Cupid Painted Blind - A Collection of Paranormal Romance Stories

by Powell, C. G. ; Lavender, Cait; Rayns, Lisa; Hardin, Olivia; Nelson, Stephanie; Schulte, Liz

  As it was, she was already living out of her little beaten down 1997 Ford Escort. She’d traded her 2011 Lexus for this old jalopy and some cash to keep her going. Thank goodness Brock had put that vehicle in her name only. It was the only good thing he’d done for her.

  When Brock died suddenly in a freak construction accident, Kris’s entire life had crumpled. She’d learned that in twenty years her husband had accumulated more debt than they could pay off in twenty lifetimes. To make matters worse, she wasn’t compensated for the accident that killed her husband because he’d been trespassing.

  Debt collectors hounded her until the final blanket of protection was stripped away from her. She would receive no spousal insulation from Brock’s debts because Brock was not her husband. He’d never officially recorded the certificate and their marriage was just another of his many shams. Every single thing he owned was liquidated to cover his debts.

  She’d been a happy, devoted, picture perfect wife – a Stepford wife, some of their friends had called her. Those friends disappeared like scattering cockroaches when the pieces of her plastic life began to be revealed. She was left destitute, without a home, and only a very few small personal items of her own.

  On the day Brock died, something “popped” inside of her, literally. She’d been home going over a shopping list when her entire mind swung 180 degrees. She knew he was dead even before she received the call. In that moment she also knew that she didn’t love him and that she was in a place she wasn’t supposed to be. Her life wasn’t right; it was terribly wrong. It was only about three days after when the voices began. They whispered at first, a few distinct voices. Then more and more joined them until she couldn’t distinguish any one voice from another. She knew what it meant. She was going insane. Now all she could do was hold on and try to survive until someone finally figured it out and locked her in a padded cell somewhere.

  *

  It was just what he expected it to be. Jill had given him careful directions and called her friend, Charlie, to advise him that Langston would be arriving. The giant smiled to himself. His beautiful blonde friend was sometimes so focused on outside distractions that she missed the most obvious solutions. Langston was a powerful witch and he had no need for directions. He could contrive a doorway to just about any place on earth. He used that ability sparingly because most people wouldn’t understand a doorway that appeared out of thin air and a giant stepping through the portal.

  As he approached the hospital he stopped short when the little person, whose hand held tight to his, refused to move. Langston glanced down at the cherubic blonde girl. She placed two fingers in her mouth and turned huge brown eyes up at him.

  “Chelsea, you are safe with me. I will let no one hurt you. Do you understand?”

  She took a moment to mull his words over, then sniffed and took a few tiny steps to get even with him again. He smiled, nodded to her, and they headed into the hospital. A soft whooshing sound accompanied the opening of the automatic doors. He remembered Jill telling how Doc had forced the doors open the first time she’d come here. Obviously new doors were part of the renovations they’d completed.

  Langston and Chelsea walked towards the T-intersection at the front of the short entryway. A shuffle-shuffle-tap sound repeated over and over to their left and Langston immediately led them down that direction. A subtle gold light bled into the hall from an open door and as they approached the room a long shadow appeared.

  The little girl stopped again, though when he gazed down at her Langston could see she wasn’t afraid, just curious. She leaned her head to the side and waited for the person standing just inside the door way to step through.

  Shuffle-shuffle-tap, shuffle-shuffle-tap. A graying head was held high on an otherwise aging body. The old man wore a scruffy white beard, and when he turned the corner and saw them he gave them a wide smile. “Well, I wasn’t quite expecting you already. The rescue missions must be proceeding fast.” He spoke in an age-roughened voice as he held out his free hand, the other tightly clutching the knobby end of a hand-carved walking cane. “I’m Charlie Rhodes.”

  Langston shook his hand firmly and then opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie interrupted, “And you must be Andre.” He promptly placed both hands atop his cane and smiled broader.

