Wandering Soul (5 page)

“My theory's that she doesn't like blonds.” Garrett winked at Dante and continued. “Jazz tried to set her up with an artist from the gallery a while back, but Elsa didn't take the bait. Jazz said Elsa didn't even realize it was a blind date. Which is probably good, because if Elsa knew, she would've killed Jazz.”

Dante took a moment as his mind pored over Garrett's words.
Setting Elsa up
with someone in conjunction with speaking of dates helped his understanding. However, the idea of a
blind
date puzzled him. He dismissed the idea of actual blindfolds and presumed they merely had not met previously. This Jazz person was making the introduction.

“I am unfamiliar with that name. Where is he from?”

“
She
is from Kansas City.” Garrett's smile faded, one eyebrow rising on his forehead. “Elsa didn't tell you about Jazz?”

Dante scrambled to provide an explanation that would not rouse Garrett's suspicions, determined to keep Elsa's secret safe.

“We have not known each other for terribly long. I am eager to learn more about her friends.”

“I bet,” Garrett said, a smirk deepening the dimples on either side of his face. “Jazz is Elsa's best friend from college. They met at some arty school up in Virginia. Her real name is Ling, but since she's from Kansas City, people called her Jazz. It really suits her, so it stuck.”

“Does it have something to do with the cattle trade?”

“What?”

“The word
jazz
. I am unfamiliar with it.”

Garrett stared at Dante, his jaw slack. Dante must have made some dire mistake, given away his ignorance of this time. His fears were realized when Garrett said, “Where the hell did Elsa find you that you don't know what jazz is?”

Not wanting to lie to the man, Dante came up with a palatable truth. “I fear where I am from is quite behind the times.”

Garrett laughed. “Well, my friend, you are in for a treat. Jazz is only the best form of music ever invented. I know all the best jazz bars around. Once Elsa's back on her feet, you and I can hit the town and paint it red.”

Dante wondered if any of the books in the encyclopedia set covered the common vernacular. He could tell there was quite a bit he needed to catch up on. But it was clear that Garrett meant his words as a sincere invitation. He was not concerned to be seen with Dante in public. Garrett did not even know that Dante had the good manners to wear a mask.

His throat constricted at the thought. Could people truly have changed so much that he could walk the streets without hearing gasps or screams?

“Thank you,” Dante said.

“For an excuse to go to the clubs? I'm looking forward to it already.”

The conversation was strangely intimate. It was hard not to feel comfortable in Garrett's company. Dante could not recall ever having such a discussion with another. He had been lured into similar conversations briefly, but those had always taken cruel turns.

Garrett seemed genuine, accepting. Already, by bringing Dante to her home, Elsa had given him an opportunity he had never encountered before. Friendship. He was not used to being with someone who treated him as an equal. His closest experiences had been mentoring Mary and being mentored by Heinrich.

Grief pierced Dante's heart at the memory of his father, sharp and deep. The weight of Klaus's loss pushed the knife in further.

Without his mask, Dante could not hide his distress. He was more exposed than he had ever been. Vulnerable. Visible. It was too much.

“Might I trouble you to bring me my mask?” Dante's voice took on a rough sound, like waves breaking on a rocky shore.

“Your mask?”

“It is just beyond in the other room. When Winston cried out, there was no time for me to put it on.”

“Sure.”

Garrett rose from the bed, and Dante took the moment of semi-privacy to close his eyes and try to regain his composure. He took a deep breath, but that merely filled his lungs with the sweet fragrance of Elsa's hair. While it brought to mind more pleasant thoughts, they did nothing to help calm him.

The light was still on in the bathroom. Garrett picked up Dante's mask, slowly turning it over in his hands. He took a few steps toward the bed, but paused in the doorway. His gaze never left the mask.

“What the hell?” Garrett said, lifting the mask. “Did Elsa put you up to this?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This mask. It feels like porcelain. And the design is just too much. There is a line, man.”

“I fear I am still at a loss.”

Garrett shook his head and said, “I don't know what you guys have going, but this is a little messed up.”

