Painted Blind (6 page)

I hesitated. Granted, a portfolio was made to be seen, but outside the industry, no one had ever looked at my tear sheets—not even my dad. There was something deeply vain about photos that showcased your looks without your memories.

The closet doors opened and clothes shifted to the side. Two boxes came down from the shelf. The first held childhood mementos, and after lifting the lid, Erik set it back in its place. The box of photos and postcards hovered in front of the closet as he let out a quiet exclamation. “What is this?” One of the dresses I brought home from Europe appeared from behind my other clothes.

“An irrational purchase.”

“It’s a Valentino.”

“I wore it on the runway.” That didn’t explain why it was hanging in my closet, but I didn’t feel like laying down my pathetic Homecoming history.

He set it back in its place and moved my other clothes to cover it again. “I’ll bet it got rave reviews.” His weight jostled the bed as he sat next to me, and the box holding my secret life emptied onto the comforter. He opened the manila envelope and slid out the most recent photos. Four were fashion ads for various labels. One was a close-up advertising the sunglasses that were pushed back in my hair, and one was a black and white of Holden and I. “Who’s the guy?”

I couldn’t decipher the tone. Was it merely curious or was there something more? “His name is Holden Valentine. He used to be my Apollo.”

“Your
what
?” There was inexplicable contempt in his voice.

“You know, like my standard of beauty. Apollo was supposed to be the most beautiful of the Greek gods.”

“Supposedly.”

“You couldn’t be jealous?”

“I’m not jealous of Apollo.” His voice was still tight.

“I meant Holden. How could you be jealous of Apollo? He’s a myth.”

“Right.” The photo of Holden and I rose in the air, like he held it at arms length. “The two of you look very comfortable together.”

I snorted. “Fiction is always convincing.”

“You hated it.”

I shrugged.

“You cringe every time a guy touches you.”

There was no sense denying it; Erik had already seen proof. I’d cringed under his hand half a dozen times, mostly out of surprise. It was a reflex, an unconscious defense I developed over the years. The only exception was my dad, and he rarely touched me anymore.

He slid the photos back into the envelope and tucked them in the box. “It’s the eyes that frighten you.”        

I shot a surprised glance in the direction of his voice. I never told him that.

“How do you do that? You looked right at me.”

“I can see you,” I lied.

“
What?
”

I laughed. Seriously, he sounded panicked.

He let out his breath audibly and chuckled. He took the box and stowed it in its hiding place. A moment later the bed shifted, but I didn’t know where he’d gone until the pillow slouched under his invisible head. “You have questions?”

“Many.” I grabbed another pillow and stretched out next to him in the opposite direction, so I was looking at the empty pillow. “You said you live longer, and you made it seem like time is different for you.”

“Not different entirely. The days are the same length. Time passes in my world at the same rate as it does here, but because we live so much longer months and days seem much shorter. We measure the phases of the moon like you would measure hours.”

“When I was little, summer seemed to last forever, but now it’s three short months that pass in a blur.”

“You’ve lived longer, so the time in each week seems shorter.” Relaxed and quiet, his voice had an irresistible gentleness.  

“How old are you?”

“I’m nearly eighteen.”

He wasn’t like any seventeen-year-old I knew. I wondered if he was lying. “In my time?”

“It would be like you measuring your life in minutes.”

“Give me a rough estimate,” I said, not hiding my irritation.

“Instead of days, we measure time in seasons. Four seasons is an annum. A hundred annum makes an age. My age is seventeen.”

“You’re a hundred and seventy years old?” I asked.

“You are in serious need of a math tutor,” he replied.

I felt my face flush. A hundred years was an age. “You’re seventeen
hundred
years old!”

“We are the same age, essentially.”

We were not even close to the same age. He had lived over a thousand
years, and I couldn’t do simple math in his company. He probably thought I was a complete imbecile. “Except for your long white beard and wrinkly skin.”

“I’m in my youth,” he said defensively. “Now I’m going to touch you.” He took my hand, turned it over and drew my knuckles across his chin, which was perfectly smooth. “No beard.” Then he moved my hand up his cheek. “And no wrinkles.” He released my hand and moved away.

My hand felt warm from his touch. I struggled to find my voice. “Why do you live so long?”

“We’re a superior race.” He nudged me playfully with his foot. “And, there’s a fruit in our world that keeps us from aging. Our mythology says it’s the fruit from the tree of life, but who knows for certain?”

“From the Garden of Eden?” It seemed strange that he’d heard of the Garden of Eden. I guess I expected every world to have its own beliefs that didn’t cross into one another, much like primitive cultures had all worshiped different gods before being conquered by powerful, god-wielding empires.

