“Boring?” Acalan guessed.
“Yes. And my teacher wants exciting. How do I make a cob of corn exciting?”
“Roast it with pepper and parmesan cheese,” Acalan suggested.
“You’re kidding.”
“Yes. What media were you going to use?”
Dieter gave Acalan a blank look.
“Media is pencils, markers, paint… That’s it. Come on, I have an idea.”
The boys followed the artist upstairs. He walked over to a shelf and pulled out some still life studies to show the teens. He turned around, and the teens were standing open-mouthed looking at the large canvas.
“That’s powerful,” Mark said.
“Dude, that’s my mother,” Dieter said.
“Excuse me, that’s Mia Cooper… Mia Martin.”
“I’m Dieter Martin, her son.”
“I don’t see the resemblance.”
“He’s adopted,” Mark explained the obvious. “You really have captured her.”
“Something’s still not right. I have this sketch I did,” he said, pointing to the paper pinned to the wall.
“It’s Mia alright,” Mark said. “Can I ask why the wings?”
“I don’t know. I see them in my head, and they come out on the paper. Dieter, I used to go to school with your mother,” he explained as if that somehow gave him permission to paint her.
“Maybe her wings have changed…” Acalan asked himself.
“It wouldn’t be impossible,” Mark said. He nudged Dieter. “Snap out of it. The painting is extraordinary, as is the subject.”
“But she’s my mom. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“She’s not naked,” Acalan offered.
“Have you seen my mother naked?” Dieter interrogated.
“No. Wait, I saw her in a bikini at the beach, but she was ten and I was ten! Stop looking at me as if I’m a pervert.”
Dieter turned and studied the artist. His soul had interesting markings in it, a lot like his best friend’s. He looked at Mark, and then he looked at the artist, and it all started to make sense. “I’m sorry, the painting is very good, sir. You had an idea for my project?” he reminded him.
“Yes, come over here.” Acalan picked up a painting of an apple. It was shiny and new on one side and rotten on the other. “I call this Time. I was thinking about your corn. How about you peel the husk off, and every peel shows a different type of kernel, like this,” he said, picking up a pencil and quickly sketching it out.
“Cool. Can I take this as an example? I won’t steal your work.”
This impressed Acalan. “You could work on it here, use my materials. I promise not to sigh too loudly.”
“I’d like to, but my parents are gone, and my little brothers are expected back soon. I promised to help watch them.”
“Brothers? I have met Brian. Have you another brother?”
“Varden,” Mark supplied. “He’s a little guy.”
“Mia has been blessed. She seems so happy now. She wasn’t when she was in school.”
“Are you happy?” Mark asked.
“I wasn’t. I thought I had lost my muse, but look!” he almost shouted. “It’s back.”
Mark waited until they had left the store with Dieter’s purchase before he said, “He can see angels, I mean wings. Your mother’s no angel. Wait! That came out all wrong.”
Dieter liked when his smart friend got all muddled. “He has the same type of soul you have. It means he can see angels even though he doesn’t know he can.”
~
Ted and Orion were ushered into Gerald’s office. He rose and greeted them with a handshake. He rolled his eyes after a failed attempt at reading Ted’s mind. He should have known better. Ted’s thoughts were written in code. Orion blocked his mind house as Gerald would have expected.
“So, gentlemen, let’s use our words, no? What can I do for you?”
“You used to be an apprentice with a gargoyle named Quazar,” Orion stated.
“Yes.
“We would like to locate him,” Ted said.
“Why?”
“To ask him some questions,” Orion answered. “Questions about volo candles.”
Ted watched Gerald’s face for a sign of surprise or recognition or interest. The elegant older Haitian’s eyes were still. He frowned. “Excuse me, but I’m getting a feeling of déjà vu. But…”
They could see that he was searching his mind. “Yes. Volo candles. Quazar. Mia? Wyatt Wayne. What the hell? Please,” he said, holding up his hand. “I thought it was a dream. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You first,” Ted demanded.
“Fine. I think we’re dealing with an alternate reality. Am I close?”
“Yes,” Ted said.
“Mia! Where’s Mia? I saw Wyatt Wayne with a child with Mia’s eyes in a shop I worked in. Time travel. It’s about an alternate timeline. Is she trapped in the past?” he asked anxiously.
“No, she’s back in this timeline,” Ted answered.
“Who did this?” he asked.
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
“Me? I’ll try. Why Quazar? I haven’t seen him since…” Gerald put his hand to his temple. “Mary Mother of God, I think…” Gerald got up and stuck his head out of his office. The older man in the expensive suit looked up. “Mr. Villeneuve, cancel my appointments for the day and lock up. We’ll need refreshments served in my inner office please.”
“Yes, Mr. Shem.”
Gerald walked back into the office. He walked over to the wall of books and opened a panel. “If you gentlemen will follow me, I think for what we are about to discuss we need more privacy, no?”
Gerald led them down a narrow passage. He stopped and drew out an old key. He unlocked the door and pushed it in. Inside was a space seemingly too large to be contained in the building they were in. It resembled a grand lobby of an old hotel. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls. The marble floor was so highly polished that Ted was glad he insisted on wearing his sneakers. Any other