Garrett's lip twitched up, as if Dante's mask offended him. The irony of the idea nearly made Dante laugh aloud, until Garrett looked up at them, the same expression of distaste on his features. He walked around the bed, then set the mask on the bedside table nearest Dante.

“Look, if you guys want to dress up and play
Phantom of the Opera
, that's your business. But I think it's a little weird and more than a little unhealthy. Tell me you at least have some more practical masks you use out in public.”

“That is the only mask I possess.”

In fact, it was
all
Dante possessed, aside from his mother's ring and the clothes he'd been wearing when Elsa brought him to this time. Dante was used to having little, though this brought the matter to extremes.

“Well, if you ever want something more comfortable, come see me.” Garrett pointed over his shoulder. “I'm just next door.”

Dante could not fathom what had upset Garrett so, but it was troublesome enough to end their conversation. Strangely, even after such a short time, Dante missed talking with him. Garrett sat by the fire, a grim set to his lips as he stared at Dante. Exhausted as he was, he doubted he would sleep under Garrett's watchful gaze.

Chapter Six

Gravity was crushing every molecule of Elsa's body. The mattress couldn't possibly keep supporting her. She envisioned it collapsing as she sank into the earth.

Panic chewed at the edges of her mind. She pushed it away by focusing all of her energy on waking up. Gradually, the weight lifted until she felt strong enough to force open her eyelids.

Dante was lying on the settee, a book splayed open in his hand as he slept. Most of his face was concealed behind his mask. With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, Elsa's panic was replaced with wonder. She might have thought she was dreaming, except for the bone-deep exhaustion. She was too tired to be asleep.

He had pulled the settee right next to the bed, close enough for her to reach out and touch him—if she could lift her arm. He was wearing black slacks and one of the white linen shirts from his wardrobe. His shirt had fallen open a bit, revealing his pale skin.

She noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. A warm feeling spread through her at seeing him dressed so casually in her home. He looked comfortable, like he belonged. Several dozen books from the encyclopedia set were stacked around him, forming a miniature city.

Dante must have sensed her watching him, because his eyes slowly opened, an earthy jade today.

“Elsa?”

She shivered at the velvet sound of his voice.

“Has your chill returned?” He put his book next to him as he rose from the settee. He sat next to her on the bed, then lifted one of her hands in his and pressed it against his left cheek for a moment. He didn't release her hand when he lowered it from his face. “You seem warm enough. How do you feel?”

When Elsa tried to speak, her throat was dry and raw. She half expected sand to come out instead.

“I'm fine,” she croaked.

Dante frowned. “Let me get you some water.”

She wanted to stay in that perfect moment for a while longer, to tell him not to go, but her mouth wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she tried to gauge how much time had passed.

Light peeked around the edges of the curtains, so it was at least morning. She was still in Dante's room. Other than the relocated settee and stacks of books around it, nothing had changed.

Dante set the glass of water on the bedside table. Without hesitating, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Elsa's heart started pounding. She was vividly aware of every place their bodies touched.

All too soon, he released her, having propped her up against some pillows. He sat next to her on the bed, then brought the glass of water to her lips.

Being coddled was strange and seemed inappropriate. She was supposed to be helping him, not the other way around. Her arms trembled as she reached for the glass. She wasn't sure if it was from fatigue or his proximity.

“Please, allow me to assist,” he said.

She didn't have the strength to argue. Instead, she nodded, then drank half the glass with his help. Finally able to speak again, she said, “I'm sorry I slept late.”

“You may sleep as long as you like. I am merely relieved to see you so much better.”

Better than what? Her brain felt like it was made of cotton. She struggled to put words together in a way that made sense. The last thing she remembered was being in his room and laying out some pajamas for him. She must have passed out.

“I was just tired. I didn't mean to leave you alone so long.”

“Winston and Leonardo have been excellent company. And Garrett has been visiting twice a day.”

“Garrett?”

A surge of adrenaline scattered the fog in her mind. Garrett had been there while she slept? How had Dante explained his presence? What had he told Garrett?

Action seemed imperative. Elsa leaned forward, but Dante gripped her shoulders, then gently pushed her back against the pillows. It was a good thing too, because the room was starting to spin again.