“The same.”

“So, you believe in God?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” We went to church most of the time and celebrated Christmas. “Do your people die?”

“Eventually.”

I considered the vast experience and knowledge that an old person in his society could hold. Nearly ten thousand years of history in a single mind, experienced firsthand. It was beyond comprehension. “What else is different about your world?”

“Children are uncommon. My mother has been married for ages, and I am her only child. Many couples never conceive. The only exception is… well, never mind.”

“No, tell me. What’s the exception?” I grabbed a handful of pretzels and popped one into my mouth.

“A man of my world and a woman of yours would produce a child.”

“You mean, could.”

“No, would. Guaranteed.”

I paused with a half-chewed pretzel on my tongue. “I seriously hope that’s not why you’re here.” All my defenses shot up. Would Dad hear me if I screamed?

“Absolutely not!” he exclaimed. “Seducing a mortal is illegal. I would lose everything.” He sounded indignant.

“Really?” I asked, relaxing a little. “It’s against the law?”

“Yes, and it carries grave consequences. In the past there were problems. Men of my world seduced mortal women using the veiling power and their …
charm
.” He chose the word carefully, like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. “The council—that’s the governing body—outlawed the practice and affixed severe penalties.”

“Not that it would happen, but I’m curious. If getting involved with me would bring disaster, why are you here?”

He did not answer for a moment. “I should go. It is getting late.” This simple evasion pacified me. He was safer for me than any man on earth. Maybe he didn’t know why he was here. Maybe he was instinctively drawn to me, like I instinctively trusted him.

I hauled myself up and pulled on my shoes so I could step onto the back deck for some fresh air and conveniently leave the door open. It was time to wake up and face reality. My moments with him were brief and private. No one could know. They would think I was crazy.

Erik seemed to read my expression. “I’ll be back to comfort you soon.”

“At the next full moon?” I said sarcastically.

“The next full moon is only eight days away.” He said it sadly, like he was dreading it. Then he brushed my face with his fingertips. “You didn’t flinch.”

I shrugged and looked at the carpet. “Maybe I’m getting used to you.”

Outside he squeezed my hand and came very near. “Good night, lovely Soul,” he whispered.

I was surprised he knew the true meaning of my name. “Most people think the psyche is the mind—Freud and all.”

“I know better.” He touched my cheek again and was gone.

Chapter 6

Even though I hid at home, my story was all over the news. Every Billings network carried a story about me. They dug up my school mug shots and a handful of print ads I shot over the summer. It was Labor Day weekend, however, and the crews outside my house seemed reluctant to spend the holiday in their cars. By Sunday afternoon we saw them milling around talking to one another. Soon afterward they left.

Dad took advantage of their absence and cleared a mess of boxes and tools from the garage to make room for my car. Nothing could keep him away from work for more than a few days, and he didn’t want them to know when I was home alone.

I enjoyed a single day of peace and quiet, unmolested by fame, before returning to school on Tuesday. I checked the front sidewalk three times to make sure I wasn’t going to be ambushed. I opened the garage door and started the engine. An early frost had fallen overnight, and for one crisp morning I had no windows to scrape. I supposed this was why some people actually used their garages.

Before putting the car in reverse, I double-checked my backpack and realized I forgot my Calculus book. I dashed upstairs to retrieve it. When I slid back into the driver’s seat, a patch of fog appeared on the windshield like a spot from someone’s breath. An invisible finger drew one curved side and then the other to form a heart.

“Erik,” I whispered.

“Did you miss me?” he asked from the passenger seat.

The answer ran hot up my cheeks. “Not really.”

“Liar.” He brushed my cheek with his fingertip, which was cold from the windshield.

I hesitated before pulling out of the driveway. “Are you coming with me to school?”

“Yes.”

The day would be entirely wasted. How could I concentrate when he was near? Plus, he’d already wreaked havoc on my Chemistry class. Who knew what kind of mischief he would concoct given an entire day? “Just don’t get me in trouble.”

The street was clear. Every car on the block belonged to one of my neighbors.

“How would I do that?” he asked innocently.

“How do you make them fall in love?”              

He laughed. “Not love exactly.”

“Why do they sneeze?”

“It’s dust,” he said lightly.

I snorted, visions of Peter Pan in my mind. “Fairy dust?”

“I’m not a fairy!” His resentment made me laugh aloud.

“C’mon, Tinkerbell, you don’t have to be ashamed.”

“Oh, I’m going to get you expelled today,” he threatened.

I knew this threat was real. “Don’t you dare!”

“I will just for spite.” He leaned closer, and my skin grew hot. I blinked, trying to focus on the road. He pulled away with a chuckle.