  It was clear the old man was looking for a reaction, hoping even to get a rise out of him. Langston tilted his head back so he had to look down his nose, and he grinned knowingly. He was a giant of a man, at least seven feet tall with a wide, strong chest. Jill had given him the pet name Andre in homage of Andre the Giant.

  Charlie finally guffawed and leaned hard on his cane so that he could slap the giant on the shoulder. “C’mon, Langston. You don’t look anything like that wrestling fellow anyway. I’ve got a few rooms you can choose from. So who’s this little gal you’ve got with you?”

  With gentle pressure, Langston tugged on the girl’s arm to lead her closer to Charlie. She was timid as a mouse, but when he gave her a sure nod she popped her fingers out of her mouth and spoke softly, “Chelsea, and I’m this many.” She held her open palm out to him to show five fingers.

  “Well, that’s a good number,” Charlie told her, slowing his shuffle-taps so that he could walk closer to her. “And five is just the right age to be able to choose your perfect room. There are several to choose from.”

  And so began what seemed like several hours of contemplation – actually just about ten minutes. Chelsea took her time, placing a tiny finger to her lips in careful consideration as Charlie revealed each room to her one-by-one. Assorted Disney themes were featured in most of the rooms; Jungle Book, The Little Mermaid, Snow White. The little girl finally set her heart on a room that didn’t include any cartoon characters at all, but instead just a huge sky mural in assorted colors.

  “Jill’s a talented artist, isn’t she?” Charlie remarked, tapping the giant on Langston’s calf with his stick. The older man had the look of a proud papa.

  “Indeed. And this was her room.”

  The old man glanced up with a knowing smile. “Yep, but she moved pretty quickly to Doc’s room when they got together. Later she wanted this one to be available for the kids.”

  “Mmm. Well, it seems fitting that Chelsea is the first child to arrive and that she would choose Jill’s room.”

  “Indeed,” Charlie repeated Langston’s earlier response and nodded in approval.

  After Chelsea fell asleep, completely content with her new home, Langston followed Charlie to the study. It was a messy sort of room, with books stacked in piles and several open and strewn onto different tables and chairs.

  “I couldn’t keep up with Doc’s research when he was gone. I was always just a country doctor, but it hasn’t stopped me from trying. I keep figurin’ if I continue studying I’ll get it one of these days.”

  The giant seated himself in an empty chair, placing his large hands onto his knees to prop himself upright. He shook his head when Charlie offered him a drink, then raised a hand to indicate the old man should go ahead and have one himself.

  “Glad you don’t mind. I’ve found these old bones need a little night cap to put me to sleep.” He carried his glass towards another empty seat, passing close to Langston as he shuffled by.

  Langston could feel the pain emanating from him, and he instinctively reached out his palm and ran it from the back of Charlie’s head down his torso without touching him. His magical powers of healing were very well honed and he sensed the origin of Charlie’s illness almost like a Geiger counter ticking in his brain.

  “You have cancer,” the giant stated as the old man slowly bent at the waist to ease himself into a chair.

  “No need for that, big guy. I know about your powers. Jill was quick enough to tell me, but I want none of that. My Michelle’s been waiting for me in the hereafter. I’ll bide my time and let nature run its course. Besides, the cancer’s what took her from me – who I am to try to cheat it now and deny us eternity together?�
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  Langston was quiet a moment, his cognac-brown eyes staring into the other man, then finally he nodded. “I understand. But I can do something to ease your pain during the time you’re biding. Will you allow me to help?”

  Charlie snorted into his glass of liquor before gulping a huge swallow. “Be pretty dumb to refuse, wouldn’t I?”

  “And you should understand, there would be no denying eternity with your wife. I am only a healer. I cannot give anyone everlasting life.”

  “Good damn thing,” he muttered, setting his empty glass aside with a faraway look.

  Langston had an idea what Charlie was thinking at that moment. After all, if immortality were possible, it would be too late for the man’s beloved to be the recipient of such a gift. The giant waited for his companion to snap from his momentary reverie.

