11. Caleb

ELEVEN

Caleb

Willow didn’t own a car, or if she did, she kept it somewhere that wasn’t near her home. I had no use for a car, as four legs were better than four wheels, so we walked back to the art studio.

I knew that she was self-conscious of being seen with me. Her furtive glances left and right gave her away, but the walk back to Main Street was quiet. It was early evening, and businesses were either closed or closing up. Too early for the few restaurants to be doing much trade.

“Why here?” I asked her as we walked. I wasn’t particularly interested; I just wanted to make sure that if anyone did see us, she would look more willing to be with me if they saw her talking.

“I liked the name.” She shrugged as she looked around. “How could you not like here? It’s populated but quiet, it has a strong tourist trade who like to buy art of where they’ve been hiking, the property prices are decent… It all worked. ”

“It is a good spot,” I agreed. “Mountains and forests on your doorstep, cleanish air.”

“Cleanish?” Willow shot me a look that I’d come to recognize as she didn’t agree with me. “It’s so fresh and clean here.”

She would never understand as she wasn’t a shifter. “I’ve inhaled fresher.” That earned me an eye roll, but she didn’t pursue it. “You study art at school?”

“Yup.”

Okay, so she was going to make it difficult. “Which school?”

“Am I to assume you don’t already know?”

She really was feeling sassy today. “I know very little about you, Willow, and what I do know, I already feel is too much.”

“Then why are you asking me questions!”

“I was trying to make the walk more enjoyable.”

“I would enjoy my forced walk more if it was done in silence.”

“Understood.”

I never mentioned it when her stride got shorter or the fact that she was slowing down. I merely adjusted my own pace to match hers. If she noticed, she said nothing. I was lost in my thoughts when she spoke, surprising me.

“I went to school in Boulder.”

“Colorado?”

“Yes.”

“Nice.” It was a town I was familiar with. “The Flatirons are a good hike.”

“So I’m led to believe.”

“You’ve never hiked?” She shook her head. “You told me before you’ve had your illness since you were sixteen? ”

“No, I got sick when I was sixteen; I developed ME after that.”

“Mono?” I tried not to laugh. “I forgot you said that.”

“I caught an infection. I hadn’t kissed anyone,” she snapped at me, causing me to grin at the scowl she sent my way.

“What age were you when you first kissed?” I had no idea why I asked it, but she was so adamant the other night about not being a virgin, and now she was telling me she caught mono from not kissing, I couldn’t help but poke the bear.

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“I know. Humor me, I’m bored.”

“It’s not my job to humor you.” Willow glowered at me once more. “If anything, I think I give you too much amusement as it is.”

I wisely said nothing.

We finally arrived at Main Street, and I was as relieved as she was. Willow was perspiring, her breathing was forced, and I felt like a dick for making her walk back here tonight. Inside, she pointed to one of the stools, and I nodded as she made her way to it.

“You have water in that fridge in the back?” She nodded and I went and got her a bottle of water. I hovered while she gulped it down, watching her hold the bottle to her forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to increase my exercise, but it’s been a day.”

“Am I affecting you?”

Her eyes were closed as she cooled herself down, but I saw the twitch of a smile. “You are, but not in the way you mean.”

I looked away from her, and the first painting that caught my eye was hanging prime center of her gallery. Moving closer, I took in the waterfall, the pool below it, and the rocks that were large enough to lie out on nearby. Her attention to detail was to be commended, but it didn’t stop the fury that rode through my veins as I looked upon this sacred haven.

“The wolf,” she spoke from behind me, “it was sitting beside those large slabs of rock.”

I nodded. I wanted to reach out and touch the water, it looked so inviting.

“I tried to place it in the scene, but it didn’t fit.”

“Because he doesn’t belong there,” I murmured. “He hasn’t belonged there for a very long time.”

“He?”

Turning, I hadn’t been aware that she had moved, and she was behind me, within hearing distance. I’d been so caught up in the memories I never heard her moving. That was careless.

“You know this place?” she asked me curiously.

“I do. You need to stop painting.”

Willow’s eyes went from interested to outraged in seconds. “Why?”

“Because every time you paint something like this, it’s dangerous.”

“It’s a landscape painting.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“I can’t tell you why, just trust me.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, her face hardening. “Tell me why.”

“I can’t.”

We glared at each other for a few more moments before Willow turned away from me, seeking the support of a chair. “You exhaust me.” I could see how heavy her exhaustion lay upon her.

