a minute. “I do have something new. Just finished it last week.” She walked over the paint-riddled floor and moved several of the darker works out of the way. “It’s a little silly and so different from the others that I decided to keep it out of the exhibit.”
Promise’s gasp made all three women look at her. “Oh, I just love it,” she covered, her legs trembling. Haven had captured Mercy’s Brookville world perfectly, right down to its bubbling brooks and sweet grass meadows. The three suns shone down, glimmering off the gently waving grass. “You say you’ve dreamed of this place?”
“No. Not that one.” Haven pulled the canvas out. “I was just playing around and decided to paint something lighter. Even smelled sugar cookies when I did it.” She smiled for the first time, looking years younger and not so closed off.
What Promise wouldn’t give to get the woman in an MRI machine. Had she traveled to these places? It seemed unlikely she would’ve survived the hell worlds she’d painted.
So what did that mean?
What about the Seven ritual? It was Promise’s understanding that the males’ bodies had stayed on earth while their consciousness had traveled. What if that wasn’t the case? Mathematical equations filtered through her brain faster than fireworks on the Fourth. What if—
“Promise?” Faith asked. “You okay?”
Grace sighed. “She just started working on a math problem. See how her eyes gleam?” Her voice lowered. “Haven, our friend is one of those genius types who forgets other people are in the room. Your painting must’ve inspired her somehow.”
Promise shook herself out of it. Briefly. “Sorry. It’s the precise lines and the depth of the strokes. I got lost in math land.” She smiled and tried to look rueful. “Surely, you leave this world too when you paint, Haven.”
The woman nodded, understanding lighting her expression. “I do. Can paint for hours and forget to eat.”
Oh, Promise wished the woman trusted them. She had so many questions. But pushing Haven would be a mistake; she knew that to her bones. They had to proceed cautiously while keeping Haven’s existence a secret from not only the Kurjans but other immortal species as well. “I definitely want to purchase this painting.” She’d give it to Mercy. “Faith, would you please negotiate for me?” She turned her most guileless smile on Haven. “Would you mind terribly if I used your powder room?”
Haven looked at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Sure. First door on the left after the kitchen.”
Promise nodded and walked to the stairwell as Faith began to negotiate for the painting, hopefully keeping Haven occupied. She reached the kitchen and edged her way through, ducking her head into a small bathroom decorated in rich colors. Trying to keep quiet, she moved to the only other door and swung it open, holding her breath.
Haven’s small bedroom held a bed covered in a purple comforter, a nightstand, and a dresser, all decorated with knickknacks. No pictures. Her closet door was already open to reveal clothing and an impressive number of tennis shoes.
Disappointment filtered through Promise, but time was running out, so she turned back to the kitchen again. An enclosed mudroom was beyond the stairs going up, and she peered inside to darkness. Biting her lip, she swung the door open to find a washer and dryer across from a bench with shoes lined up beneath it. Another closet was adjacent to the door. She quickly flipped on the light and stepped inside the room to open the closet door, expecting to see more coats and boots.
Paintings filled the space. One fell out, and she grabbed the canvas before it could hit the floor. She pulled several out, looking at them, making sure the camera caught them all.
Every single painting was of Quade Kayrs, surrounded by hell.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ivar didn’t let his body relax until the helicopter rose above the town, turned sharply, and headed back toward safety. They remained beneath the cloud cover, enduring the rainstorm, the Realm-upgraded fighting helicopter making no noise.
Promise waited until they’d leveled off and then looked around. “Why didn’t you all tell me how those worlds looked? Even though I saw the paintings on the computer, seeing the actual brush strokes, the mathematical precision of them, is different. I told you I need to go to those hell worlds to get data. There are equations within equations in those scenes. Something completely new, damn it.”
Ivar’s eyebrows rose. What was she talking about?
She looked at him. “Paper. I