Key of Knowledge - SG - Chaps 12&13 - 18/7/10 - Page 4

what an awesomely mind blowing story!!!

im in love with the mayank and nupur characters....do show their love story more:)

It was jus awesum update

Chapter Twelve

"Hey, nice mouth, sweetheart."

Samrat Shergill, handsome as the devil and to Gunjan's mind twice as evil, gave her a wink and strolled back into her life. She considered, for one brief, heady moment, tripping him. She grabbed his arm instead, imagined twisting it into cartoon taffy.

G -"Hey. Nobody asked you in."

S -"You living here now?" He shifted his body in a slow, easy move. He'd always had moves. She'd once found that fact exciting, but now it was simply irritating. He hadn't gotten fat, or ugly, or fallen victim to male-pattern baldness. And wasn't that just too damn bad? No, he was still gorgeous, and all that thick black hair remained sexily rumpled around a face set off by sizzling eyes. His mouth was full and sculpted and, she had reason to know, very inventive. It curved now in a lazy, mocking smile that made her want to bloody it.

S -"Looking good, Gunji." He smoothed a hand over her hair, and had her head jerking back before she could stop herself.

G -"Hands off. And no, I'm not living here. What do you want?"

S -"A date with Julia Roberts, a chance to jam with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, and a really cold drink. How about you?"

G - "To read the details of your slow, painful death. What are you doing here?"

S -"Annoying you, apparently. But that's just a side benefit. Mayank home?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but stepped away from her and headed for the living room. Moe roused himself, sent out a halfhearted growl.

G -"That's it, Moe," said cheerfully. "Sic 'im." Obviously unconcerned about being attacked by an enormous mass of canine, Samrat crouched down.

S -"So this is the famous Moe." Veterinary trauma forgotten, Moe scrambled up. He charged, flopped both front paws on Samrat's shoulders, and gave him a welcoming kiss. Gunjan could only grind her teeth as Samrat's laugh joined Moe's happy bark.

S -"You're a big guy, aren't you? Look at that face." He rumpled Moe's fur, scratched his ears, then glanced over at Mayank. "How's it going?"

M-"Okay. Didn't know you were coming so soon."

S -"Had some time. Got a coke?"

M -"Sure."

G-"I hate to interrupt this emotional, heartfelt reunion." Gunjan's voice was an ice pick aimed at the nape of Samrat's neck. "But what the hell's he doing here?"

S -"Spending some time with friends, in my hometown." he got to his feet. "Still okay to bunk here?"

M -"Absolutely." mayank unfolded himself from the couch. "Man, it's good to see you."

S -"Same here. Big house. Great dog. Bad couch." With a laugh, Mayank swung his arms around his oldest friend. "Really good to see you." For a moment, just an instant, as she watched the two grown men hug, Gunjan's heart softened. Whatever else she could say about Samrat Shergill—and the list was long— he was and had always been Mayank's. As much brother, she supposed, as friend. Then those eyes met hers and baked her heart hard again.

S -"How about that coke, Sweetheart? We can play catch-up and you can tell me how you got roped into looking for imaginary keys."

She shot her brother one accusatory look, then jerked her chin up.

G -"Unlike the two of you, I actually have things to do."

S -"Don't you want to see the painting?" That nearly stopped her, but giving in to curiosity would've spoiled her exit. She continued to the door and strode out without a backward glance. She had things to do, all right. The first of which was to carve a wax doll in Samrat's image and stick pins in sensitive areas.

M -"Did you have to piss her off?" demanded.

S -"My breathing pisses her off." And knowing that put a little hole in his gut. "How come she's not living here? The house is big enough."

M - "She won't." With a shrug, led the way back to the kitchen. "Wants her own space and blah-blah. You know her. Once her mind's set you can't move her with a forklift."

S -"Tell me about it." Because Moe was dancing around, Mayank dug out a dog biscuit and flipped it to him before getting the drinks.

M -"You brought the painting?"

S -"Yeah. I don't know what it's going to tell you."

M -"Me either. I'm hoping it tells Nupur something."

S -"So when am I going to meet this Nupur?" Samrat leaned back against the counter.

M -"I don't know. Soon."

S -"I thought there was a deadline on this deal,"

M -"Yeah, yeah. We've still got a couple weeks."

S -"Problem, pal?"

M -"No. Maybe. We've gotten tangled up, and it's getting really serious really fast. I can't think."

S -"What's she like?"

M -"Smart, funny, sexy."

S -"You put sexy third. That's serious. What else?"

M -"Goal-oriented, I'd say. With a kind of tidy nature. Honest. Not much game-playing there. Grounded. You could say she's grounded, which is why her getting wound up in this key business makes it all seem possible. She's these eyes. Big black eyes," Mayank sighed.

S -"Again, the physical falls well down the list. You're stuck on her." Uneasy Mayank lifted his drink.

M -"There are degrees of being stuck."

S -"True enough, but if she's got you this worried I'd say you're already in to your knees, and sinking. Why don't you give her a call? She can come get a look at the painting, and I can get a look at her."

M -"Let's give it till tomorrow."

S -"You're scared of her. Make that up to your waist and sinking."

M -"Shut up. I just think it'd be smart for Armi to bring his painting over, let the three of us give them both a good look. See what we come up with, without the female element."

S -"Works for me. You got any food around here?"

M -"Not really. But I've got all the takeout and delivery places on speed dial. Take your pick."

It wasn't so different from their youth, unless you considered that the living room where they sprawled belonged to one of them rather than to a parent. Since the choice had been left to Mayank, they were eating Italian, but the coke had been upgraded to a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that Arman had brought with him. The paintings were propped side by side against the wall while the three of them sat on the floor. Moe took the couch.

M -"I don't know much about art,"

A -"But you know what you like,"

M -"I wasn't going to stoop to a clich."

S -"Actually, it's a valid statement. Art, by its very nature, is subjective. Warhol's Campbell's Soup Can , Dali'sMelting Watch , da Vinci'sMona Lisa . It's all in the eye of the beholder."

A -"As impossible to compare Monet'sWater Lilies with Picasso'sLady in Blue as it is to compare Dashiell Hammett and Steinbeck. It's all in the style, purpose, and perception." Mayank rolled his eyes toward Arman.

