by AR Colbert
“My vitamins? Mom, what? Hang on—”
Rossel tugged her forward and another group of people shuffled between us, separating us just before I reached the staircase. I practically shoved the man in front of me. He was moving too slowly. My mom was up there being dragged away by some stranger and saying crazy things that sounded an awful lot like goodbye.
But she wasn’t leaving me. She wouldn’t. Right? Why didn’t she fight against him? And how did he know her name? And most importantly, why didn’t she wait for me at the top of the stairs?
My heart sank when I finally emerged back up in the hall of the gallery. The glass had been cleaned up, and yellow CAUTION tape was wrapped around the jagged glassless window frames. But my mom was still moving. She was several yards ahead, almost back to the lobby.
“Mom!” I shouted for what felt like the hundredth time. “Please stop!” I jogged ahead and muttered under my breath, “Why are you leaving me?”
One parent abandoning me was enough. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my mother, too. But she didn’t turn around. She didn’t stop.
CHAPTER 5
“Why the long face?” a deep voice asked from behind me.
I paused just long enough to find golden eyes approaching. “I think there’s something wrong with my mom. And she’s leaving without me.” I wasn’t normally the type to spill my guts to strangers, but I didn’t have time to chitchat. He placed a warm hand on my back as I turned to catch up to her again. Then he leaned in close.
“She’s not leaving. She’s just getting a drink.”
I followed his gaze over to the lobby and sure enough, she stood with Rossel, swallowing down a glass of water.
I released a lungful of air and smiled. “Oh, thank goodness.” I could breathe again. I knew my mother would never abandon me. That’s not who she was. But my heart still pounded at the thought of it.
“It’s cute the way you look after her,” he said.
I turned to face him, lifting my chin to make eye contact. He stood a head taller than me—he had to have been at least six and a half feet tall. And he looked amused, the light from the gallery reflecting off the golden specks in his irises.
“What’s your name?”
He raised two dark brows. “My name? You’re the celebrity here. Why do you care to know my name?” He flashed a full white grin. The scruff framing his mouth was endearing. With his perfect teeth and impossible eyes, the scruff kept him grounded. Without it he would have been too pretty. Unnaturally attractive. But who was I kidding? He was out of my league either way.
“Because, if we’re going to keep running into each other like this, I’d like to be able to address you by your name instead of mentally referring to you as golden eyes.”
“Ooh, golden eyes. I like that. It makes me sound mysterious.”
“It does,” I agreed. “Like a secret agent.”
“A man on a mission.” He winked.
I laughed. “So agent, are you going to tell me your name or what?”
He raised a brow and dropped his chin. “You can call me Clark. Tate Clark.”
“Well, Tate Clark. Mission accomplished. Thank you for helping me stay calm today during some really weird events.”
“It was my pleasure. The only payment I request is your autograph.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm. “Not that again. I told you that isn’t me in the portrait.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s such an enchanting painting.” His eyes cut over toward the other hall before settling on me again. He jerked his chin to the wall, motioning for me to follow him off to the side. With one more quick glance at my mother, I joined him.
“I could have sworn it was you when you walked in. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
My cheeks were on fire now. I had a tendency to get really awkward when complimented. And this was like the greatest compliment in the universe. I didn’t know how to respond. “Go on,” I said playfully. Internally I groaned at my dumb reaction. But Tate didn’t look annoyed. He chuckled and leaned his shoulder against the wall, turning his body inward toward me.
“She looks like a goddess. She’s captivating in every way. I just want to be near her.” His golden eyes were fixed on mine, and I couldn’t look away. It was like an invisible string tethered me to him. “I’m still not convinced it isn’t you.” His words slowed my breathing. They blocked out any noise or distractions around us. He was just inches away. I could feel the warmth radiating from his chest.
Involuntarily, my chin lifted up and forward. His eyes shot down to my lips, and I held my position, waiting…
Waiting for what? For him to kiss me? What on earth was I doing? He was clearly some playboy who’d swept me up with his magical words. I dropped my chin again and cleared my throat. “Well Agent Clark, I’d better get back to my mom.”
So stupid.
I backed away, and he remained propped up by the wall, that charming half grin plastered on his pretty playboy face. “When will I get to see you again, Everly—girl who isn’t in the painting?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “New York is a big city. Probably never.” Now several feet away from him, my head seemed to clear and I just wanted to make sure my mom was okay.
He crossed his arms. “I’m sure it’ll be sooner than never.”
I shot him a skeptical look. “Goodbye Tate. It was nice to meet you.”
“See you around.” He grinned.
I rounded the corner into the lobby, surprised to find it empty. I rushed through into the only other hall. It was empty, too. The painting of me—or almost me—stared defiantly from the opposite end.
“Mom?” The room was silent. I whirled around back toward Tate, but he was gone, too. What was going on? “Mom!” I yelled again. “Tate?” Everyone had disappeared.
I jumped through one of the now-empty window frames back out onto the busy street, careful not to scrape myself on the glass. I ducked under the caution tape and immediately stepped back into the world of motion that was NYC. The wave of passersby parted around me, ignorant of my panic and too distracted to care. My head swiveled back and forth, scanning the busy streets, but there was no sign of my mom anywhere. No top knots. No tall handsome strangers. It was like I’d dreamed up the whole afternoon.