“I know.” Turning away from her, I took the painting off the wall. “I’ll pay for this.” Looking over at her, I saw her anger and frustration. “You need sales, I’m buying, you should be pleased.”

“You’re buying them to destroy them. It doesn’t make me happy. I put hours of work into that.”

“Name the price.”

She shook her head sadly as she looked away from me. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that you’re painting scenes you don’t know. I understand that your visions scare you. What I don’t understand is why you’d want to paint them.”

Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. Sniffling a little, she looked down at her legs. “Because they speak to me.”

“Really? What do they say?” I asked her, knowing I hadn’t hidden the sarcasm in my question.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Pushing my hair back, I watched her, with my hands on top of my head. How could one woman be so completely aggravating? I would understand, but to push her might scare her away even more. “There’s a lot here that neither of us understands. I don’t really want to know more, do you?”

“The frequency with which I painted when you were gone increased.” Willow was looking at her gallery wall. “Painting takes time, preciseness, but these…they flew off my palette onto the canvas.” She looked at me and back to the wall. “I couldn’t not paint them. Do you understand that? ”

“Truthfully? No.”

“Me neither.” Slowly she walked over to the other side of the room, and I watched as she opened a door to a small storage cupboard. When she struggled to lift a canvas, I hurried over to help. When we were finished, there were six new paintings.

All landscapes, all of places she could never have seen.

“The two men who came here the other week and bought six paintings, I think they’re linked.”

Carefully I watched her. “What do you mean?”

“They bought six, you bought one, I made seven more.” Her hand had a tremble in it when she waved it over them. “I don’t know these places, but I know them.” With a tired sigh, she rocked back on her heels. “These are my best work, and I produced them like I was rolling them off a printer.” Willow pointed to one. “I don’t think the paint is even dry on that one,” she scoffed. She finally looked up at me. “What’s happening to me, Caleb?”

“We need to figure that out.”

“And how do we do that? Do you continue to break into my home?”

“I would like to stop having to do that,” I admitted. “But I feel that—no, that’s not right, I know that—I need to make sure I see what you’re painting.” I dreaded the next words that I would have to say. “I need you to meet someone.”

“Who?” Willow waited nervously.

“A friend of a friend.”

“What does this friend do?”

“It’s complicated to explain.” I also wasn’t sure how I was going to ask Alpha Cannon for help from his shaman. If he even had a shaman. “If I can get them to agree to meet you, will you come?”

“Will they bite me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Willow. It was a nip.” She ignored my protest and waited patiently. “They won’t bite you.” I hesitated, and her eyebrows raised in question. “They may take some blood.”

“Why would they need my blood?”

“Willow, you’re having visions. You’re dreaming about people you’ve never met and places you’ve never been to. Is this really the part you’re going to question?”

Dipping her head, she stared at the floor. “I don’t know, don’t you think I, we , should be questioning it all?”

“Yes. I do. Hence I want you to meet someone .”

“Will they take blood from you too?”

I almost told her it wouldn’t be necessary, but I lied and nodded. She seemed to relax then. She also looked ready to pass out.

“We need to get you home.”

“Yeah.” She tried to stand up but swayed. “Shit, you’re doing it again.”

“Or painting seven full-on landscapes in a week hasn’t helped,” I griped as I reached to steady her.

Willow smiled at the acidity in my tone. “Or that.” She leaned into me, and I knew, had she been healthier, she would have wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. “I won’t make the walk.”

“You don’t say.” My hand circled the nape of her neck, my thumb hovering over one of her pressure points, ready to press down .

“You’re even more sarcastic than I am.” Willow looked up at me. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“You are.” I applied pressure to the point I knew would incapacitate her, and caught her as she fell, then looked around the studio. “Now what?” Picking her up, I looked for a place to lay her down. “I should have kept moving,” I muttered to myself.

The store had stools and a sales desk but no actual bench. Carrying her through to the small kitchenette, I had no choice but to put her on the short counter beside the sink. She was half slumped over in a sitting position, but I hoped I didn’t need to wait too long.

Pulling the phone from the inside of my jacket, I called the one number I had stored in there.

“Caleb?”

“Royce…I need a shaman.” I heard his unspoken question. “She’s painted seven more. Places she should never know existed.” My reflection looked back at me as I stared out the small window in the back of the store, grateful that no one passing by would see the store owner passed out beside me.

“She’s human,” Royce reminded me. “A shaman will be of no use for her.”

“No, I don’t expect him to be, but he needs to see these paintings. He needs to ask Luna for answers.”