“You must not let yourself get overexcited.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A little over two days.”

“Two days?” she nearly shouted. Her mind reeled. How could she have left him alone for two days? And right after bringing him to her time. He must have been so lost. “I'm sorry.”

“It is I who must apologize. Bringing me here appears to have taxed you greatly.”

“You didn't tell them, did you?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself, but once it was spoken, she couldn't think of anything except his answer.

“I have kept your confidences. You can trust me.”

If only she could. But trust was something that had died in her long ago.

Winston arrived before she could say anything else. His eyes had dark shadows under them, and his shoulders were slumped.

“Any change?” Winston asked, shuffling toward them.

“Indeed.” Dante stood, pushing stacks of books out of Winston's way to clear a path to the bed.

“Good morning, Winston,” Elsa said.

Winston's eyes widened and a broad smile spread across his face. “Oh thank God.”

He stumbled over to her, hands outstretched. Elsa grasped them, leading Winston toward her so he could sit on the bed at her side.

“Are you all right?” Winston asked.

“I think so.”

Winston leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. “I was so worried.”

“Um, Winston, could you not squeeze me so hard?”

“Oh dear.” He pulled back. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just need to use…” She glanced over at Dante, trying not to blush.

“Yeah, I bet you do. Sleeping for days. A grown woman!” Winston stood, but didn't let go of Elsa's hands. “I'll help you up.”

Dante was lingering nearby, and said, “Perhaps you would allow me?”

“That's a good idea.” Winston turned to Dante and said, “You get her comfortable while I make lunch. She must be famished!”

Winston patted Elsa's hand, then hobbled out of the room. Before she could argue, Dante stepped forward and lifted her from the bed. He did it with practiced ease, and she wondered if he had been the one to carry her to bed in the first place.

The image brought on another shiver, which she tried to ignore. It wasn't easy, feeling his chest pressed against her side. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her.

“Are you certain that you are not cold?” he asked as he headed toward the bathroom.

“I'm fine. Why do you keep asking about that?”

He tilted his head away, but she could see the red flush creeping over his skin even with his mask.

“You were quite cold the night I arrived.” he said. He stopped at the door to the bathroom, then set her on her feet. “Are you certain you can manage on your own?”

“I'll be fine.”

From the way his jaw tightened, he seemed to disagree. “I shall be close. If you need anything, you have only to call for me.”

He spoke with such intensity, almost protectiveness. But again, that was backward. Elsa was supposed to be in that role. Before she could take care of anyone else, though, she really needed to take care of herself.

“Thanks.” She slipped through the door.

She rushed through her most basic bodily needs, eager to get back to him. When she opened the door to the bedroom again, Dante was standing by the armoire, tracing the carvings with his fingertips. He paused when he saw her.

Determined to show him she was fine, Elsa started toward him, but after two steps she wasn't sure which way was up again. It didn't matter, because he was there to catch her. He gathered her against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her heart felt strangely full. Leaning into him, she felt warmth suffuse her body. No one had ever carried her so tenderly before.

She couldn't let herself enjoy it. If she did, it would be that much more painful when she finally had to let him go.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm just still a bit dizzy. And I'm not used to being carried around.”

“Until you are recovered, perhaps you should strive to become accustomed to it.” Dante said, heading to the door. Her stomach did a happy little flip. “I presume there is a kitchen elsewhere in the house?”

She had to clear her throat to reply. “Downstairs.”

He nodded, but paused at the open doorway. In a soft voice, he said, “I have not left this room since you brought me here.”

“Not once in two days?”

“That would have meant leaving your side and I could not bring myself to do so.” He drew in a quick breath, as if trying to pull the words back into his mouth. “That is to say…”

“Thank you.”

The smile he gave her was gentle, and he held her a little closer to his chest. She wondered if he was even aware of it. He took another deep breath, his arms stiffening around her, then stepped over the threshold. He paused again on the other side and let out a brief laugh. Elsa felt his arms relax, and he bowed his head as if relieved.

“I half expected to be transported back to my time.”

“I would bring you back again.”