M -"What I was going to say before the two of you went off on that little intellectual riff is that it seems to me that the same person painted both of these. Or if it was two different people, one was emulating the other's style."

A -"Oh." he swirled the liquor in his glass and grinned. "Okay, then. I'll go along with that. And what does that tell us?"

M -"It'll tell us a lot if we have Sam's painting tested. We already know the one at Warrior's Peak and Arman's were done more than five hundred years apart. We need to know where Sam's fits in."

S-"Fifteenth century." Mayank turned his head, stared at Sam.

M -"You had it dated already?"

S -"A couple years after I bought it. I needed to get some stuff insured. Turned out it was worth several times what I paid for it. Kinda weird when you think of it, as The Gallery's got a rep for being pricey."

A -"Why'd you buy it?" asked him.

S -"I don't know how many times I've asked myself that. I don't even know why I went in there that day. It wasn't one of my usual stops. Then I saw it, and it just grabbed me. That moment, that breath just before destiny, between innocence and power. He'll pull the sword free. You know it. And in that moment, the world changes. Came-lot's born, Arthur's fate is sealed. He'll unite a people, be betrayed by a woman and a friend, and sire the man who'll kill him. In this moment, he's a boy. In the next, he'll be a king."

A -"Some would argue that he was born a king." Sam shook his head at Armi's statement.

S -"Not until he put his hands on the hilt of the sword. He could have walked away from it. I wonder if he would have if he'd known what was coming. Glory and grandeur, sure, and a slice of peace, but then deceit, deception, war. And an early death."

M -"Well, that's cheerful." started to pour another drink. Then he stopped, looked back at the paintings. "Wait a minute. Maybe you're on to something. In the other, you've got the results after that moment of destiny you were talking about. Would the god-king have married the mortal, conceived three daughters, if he'd known then-fate? Is it about choices, which direction we take?"

A -"And if it is? It doesn't tell us much."

M -"It gives us a theme. And if we make the leap that the paintings are clues to the location of the keys, then we have to follow the theme. Maybe the first is in a place where a decision was made, one that changed the course of lives."

S -"Mayank." Sam hesitated, swirled his drink. "You seriously believe these keys exist?"

M -"That's right. And if you guys had been around since the beginning of this, you'd have come around to that by now. There's no way to explain it, Sam, no more than you can explain why that boy was the only person in the world who could pull Excalibur from the stone."

S -"How about you?" he asked Arman.

A -"I'm trying to keep an open mind. You've got to add up the coincidences, or what appear to be coincidences. You and I own those paintings. We're all back in the Valley, and so are they. Mayank's involved, personally involved with two of the women who were invited to Warrior's Peak. Sam and Gunjan used to be an item. And I bought the painting because I was caught by that face— Ridhima's face. It just about knocked me on my ass. And let's keep that little tidbit among the three of us."

M -"You're interested in Ridz?" asked.

A -"Yeah, which is dandy, since she appears to have taken an instant dislike to me. Which I don't get," he added with some heat. "Women don't dislike me right off the bat."

S -"No, it usually takes a little time, Then they dislike you."

A -"On the contrary. I'm a very smooth operator. Usually."

S -"Yeah, I remember how smooth you were with Marsha Kent."

A -"I was seventeen, F**k you."

S -"Do you still have her footprint on your ass?" wanted to know.

A -"You still got Gunjan's on yours?" Sam winced.

S -"Tit for tat there. Question. Does that painting look as much like the other two as it does like Gunjan?"

M - "Oh, yeah," Mayank told him. "Different dos, but the faces are dead on."

S -"No question as to the age on it, Armi?"

A -"None." Sam sat silent a moment, nursing his drink, studying Gunji's face. So still, so pale, so empty.

S -"Okay, I'll take a side step out of logic and into the zone. There are six of us and three keys. And what, just over two weeks left to find the first one?" He reached for the bottle again. "It'll be a snap." Beyond the puzzle to be solved, Mayank thought, it was good to have his friends back. Good to know even as he crawled into bed in the early hours of the morning that Sam was crawling onto the mattress in the spare room. And Arman was already zonked out on the sofa downstairs, guarded by Moe. It had always seemed to him that there'd been nothing they couldn't do together. Whether it had been fighting off imaginary alien invaders, learning how to talk to girls, or driving cross-country in a secondhand Buick. They'd always come through for each other. When Sam's mother had died, both he and Armi had been there, holding vigil during those endless nights at the hospital. When Dia had dumped him, the one constant Mayank had been sure of was his friends. Through good times and not so good times, he thought sentimentally, they'd been there for each other. Physical distance never meant a damn. But it was better, a hell of a lot better, to have them here. Since they were, the first key was practically in the lock. He closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep. The house was dark, and bitterly cold. He could see his breath puff out in thin white vapors as he wandered aimlessly down dark corridors that turned, that twisted. There was a storm blasting, a crash and boom that shook the air and shot out fast, angry light, zigzagging in the dark. In the dream he knew he walked the halls of Warrior's Peak. Though he could barely see, he recognized it and knew the turn of the corridor, the feel of the wall under his trailing fingers. Though he had never walked there before. He could see the rain whipping outside the second-story window, could see the way it glowed blue in the lightning strikes. And he saw the ghost of his own face blurry in the glass. He called out, and his voice echoed. On and on, like a rolling wave. There was no one to answer. And yet he knew he wasn't alone. Something walked those halls with him. Lurking just behind. Out of sight, out of reach. Something dark that pushed him on, up the stairs. Fear tripped into his heart. Doors lined the corridor, but all of them were locked. He tried each one, turning, tugging the knob with fingers gone stiff with cold. Whatever stalked him crept closer. He could hear it breathe now, horrible, somehow liquid pulls on the air that merged with his own rapid panting. He had to get out, get away. So he began to run, loping through the storm-slashed dark while what pursued him followed, with rapid clicks on the wood like eager claws. He burst out onto a parapet, into the storm where lightning speared down and set the stone to smoking. The air burned and froze, and the rain pelted him like shards of glass. With nowhere left to run, with fear a cold snake crawling in his belly, he turned to fight. But the shadow was so huge, so close. It covered him before he could raise his fists. The cold tore through him, drove him to his knees. He felt something ripped from him—wild, unspeakable pain, dull, shocking horror. And knew it was his soul. Mayank woke, shuddering with cold, clammy with the dregs of terror, and with the sun pouring in onto his face. Struggling for breath, he sat up. He'd had his share of nightmares, but never one this intense. Never one where he'd actually felt pain. Could still feel it, he thought as he gritted his teeth against the sharp stabs in his chest and belly. He tried to tell himself it was the combination of pizza and whiskey and late night. But he didn't believe it. As the pain dulled, he slid gingerly out of bed, walked as cautiously as an old man to the bathroom, and turned the shower on hot. He was freezing. He reached up to swing open the mirrored medicine cabinet for aspirin and caught a glimpse of his face. The pallor of his skin, the glassy edge of shock in his eyes, were bad enough. But they were nothing compared to the rest. He was soaking wet. His hair was drenched, his skin beaded with water. Like a man who'd been out in a storm, he thought, and lowered himself to the seat of the toilet as his legs gave way. Not just a nightmare. He'd been inside Warrior's Peak. He'd been out on the parapet. And he hadn't been alone. This was more than a quest for magic keys. More than a puzzle to be solved with the promise of a pot of gold at the end. There was something else here. Something powerful. Dark and powerful. He was going to find out what the hell was going on before any of them got in any deeper. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water beat on him until it penetrated the chill in his bones. Then, calmer, he downed some aspirin, pulled his sweatpants on. He would go down and make coffee, then he'd be able to think. Once his head was clear, he would roust both of his friends and get their take. Maybe it was time for the three of them to go up to Warrior's Peak and get the truth out of Rowena and Pitte. He was halfway down when the bell rang, and Moe raced out barking like the hounds of hell on speed.

