Painted Blind Part 22

"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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.ses, 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s. 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.

Chapter 19.

I surfaced in utter terror-disoriented, but fully aware that I lay helpless in Theron's grasp. I could only open one eye. The other was swollen shut. When I pushed myself up, shards of gla.s.s stuck into my palm. My entire body screamed in pain, and I collapsed back to the floor. The table was cleared, most of it broken on the floor around me. I fumbled in my coat pocket, found my cell phone and pushed the speed dial. A piece of gla.s.s lodged deeper into my thumb.

"Psyche!" Aeas answered.

I struggled to breathe. "I ... don't know ...if he's still here."

"I'm coming."

I sank into the rea.s.suring dark, only to be pulled out again by Aeas frantically shouting my name. It echoed through the empty rooms and ricocheted around my head.

He knelt beside me cursing heaven and earth. I opened my eye and saw him turn away and vomit on the carpet. Then he pulled off his shirt and held it against my head. "I've never seen this much mortal blood before."

I was in too much pain to be embarra.s.sed.

Aeas lifted me into his arms.

"The basket....it's the next task."

"I'll come back for it."

The stairs jarred my aching ribs as I leaned against Aeas. I couldn't keep myself from crying. He tucked me into the pa.s.senger seat of my car.

"I need to send a message home." Aeas dug through the compartments of the car. "Do you have paper and pen?"

"Glove box." I tried not to breathe, because it hurt. There was gla.s.s embedded in my hand, and I didn't dare touch my face. From the corner of my eye, I saw a piece of flesh hanging from my cheek. The pain was so raw that it consumed me.

Aeas found a pen and scribbled a message on the back of my car registration. Then he vanished. When he reappeared, he threw the basket in the back and climbed into the driver's seat.

Halfway across town his cell phone rang. He ignored it. The call went to voice mail, and the phone started ringing again. Aeas answered with, "I can't talk to you right now," then hung up. It beeped again immediately. This time it was a text message.

"Watch the road." I struggled to read the print. "It says, 'Answer me. Was it like the others?'" The number was local, but not Theron's. I didn't recognize it. "What does it mean, like the others?"

Aeas gripped the steering wheel tighter. He didn't look at me. Across his face and bare chest were red smudges of my blood. "Theron has attacked mortals before-several of them."

"And the others were...?"

"Raped," he whispered.

"This number. Is it Eros?"

He bit his lip. His eyes stayed fixed on the road.

I smeared blood all over Aeas's phone as I typed the reply, What do you care? She's just an unworthy, inconstant mortal. I powered off the phone.

It was afternoon. I didn't know how long I had lain unconscious in Theron's bedroom. My shirt and jeans were covered in gla.s.s and blood which dried into dark splotches.

Bitter wind whipped through the valley and blew snow around in the air. Luckily, it wasn't sticking, so my dad was still at work. Aeas carried me upstairs and rummaged through the bathroom cupboards for first aid supplies. He came back with water, gauze and tweezers.

From the feel of it, I guessed I needed a surgeon-a very skilled one-or I would be monstrous for life.

"I sent for medicine," he said, "but the gla.s.s has to come out." When I offered him my hand, he shook his head. "Forgive me. It will hurt." Aeas's face was stark white, but he clenched his teeth and went to work. He pulled five shards of gla.s.s from my forehead and another three from my cheek. He dabbed the blood as it ran down my face and apologized every time I winced.

"How bad does it look?" I probably didn't want to know. It was bad enough to make him sick.

"Your hand isn't scarred, is it?" he murmured, and held up a piece of the mirror he'd just pulled from my face. It was half an inch long.

Downstairs the door opened and closed with a slam. I jumped away from the tweezers. "My dad!"

"I'll see." Aeas disappeared and closed the door on his way out.

I turned away from the door. I would rather die than let my dad see me like this, but I was too weak to cross the room and lock the door.

There was some scuffling and arguing in the hallway, all in whispers. The door opened. "It's not your dad. It's the medicine I sent for."

I turned toward Aeas, and an invisible person made a choking sound. The door wobbled as he fell against it. A piece of Aeas's shirt disappeared as the other grasped it to steady himself. I was nightmarish enough to make an immortal swoon.

"You should leave," Aeas muttered. He pulled away and came to me. "We need to get the rest of the gla.s.s out." He pulled a vial from a small leather pouch. "This will make it easier."

I drank it all and handed the vial back. Aeas cupped his hand around the back of my neck to steady me as I lost consciousness.