“I—” Whatever he'd been about to say, he seemed to think better of it. “I appreciate that.”

“I don't think it'll be necessary, though. Leonardo's been with me for years now.”

Elsa had never told anyone about Leonardo. The only person she had ever spoken with about her power… Well, it was best not to think about that.

The conversation felt even stranger with Dante carrying her. As much as she loved being close to him, the idea of needing someone to take care of her was unnerving. She was literally burdening him.

Her weakness would pass. She was certain of it. And then she could be the one taking care of him. She just had to make sure she didn't enjoy herself too much in the meantime. With a sinking feeling, she realized she could get used to feeling his arms around her all too quickly.

Dante glanced at his feet while walking to the stairs, as if checking to make sure Leonardo wasn't trying to run between them. That was probably a good idea.

“You brought the cat from another time?” he asked.

“Yes. It was an accident, though.”

“How so?”

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs, which meant Winston was much too close for them to be talking about time travel.

Lowering her voice, she said, “Could I tell you about it later? I'd rather not discuss this around Winston.”

“Of course.”

Dante carried her down the hallway to the kitchen. A plate of sandwiches was already on the table, and Winston was standing near the stove, the kettle just beginning to whistle.

“Is that an electric range?” Dante asked, an edge of excitement to his voice.

“Yes, it is.” Elsa hadn't thought this through. Dante was going to have questions. Strange questions that she'd have trouble answering in front of Winston.

As if on cue, Winston chuckled and said, “You don't have stoves in your hometown, either?”

Dante must have faced this sort of thing during the days that Elsa was sleeping. She wondered how he had managed.

“I have never seen a stove of this variety,” he said, glancing down at her. She smiled, hoping that his other conversations had gone as well.

“I think I'm strong enough to sit up.” She nodded toward the table. Dante crossed the room and gingerly set her in a chair. “Thanks.”

Within moments of Elsa having a lap, Leonardo ran into the room and jumped onto it. He purred loudly, hitting her in the face with his tail as he pranced around on her legs. Winston turned toward them, carrying a tray with the teapot and three cups.

“Allow me,” Dante said, taking the tray and setting it on the table. He poured the tea and added milk and sugar to each of the cups, then handed one to Elsa and one to Winston before sitting down himself.

The moment was completely surreal. She was having tea with Winston and a man who, three days ago, had been in the late 1800s.

“I called Garrett to let him know you're awake,” Winston said. “He left strict orders that you're not to overdo and to keep getting plenty of rest.”

“I think I can manage that.” She took a bite of her sandwich and found that she was absolutely starving. She tried to pace herself in front of Dante, but wondered if the stack of food in front of her would be enough.

“Can you now?” Winston snorted, then turned to Dante. “This is on you, Dante. Turn your back on her for a minute, and she'll be doing all kinds of things she oughtn't. Laundry and dishes.”

“I assure you, Elsa's well-being is the very highest of my priorities,” Dante said. His words sent a thrill through Elsa, and she felt herself blushing.

Winston made a “hmph” sound, but he was smiling. “Garrett will be by this evening. I'll make a special dinner.”

“I would be happy to assist,” Dante said.

“Your job is to look after Elsa.” Winston laughed and said, “Trust me, I have the easier task.”

Elsa was too tired to be offended. Plus, she was enjoying the conversation too much, watching Dante and Winston smile as they talked to one another.

They finished eating and, exhausted though she was, she couldn't stand the thought of going back to bed. There was so much she wanted to show Dante, so much to tell him.

“Let me show you around the house,” she said.

“I would like that a great deal.” Dante pushed his chair back from the table and stood. He began gathering up dishes, but Winston reached out and swatted at his hands, landing a few pretty good thwacks.

“You're as bad as she is. That's for me to do. Go on now.”

Dante looked like he might object, but was distracted as Elsa nudged Leonardo from her lap, then tried to stand and fell right back in her chair. Her legs wouldn't support her.

“Allow me.” Dante swooped her up again.

She couldn't resist leaning against his chest. His arms were strong around her, lifting her with ease. She had never enjoyed someone's touch so much.