“Now you believe?” I understood the skepticism in his voice.

“I always believed. I just didn’t accept the plan mapped out for me.”

I heard him grunt. “Few of us rarely do. ”

The sound of the phone being covered followed, and when he came on the line, I was expecting him. “Alpha Cannon.”

“We don’t have a shaman,” he told me bluntly. “We have a doctor and, well…it’s complicated.”

“Too complicated for an alpha?”

“What did she paint?”

“It’d be easier if you asked what she didn’t paint.” Tilting my head back, I looked at the ceiling. “She’s been drawing my wolf.”

Silence was my answer, and I waited patiently. “Forget the two weeks. Bring her and everything she’s painted, sketched, or doodled. Bring them here.”

“Everything?” I walked back into the store. “She has a lot of artwork.”

“Then get a bigger truck. I expect to see you soon.”

He hung up.

“Well, that went well.”

“You told me you didn’t have a phone.”

Of course she was awake. Going back into the kitchen, I saw Willow sitting where I’d left her. Her look was once more cautious. “How much did you hear?”

“You were talking about how much art I had.”

“Anything else?” When she shook her head, I opened myself more to my wolf. Letting the shifter magic ride close to the surface, I listened with my wolf senses. Her heart was rapid, but it wasn’t racing. Her breathing was labored, a sign of her exhaustion. She wasn’t lying. “I told you I knew someone who could help. Maybe. That was them.” Willow didn’t say anything, her gaze careful as she waited for me to finish. “Two problems we need to solve.” Her eyes narrowed in anticipation of not liking what I was going to say, which was expected and a little amusing. “One, you have a lot of art, and we need to take it all with us.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I carried on. “Two, we need to go to them, so you need to close the store for a few days.”

“No.” Sliding off the counter, she stood, her legs unsteady, but she backed away from my automatic offer to help. “Absolutely not. I can’t leave here for a few days . Are you insane? I run a business .”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” I mocked her slightly and was rewarded with a look of fury. “You need a break—don’t argue with me. You’re running yourself into the ground. Maybe, maybe , a break is exactly what you need. Maybe being with me, away from all this, will help.”

“How?” Her expression was so skeptical that I knew I’d have to think faster on my feet.

“I’m basically your muse, right?”

“Wrong.”

The flat stare was unyielding. “Humor me, okay?” Think smart, Caleb, easy does it. “What do we know so far?” I asked her, changing tactics. “About a month or so before I arrived in Whispering Pines, you started drawing me. Right?” She nodded once. “Then you meet me, confront me, really for no fault of my own”—the scowl was back—“and you move from painting just me to landscapes, scenes that you’ve never been to but I have .” Willow’s brow was creased as she waited for me to get to the point. I was eager to know where I was going with this myself. “I left, and your subconscious spread out from the…” I struggled for the right word, “contained area to a wider catchment area. ”

“Wider catchment area?”

“Not my best word choice. Just roll with it, okay?” Willow’s huff of derision spoke volumes. “I come back, and you’re back to me. Right?” She was going to deny it. “I was in your room; I saw them all. Honestly, it’s a little creepy.”

“I’m not obsessed with you or anything like that,” she snapped, her face flushing.

“Really? Tell that to the two sketchbooks and the stumps of HBs that are in your trash can.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“I’m stating facts. That doesn’t make me arrogant.”

“Okay then, you’re a dick.” She smiled sweetly at me. “Better?”

I shrugged. “Probably more accurate.” She lost her smile. “But I’m also right.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from me. “See? Arrogant.”

“My point is, I think if you’re with me, you’ll draw less and ”—I spoke over whatever she was going to say—“you’ll rest better. You told me yourself, you’re drained. You’re dreaming, or the visions that you’re having are eating into the time when you need your body to replenish itself. Instead, you are hurting yourself.”

“So your best idea is for me to spend time with the person who may be making me ill to start with?”

“What have you got to lose?”

Willow gestured to the studio. “My business .”

Ugh, she was a stubborn woman. “Look. You have ME. Don’t stand there and tell me you haven’t had this store closed for days before when you’ve had a bad spell? ”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it was a necessity; it wasn’t my choice.”

“Is that all?” I grinned at her, and she took a slight step back. “Why didn’t you just tell me to kidnap you if it makes it easier for you?”

“I…kidnap? What! ”

“Relax, it won’t even hurt.” I turned away from her to look at the amount of art. “Help me pack this up first, and I’ll tie you up first thing in the morning. Deal?”