Wandering Soul (23 page)

Chapter Thirty

“This is more than I hoped for.” Michael emerged in the space between the shelves. He kept his gun pointed at Dante. “I get Elsa hand-delivered, and the freak thrown in for free.” He laughed, then said, “I think I've made an improvement on your face.”

Elsa had never hated anyone more in her life. She ducked back out of sight, praying that Rachel was staying hidden now that she could at least move within a few rows of the workbenches.

Elsa clutched the tire iron in her hand tightly as she crept up behind Michael. His attention was on Dante. If she could sneak up behind Michael, she could clock him. It was the best plan she could come up with.

“I can't believe that Jazz wanted me to share the opening with you,” Michael said. “I'm a true artist. Not like you, with your boring little landscapes. How much are you willing to sacrifice for your art?”

“Art is about creation, not sacrifice,” Dante said.

“There is no creation without sacrifice. I'm willing to give up what I love most. Over and over again. I imbue the canvas with their essence. It's how I immortalize them.”

Elsa could see the backs of Michael's legs. He had stepped closer to Dante, giving her more room to work. She slowly stood, brandishing her weapon, though her hands shook.

“And how many women have you immortalized?” Dante asked.

“How many paintings have I done?”

She thought of all those canvases in Michael's exhibit, each one representing a lost life. All of her hesitation vanished.

She brought the tire iron down on the back of Michael's head as hard as she could, hearing a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the ground, and his gun skittered underneath the workbenches, toward the far wall.

Dante's knees gave out just then. Elsa tried to run to him, but Michael's hand snaked out, grabbing her ankle.

She fell to the floor hard, hitting her chin with enough force that she saw stars. Dante was dragging himself toward her, but Michael pulled her back, out of Dante's reach. Michael's hands locked around her throat, cutting off her air.

“You think you can make a fool out of me?” he shouted. “You're mine! You belong on my canvas. All of you!”

She struck at Michael's arms, but his grip never loosened. When she clawed at his face, he put even more of his weight on her throat. He straightened his arms to get away from her nails.

The lights seemed to be dimming when another loud bang echoed through the garage.

Michael's grip went slack. He looked down at the rich crimson circle spreading out from the center of his chest, then past her, before falling forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His eyes remained open and staring.

Elsa hacked and retched, rolling onto her side as she gasped for air. When she recovered enough to look back toward Dante, she saw Rachel standing behind him, holding Michael's gun. Rachel was still pointing it at Michael's body, as if she expected him to move again.

Elsa wasn't sure he wouldn't. Though his eyes stared sightlessly at her, she wondered if at any moment he might lunge at her again.

Apparently, Rachel wasn't willing to risk it. As Elsa scooted away from Michael, Rachel walked toward him, her chains clattering with each step. She fired round after round into his body and kept pulling the trigger even when the gun merely clicked.

Michael wouldn't be getting up again.

Elsa struggled to her feet and cautiously made her way to Rachel. When Elsa was close enough, she put her arms around Rachel and reached down to take the gun. Rachel's gaze remained fixed on Michael's body.

Desperate to check on Dante, Elsa led Rachel to where he had fallen. Elsa set the gun on the workbench closest to him, then knelt at his side.

There was so much blood. She didn't even know how she could apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

Bits of glass and other shrapnel stuck out from his right cheek and temple. She couldn't keep herself from crying as she looked at him, carefully smoothing back his hair.

“You've never cried when you looked at my face before.” He actually chuckled.

Elsa lowered her forehead to his for a moment, then pressed a kiss against his left temple where the skin was still intact. “I'm so sorry this happened to you,” she whispered.

“Is Rachel safe?”

“She's okay. She'll be okay. We all will,” Elsa said, though there was a part of her that was wondering, doubting. She pushed that part away.

Dante would be fine. He had to be.

Footsteps sounded behind them. She glanced over her shoulder, relieved beyond belief to see Jazz and Garrett standing in the doorway. Elsa heard the sound of sirens approaching.