  Charlie tapped his cane as if to rouse himself from a dream, and looked back at Langston with liquor laden eyes. “I hired a gal to help out around here. She started a few weeks ago. Seems nice enough, if a bit skittish. Thought we’d need a lady’s help if we’re to make this place suitable for the kiddos.”

  “That was very wise of you. I think it would do good for Chelsea to have a female to interact with, at least until Jill returns.”

  The grizzled man eyed him keenly, looking for answers to some unasked questions. “How many children do you expect we’ll have?” Langston knew that wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. It was more likely Charlie wanted to know whether Jill would return.

  An old volume towards the bottom of a stack of books caught Langston’s eye and he got up slowly, leaning his heavy body forward and then standing straight. He spoke even as he squatted low to rub his finger along the worn, cracked spine. “I do not know yet. I was not expecting to have rescued any of them so quickly, but Gerry and Nicky apparently are taking this job very seriously.”

  “This job” was to rescue magical children from vampire captors who held them for the purpose of partaking their powerful blood. It was entirely possible this make-shift orphanage would be brimming with magical children before long. And Langston had agreed to take them all under his wing.

  “Whatcha looking at there?” Charlie asked, squinting as he glanced down at the crouched man.

  “It is a book I’m quite fond of. Strange. I had not thought of it in some time. May I?”

  Charlie waved his hand as he stood. “Take whatever you want. I only look at the medical books anyway. These old bones need to rest. I’m heading off to bed.” After a few shuffle-taps, Charlie stopped and scratched his head. “You ain’t picked out a room yet. You need me to show you ‘round some more?”

  Langston finished inching the volume of Gary Jennings’ Aztec from under the tall stack of other books, then stood with it clutched against his broad chest. “I believe I can manage. Sleep well, my friend.”

  Langston grinned to himself when Charlie yawned exhaustedly. He eased his mental magic on the old man until he was sure he was safely in his bedroom, then he used his powers to lull him to peaceful, pain-free sleep.

  Chapter 2

  She’d been a champ at keeping a 3500 square foot house spotless and she’d always insisted on doing most of the work on her own. With a little extra effort Kristana was pulling off the same feat with this hospital or children’s center or whatever it was.

  “Ah, good mornin’, Miss Curtiss.”

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Rhodes.”

  He was a kind old man and his smile put her at ease. He kept his own room neat and tidy. Mostly the place had been neglected. The floors needed a good mopping, the bathrooms a good scrubbing, the windows a nice cleaning. Now that all of the heavy work was finished a week or so ago, her tasks were just keeping up.

  She flinched and frowned, then touched two fingers to her temple. The voices were louder this morning. They were waves roaring in and out of her mind at a constant. Sometimes when she was just about to drift off to sleep she’d catch one single voice. She might hear a word or a phrase, but when she’d open her eyes to try and hone in on it the others would crowd in and overwhelm again.

  “We’ve got some newcomers, Miss Curtiss. The tiny one’s named Chelsea and she’s probably still asleep. She’s in the skyscape room.”

  Kris smiled to herself. He’d tagged the rooms by the murals that someone named Jill painted on the walls. As she understood it, Jill used to live here with him for some time, but was “away” at the moment. She thought he was probably either half in love with this Jill or considered her like a daughter.

  “And the other?”

  He stopped, tapping his cane on the floor. “Other what?”

  “Newcomer?”

  He frowned and shook his head before hobbling along through the hallway again. “The other is a giant. Name’s Langston.”

  He got quiet. She’d come to understand him a bit in just a few weeks. His mind was beginning to wander and he was having trouble keeping attention to things. He was a sharp man and she imagined it was quite difficult to accept. She watched him go into his study, the place he liked to enjoy his morning coffee. She’d offered to cook for him, but he’d refused, instead preferring to muddle through making his own simple meals.

  “Speaking of cooking,” Kris whispered soft to herself, raising her nose into the air and inhaling. The scent of some sort of pastry wafted strong, and as she felt her mouth water she heard the voices begin tittering wildly.

