The Ylem (6 page)

We pulled in front of an art gallery called
Studio W.
From what it showed through the wide windows, it
looked promising. We opened the French door leading to the art
sanctuary and a cylindrical wind bell announced our arrival with a
beautiful cascade of chimes, as if inviting us to enter its
realm.

“Look around if you want to. I’ll be right
back in a few minutes,” my dad told me and left, striding inside a
room that appeared to be an office.

I turned around. The gallery was luminous
and vast. It seemed like a white, heavenly labyrinth with paintings
hanging everywhere. Crystal chandeliers shed light on every
section, painting the floor with flowing, graceful shadows. Roman
columns with white dangly flowers lined the walls, reminiscent of a
goddess temple. Baroque velvet chairs filled several spaces,
offering comfort amid the glimpses of creativity, and small
sculptures were set below the paintings, resting on pale, pristine
marble tables—beautiful and elegant, not what I would have expected
from a small town like this.

Amid the beautiful concerto of paintings,
“The Hunters,” a beautiful pack of wolves in the snow under a
mystical moonlight, caught my undivided attention. The fusion of
white, silver and black was magical.

Even though this painting was completely
different, it reminded me of one of my favorites: Van Gogh’s
Starry Night
. The night sky, filled with swirling clouds and
stars blazing with their own orb of light and bright cresset moon,
was otherworldly. The clouds looked like water, curving and
creating a visual dance with the stars, the movement astonishing,
something you could keep staring at for a long time and never get
bored. This beautiful pack of wolves was doing the same to me.

“Kalista?” called a distant voice, snapping
me out from the trance. It was my dad.

“Coming!” I said and hurried toward him. He
was standing in front of the doorway with another man, a few years
younger than my dad. But where he won in age, the man won in
height. He was tall, an imposing six four, with big emerald-green
eyes, brown hair, and light honey-colored skin. It reminded me
somehow of a
certain
person.

“There you are!” my dad said when he spotted
me. “Let me introduce you to Julian Winfield.” He waved his hand
toward the imposing man.

“Kalista, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The
man greeted me, holding out his hand in a well-mannered
gesture.

“Mr. Winfield.” I said, shaking his hand.
Winfield? Wasn’t that Tristan’s last name also? Could he be a
relative? It would explain the resemblance.

“Please, call me Julian,” he told me with a
stunning smile.

Yep, they were definitely related.

“Julian is in the Ruidoso Regional Council
for the Arts and, of course, he’s the owner of this exquisite
gallery.”

That would explain the
W
in the
gallery’s name. “You have a beautiful gallery Mr.—I mean,
Julian.”

“Thank you, Kalista. You’re welcome any
time.” His manner was gentlemanly, like an old-fashioned man from
another century. Could he be Tristan’s uncle?

“You know, honey…this is one of the largest
art galleries in the north-southwest region, and one of the
finest,” my dad said.

“It’s very kind of you, Peter,” Julian
said.

I had to ask something to find out.
Something fast. “Do you live alone?”

Jesus. What a stupid question!

“Oh, no. I have two sons.” He smiled warmly.
“In fact, my youngest is with you at school.”

I felt like a heavy rock had been dropped
into the pit of my stomach. Of course he was his father. The planes
of his face weren’t as perfectly outlined as Tristan’s—his nose was
a bit crooked, his thick eyebrows slightly uneven—he had the looks
of a Spartan soldier, stoically handsome. Still, that entrancing
emerald in his eyes and that soothing shade of his skin should have
given him away immediately.

“Do you know him, honey?”

“I…yes. I think I do. Tristan, right? I saw
him for the first time in school today.” I said.

“Ah, yes. He left for a week to North
Carolina to run some…errands.”

“North Carolina? Wow, beautiful place,” my
dad said. “My wife and I went there once, before she gave birth.”
He looked at me with a smile, as if remembering the trip.

“It is beautiful. We used to live there
before coming here. But we love this town and its surroundings,” he
said.

Okay, Tristan did go to North Carolina, and
he
obviously
had a girlfriend over there. Model or not, it
didn’t matter. It was his life. I should mind my own business and
let others do their
errands
.