“Oh my God, Elsa,” Jazz said. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Elsa's voice broke on a sob. “Dante's hurt.”

Jazz went to Rachel and Garrett ran to Elsa's side, his eyes briefly darkening as he took in the bruises that must already be forming on Elsa's throat. She shook her head, then looked at Dante. Garrett's focus needed to be there.

Garrett's expression was grim as he examined Dante, asking questions. At least Dante was able to answer them all. That must be a good sign.

The police and paramedics arrived at the same time. Jazz quickly took charge of answering the officers' questions while the paramedics worked with Garrett on Dante.

After Rachel was freed from her manacles, she and Dante were loaded onto gurneys. It took all of Elsa's strength to move away from him. She didn't want to let go of his hand.

As they were wheeling Dante from the room, he grabbed Garrett's arm, pulling him close. Whatever Dante said, Garrett nodded.

Jazz came to stand beside Elsa. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you.”

“But you trusted me enough to help anyway. That's all that matters.”

Jazz wiped away an errant tear and nodded. “Dante will need this.” She handed Elsa a plain leather wallet.

“What is it?” She opened the wallet, shocked to see a driver's license with Dante's picture, along with a library card, credit card—everything he'd need to answer any questions that came up at the hospital. “How did you—”

“Don't ask.” Jazz smiled and shook her head. “Come on. We can ride along in the ambulances.”

Elsa saved her questions for later. She held on to her faith that everything would be okay. For the moment, she was grateful for the chance to be back at Dante's side. It was where she belonged.

Chapter Thirty-One

Summer Park, Florida—2016

The sun was shining brightly as Elsa sat at one of the tables in the hospital's outdoor eating area. Dante had refused to let her be in the room while he met with his doctors for his final post-op discussion.

He had spent most of the last few months with his face in bandages, needing several surgeries to recover. Apparently, he wanted a chance to deal with the aftermath on his own before letting her see the final results.

She respected his decision to not have her present when the bandages were removed, even though she hated not being at his side. At the first meeting Elsa had been present for, his reconstructive surgeon told them there might be further permanent damage, maybe even partial paralysis.

She had been preparing herself for the worst ever since, imagining what his face might look like in vivid detail so that she wouldn't wince or flinch in the slightest when she saw him. Already, his face had changed in her mind's eye—new scars added upon the old, his expressions muted from a loss of muscle control.

It killed her to think of him having to endure that. The least she could do was make sure he knew it didn't affect how she felt about him in the least.

All that mattered was that Dante was out of danger. Whatever resulted from the surgeries, they would handle it together. She was so grateful he was still with her.

To keep her mind off her nerves, she reviewed the latest copy of their manuscript. She and Dante had finished the first draft while he was recovering, and they were planning to celebrate as soon as this was behind them.

She imagined all the various ways they might go about that, smiling as her face probably flushed more from her wayward thoughts than the sun.

“Hello.”

Elsa glanced at the stranger who stood next to her table. She'd been so engrossed in her thoughts she didn't notice him approach.

“Good afternoon.” She turned back to the manuscript in the hopes that he'd get the hint and leave.

“May I?” Without waiting for an answer, he sat in the chair next to her.

Elsa sighed and said, “I'm not sure what this is about, but you should know, I'm not available.”

When he didn't leave, she finally gave him her full attention. A slow smile spread across the man's face.

She had to admit it was a nice smile. A nice smile in a very nice face. A strangely familiar face.

The man's brown hair was highlighted from time in the sun and framed his face in gentle waves. He was handsome enough that he probably wasn't used to women rebuffing him.

Elsa stared at the man openly, a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. His eyes were bright turquoise against the pale blue sky, his jaw was strong, and his nose straight. There was a playfulness in his gaze that drew her in and made her like him.

“Have we met?” she asked.