  There was only one full kitchen in the place. She figured it had at one time been just a “break room” but at some point it was outfitted with double ovens, a stove, a huge refrigerator and even a dishwasher. Kristana couldn’t understand why. To her knowledge there’d only ever been as many as three people living here. But there were really too many questions about this place to keep count. She figured it was best not to ask too many. She did her job and when the old man wanted to ramble to her, she listened. Charlie’s voice was always preferable to the others blaring in her head anyway.

  She followed her nose into the kitchen and moaned when she recognized the scent of fresh quiche. She’d been eating little enough that her stomach rumbled in pleading as she approached the steaming dish in the center of the little table. There was a setting for three, and beside each plate was a little bowl of fruit. She snatched a grape from the nearest setting, popped it in her mouth and chewed it just as she heard someone approach behind her.

  That pesky grape immediately got lodged in her throat when she caught sight of him. He was perhaps the largest person she’d ever seen. He was enormous. Tall but narrow of waist and broad of chest. The bones of his jaw and cheeks were strong and sharp, giving him a striking expression. But when his eyes caught hers an inner softness floated to the surface of his features. A very sparse sprinkling of gray invaded the blue-black of his thick hair. He wasn’t handsome, but there was something undeniably magnificent about him.

  Her entire body hummed to life, the nerves sparking, her pores absorbing everything about him. She’d never felt such instantaneous attraction in her life.

  Emotions flashed across his face in rapid succession. Surprise, relief, happiness, fear, and perhaps even regret. He knew her. But she was certain she’d never met him in her life. She’d remember someone like him.

  She recovered her faculties first, reaching a hand to introduce herself, but when she pulled in a breath to speak she recalled the grape stuck in her throat and began to choke. He patted her on the back a few times and she coughed in spasms until the offending morsel worked its way loose and she could swallow it down. She shook her head, then smiled. “You must be Langston.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Kristin.”

  He breathed the name and she realized his hand was still at the small of her back. It was a huge hand, and the feel of it wrapped her heart in a blanket of warmth. She was afraid she’d make a fool of herself if she didn’t step away, but for a moment she thought she didn’t have the will power to do even that.

  “Actually, it’s Kristana. Kind
of a strange name I guess, but most people call me Kris. You can call me Kris.” She managed to take a step back from the table and out of his arm’s length. Strange that she’d given him her nickname. Over the course of about three weeks she and the old man still only ever called each other Miss Curtiss and Mr. Rhodes.

  He watched her with piercing eyes and she felt naked under his gaze. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, then backed a few more steps away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the breakfast you’re making.” It was an easy assumption. Two large floured handprints marked the sides of his jeans where he’d wiped them. She found herself staring at the shape of his legs hugged by those tight jeans.

  “You interrupt nothing,” he told her, slapping at his floured pants to knock the white powder away. “I would be pleased to set an extra place. Chelsea has only just awakened and should be here in due time. And I believe I can already hear Charlie making his way down the hall.”

  She heard it too. The tapping of the old man’s cane seemed slow and steady and she tried to focus on it to ease the rapid pounding of her heart.

  “It’s not really appropriate. I have things I should be doing.”

  He took a step towards her and she retreated two to match his one. She wasn’t afraid of him. No, everything in her said this man was of no danger. The danger was in herself. She wanted to fling herself at him and beg him to wrap those giant arms around her.

  “It is entirely appropriate. We – Charlie and I, that is – would like to discuss the children with you. We expect to have many orphans coming to live here. We would like to discuss your help in that area. Meeting Chelsea will be a start to that.” He paused and drew his brows together in a serious look. “You don’t dislike children, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I like children.”

  The truth was she loved children. She’d wanted to have a house full of them. When after a few years of marriage she hadn’t become pregnant she’d seen a doctor. The physician told there was nothing wrong with her. After Brock visited his doctor, he told her he couldn’t have children. It didn’t seem to bother him much and once the dream was snatched away from her, she moved on and focused on the other aspects of their life together. The thought of being childless caused a pain to slam into her chest as she wondered if his infertility had been just another lie.