I woke in the dark. The house was quiet. Dad might have been at work or already in bed. The lamp on the table cast a small circle of light at the side of the bed. Unseen hands bathed my wounds with cool, sticky liquid. The skin tingled and itched, but I felt no pain. The person beside me sucked short, grieved breaths.

I could open my eyes completely now. The swelling was gone. "Thank you," I whispered.

A gentle hand stroked my hair. He pressed his lips to my forehead and left warm tears there.

The gesture surprised me. Aeas never laid a finger on me unless he had to, but his kindness was touching. I reached for his hand, and my fingers found a metal band on the first finger.

It wasn't Aeas.

There were so many things I promised myself I would say if I ever got the chance, but all that came out was, "I'm so sorry."

When he pulled me into his arms, it opened a floodgate. I cried so hard, I couldn't speak. My hands moved over his familiar shoulders and his muscled chest. It was him. My Eros. I buried my face in his neck. "I was helpless. I couldn't get away."

He tenderly kissed my healing face, but bound by Aphrodite's contract, he never spoke. When he brought my mouth to his, love poured into me and brought the life back into my soul. I felt it from my toes to the tips of my fingers, sparkling and alive. Apology accepted; we still belonged to each other. I squeezed his shoulder, but he didn't pull away. He kissed me deeper. I held on and willed myself not to faint.

When our lips parted, he sighed the way he did when he was irritated, probably because his little trick didn't work. He touched my eyes and slid them closed.

"If I fall asleep, you'll leave," I whispered.

He held my hand to his face and shook his head. His arms folded around me and laid my head on the pillow. I clung to him, afraid that if I let go, I might lose him again forever.

Morning loomed in shades of blue when I felt Eros stir. As he untangled himself from me, I whispered, "Don't go," but he did.

Before climbing out my window, he dropped my cell phone into my hand. A few minutes later, it vibrated. I opened the text message.

Will return soon. Love you. E.

I grinned at the text then fingered my face. The skin was smooth and unmarred. Happy for the first time in weeks, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

When I trudged downstairs, my dad was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. He wore a flannel shirt and khakis. It took a moment for the clouds to clear and me to realize it was Sunday. I curled up on the couch next to him. "Is it really one o'clock in the afternoon?" I asked.

Dad didn't take his eyes off the article. "Yeah."

I slept almost twenty-four hours. "Will you make me waffles?"

He glanced sideways, then went on reading. "Only if you're going to eat them."

"With strawberries and whipping cream?"

"Out of real cream." He folded the paper at the center crease. "Have to settle for the frozen stuff."

I grinned. "I'll eat four of them."

"You will not. You can't eat more than two when you're not..." He caught himself. I don't know what that last word would have been: sick, mental, anorexic maybe?

"You'll never know unless you get in there and start cooking."

He rapped me on the side of the head with the paper as he stood. "You'd better eat at least two."

Dad watched as I forked down my sixth waffle. He kept up with me until three, then he sat back in his chair with a cup of herbal tea and a crooked smile pulling at his mouth. The waffles were fluffy, perfectly brown, and loaded with strawberries. I couldn't remember when food tasted this good.

The fork poised for another bite, I stopped and let it clank onto the plate. "Okay, that's enough."

Dad sipped his tea. "You'd better not get sick on me."

"Not bulimic, Dad." I yawned. "I'm ready for a nap."

"You just got up. Maybe you should do homework." He reached over by the phone and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, which he slid across the bar to me.

The school's letterhead showed through the paper. I unfolded it with dread. My midterm grades were not pretty. The letter reported eight truancies in addition to seven excused absences I earned since the beginning of school. I slid the paper back. "What good will A's do me in a hospital in Maryland?"

"Is that what this is about?" He gestured toward the remnants of waffles on my plate.

"It's about me getting better, if you'll give me a chance." I couldn't tell him why I was better. Eros's silent visit cured the ill effects of the dust. I was still completely under the dust's power and more attracted to Eros than ever. Instead of love sick, today I was euphoric. And starving. My body was ready to take back what it lost over the past month. "I just need some time," I told my dad. "I'll get my grades up."

He looked down at my empty plate. "Okay," he agreed.

Outside it began to snow. Heavy flakes threw themselves at the window then slid down the gla.s.s and melted. Soon snow would pile up on the sills. "How much are they predicting?" I asked.

Dad went to the window. "At least a foot."

It was a perfect day for napping or doing homework, so I trudged upstairs and emptied my backpack onto the bed.