M-"Okay, okay. Shut up." Johnnie Walker hadn't given him a hangover, but the nightmare had stepped up to the plate and knocked one home. He grabbed Moe by the collar, yanked back as he pulled the door open with his other hand. She looked like a sunbeam. It was his only clear thought as he stared at Nupur. Dressed in a pretty blue

suit that showed off her legs, she smiled at him. Then stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him.

M -"Good morning," she said, and by pressing her lips to his drained even that single thought out of his mind. His fingers went limp on Moe's collar, then fell away from it to lift up, dive into her hair. The aches and dread he'd awakened with fell away as well.

In that one moment he felt as if nothing would ever be beyond his reach again. Moe gave up trying to shoehorn himself between them, and settled on leaping and barking for attention.

S -"Christ Jesus, Sharma, can't you get your dog to…" At the top of the stairs, Sam trailed off. Below him stood his friend and the woman, bathed in morning sunlight. And drowning in each other. The fact was, even when Mayank eased back from the embrace and glanced up, he had the look of a man going under for the third time. Blissfully.

S -"Morning. Sorry to interrupt. You must be Nupur."

N -"Yes, I must be." Her brain was a bit muddled from the kiss, but she was pretty sure she was staring up at a great-looking guy wearing nothing but black boxer shorts. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize Mayank had company… oh." Her brain cleared. "You're Samrat Shergill. I'm a big fan."

S -"Thanks."

M -"Hold it." Mayank held up a hand and glared at Sam as he started down. "Maybe you could go put some clothes on."

S-"Sure."

M -"Come on back. I need to let Moe out." Giving her hand a tug, Mayank managed to dislodge her from the spot she'd frozen in to stare at Sam. But she dug in again at the living room entrance. Arman was facedown on the couch, with one arm and one leg drooping off. He was dressed like Sam, though his boxers were white. It was interesting to note, Nupur thought, that the scion of the Mallik empire had an excellent butt.

N -"Slumber party?" she ventured.

M -"Guys don't have slumber parties. We just hang out. Moe!" Mayank called the dog, who'd wandered in to lick the portion of Armi's face that wasn't smashed into the cushions. "Armi's always been able to sleep through anything."

N -"So it would seem. It's nice to have your friends back in town."

M -"Yeah." He pulled her back to the kitchen. Moe beat them to it, and stood dancing at the back door as if he'd been waiting for hours. He streaked out the instant Mayank opened it.

N -"Why don't I make some coffee?" offered.

M -"Yeah? You'll make it?"

N -"Just part of the service." Since the coffee can was already on the counter, she measured enough for a full pot. "If you marry me, I'd make the coffee every morning. Of course, I'd expect you to take out the trash every day." She tossed a grin over her shoulder. "I believe in sharing household chores."

M -"Uh-huh." She laughed as she measured the water.

N- "I like making you nervous. I don't think I've ever made a man

nervous before. Then again…" She switched the pot on, turned around. "I've never been in love with one before. Not like this."

M -"Nupur—"

N -"I'm a very determined woman, Mayank."

M -"Oh, yeah, that's coming through loud and clear." He stepped back even as she moved in on him. "I just think we should…"

N -"What?" She trailed her hands up his chest.

M -"See? I can't remember once you start looking at me."

N -"I take that as a good sign." She touched her lips lightly to his.

S -"I'm already making a habit of this," Sam said as he came in. "Sorry."

N -"It's all right." Nupur brushed her hair back as she turned away to find clean coffee mugs. "I just stopped in to ask Mayank to marry me. It's nice to meet another of his friends. Are you in town for long?"

S -"Depends. What did he say when you asked him?"

N -"Oh, he has trouble making complete sentences when I bring up love and marriage. Odd, isn't it, seeing as he's a journalist."

M -"You know, I'm standing right here," pointed out.

A -"Is that coffee?" Arman stumbled in, blinked when he spotted Nupur, then stumbled back out again. "Sorry." Amused, she wiped out the mugs.

N -"This house is full of attractive men, and I've seen all of them without

their clothes on. My life has certainly changed. How do you take your coffee, Sam?"

S -"Black's fine." He leaned a hip on the counter while she poured. "Mayank said you were smart, funny, and sexy. He was right."

N -"Thanks. I've got to run. I've got an appointment to sign papers."

M -"For what?" asked.

N -"The partnership papers with Gunji and Ridz. I thought Gunji told you."