A police car was parked by the curb in front of the gallery. Two officers sat inside, pounding out notes on an outdated laptop. I ran up and banged on the passenger’s window with the palm of my hand.
The officer inside furrowed his brows. He took his time closing up the computer where he typed, and rolled down the window. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“Yes. Were you working the explosion over here?” I gestured toward the gallery.
“Yeah.” He looked annoyed. The driver watched our exchange silently, pulling a disposable cup of coffee up to his mouth and taking a long sip.
“Did you happen to see where everyone went?”
“Uh, nope.”
I frowned. “One of the artists is a thin man with white hair. He wore it in a bun. You couldn’t miss him. He was with my mom, and I can’t find them. Are you sure you didn’t see them leave?”
He shook his head. “Can’t help you. Sorry.” The window started moving back up, closing me out.
“Wait!” I slid my hand into the narrow opening, forcing the officer to keep it down a little longer.
“What now?”
“I’d like to file a missing persons report, please.”
He rolled his eyes. “We can’t file a report for your mommy, sweetheart. Did you check the bathroom? Maybe she’s going potty.” The driver snorted.
My hands clenched into fists. Why was this officer being such a jerk? Sheriff Halsey back home would never speak to me this way. Couldn’t he see I was distressed?
“Fine. I’ll file it for myself, then. I’m missing. Can you please return me to my mom?”
He huffed. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
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“You’re a legal adult. Find your own way home.” The window began rolling up again, even with my fingers still perched on top of it.
“Hang on!” I cried out, but my plea was ignored. I pulled my hand out at the last second. The officer opened his laptop again and motioned for me to go.
Argghhh! I kicked his tire.
Bloop, bloop. The car chirped at me. The officers sat inside scowling. That was a warning. I’d better watch it or I’d be in even bigger trouble.
I circled back around to the front of the gallery and dropped to the sidewalk, leaning my back against the wall. Surely she was going to come back for me. She wouldn’t go back to my aunt’s house without me. If I left to search the streets, I’d miss her. And even if she didn’t return right away, Rossel would definitely come back at some point, and I could ask him about her then. Fumbling through my bag, I located my phone and dialed the only New York number I knew.
“Millie? Hey, it’s Everly. I’m gonna miss dinner tonight.”
CHAPTER 6
Millie arrived within minutes. Her driver maneuvered a black luxury sedan into a tight spot in front of the gallery, parked, and exited to open my aunt’s door for her.
I loved my aunt Millie. I really did. But she was one of the most eccentric women I’d ever encountered. Even the way she exited the vehicle was a bit of a production. She extended one lean leg out of the car first, pointing her toes as though she wanted everyone on the sidewalk to admire the hot pink heel on her foot. Then she stood tall, revealing shiny silver shorts that appeared to be made of mylar, and a pale blue blouse with giant boxy sleeves shaped like milk jugs. Her lipstick matched her heels, and smoky dark lines of kohl rimmed her crystal blue eyes, which were almost the same shade as her shirt.
She was a beautiful woman, but she took the high fashion magazines a little too literally. And she definitely didn’t look like your average neighborhood pharmacist. Mom and I always joked that by “pharmacist,” Millie was actually telling us she was a drug dealer for the rich and famous. That would better explain her vast wealth, anyway.
But beneath her extreme attire and over-the-top luxurious lifestyle, Millie had a heart of pure gold.
“Everly!” She shuffled through the crowd, heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk, and wrapped me in a hug. “You really called at exactly the perfect moment. We were just returning to the house with some extra cheese for dinner tonight. We were just around the corner there.”
“Cheese?”
“Yes, it’s a Caciocavallo imported from—never mind. Tell me what happened, dear.”
I filled her in with a quick, pared down recount of the afternoon, starting with the painting and finishing with my rejection by the police officers, who were still parked by the curb.
“I see,” she said, tapping her foot on the sidewalk. “Go back to the part where you last saw her. She was taking a drink of water? Why didn’t you join her then?”
“I was, uh, talking to someone.”
“Hmmm…” Millie pursed her lips, a knowing look on her face. Thankfully she didn’t push the issue. I was pretty embarrassed about losing track of my mother because I had been too caught up batting my lashes at Tate. Even if he was quite googly-eye-worthy, it wasn’t worth it.
“You’re right,” my aunt continued. “It’s not like her to leave. But I can’t imagine the artist has any nefarious intentions. Perhaps she found him attractive and they went to get drinks.”
“Millie! She would never ditch me to go get drinks with some artist. Besides, I told you she was angry with him. Like, unnecessarily angry. It was honestly a little over the top.”
“Not if he was some stalker who’d been following you.”
“Stalker? Really?”
“He knew your face well enough to paint it, didn’t he?”
“Well, if that were the case, she certainly wouldn’t have grabbed drinks with him.”
