Painted Blind Part 24

"Are you sure I can't drive you to the hospital or something?" I offered.

"No, I'll call my son. He lives on campus."

I thanked her again and started to leave.

"Wait." Dr. Bonner gestured to the plate of cookies that nearly killed her. "Take those."

I finished the cookies on the way to the parking lot, and I was still hungry. I called Dad's cell as I drove home. "Are you home?" I asked.

"No. Where are you?" he replied.

"MSU," I answered. "I was talking to a professor."

"Gonna see if they'll take you with C's and D's?" He chuckled at his own humor.

I ignored the jibe and got down to the more important matter. "I was thinking maybe you could bring home Chinese-sesame chicken, beef and broccoli, egg rolls..." Just thinking about it made my mouth water.

"Still interested in food?" he interrupted.

"Starving." I arrived home and wondered if Aeas was in the house ready to chew me out. I'd gotten tired of him tromping in and out my bedroom window, so I copied my key and gave it to him, which made it harder for me to tell when he was around.

"Maybe I'm getting my daughter back after all," Dad observed.

I unlocked the door with the phone propped on my shoulder. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Chinese food." Someone hollered in the background. "Give me an hour." Dad hung up.

I locked the bolt and climbed the stairs. "Aeas?" No answer. I continued down the hallway and into my room. "Are you here?" The room was still. I sent him a short text: I know how to complete the task. He didn't immediately reply, which was odd.

I settled on the bed with my new sketchbook and smoothed the clean white page beneath my fingers. I picked up a pencil and started to sketch. There was only one image my mind wanted to create, and I could not get it right. I did five sketches, all from different angles but the same scene-Eros awakening with angry eyes. The room and the bedcovers I remembered well. The eyes I could sketch perfectly. The rest of his face I couldn't recreate. It was torture knowing it was somewhere inside my head, but I was unable to put it on the page. I turned to a clean page and tried again. This time I outlined a square jaw line and tufts of wavy hair. Onto this face I drew those angry eyes. The rest of the features remained blank. I tossed the sketchbook aside in frustration. Spilling my guts to a shrink might be easier than this.

I lay back and closed my eyes. His voice echoed in my memories, but his face didn't appear. Even in my dreams Eros remained veiled.

There was not a noodle or shred of cabbage left when Dad and I cleared the table. Whatever pamphlet Dad had on anorexia would probably be tossed in the trash. Soon my clothes would fit and my features would soften. Until then, I was enjoying the extra calories.

After dinner I found Dad's stash of cookies and sneaked the package upstairs. I decided to give the sketch one more shot. I turned to what should have been the first blank page but there, staring back at me, was a perfect sketch of Eros.

He wasn't angry. His eyes, though only rendered in pencil, were playful and matched the voice I remembered so well. A half smile tugged at his mouth. There was only one word to describe that expression: mischievous.

I'd never seen Eros's face when he looked like this, and it made me ache. I stood considering the sketch a moment, then looked around. "That explains why Aeas isn't here," I said aloud.

One of my cookies disappeared.

I sniffed the air. If he kept his distance, I couldn't smell him. Aeas must have told him what cinnamon did to me. I guessed Eros was showering at Aeas's apartment, so he was more anonymous. He didn't wear cologne anymore either. I would never have known he was there if it weren't for the disappearing Oreos and the sound of him chewing.

I dug through the drawers of the desk and found a handful of colored pencils. I carefully adjusted the shading on the sketch to accommodate first the flesh tone, then the violet of the eyes. I sat there contemplating the hair color when a light brown pencil rolled away from the others.

He fluffed the pillow and laid his head on it. Then he slid an arm around my waist. Maybe he stared at the ceiling or at me.

I turned the page and started another sketch. Eros lying silently and invisibly beside me was soothing, but I missed his voice.

When Dad tapped on the door a few hours later to say good night, Eros didn't stir. I thought he was asleep. I went into the bathroom and changed clothes. He wasn't there when I climbed into bed. Deep sadness pooled in my chest until he leaned down and kissed my forehead. He set my phone on the pillow. A new message was on the screen.

I'll be gone for a few days. Don't get eaten by wolves.

Chapter 21.