M- "Told me what?"

N -"That we're buying the house, going into business."

M -"What house? What business?"

N -"The house on Oak Leaf. And our business. Businesses, I suppose. My gallery, Gunjan's bookstore, Ridz's salon. We're calling it Indulgence."

S -"Catchy," decided.

N -"I can't believe I'm jumping in like this." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "So unlike me. I'm terrified. Well, I don't want to be late." She stepped over, caught Mayank's baffled face in her hands and kissed him again. "I'll call you later. We're hoping you'll do a story on our new enterprise. Nice meeting you, Sam."

S - "Really nice meeting you." He watched her walk down the hall. "Nice legs, killer eyes, and bright enough to light up a cave. You got yourself a live wire there, buddy." His lips were still vibrating from hers.

M -"Now that I've got her, what am I going to do with her?"

S- "You'll figure it out." He moved over to top off his coffee. "Or she will."

M -"Yeah." Mayank rubbed a hand over his heart. There was a flutter in it. Maybe that's what came from handling a live wire. "I need more coffee, then I need to talk to you and Armi. You guys aren't going to believe the dream I had last night."

Chapter Thirteen

G -"I can't believe they didn't show it to you." Gunji dug the key to Mayank's house out of her purse.

N -"Neither can I. I didn't even think," added, as annoyance propelled her from the car to Mayank's front door. "I just assumed Sam was having it shipped. Plus the three of them were half naked. It was distracting."

R -"Don't blame yourself." gave her a bolstering pat on the back. "And anyway, you'll get to see it now."

G -"They're up to something," muttered. "I can just feel it. When the three of them get together, they're always up to something." She unlocked the door, pushed it open. Waited a beat.

R - "Nobody's home."

N -"They were just getting up when I was here a couple of hours ago." walked inside without a qualm. "And now that I think about it, Mayank did look like he was up to something."

G -"They'll try to cut us out." Ready and willing to work herself into a rant on men in general, Gunji tossed her keys back in her purse. "It's typical behavior for their species. Oh, we know better, don't you worry your pretty head, little lady."

R -"I hate that." Firing up, hissed a breath between her teeth. "You know how an auto mechanic always gives you that smirk and says he'll explain the problem to your husband?" Gunjan sucked air through her nose.

G -"That burns my ass."

R -"If you ask me, that Arman Mallik's at the bottom of it." set her fists on her hips. "He's just the type to try to run everything and everyone. I pegged him from the get-go."

G -"No, it'll be Sam." kicked a shoe out of her way. "He's an instigator."

N -"It's Mayank's responsibility," disagreed. "It's his house, they're his friends, and… oh, my God." Light slanted across both paintings as they stood propped carelessly against the wall just where Mayank had left them. Her heart squeezed with admiration and envy at the sight. She walked toward them slowly, as she might a lover who both dazzled and titillated. Her throat ached as she knelt on the floor in front of them.

R -"They're beautiful," said from behind her.

N -"They're more." Gently, Nupur lifted the portrait of Arthur, tilting it toward the light. "It's not just talent. Talent can be technical, achieve a kind of perfection of balance and proportion." She came close to that, she thought, when she painted. Fell just short of technical perfection. And miles away from the magic that made an image art. "It's genius when you're able to take that talent beyond technique and into emotion," she continued. "To message, or just to simple beauty. When you have that, you light up the world. Can't you feel his heart pounding?" she asked as she studied the young Arthur. "His muscles quivering as he takes the hilt? That's the power of the artist. I'd give anything—anything—to be able to create like this." A shiver ran through her, twin snakes of hot and cold. For a heartbeat her fingers seemed to burn. And for that heartbeat something inside her opened, and lit, and she saw how it could be done. Must be done. How she could explode on canvas into art. The knowledge filled her to bursting, left her breathless. Then was gone in an instant.

R -"Nups? Nupur?" crouched down, took her shoulders. "Sweetie what's wrong?"

N -"What? Nothing. I got dizzy for a second."

R - "Your eyes went funny. They went huge and dark."

N -"It must've been the light." But she felt strangely queasy as she pulled her purse over and took out her magnifying glass. Using the natural light, she began a slow, careful study of each painting. There was the shadow, just the hint of a form lurking deep, deep in the green of the forest. And two figures— a man and a woman—watching the boy, the sword, the stone, from the far background. From a chain at the woman's waist hung three gold keys.

G -"What do you think?" demanded.

N -"I think we've got a couple of choices." Considering them, Nupur sat back, rolled her shoulders. "We can convince Arman and Samrat to have these sent to experts for verification of whether or not it's the same artist. And by doing so, we risk this entire business getting out."

R- "What's the other choice?"

N -"We can take my word for it. Everything I know, everything I've studied and learned tells me the same person painted both of these. The same person who painted the portrait at Warrior's Peak."

G -"If we go with that, what do we do with it?" demanded.

N -"We figure out what the paintings are telling us. And we go back up to Warrior's Peak. We ask Rowena and Pitte how at least two of these works were done more than a century apart."

Ro-"I always have time to entertain three handsome men." Rowena all but purred it as she showed Mayank, Arman, and Sam into the parlor where the portrait of the Daughters of Glass dominated. She paused, waiting until all attention was focused on it. Ro -"I assume the painting interests you, Mr. Mallik. Your family has quite an extensive and eclectic art collection, I'm told." He stared at the portrait, at the figure carrying both a short sword and a little dog. Ridz's eyes stared back at him.

A- "Yes, we do."

Ro-"And has the interest passed down to you?"

A-"It has. As a matter of fact, I believe I own another painting by this artist."

She sat, a secret smile playing around her mouth as she spread the long skirts of her white dress.

Ro-"Is that so? What a small world."

S- "It gets smaller. I seem to have another painting that may be by this artist."

Ro-"Fascinating. Ah." She gestured as a servant rolled a cart in. "Coffee?"

M-"You don't ask about the subject of the other paintings." Mayank sat beside her.

Ro -"I'm sure you'll tell me. Cream, sugar?"

M -"Black. Seems a waste of time when I'm pretty sure you already know. Who's the artist, Rowena?" She poured the coffee with a steady hand, taking the liquid to within a half inch of the rim while her gaze stayed level with Mayank's.

