on the back. I crossed the grass and pulled out one of the brochures. The home sat on three lots and contained six bedrooms and four baths. The asking price was just under a million dollars.

The front door was slightly ajar, and entering put me into the two-story great room with a stone fireplace climbing one wall. Sunlight shimmered amber across the wood floor.

“Theron?” My voice echoed through the empty space.

I stepped lightly toward the kitchen. This had all the makings of a trap. I was walking right into a beast’s lair, but I needed that second task.

Theron appeared on the other side of the bar leaning against the counter. He considered me a moment then said, “Follow me.”

“You can just tell me the task, and I’ll be on my way.”

He moved toward the stairs. “If you want the task, come with me.”

I waited until he was halfway up the stairs before I followed.  A long hallway accessed the bedrooms. Theron stopped at the end of the hall and waited until I approached then eased the door open.

It was the master suite, and this one room was fully furnished. A sitting area just inside the door contained a small dining table and chairs. The table was laid with pastries, fruit, hard bread and sliced meat. An empty wine glass sat next to each place setting, and a rustic violet wine bottle sat between them. Theron motioned me to sit.

“I already ate,” I replied.

“I doubt that. You’re not looking well.” He poured an opaque liquid into the glasses, took a pastry from the tray and bit off the edge.

“Same back at you.”

My insult was met with a smile. “I can heal you,” he offered. From the basket on the table, Theron plucked a piece of fruit. It was white, shaped like a pear, with a crimson blossom still clinging to the round end. He held it out to me. “You’ll be well again tonight.”

I folded my hands in my lap and eyed him coolly. “In exchange for what?”

“Quit the tasks.” He tilted his head to the extravagant bedroom set behind him. “And give me what you didn’t give Eros.”

It took effort not to roll my eyes. “That’s so original. No guy has ever wanted
that
from me before. What would Aphrodite say if she knew you were offering me immortality in exchange for my body?”

Theron rubbed crumbs from his fingers and took a sip of wine before answering. “When I look at you, I see the first woman who could tempt me from her side.” A golden curl dropped onto his smooth forehead. His cold eyes shimmered.

“And when I look at you, I see every guy who has crossed my path since I was twelve—hungry eyes and a rooster strut.”

Theron rose slowly from his chair like a storm gathering force as it creeps across the valley. “You’re killing yourself with these tasks, but you’ll never win him back.” He stood over me. “You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic? You’re one to talk. How many ages have you been hanging around playing Aphrodite’s boy toy?” I should have shut my mouth, but I continued, “Does she lie and tell you that she loves you? How does it feel when she goes back to her husband or some other lover?”

Theron grabbed the front of my shirt and hurled me into the wall with so much force I hit before I realized I was no longer in the chair. My head struck a mirror. The glass shattered. Pain blossomed in my head, and I saw stars. The shards jingled to the floor, and I landed on my hands and knees in the pile. Theron grabbed the collar of my shirt and jerked me to my feet. The frame hung crooked, the center gone, but sharp splinters of the mirror clung to the corners. I saw my reflection for a split second before Theron shoved my face into the glass. The shards dug into my cheek, barely missing my eye, and tore the flesh open. I screamed in agony. He jerked me back, tearing my face deeper, and laughed at the sight of me. “Will he love you now?”

I didn’t even have time to breathe or pull away. Theron’s fist slammed into my face with so much force, I felt it clear down to my hips. The blow drove me to the floor again. I tried to crawl away but was swept to the side by a violent kick in the ribs that knocked the wind out of me.

He knelt and reached for me.

All I could do was whimper and try to blink blood from my eyes. My skin had turned hot and sticky. The rusty stench of my own blood sickened me.

“’Unworthy, inconstant mortal,’ Eros said. ‘Should never have saved her from that crowd.’” Theron sneered. “You want the task? There it is.” He pointed to a basket at the foot of the bed. “You’re to fill it with silver wolves’ fur.”

“Then what?” It took effort to squeak out two words.

“Bring it to me here.” Theron pulled me close so he could murmur in my ear. “When you fail at these tasks, I will come for you, and you won’t find any pity in my hands.”

I gritted my teeth against the pain. “And I pegged you for such a nice guy.”

He growled. The last thing I saw was that violet wine bottle coming down on my head.