Three hours before sunrise on Sat.u.r.day morning I drove with Rory and Aeas to Livingston. There we exited the freeway and went south to Gardiner. This was the north entrance to Yellowstone Park and only a few miles from Mammoth. Mammoth Hot Springs was one of the few areas in the Park that was open this time of year.

I followed Dr. Bonner's map and found the ridge overlooking the den. It was only ten degrees outside, but we came prepared with layers of winter clothing, shelter tarps and plenty of hot chocolate. An outdoor stakeout wasn't my idea of adventure, but if we could fill that darn basket in one morning and be done with the task, I was willing to sit in the snow for two hours until the pack woke hungry and ready to hunt.

Wolves were unpredictable. Sometimes they hunted at night, but they could just as easily hunt during the day. They didn't obey a set schedule, so our best chance of seeing them leave the den and not return for a few hours was right at dawn. As the light broke golden across the horizon, we heard a low howl and saw the first black wolf emerge from the den.

He wasn't the alpha. That male was gray, but the black wolf was regal and alert as he made his way around the den's opening, sniffing the air and the ground. This was why we were perched on a ridge a hundred yards downwind. One sniff and we would be given away.

The second wolf to emerge was the lone white in the pack. Beside me Aeas drew a breath. "Beautiful," he murmured.

"She may be beautiful, but we don't want white fur," I answered. "We want gray."

"Plenty of gray," Rory replied as the rest of the pack sauntered out of the den stretching their legs and yawning.

We watched for another forty minutes as the wolves milled around. The younger ones playfully sparred in the snow. At last, the largest of the pack, a gray we identified as the alpha male, threw his nose into the air and let out a howl. Rory turned the binoculars to a distant meadow.

"Buffalo," Rory murmured. "Maybe half a mile out." He handed the binoculars to Aeas, who turned them on the herd.

"Well, let's hope they put up a good fight. It won't take the pack long to cover half a mile when they're finished eating."

"We'll be quick. The basket isn't that big." I was trying hard to forget about the unsteady pounding in my chest. Wolves looked much more vicious in real life than in Dr. Bonner's photo alb.u.m.

The pack galloped through the woods toward their buffalo breakfast, and we jogged down the hillside to the den. I slid off one glove and clutched the pepper spray canister in that hand. It was a few hundred yards to the stream. The gurgle of the water told us we were heading in the right direction. The trail tunneled beneath a twisted blackberry bush, and there the bush had taken on a knotted, furry skin. From a distance, it looked like mold, but it was the winter coats of the pack, brushed off their backs each time they shimmied under the thorns heading for water.

Aeas dropped the basket at the opening, and we switched winter gloves for heavy leather ones. The bush tugged at our clothes as we gleaned the silver fur from its branches.

"No black or white," I reminded them. "Only gray."

We filled the basket, packed it down and filled it some more.

"That should do," Aeas said finally. "Even Theron must admit this is full."

"Then let's get out of here," Rory said warily.

"Don't you want to see the stream?" I asked. "We've come this far. When will you ever be in this part of the park again?"

"Sorry, don't care. I don't want to be here when the pack comes back," Rory replied.

"It's only been half an hour. I'm sure they're not in that big a rush to come home."

"Let's just go, Psyche," Aeas answered.

"Okay, fine." We started back toward the den. Rory took the lead and moved swiftly up the trail. Aeas followed carrying the basket. I brought up the rear. We moved through the trees toward the ridge. Just as we started the ascent, I felt the hair on the back of my neck p.r.i.c.kle. From behind me came a guttural growl. Armed with pepper spray, I turned slowly. One member of the pack had stayed behind. It was a yearling male. He lowered his head and bared his teeth. His youth and size made him no less a threat. He was hungry.

"Bad doggie," I whispered.

A tuft of fur on the back of his neck rose, and he growled again.

Aeas stopped. I heard his heavy breathing behind me.

"Not so pretty now, is he?" I murmured. I backed another step away from the wolf, who crouched. I didn't wait for him to pounce. I opened fire with the pepper spray.

The dog's sensitive nose took the hit. He sneezed, yelped and rubbed his nose in the dirt. Then he pawed at his eyes and tried to rub them in the dirt, too.

I gave Aeas a shove. "Run!"