Ro- "Did Nupur ask you to come here today?"

M -"No. Why?"

Ro-"The quest is hers, as are the questions. Such matters have rules. If she asked you to represent her, that's a different thing altogether. Did you bring your dog?"

M-"Yeah, he's outside." Her face went wistful.

Ro- "I don't mind if he comes in."

M- "White dress, big black dog. You might want to rethink that. Rowena, Nupur didn't ask us to come, but she and the others know we're helping them look into things. It's okay with them."

Ro-"But you didn't tell them you were coming to speak with me. Men often make the mistake of assuming that a woman wishes to be relieved of responsibilities and details." Her face was open and friendly, her voice carrying the lilt of a laugh. "Why is that?"

S- "We didn't come here to discuss male-female dynamics,"

Ro-"What else is there, really? Man to man, woman to woman, certainly. But it all comes down to people, what they are to each other. What they'll

do for and to one another. Even art is only a representation of that, in one form or another. If Nupur has concerns or questions about the painting or paintings she must ask. You won't find the key for her, Mayank. It's not for you."

M -"I dreamed I was in this house last night Only it wasn't a dream. It was more."

He watched her eyes change, go dark with shock. Or something else, something bigger.

Ro-"Such a dream isn't unusual under the circumstances."

M-"I've only been in the foyer and in two rooms in this place. Or had been until last night. I can tell you how many rooms are on the second floor, and that there's a staircase on the east side leading to the third that has a newel post carved like a dragon. I couldn't see it well in the dark, but I felt it."

Ro-"Wait. Please." She rose quickly and hurried from the room.

S-"This is some strange deal you've got going here, Mayank." poked at the pretty cookies arranged on a glass plate. "There's something familiar about that woman. I've seen her somewhere before."

A- "Where?" demanded.

S- "I don't know. It'll come to me. Hell of a looker. A face like that, you don't forget. And why should she freak over you having a dream? Because freak's just what she did, in her own classy way."

A- "She's afraid." walked closer to the portrait. "She went from sly to scared in a heartbeat. She knows the answer to the paintings, and she was having a good time toying with us about that until Mayank dropped his dream adventure on her."

M -"And I didn't even get to the best part." got to his feet to explore the room before Rowena got back. "Something's off here."

S- "You just getting that, bro?" Mayank spared a glance at Sam as he opened a lacquered cabinet. "Not just the already established 'off.' That's a woman in control," he said with a jerk of his thumb toward the doorway. "Cool, confident,

sure of herself. The woman who just took a flyer out of here wasn't any of those things. Man, there's some high-class booze in here."

P -"Would you care for a drink, Mr. Sharma?" Though he winced a little, Mayank turned toward the doorway and spoke equably to Pitte.

M -"No, thanks. A little early for me yet." He closed the cabinet. "How's it going?"

Rowena laid a hand on Pitte's arm before he could respond.

Ro- "Finish it," she ordered Mayank. "Finish the dream."

M -"Let's talk quid pro quo." Inclining his head, Mayank walked back to sit on the sofa. "You want to hear about the rest of the dream, and we want to know about the paintings. I show you mine, you show me yours."

P -"You bargain with us?" Mayank was amazed at the stunned outrage in Pitte's voice.

M -"Yeah."

Ro -"It's not permitted." Again Rowena laid a hand on Pitte's arm. But from the hot, impatient look he sent her, Mayank didn't bank on her restraining him for long. "We can't give you answers just because you ask. There are limits. There are paths. It's important that we know what happened to you."

M -"Give me something back." Pitte snapped something out, and though the language was a mystery to Mayank, he recognized an oath when he heard one. Following it was a bright flash, an electric slice through the air. Warily, Mayank looked down at his lap, and the banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills that now rested there.

M -"Ah. Nice trick."

S - "You've got to be kidding." had already leaped forward and now reached down and plucked up a stack of bills. He fanned them, then patted them against his palm as he stared at Pitte.

M- "Definitely time for some answers."

P -"Do you require more?" Pitte demanded, and Rowena turned on him with a kind of stunning female fury. The words they hurled at each other were unintelligible. Gaelic, Mayank thought. Maybe Welsh. But the gist was clear enough. Their temper rocked the room.

A -"Okay, take five." With three determined strides, Arman moved forward, stepped between them. "This isn't getting us anywhere." His voice was calm and controlled, and had both of them snarling at him. Still, he stayed where he was and glanced back at Mayank. "Our host just pulled… how much?"

M -"Looks like about five thousand."

A -"Five grand out of thin air—and boy, have I got some stockholders who'd like to talk to you. He seems to think you want cash for information. Do you?"

M -"Tough as it is to turn down five thousand magic dollars, no." It stung, he could admit it, but Mayank set the stack on the table. "I'm worried about three women who haven't hurt anyone, and I'm a little worried about myself. I want to know what's going on."

Ro-"Tell us the rest, and we'll tell you what we can. Tell us freely," Rowena added as she moved back to Mayank. "I'd prefer not to make you tell us." Irritated now, Mayank leaned forward.

M -"Make me?" Her voice was winter cool against the heat of his when she spoke.

Ro -"My dear, I could make you quack like a duck, but as I imagine your brave and sensible friend would say, such an incident wouldn't accomplish anything. You think we wish harm to you, or to your women? We don't. We wish harm to

none. That I can tell you freely. Pitte." She shifted, angled her head. "You've insulted our guest with this crass display. Apologize."

P -"Apologize?"

Ro- "Yes." She sat again, brushed at her skirts. Waited. Pitte bared his teeth. He tapped his fingers restlessly on his thighs. "Women are a plague to man."

S -"Aren't they just?" agreed.

P -"I'm sorry to have offended you." Then he flicked a wrist. The money vanished. "Better?"

M -"There's no reasonable way to answer that question, so I'll ask one instead. Who the hell are you people?" demanded.

P -"We're not here to answer your questions." Pitte walked over to the silver pot, poured coffee into a Dresden cup. "Even a journalist—which I warned you would be an annoyance," he added as an aside to Rowena— "—should be aware of certain rules of behavior when invited into someone's home."