She frowned. “I suppose not. This is strange, indeed.” She looked around. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
I watched Millie stride over to the police car with confidence enough to convince them she was the Queen of New York. She stopped with her feet together and folded her body forward at the waist, leaning toward the window with an innocent smile on her lips and a sweet little wave.
“Hi, officers.”
The passenger rolled his window down with much more interest than he’d shown me earlier.
“Hello, ma’am.” The driver leaned over and waved to her as well. Don’t look too eager, boys. I rolled my eyes.
“I hate to bother you, but my niece here thinks she may have left something inside the gallery earlier—you know, during all the chaos. And now the owners seem to have vacated the premises.” She pouted. “Would you mind if we took a look inside? I promise we won’t be long.”
“I’m afraid this is private—”
“That would be just fine, ma’am.” The officer in the driver’s seat unabashedly interrupted the passenger. He grinned, flashing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. “Take all the time you need. We’ll even keep a watch out here for you, just to make sure nothing shady is lurking around the corner.” He winked at her. Gross.
“Thank you very much. We’ll be quick.” She returned to her full height and brushed the front of her metallic shorts. “After you,” she said to me, gesturing toward the open window.
“Why don’t we just take the door?” I asked.
“If you insist.” She shrugged and pulled the doors open.
Inside, an eerie silence still hung heavy in the air. “Hello? Rossel? Jude?” No answer. The place was a ghost town. “The painting is over that way.” I directed Millie to the hall on the left. “I’m going to check the basement again in case she snuck back down there while I was talking earlier.”
Millie gave me a thumbs up, then walked away humming a Beatles tune. Her song and the clicking of her heels were a welcome break in the silence. I turned down the other hall toward the basement door. The same lonely light flickered overhead as I tiptoed down the staircase. “Hello?” I called out again for good measure, but I knew no one would respond.
The basement was empty, just as I’d expected. But with the crowds cleared out, I was able to take a closer look at the room. Drabby filing cabinets lined the walls, though I supposed they might’ve held some pretty fascinating items behind their dull Band-aid colored exteriors. But the real stars of the show were the glass cabinets. One on the far side of the room was emitting a neon blue glow.
Curious, I decided to take a closer look. Subconsciously, I knew it was wrong to snoop through other people’s private collections. My body tried to warn me with the hair rising on end across my arms and the back of my neck. But with every step I took, the light seemed to brighten. It was almost pulsing. Alive. Like it had its own heartbeat, which oddly, was perfectly in sync with my own.
Finally, I reached the cabinet. Inside, among the other figurines and artifacts, lay an ancient clay tablet, inscribed with symbols I couldn’t recognize. Deep in the grooves of the tiny symbols, the tablet pulsed with the blue glow that had caught my eye from the doorway. It wasn’t large—barely bigger than the size of my hand, but it felt alive, somehow. The thought quickened my pulse, which seemed to quicken the tablet’s pulse as well.
“Everly?” Millie’s voice called out from the top of the stairs.
“Coming!” I dashed over to join her, suddenly overcome with guilt. I shouldn’t have been poking around. Now I’d probably have nightmares about the living tablet in the basement. It was definitely the start of some poorly written horror movie—something was likely stirring in its sarcophagus on the other side of the world now. Way to go, Everly.
I was breathless when I reached her at the top of the stairs. Millie tilted her head and glanced over my shoulder down the staircase. “Everything okay down there?”
“Yep. Fine.” I smiled too broadly.
She stared at me silently for a moment, then must have decided it wasn’t imp
ortant enough to pursue any further. “Well, I had a look. And that is definitely a painting of you. No one else has eyes like that.”
“Sure they do. It’s a condition called Heterochromia iridium.” I argued. “Plus, if he got such precise details as my eyes, why didn’t he include my scar?” I gestured to the obvious raised line under my lip. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”
“Mm.” Millie made the same noise my mom had when I pointed out the scar to her earlier. It was one of the rare moments when I actually remembered they were twins.
Other than their terribly outdated names—Mildred and Matilda, or Millie and Tilly for short—there really weren’t many similarities between them. Millie craved the spotlight. She loved to be the center of attention. She lived extravagantly, in a townhome in the upper East Side of Manhattan worth some ridiculous number of millions of dollars.
My mom, on the other hand, was a simple woman. She’d moved me out to the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma after my dad left us when I was just a baby. She said she was tired of people. Tired of the negativity in the world. So she set us up on our own plot of land, complete with a half acre garden, orchard, cattle, horses, chickens, and a pot belly pig named Chorizo.
Physically, they may have looked alike fresh out of the shower. But Millie was always done up with perfect makeup, hair, and nails, while my mom preferred jeans, boots, and a ponytail. Both were beautiful in their own way. They had the same hearty laugh, the same quick wit, and the same clever gleam in their gorgeous crystalline eyes. Somehow those genes had missed me. I took more after my dad, whoever he was.
A flutter of white caught my attention just in time to see the same little white owl from earlier in the day land on the edge of a window frame.
“Hey, little guy. A lot has happened since I last saw you. Sorry to tell you your owners have gone.”
“Are you talking to that owl?” Millie asked, eyes wide.
“Yeah. We met earlier.”
“Are you kidding me?!” She squeezed my upper arm.