We ran up the ridge and all the way to the car. Rory dived into the back seat. Aeas hopped in shotgun with the basket on his lap. I jumped into the driver's seat and locked the door. Like a wolf could open it. We sat there listening to each other panting, then Rory erupted into hysterical laughter.

"That was too close," Aeas muttered without so much as a smile.

Chapter 22.

We stopped at a cafe in Gardiner for breakfast. The only other customers were two old men sipping coffee at a table in the corner. Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" blared through the overhead speakers, and a waitress stood at the counter rolling silverware into napkins. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon drifted through the air. Suddenly I was starving.

A sign instructed us to seat ourselves, so we took the window booth farthest in the back. Gold tinsel-garland had been taped around the window, and red b.a.l.l.s hung from the top section. A sticker on the menu advertised eggnog and mincemeat pie through the month of December. I scanned the breakfast section, already knowing what I wanted.

The waitress came to our table carrying a coffee pot. She wore a plush Santa hat and had cork-screw curls that framed a narrow face. "What can I get for you today?" She gave Rory and I a quick glance, then her gaze settled on Aeas and stayed there.

Aeas, however, was preoccupied punching out a text message.

After taking Rory's and my orders, the waitress lingered over Aeas. She gave him a pretty smile, but he didn't look up to see it.

"Bacon and eggs, please." His fingers continued moving over the b.u.t.tons of his phone.

"Do you want hash browns and toast with that?"

Aeas nodded, pressing send on his message. "Yes, and orange juice." He glanced up briefly and gave her a polite nod. "Thank you."

The waitress grinned and blinked. "You're welcome."

While we waited for our order, the reply to Aeas's message beeped through. He frowned at his phone and looked up. "Are you well rested?" he asked me.

"What kind of question is that?" I replied.

He waited.

"I guess," I answered.

The waitress returned balancing our orders on her arms. She set a steaming plate of pancakes in front of me.

I poured huckleberry syrup on the stack with slow precision. "We got up early this morning, but overall, I've been sleeping better."

"Of course you have," Aeas murmured and began typing out the reply.

"You are looking better these days, and you're eating." Rory unwrapped a set of silverware. "Why is that?"

I shrugged, and Aeas gave him a sideways glance but didn't answer. Rory didn't appreciate having things withheld from him, but the fact that Eros was visiting me by night was none of Rory's business. I wasn't willing to share one moment of that time with either of them. Rory would a.s.sume, erroneously, that Eros and I spent our nights intimately. Aeas understood the magnitude of such an act for Eros if not for me, and while he probably wondered if we let our pa.s.sions get the best of us, he was happy being ignorant.

The waitress lingered over Aeas's plate until he looked up and met her eyes. "Can I get you anything else?" she offered.

"No, thank you." After she returned to the kitchen, he excused himself to the restroom.

"What would that be like?" Rory stabbed a sausage. "Girls falling over you everywhere you go."

"It's not as great as it seems." I should've been more compa.s.sionate, but I was tired of Rory's self-pity and his jealousy. It wasn't Aeas's fault he was beautiful any more than it was mine. It wasn't Rory's fault he had acne. We all had cards we were dealt, and we played our lives with them.

He chewed bitterly. "Yeah, right. And he's only fifteen. Think of what it will be like when he's twenty."

"Five hundred years from now?"

Rory's jaw went slack. "I never really thought about that."

My phone beeped the arrival of a text message. I was happy to see the now-familiar number of Eros's cell phone. Aeas slid into the seat across from me as I opened the message.

Well done. Aeas has a message for you.

I looked up. "What's going on?"

"He knows the final task already, and he's preparing." Aeas started to cut the bacon with a knife and fork, but I tapped his shin with my foot and made him use his fingers. With a shrug he relented. "We," he said, motioning to himself and Rory, "aren't allowed to accompany you. The task will take awhile, so you're to make an excuse to your father. You need to meet Theron early in the day, so you'll have time to complete as much of the journey as possible the first day."

"Journey?" I set my fork down.

"I don't know where," Aeas added.

"How long am I going to be gone?"

He shrugged. "I'm waiting for instructions. Most likely I'll get them after you see Theron."

It would be mean of me to leave a second time and not tell my dad, and if I didn't even know how long I would be gone or if I was ever coming back for that matter, what could I tell him? I hated hiding all of this from Dad.