M -"Why don't I just tell you who you are," began, then broke off as the delighted bark banged into the room seconds before Moe arrived. "Oh, shit."

Ro-"There he is!" Rowena simply spread her arms in welcome, and had them full of dog when the women walked into the room.

N -"How nice, how lovely. It's like a party. Sorry to burst in on you this way." Nupur scanned the room, then zeroed in on Mayank. "But there's an issue of certain people thinking they should take over from the womenfolk."

M-"That's not exactly true."

N -"Really? And what would be exactly true?"

M -"Just following a lead, that's all. You were busy rushing into business partnerships, buying houses."

N -"I've been rushing into a lot of things lately. Maybe we should debate the fact that I rushed you into bed." The twin claws of embarrassment and annoyance pricked him as he got to his feet.

M -"Sure, we can do that. Maybe we can find a more appropriate time and place for it."

N -"You want to talk about appropriate when you and your testosterone team try to take over my responsibilities, my business? Just because I'm in love with you, just because I sleep with you, doesn't mean I'll sit back and let you run my life."

M -"Who's running whose life?" Frustration had him flinging out his arms. "You're the one who has mine mapped out. I'm in this, Nupur, whether I want to be or not. And I'm here to find out what that means. And if it's heading where I think it is, you're definitely out!! All of you." He shot scathing looks at Gunjan and Ridz. "Out."

G-"Who made you boss?" demanded. "You couldn't tell me what to do when I was ten. You sure as hell can't pull it off now."

M -"Oh, you watch me. You made it seem like a game." He shot the accusation at Rowena. "Even some sort of romantic quest. But you didn't tell them what

might be at stake."

N -"What are you talking about?" jabbed at his shoulder.

M -"The dreams." Ignoring Nupur, Mayank continued to speak to Rowena. "They're warnings, aren't they?"

Ro- "You never finished telling us. Perhaps everyone should sit down, and you can start from the beginning."

N -"You had a dream? Like mine?" jabbed at him again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

M -"Just shut it down a damn minute." Out of patience, he nudged her onto the couch. "Just be quiet," he ordered. "I don't want to hear anything out of you until I'm finished." He started at the beginning, with him wandering the house, with the sensation of being watched, stalked. He related the experience on the parapet, the fear and pain, and ended with his waking in his own bed, drenched with rain.

M -"He—it—wanted my soul, was letting me know that that could be the price for being in this."

P-"This isn't the way." Pitte clamped a hand on Rowena's and spoke to her as if no one else was in the room. "This can't be the way. They aren't to be harmed. That was the first and most sacred promise."

Ro -"We can't know. If we're not allowed behind the Curtain, we can't know what situation now exists. If he's broken the vow, he must believe he can escape the consequences. He must believe… they are the ones," she said in a whisper. "It can be done, and they can succeed. He's opened the Curtain to stop them. He's come through."

P -"If they fail—"

Ro -"They cannot fail." She spun around, her face set with purpose. "We'll protect you."

N -"Will you?" Shaken, Nupur folded her hands on her lap, squeezing her fingers until the pain cleared her head. "The way you protected the Daughters of Glass? Teacher and warrior. Somehow, you are." She got up, walked to the portrait. "You're here," she said, gesturing to the couple in the background. "And here, in this room. In this place. And you think that what's there, in the shadows of the trees is here too. You don't show his face."

Ro -"He has more than one." Rowena spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that was utterly chilling.

N- "You painted this, and the two that we have."

Ro -"Painting is one of my passions," Rowena confirmed. "One of my constants. Pitte." She turned to him. "They know this much."

G -"I don't know a damn thing," declared.

S -"Step over here, to the cynical side of the room," invited.

Ro -"It's what Nupur knows that matters now." Rowena held out a hand. "All that I have will be used to keep you safe."

M -"Not good enough." Mayank shook his head. "She's out of it. They're all out of it. You want your money back, we'll—"

N -"Excuse me, I can speak for myself. This isn't a matter of a refund, is it?" she asked Rowena. "There's no turning back, no saying, uh-oh, the stakes are higher than I realized, game over."

Ro -"The agreement was made."

A- "Without full disclosure," put in. "Whatever sort of contract these women signed with you won't hold up legally."

N -"The issue isn't legal," said impatiently. "It's moral. And more than that, it's destiny. As long as I am, as long as I know, I'm part of it. Until the four weeks are up. And if I find the first key, one of them is next." She looked at the girls. "One of them will be at risk for the next phase of the moon."

Ro -"Yes."

M -"You know where the keys are," exploded. "Just hand them over. End this."

P -"Do you think, if that were possible, we would remain in this prison?" In a gesture that mirrored both disgust and bitterness Pitte flung out his arms. "Year by century by millennium, trapped in a world not our own. Do you think we live with you out of choice ? That we place our fates, the fates of those in our charge, in your hands because we wish it? We are bound here, bound by this single task. And now so are you."

Ri -"You can't go home." After the boom of Pitte's, Ridz's quiet voice was like a hammer blow. "We are home. You had no right to trick us into being part of this without telling us the risks."

Ro -"We didn't know." Rowena spread her hands.

M -"For a couple of gods, there's a hell of a lot you don't know and can't do."

Pitte's eyes went to smoke as he rounded on Mayank.

P -"Perhaps you'd like a demonstration of what we can do."

Fists already clenched, Mayank stepped forward.

M -"Bring it on." Just as Nupur reached to grab Mayank Rowena spoke

Ro -"Gentlemen." Rowena's heavy sigh was like a flood of cool water, designed to lower the rising temperature of the room. "The male, regardless of his origins, remains woefully predictable in some areas. Your pride and manhood aren't at risk here, in either case. Mayank, whatever the world, there are laws woven through the fabric of it."

M -"Rip the fabric. Break the law."

Ro -"If it were within my power to hand out the keys at this moment, it would solve nothing."

N -"They wouldn't work," Nupur stated and earned a nod of approval from Rowena.

Ro -"You understand."

N -"I think I do. If this spell… is it a spell?"

Ro -"That's the simplest word for it," agreed.

N -"If it's to be broken, it has to be by us. Women. Mortal women. Using our brains, our wits and energies, our resources in our world. Otherwise, no key opens the box. Because… we're the real keys. The answer's in us."

