“Don’t be ridiculous,” the earth spirit said, hugging her back. Like Kelsey, she seemed almost completely healed. A delicate silk scarf hid the scar on her throat, and the scars on her arms were barely noticeable.
“We wouldn’t miss it,” her wizard husband added with a grin. “Your work is magnificent, dear.”
“Thank you very much.” She barely remembered starting to paint at all. She had started sketching in the hospital when she was barely able to hold a pencil. When she had finished months later, she’d had thirteen canvases standing in her studio, more and better work than she had ever done in her life. A portrait of her memory of Jake’s corpse in the hospital was locked away in a vault, never to see daylight while she lived. But everything else was here, twelve paintings to match the twelve Jake had left behind with their one collaboration in between.
“It’s amazing how beautifully your work meshes with Jake’s,” Sylvia said.
“That’s the best compliment I could get.” She had never intended to paint companion pieces to Jake’s last cycle, but without even realizing it, she had. Facing one of his canvases now, she didn’t recognize the rusted, half-submerged Cadillac at its center or the long-limbed, feral-looking boy perched like a bird on the hood. But the dark, swampy forest around them was hauntingly familiar.
Sylvia touched her arm. “Has Asher seen them?”
Kelsey shook her head. “I haven’t seen Asher.” But she had painted him. Asher stand
ing in the light of her open refrigerator drinking milk straight from the jug, his golden wings folded on his back. Asher entangled around her in the demon tree with jet black wings and burning purple eyes. Asher bending over her in the hospital, tenderly kissing her forehead, bringing her back to life. He was a presence even in the paintings that weren’t about him—a face in the crowd of angels hovering around her beautiful mother as she prayed, a golden feather on Kelsey’s pillow as she slept nestled on Jake’s shoulder.
“Have you tried to contact him?” Sylvia said.
“No,” Kelsey said. She had wanted to call out to him a thousand times, but she wouldn’t let herself do it. He had given up so much for her already. “It didn’t seem right.”
Before Sylvia could answer, Jason appeared at Kelsey’s side. “There you are.” He smiled at Sylvia and Nate and slipped an arm around Kelsey’s waist. “How are you holding up, lovely?”
“I’m fine,” she promised, letting herself lean on him. Her recovery had been miraculous—no great surprise to her, but her doctors had seemed almost offended. She had pills for the occasional headaches, and when she was very tired, she could mix up words—probably what Jason was worrying about now. “I haven’t forgotten anybody’s name yet.”
“I meant how do you feel, you freak,” Jason said, giving her a squeeze. “No one expects this to be easy.”
She let another “I’m fine” die unspoken. “It’s not,” she admitted. “But it’s okay.”
The noise level in the gallery rose suddenly as a dog trotted through the crowd like he owned the place. When he saw Kelsey, he let out a single bark and broke into a run.
“Hey!” she said, dropping to her knees to catch him as he ran to her. “Look at you.” He was a yellow mutt, a little smaller than a Labrador, with scars on his neck and muzzle and a weird, shambling gait as if his hip had once been broken. But he was well-fed and beautifully groomed with a loose, black collar with silver tags, and she recognized him at once. “Don’t you look pretty?” she crooned, petting him and hugging him as he licked her face. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Kelsey?” Jason said. “I take it you know this dog?”
“Oh yeah,” Sylvia said. “I think she does.” She reached down and touched Kelsey’s shoulder. “Look.”
Asher was creating a much bigger stir than the dog. He was in his human guise, of course, no wings, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt with no tie, perfectly appropriate to the occasion. But if he’d meant to blend in with the crowd, he’d failed miserably. Every eye in the room was fixed on him in fascination, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at one of the paintings: “The Tree.”
“Oh yeah,” Jason said. “I’ll go get him.”
“No,” Kelsey said, standing up. “Let me.”
Asher felt dizzy looking at the painting, a perfect rendering of the moment he had almost fallen for good. Kelsey was locked in his passionate embrace; the two of them were entangled in the clutches of the demon. “It references Dante, of course,” a man beside him said. “But so fresh…” He smiled at Asher, his warm brown eyes twinkling with interest. “Who knew little Kelsey had it in her?”
Then Kelsey was beside them. “Thanks, Byron,” she said. She put a hand on Asher’s arm. “Your support is overwhelming.”
“You know I think you’re brilliant,” Byron said, whoever he was, utterly unembarrassed. “I’m just glad to see you finally showing it.” He was still smiling at Asher, looking him up and down. “So, who is this?”
“This is my friend, Asher.” She slipped her arm through Asher’s, and he could feel her trembling. “He was very sweet to pose for me.”
Asher put a hand over hers. “It was my pleasure.” She looked very fragile and very beautiful dressed in a pale yellow dress. She hadn’t tried to hide the scar, a pinkish purple web at her temple, and he was reminded painfully of the broken doll she had been on the outskirts of Hell.
“Are you a professional model?” Byron asked, obviously determined to have the whole scoop.
“No,” Kelsey and Asher said in unison.
“I’m in personal security,” Asher went on, giving Kelsey’s hand a squeeze. “I met Kelsey after her husband’s death. There had been some trouble in her neighborhood, and I hooked her up with a security system.”
“My neighbor, Sylvia, was attacked less than a block from our building,” Kelsey agreed, squeezing back.