“If you get me expelled, I’ll have to move to Switzerland and return to my wayward career.”

“Then I’ll just get you kicked out for awhile. What do they call that?” Before I could reply, he answered his own question. “Suspended.”

As we approached the school parking lot, Erik exclaimed, “Turn around!”

The sidewalks around the school were packed with people. Some carried picket signs that said, “We love you, Venus!” Along a side street were seven news vans, all clearly marked and surrounded by groups of people. They were interviewing students, taking shots of the high school and waiting for their story. Savannah stood in front of one camera with a microphone held to her lips. I should have known.

I braked and surveyed the scene. It was crazy. How could they all be here to see me?         On the sidewalk someone shouted and pointed at my car. A group of guys jumped off the sidewalk oblivious to traffic. I swerved into the left lane and stomped on the gas. In the rearview mirror, I saw a van pull out and follow. It was gaining fast.

“What should I do?” They all knew where I lived, and Dad wasn’t home. There aren’t a lot of places to hide in a small town.

“Go south into the mountains,” Erik said. “The portal is there. I’ll get you out of here.”

I turned toward the freeway, which would circle me back to downtown. I ran the light at the on-ramp and zipped in front of an eighteen-wheeler. Its horn roared at my taillights. Cursing the stick shift in the Subaru, I revved the engine high in fourth and hit ninety shifting into overdrive.

“If we were on my bike, they wouldn’t have a chance of catching us.”

“And we wouldn’t have four-wheel drive.” I took the first access into the mountains. Three vans crowded my rearview mirror. I dug through my purse while trying to keep one eye on the road. My phone had settled at the very bottom. When I tossed it into the passenger seat, it disappeared into Erik’s hands. “Call my dad.”

“Why?”

“If we dump my car in the woods, those reporters are going to find it. They’ll tell the whole world I’m missing.”

“I can hide the car. They won’t find it.”             

“He still needs to know where I am. We’ll run out of service as soon as we hit the forest.”

The phone lifted into the air, and the phonebook came onto the screen, the curser scrolling down. Using the speed dial, Erik sent the call and handed me the phone.

“Psyche?” Dad answered.

I replied in a rush, “The school was crawling with reporters this morning. I have three vans tailing me. I’m headed into the mountains. Erik’s family has a place up there, where I can hide for awhile.”

“Erik?” He sounded incredulous. He said something more, but the service cut out.

“I’ll call you later.” The call was gone before I finished.

“Pull over.”

“They’re less than a quarter of a mile behind us.”

“I know where I’m going. Let me drive.”

“You’re invisible!” That’s all I needed—the news showing footage of my car magically driving itself.

“This isn’t the interstate. Get out of the driver’s seat!” Erik demanded.

“Fine, take the wheel.” Without braking, I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed into the back. The car slowed briefly, then downshifted, revved high and sped forward throwing gravel. He could drive a stick. I guess he wasn’t lying when he said he could function in my world as well as I could.

We took another road that wound up the mountain for three miles. It was a rutty, dirt path that would only allow one car at a time. Most likely the vans didn’t see where we turned off, but if they found this road, we were boxed in. I watched out the back window, but I couldn’t see anything beyond the dust in our wake. Erik turned through a clearing, where the dirt was worn in a single tire tread.

The trail ended at an outcropping of rock cliffs overlooking a hundred-foot gulley. On the other side was a steep face of forbidding rock that climbed straight up. “We’re trapped,” I said.

“Out you go,” was his reply and the door opened. “Climb up on that rock.”

It was too close to the edge. I balked. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“This is going to be difficult.” He took hold of my hand. “I promise you won’t get hurt.”

I climbed onto the rock, unable to look down and irrationally terrified I would fall to my death.

“Now follow me.” He pulled hard toward the drop-off.

“NO!” Momentum flung me forward. My foot hit the air beyond the rock and stopped. “How is this possible?”

“There’s a bridge here. It’s veiled. It leads to that cave on the other side. The portal is in there.”

“Once we go through the portal, where do we go?”

“You will go to my home.”

I walked two steps and looked down to see nothing beyond my feet except far-away rocks and tree tops. My stomach twirled. “I can’t do it.”

“Close your eyes and hold onto the railing.” He put my other hand onto the invisible, metal railing. With it and Erik’s hand, I crossed the bridge and descended into the darkness of the cave. “Well, you’re here. Just walk straight ahead through the wall.”

“The
stone
wall?”

“The portal is open.” He sounded irritated. “I can see the woods on the other side.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“It’s morning, and I can’t veil myself in my world.”

“Then don’t.” All the secrets and the hiding could end right here.

“I’m not ready for you to see me.”

