In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(145)

Sveti blinked. Wow. Edie’s drawings were a phenomenon that no one could explain. Often when she drew, a channel opened, and she produced what she called a “charged” drawing, tapping into some issue in the person’s life. Clarifying or illuminating, or warning of danger.

Edie’s drawings frightened people. Sveti’s threshold for fright was pretty high, but the drawings tended to shine a bright light on places that were usually left dark. A nerve-tingling prospect right now.

“Ah,” Sveti said inanely. “Sure. I guess. Um . . . why?”

“I suggested it,” Tam said. “Edie’s drawings help people get out of a mind rut. They can give a girl a friendly nudge in the right direction.”

Sveti let out a sigh. “I know you want me to call Sam. But it’s not so simple. I know what you’re hoping. Stop hoping it. Please.”

“We’re all hoping,” Tam snapped. “He’s hoping, too.”

“You don’t know that,” Sveti said.

“Bullshit. He’d jump six feet in the air if you whistled.”

Sveti held up her hand. For once, Tam had the sense to shut up.

All those hours swathed in gauze and watching an IV drip were conducive to agonized self-reflection about everything she’d done wrong.

She’d done just what her father did. He’d gotten himself killed, but his punishment had encompassed them all. Her mother did the same, putting her daughter aside to pursue her quest for truth. Both times, Sveti paid. And she’d been ready to pass that exact punishment on to Sam. To treat him as she’d been treated. Always put last on the list of priorities. Always deemed a sad but necessary sacrifice.

Her mother and father had done the hard thing, and so had she, good little girl that she was. Just as she’d been taught.

Not Sam, though. He’d put her first, always. He’d made her his top priority, and she hadn’t known how to accept it. She just didn’t know how to be that important to someone. She’d flinched away from it, as if from a too-bright light.

She respected Sam for drawing the line. He’d cut off all contact with her, and was avoiding the rest of them, except for Kev and Bruno. And Misha, of course. She’d heard that Sam’s house was up for sale. He probably wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

God, it hurt, to breathe, to smile. Not like the formless shadow of despair she’d battled before. This was sharper, deeper. More defined.

“. . . Edie to do the drawing? Or what? Decide!” Tam demanded.

Sveti looked at Edie and forced a smile. “I’d be glad to have you do one of your drawings for me.” She shot Tam a warning look. “Just don’t breathe down my neck. And I repeat, do not get your hopes up.”

“Rachel, take Irina and Jon up to the game room and keep them occupied,” Tam said. She waved a hand at Val and Kev. “You two guys, go drink beer in the kitchen or something. Give us some space.”

The two men glanced at each other and melted away.

Sveti sat down in one of the big fat armchairs, slipped off her ballerina flats, and tucked her legs up, facing the seaward windows.

Edie sharpened her charcoals and opened her sketchpad.

Tam sat next to her and Edie shot her a warning look. “Forget it.”

With an exasperated eye roll, Tam scooted to the edge of the couch until the sketchpad was out of her line of vision.

Sveti and Edie gazed at each other. A look of complete absorption came over Edie’s face. She was a tuner, searching for a frequency.

Edie’s pencil began to scratch. Tam huddled on the couch, hugging her knees, staring down. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted black. Sveti looked out at the whitecaps on the ocean.

She drifted into a strange, dreamlike state. Time no longer marched in a straight line. She was breathing more deeply. Her belly hurt less than usual. Her heart felt hot and soft and aching. She looked down at her hands, covered with marks, though the red had faded and the marks were turning silvery. Noise came from the entrance hall, voices talking at once. Children burst through into the room but were swiftly hustled out again. Someone explained what was taking place.

She did not turn to look. They could all wait.

Finally, Edie rested her sketchbook on her lap. She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. Her face was wet.

Tam unfolded herself with catlike grace. “So? What is it?”

Edie whipped the sketchbook away with mock sternness. “Sveti looks first. It’s her drawing.” She handed it to Sveti.

A keen, ethereal pain sliced through her when she saw it.

It was her little friend, from the cave. Same blouse, same bare feet, same embroidered pants. Her toy bear dangled by one arm. With her other hand, she held out a handful of flowers. The white ones that had been growing through her bones. She held the ragged bouquet out like an offering. The look on her face was one of total love and trust.

Sveti laid the sketchpad beside her and doubled over.

People came into the room. Speculative murmurs rose. Someone snatched up the sketchpad to take a look.

The cushions shifted as Tam sat down next to her. “What the hell?” Tam murmured. “Who’s this? Her future kid? Doesn’t look like it. Unless she ends up with a guy from Ethiopia.”

“Don’t be so literal,” Edie chided. “It’s messier than that.”