Ro -"You're so close to where you need to be." Emotions storming across her face, Rowena rose, laid her hands on Nupur's arms. "Closer than any have come before."

N -"But not close enough, not yet. And half my time is gone. I need to ask you some questions. In private."

G- "Hey, one for all here," reminded her. Nupur sent her a silent plea. "Okay, okay. We'll wait outside."

M -"I'll stay with you." Mayank laid a hand on Nupur's shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

N -"I said this was private. I don't want you here." His face went blank and cold.

M -"Fine, then, I'll get out of your way." With obvious regret, Rowena gave Moe a little nudge to send him along. She frowned at the sharp slam of the door behind Mayank. Ro -"Your man has a sensitive heart. More easily bruised than yours."

N -"Is he my man?" Before Rowena could speak, Nupur shook her head. "First things first. Why was I taken behind the Curtain?"

Ro -"He wanted to show you his power."

N-"Who is he?" Rowena hesitated, then when Pitte nodded, continued.

Ro -"He is Kane, a sorcerer. The dark one."

N -"The one in the shadows, the one I saw in my dream. The stealer of souls."

Ro -"He showed himself to you so you would be frightened. There's no need to frighten you unless you can succeed."

N-"Why did he hurt Mayank?"

Ro-"Because you love him."

N -"Do I?" Nupur's voice thickened with emotion. "Or have I been made to think I do? Is that just one more trick?"

Ro -"Ah." Rowena let out a soft breath. "Perhaps you're not as close as I thought. Don't you know your own heart, Nupur?"

N -"I've known him two weeks, and I feel as if my life will never be quite right if he's not in it. But is it real? At the end of my four weeks, will I still feel that way?" She pressed a hand to her heart. "Or will it be taken away from me? Is it any worse to have your soul taken from you than your heart?"

Ro -"I think not, for one feeds the other. And I can't give you the answer, because you already have it. If you choose to look."

N -"Then tell me this. Will he be safe if I step away from him? If I close my heart to him, will he be safe?"

P -"You'd give him up to protect him?"

N -"Yes." Thoughtful, he walked to the lacquered cabinet, opened it to take out a bottle of brandy.

P -"And you'd tell him this?"

N -"No, he'd never—"

P -"Ah, so you would deceive him." With a small smile, Pitte poured brandy into a snifter. "And justify the lie by saying that it was for his own good. Women, whatever their world, are predictable," he said, with a mocking bow to Rowena.

Ro -"Love," she corrected, "is a constant force in any universe. Your decisions, your choices, must be yours," she told Nupur. "But your man won't thank you for any sacrifice you make to protect him." She gave Pitte a mocking bow in turn. "They never do. Go now." She touched a hand to Nupur's cheek. "Rest your mind a while, until you can think clearly with it. And you have my word, whatever can be done to keep you, your man, your friends safe will be done."

N -"I don't know them." She pointed to the portrait. "But I know those people outside. You should know, if it comes down to a choice, I'll choose those I know."

Pitte waited until they were alone before bringing Rowena a second snifter.

P -"I have loved you through time and through worlds."

Ro -"And I you, my lovet."

P -"But I've never understood you. You could have answered her question about love and eased her mind."

Ro -"She'll be the wiser, and the happier, for finding the answer herself. How much can we do for them?" He leaned down, pressed his lips to her brow.

P - "Our best."

Jus superb parts

superb haan it means mayank was the one who stole the souls of the three
wow intresting

awesome...i simply love the MN part...and the fantasy is developing awesomely!!!

awesome going...!!

Hey guys!!
will update 3 parts today!!
The MN story will come to an end soon maybe by this weekend
it will then off-shoot into the SG story.😃

Chapter Fourteen

She needed time, Nupur admitted. She'd been on a roller coaster since the first of the month, and though there'd been a thrill in riding those fast dips and sharp turns, she needed a break. Nothing in her life was the same as it had been, she thought as she let herself into her apartment. She'd always counted on consistency, and that single element had slipped through her fingers. Or been tossed aside on impulse. She didn't have The Gallery. She wasn't completely certain she had her sanity. On one of those dips and

turns, she'd stopped being sensible, dependable Nupur Bhushan come irrational, emotional, fanciful Nupur Bhushan—a woman who believed in magic, in love at first sight. All right, maybe third sight, she corrected as she closed her curtains and crawled onto her bed. But it was the same thing, essentially. She'd taken money that could have seen her through several lean months and invested it in an enterprise with two women she'd known for less than four weeks. And trusted implicitly, she decided. Without reservation. She was about to embark on a business of her own, without any stock, any solid plan, any safety net. Against all logic, the idea of it made her happy. And still her head was pounding, her stomach churning. Over the thought that she might not be in love at all. That the blissful confidence and pleasure she felt in Mayank was only an illusion. If the illusion shattered, she was afraid she would grieve for the rest of her life. She bunched the pillow under her head, curled into a ball, and begged for sleep. It was sunny and warm when she woke, and the air smelled like summer roses. She snuggled in for a moment. Warm sheets carrying the faint scent of her man, the soft drift of silence. She rolled over lazily, blinked. Something odd hung over her mind. Not really unpleasant, just odd. The dream. The strangest dream. She sat up and stretched, feeling the healthy pull of muscles. Naked, and easy with it, she slid out of bed, sniffed the butter-yellow roses on the dresser before picking up her robe. She paused by the window to admire her garden, draw in the fragrant air. She pushed the window open wider and let the sound of birdsong follow her out of the room. The odd feeling was already fading—as a dream does on waking—as she glided down the stairs, trailing a hand over the silky wood of the banister. Jewel lights from the window over the door played on the floor. More flowers, exotic sprays of white orchids, speared out of the antique vase on the entrance table. His keys were tossed beside them, in the little mosaic bowl she'd bought just for that purpose. She wound her way through the house to the kitchen, then grinned. He was at the stove, sliding a battered slice of bread into the skillet. There was a tray beside him, already topped with a flute of sparkling juice, a single rose in a bud vase, her pretty coffee cup. The back door was open. Through it, she could hear the birds continuing to sing and the dog's occasional happy barks. Blissful, she crept forward, then wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

M -"Watch it. My wife could wake up any minute."