His smile turned into something of a wicked grin, his full lips parting over straight, white teeth. Elsa knew that smile.

“I should certainly think so,” he said, his rumbling voice oh so familiar.

“Dante?” Elsa gasped.

His smile broadened, the skin around his eyes crinkling from it. The skin around
both
eyes.

Elsa reached out and cradled his face in her hands, gingerly running her fingertips over his right temple and down along his cheek. She couldn't see any new damage at all, and more than that, his older scars were all but gone. The skin was a bit pinker than the rest of his face, a few white lines crossing the surface.

They'd addressed his scars while performing the reconstructive surgery.

“Before you say anything,” Dante said, “I know you were opposed to the idea of me undergoing what you considered unnecessary surgery. However, I had already consulted with Garrett shortly after the dance, and since surgery had become somewhat more necessary in the intervening time, we decided to take care of the matters all at once.”

She didn't know what to say. She could tell that her mouth was hanging open, but she didn't have it in her to do anything about it. She just stared. This was Dante?

He scooted a little closer in his chair. “I know it is quite a change, and you would have preferred that we discuss the matter before I made such an important decision, but it was my last decision to make as a single man. So, as Jazz would say…” His grin became downright mischievous. “Deal with it.”

Elsa couldn't find any words. She just stared at him. She was so used to how he looked before, it was almost unsettling to see him like this.

“What are you thinking?” Dante asked. His voice was a bit thin, as if he was worried about her reaction.

“I think you've been talking to Jazz too much.”

Elsa leapt on him, kissing him probably more passionately than was advisable. But it had been so long since she'd been able to kiss him without worrying about sutures and bandages.

And he seemed
fine
. He didn't show any signs of pain as he smiled or narrowed his eyes, and from what she could see he hadn't lost any of his expressiveness.

She sat on his lap, finally coming up for air.

“I trust that means you like it,” Dante said.

“I like that you're well and I can finally kiss you again. I can kiss you again, can't I?”

“I certainly hope so. Otherwise, I'm very confused about what we were just doing.”

“You know what I mean. Did your doctor say everything's okay?”

“I am in perfect health, and the procedures went better than expected. We have no need to worry about lingering side effects, aside from the need to adjust to my new appearance.”

“I think I'll live. As long as I can keep doing this.”

And then she kissed him again, deeply and thoroughly. She didn't stop until something he said earlier rose up in her mind.

“Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘your last decision as a single man'?”

Dante rested his hands on her hips, guiding her first to stand and then sit in the chair opposite him. He knelt on one knee and produced a small black velvet box from his pocket. Elsa could feel her heart beat in her throat.

“Elsa Sinclair, you have given me a new world and a new life. I cannot imagine spending that life without you.” The sunlight gleamed off the box's contents as he opened it. “Would you do me the incomparable honor of becoming my wife?”

“A lifetime with you? Absolutely. Yes!”

He paused, feigning a puzzled expression. “It occurs to me, perhaps I should have asked for more than one lifetime, given that you are a time traveler.”

“I will gladly spend every lifetime with you.”

With a gentle smile, he lifted her left hand in his and slid the ring in place. It was only then that she calmed enough to actually look at it.

“The ring… Your mother's ring. I thought you sold it.”

“As did I. Jazz was to broker the exchange, but told me that she held it as collateral instead. She has been able to recoup the money she lent to me and more from selling my paintings and returned the ring when I told her I planned to propose.”

“I can't believe you're all still making secret plans around me, and this time I didn't even notice.”

“I should warn you that Rachel insists on designing the dress, and Jazz is already making plans for the event. I know you prefer to be in control of such things, but—”

“Are you kidding?” Elsa laughed. “I get to spend every day with you. I don't care about anything else.”

“Don't forget the nights,” he said, his smile softening.

“For the rest of our lives.”

Dante leaned in to kiss her again. They had found the ending to their book, and Elsa knew in her heart that their story was only beginning.