“We love this place, too. It has a lot of
potential,” my dad claimed. “Speaking of which, I forgot to ask you
something.” They started talking about things I didn’t understand,
so I decided to leave them and pop outside.

Besides, I was feeling kind of irritated.
Maybe some cold air would relax my mind. “I’ll wait in the car,
Dad.” I told them. “It was nice to meet you, Julian.”

“The pleasure was mine.” He bowed
politely.

I stepped outside the gallery and stood on
the gray sidewalk that glittered under the dim sunset light.
Silence hung over the deserted street, the only sound the wistful
whooshing of trees in the bitter breeze. I zipped my jacket up and
put my arms around me, blocking the whispery cold. Why was I
feeling this way? Things about some guy shouldn’t affect me this
way. I had so many emotions inside of me, and I didn’t recognize
any of them. It was so confusing. Everything about him felt so
confusing and intense.

A sudden gust of air blew in my direction. I
turned, avoiding the strands of hair in my eyes, and spotted a dog
resting sphinx-like a few feet across from me. He looked like one
of the wolves I’d seen earlier in the painting. His dense-coat was
a sable color. He had long legs with large paws and pointed ears
drawn back. He seemed relaxed, as a big cuddly toy, begging to be
patted.

I walked slowly towards him, wanting to
appreciate his beauty better. He turned his head to look at me,
pulling up his ears as if curious, and I noticed his narrowed eyes
displayed a blue color, deep and wide as an ocean, but cold and
biting as ice.

It reminded me of Chloe’s eyes.

“Hey.” I told him, stretching my arm to
caress him.

He rose and snarled at me, fur bristling and
arching back. The ears had flattened against his head and sharp
incisors had come into view. A sense of danger penetrated every
inch of my body.

I backed down.

But he kept snarling, infuriated. The
beautiful and peaceful creature now transformed into a devilish
beast about to crouch and attack. I didn’t know what to do or where
to go. He was faster than me, so running away wasn’t an option.

Do something! He’s going to jump on
you.
At that moment, the beast crouched, his eyes full of dark
determination. For some reason I’d been peeling off my jacket, so I
decided to use it and shoved it against its head, covering those
searing eyes and derailing them from its focus: my neck.

I dashed into the road while the beast
struggled to shake off the jacket. I tried to scream but I
couldn’t. The fear running through my body had eaten my voice.

I turned to look back at the beast, wanting
to make sure I still had time to escape without being stabbed by
sharp teeth, but those searing eyes were on me again. I froze. I
had no way out. The evil creature crouched again and—

“Stop!” said an unexpected sharp voice,
calming the beast down immediately. “Bad girl!” Tristan howled,
stepping between the animal and me. “You shouldn’t have done it.
You know what this means.”

The evil creature lowered its head, lips and
ears drawn back, and started whimpering.
Whimpering.
Was
this even the same beast?

“You okay?” He turned to look at me.

I lost my breath. His glorious eyes were
waiting for an answer that wasn’t coming. He slammed the animal on
its back and ordered, “Go,” perhaps thinking that my shaking body
and clogged throat had anything to do with the beast, dog, or
wolf.

It didn’t.

“Are you all right?” He asked again, this
time resting both of his warm hands on my shoulders. He was so
close now. His touch sent sharp tingles from my shoulders through
my entire body, leaving those familiar bolts pulsing in my fingers,
only sharper.

Way sharper.

I raised my eyes and found his lowered at
the same level as mine, waiting. His chiseled looks were even more
breathtaking this close, and the more I looked, the more stunning
his features became. His eyes wide and tilted, framed with thick
lashes, and his perfectly straight nose gave him the lovely, sharp
beauty of a lynx. Or a wolf, I decided, looking at that heavenly
gray-emerald in his eyes.

He was stunning.

“I-I-yes, I'm fine,” I finally said. The
electrical tingling in my hands was getting worse. I had to get
away from him before my Duracell-like body decided to release an
electric charge, so I twisted my shoulders and released them from
his gentle hands.

He stepped back, putting a mitigating space
between us. He looked down at his hands, confused, and stretched
his fingers as if he was studying something in them. Then, he
shoved his hands deep down into the pockets of his jeans.