“But you see me. It isn’t fair,” I protested.

Erik whispered so softly, I had to lean closer to hear him. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind…” He ruffled my hair. “This is all I want. Don’t ask to see me, and I’ll give you every desire of your heart.”

“I’ll never see you?” It cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Too many hours I’d lain awake trying to imagine what face belonged to that intriguing voice.

“When I’m ready.”

I didn’t know which was worse: not seeing him or being exiled into his world without him. “I’ll just go back. I’ll face the reporters. It is me on that billboard. I’ll just deal with it.”

“It wouldn’t be that simple, and you know it. You’re safe in my world.” When I shook my head in refusal, he promised to join me at dark.

“I don’t know anything about your world. I won’t be able to find your house.”

He chuckled. “It’s easy to find, and you won’t be alone. If you promise not to turn around, I’ll take you through the portal.”

“I won’t look at you,” I promised, but it was torture.

He stood behind me and took hold of my shoulders, then pressed me forward. The wall was nothing more than air, and we emerged at the edge of a forest. The trees around us had enormous trunks comparable only to ancient redwoods in protected forests. The forest opened onto a valley in full bloom with flowers I didn’t recognize. Their sweet fragrance mingled with the wood and moss. In my world, autumn pressed into the valleys. Here it felt like summer, alive and pulsating in glorious color. To my right was the familiar bullet bike with a black helmet resting on the seat.

“How’d you get to my house this morning?”

“I caught a ride,” he answered evasively. “My home is straight ahead over the next rise.” He pointed, and I forgot to listen to the rest. He wasn’t wearing a jacket.

My fingers shook as I touched his arm. Its fair skin was tanned golden. The band on his index finger glistened in the sunlight. He brought his hand down and let me examine it. Around the band was an inscription in hieroglyphics. Erik’s smooth, narrow fingers were nothing like my dad’s rough, wide hands. I traced each of his fingers with mine.

He breathed huskily and pulled his hand away. “As I was saying, Pixis will take you there.”

“Who’s Pixis?”

Erik dropped a whistle into my hand. It was hand-whittled from a narrow branch. The sound of it brought a whinnied reply and a flap of wings. Pixis landed a few yards away and came toward us.

“A Pegasus? That’s impossible.”

“Winged horse,” he corrected. “Pegasus was a single creature. Your world used to have them, too. But like everything that is rare and beautiful, they were hunted and destroyed. We used to have your ordinary horses here, but no one breeds them anymore. Winged horses are as common in my world as cars in yours.” Erik put out his hand for the horse to nuzzle. “Hello, Friend. This is Psyche. Please take her home.”

He moved his hand lightly over my shoulder. “These horses are very intelligent. It’s proper to introduce yourself. Say hello, Psyche.”

“Hello, Pixis,” I replied awkwardly. Pixis put his head down like he was bowing.

Erik nudged me forward. “All that I have is yours. I’ll be back when the sun goes down.” Behind me, he slipped through the portal.

My fear of heights somehow did not equate to a fear of flying. The solidity of Pixis’s body under me, the majesty of his enormous wings, and the rush of air in my face as we soared over the valley replaced all my fear with awe.

A glistening river wove its way through newly harvested fields to dump its wealth into the expanse beyond—the sea. The distinct odor of salt and fish floated on the air long before I could see the water. I leaned over, my fingers wound tight in Pixis’s mane, and said, “Will you show me the sea?”

He tilted the tips of his wings and veered in a sweeping curve that ended over the beach. Waves crashed against a reef a hundred yards off shore, but the beach was calm with sudsy fingers rolling onto the sand. It was here, soaring over the beach, that I first glimpsed a structure in the distance. “What’s that on the mountainside?” I asked the intelligent, but mute beast.

Pixis whinnied and took two deep thrusts with his wings. We flew toward a marble palace perched on the cliff. In front the palace overhung the cliff supported by angular pillars anchored in the rock. It seemed to be a single, expansive room and covered balcony sitting in the air. This room faced the valley, and open on the balcony were double doors and windows with heavy wooden shutters but no glass shimmering in the sun.

In back the palace followed the natural plateau of the mountain. Beyond its massive rooflines were extensive gardens and orchards. Tiny horizontal lines made a winding path from the palace to the valley below, and as we drew near, I saw that they were hundreds of marble stairs.

In a courtyard with perfectly groomed flowerbeds, Pixis landed and folded his wings. He crossed to a fountain, dipped his head and drank. At the center of the fountain was a marble statue of a woman with flowing hair. Her left arm reached to the east, while her right arm cradled a chubby infant. The marble was carved into delicate folds on her dress, and a pendant around her neck showed the detail of cut gems and a crest.