A tortured silence filled the next several
seconds. Neither of us spoke nor moved. We looked like human
statues anchored to the floor. Well,
I
looked like a human
statue. He was more like an ancient Greek god statue.

“What kind of dog was that?” I finally dared
to ask.

He glanced at me with troubled eyes, lost in
his thoughts. “She’s a wolfdog.”

“A wolfdog?” I asked puzzled. What did he
mean? That she was both?

“Yes. She’s a… hybrid,” he explained, with a
slight catch in his voice.

“A what?”

He smiled, breaking the stiffness in his
face. I suddenly felt light in the head. “It’s a canine resulting
from the mating of a wolf and a dog. In this case a Siberian husky
and a gray wolf.”

“Oh…right.” What were we talking about? Was
it about his killer smile?

“But their official name is wolf-dog
hybrids. It’s easier to skip the last part of the name, makes it
easier for people like you to understand,” he added, flashing his
eyes at me.

Before getting lost into those eyes,
something hit me. “What do you mean ‘people like you’?”

“Well, the word hybrid is not that obvious
to some people.”

To some people
.

Did he mean I suffered from mental dullness?
Bastard. “Thanks for the lovely explanation, then.” I snapped
annoyed and turned, walking straight forward and leaving him behind
with rage pulsing through my veins. How dare he imply I was stupid?
He didn’t even know me!

“Where are you going?” he called with an
amused voice.

It’s none of your business, you cocky
prick
.

“To my car.” That’s when I realized I was
going the opposite way.

“Your car is that way,” he chuckled,
pointing his eyes to the Escape.

So now I was lacking the sense of sight?
First stupid and then blind? This was way too much. He’d crossed
the line. “Do you think I don’t see it?” I snapped loudly. I went
back to walk down the same path frustrated, and I was almost
getting to the car, when Tristan’s strong hand grabbed my
forearm.

“Did I do something?”

I turned and jerked my arm. “Just…just keep
your wolfdog away from me!” I warned stupidly.

He drew back, as if uncomfortable. “I would,
but I don’t have the power over her,” he said, avoiding my
eyes.

“Then how did you calm her down so easily?”
I asked. The enraged dog literally submitted to his voice like he
was her master.

“Well…we could say she knows me.”

“Do you think that’s enough to calm down an
incensed beast?” I said accusingly. “Just look at my jacket.” Or
what was left of it. “That was going to be me.”

He looked away.

It seemed it was the only answer I was going
to get. “Okay, since we can say ‘she knows you,’ why did she react
like that? I only said hi. Is that an offense to
wolfdogs
?”
I picked up my shredded jacket, now looking as if it belonged to
one of the zombies in Michael Jackson's Thriller video.

He looked at me with heavy eyes, as if
thoughts were weighing them down. “I don’t know…It’s hard to
predict her behavior because she’s…a genetic mixture. She’s trapped
between being a wolf and a—” He trailed off. “Anyway, don’t worry.
She’s not going to do that again.”

What? Now he’s a wolfdog whisperer?
“You can’t be sure of that.”

“Trust me, she won’t.”

“Right,” I added, raising my eyebrows.

We paused for a moment and stared at each
other—a long, long stare. He looked curious again, exploring
something deep down into my eyes, as if watching something beyond
my skin, as if watching my soul. I felt like I was standing naked
in front of him, but instead of dashing away from his penetrating
stare, I stayed, feeling how his eyes held me spellbound.

He looked down briefly and lifted his head
again. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Tristan
Winfield.”

What did he say?
“Kadis—um, Kalista
Hamilton.”

He ogled me with a smile. “I know who you
are.”

“You do?”

“Everyone does.”

I forgot I was the newest gossip in
town.

“Do you like being here?” he asked almost
immediately, taking me by surprise.

“I…well…it’s different from New York…”

“Meaning no,” he said, a breathtaking smile
brightening his flawless features once more.

I focused on breathing. “No…the town is
nice, but it’s really different over here. There aren’t too many
things to do.” Not that I did a lot of things back in New York.
Still, I had options. “And everything is so…natural.”