N -"Let's risk it." He turned, caught her up in a long, hard kiss. Her heart leaped, her blood fired, even as she thought, Perfect. It's all so perfect.

M -"I was going to surprise you." Mayank ran his hands over her back as he eased her away. "Breakfast in bed. The Sharma Special."

N -"Make it a better surprise, and have breakfast in bed with me."

M -"I could probably be persuaded. Hold on." He grabbed a spatula, flipped the bread over.

N -"Mmm. It's after eight. You shouldn't have let me sleep so late."

M -"I didn't let you get much sleep last night." He winked at her. "Seemed only fair to let you catch a little this morning. You've been working so hard, Nups, getting ready for your show."

N -"I'm nearly done."

M- "And when it's over, I'm going to take my incredibly beautiful and talented wife on a well-deserved vacation. Do you remember that week we spent in Florence?"

N -"How could I forget? Are you sure you can take the time off? I'm not the only one who's been busy around here."

M -"We'll make time." He flipped the French toast onto a plate. "Why don't you grab the paper, and we'll crawl back into bed for an hour… or two." Sleepy cries began to sound from the baby monitor on the counter. Mayank glanced toward it. "Or maybe not."

N -"I'll get him. Meet me upstairs."

She hurried up, part of her mind acknowledging the paintings lining the walls. The street scene she'd done in Florence, the seascape from the Outer Banks, the portrait of Mayank sitting at his desk in his office. She turned toward the nursery. The walls there were decorated with her paintings as well. The bright faerie-tale scenes she'd done the entire time she'd been pregnant. And in the crib with its glossy spindle bars, her little boy cried impatiently for attention.

N -"There now, sweetheart. Mama's right here." She picked him up, cuddled him close. He would have his father's hair, she thought, as she cooed and swayed. It was already coming in dark. He was so perfect. So absolutely perfect. But as she carried him toward the changing table, her legs went weak. What was his name? What was her baby's name? Panicked, she clutched him close, then whirled as she heard Mayank come to the door.

M -"You look so beautiful, Honey. I love you."

N -"Mayank." Something was wrong with her eyes. It was as if she could see through him, as if he were fading away. "Something's wrong."

M -"Nothing's wrong. Everything's exactly right. Everything's just the way you wanted it to be."

N -"It's not real, is it?" Tears began to sting her eyes. "It's not real."

M -"It could be." A light flashed, and she was standing in a studio awash with light. Canvases were stacked against the walls or rested on easels. She faced another, brilliant with color and shape. A brush was in her hand, and she was already daubing it on her palette.

N -"I've done this," she whispered as she stared at the canvas. It was a forest, misty with green light. The figure walking on the path was alone. Not lonely, she thought, but solitary. There was home at the end of the path, and a bit of time yet to enjoy the quiet and the magic of the woods. Her hand had done that. Her mind, her heart. She could feel it, just as she could feel and remember every brushstroke on every canvas in the room. The power of that, the glory of it with all its pain and pleasure.

N- "I can do this." With a kind of frantic glee, she continued to paint. "I have to do this." The joy was like a drug, and she was greedy for it. She knew how to mix just the right tone of color, when to sweep it on, when to switch for the fine, fine details.

How to create that light, that shadow so one might feel as if he or she could slip inside, walk that path, and find home at the end of it. But even as she painted, tears began to run down her cheeks. "It's not real."

"It could be." The brush clattered to the floor, splattering paint, as she whirled.

He stood beside her, with the sun's rays flooding over him. And still he was dark. His hair, black and glossy, spread like wings to his shoulders. His eyes were a strong stone gray. Sharp, high cheekbones hollowed his cheeks, and his mouth was full, appealingly wicked. Beautiful, she thought. How could he be beautiful?

"Did you think I'd look like a demon? Like something out of a nightmare?" His amusement only added charm. "Why should I? They've made you think poorly of me, haven't they?"

N -"You're Kane." Fear was alive in her, with its cold hands closing around her throat. "You stole the souls from the Daughters of Glass."

K -"It needn't concern you." His voice was beautiful as well. Melodic, soothing. "You're an ordinary woman in an ordinary world. You know nothing of me or mine. I wish you no harm. The opposite, in fact." With a dancer's grace, he wandered the room, his soft boots silent on the paint-splattered floor. "This is your work."

N -"No."

K -"Oh, yes, you know it." He lifted a canvas, studied the sinuous lines of a mermaid lounging on a rock. "You remember painting this, and the others. You know now how it feels to have that power. Art makes gods out of men." He set the canvas down again. "Or women. What are we, in my world, but artists and bards, magicians and warriors? You want to keep the power, Nupur?" She swiped at the tears, saw her work through them.

N - "Yes."

K -"You can have it, all of it, and more. The man you want, the life, the family. I'll give them to you. The child you held in your arms? It can all be real, it can all belong to you."

N -"At what price?"

K -"So little." He slid a finger over her damp cheek, and the tear he stole flamed on its tip. "So very little.

You've only to stay within this dream. To wake and sleep within it, to walk, to speak, to eat, to love. All you can wish for will be here for you. Perfection—without pain, without death." She let out a shuddering breath.

N -"There are no keys in this dream."

K -"You're a clever woman. Why care about keys, about bas***d goddesses who have nothing to do with you? Why risk yourself and those you love for foolish girls who should never have been born? Would you give up your own dream for strangers?"

N -"I don't want a dream. I want my life. I won't trade my life for your illusions." His skin went white, his eyes black.

K -"Then lose all!" She screamed as he reached for her, and again when the cold speared through her. Then she was pulled clear, tumbled free, to wake gasping in her own bed. She heard the banging on the door, the shouting. Terror leaped out of bed with her. She made it to the living room at a stumbling run and spotted Mayank on the other side of her patio doors, about to smash one of her chairs through the glass. He tossed it aside as she unlocked the door, shoved it open.

M - "Who's in here?" He grabbed her shoulders, lifted her right off her feet, and set her Behind him, his body holding a protective stance in front of her. "Who hurt you!?"

N-"Nobody's here."

M -"You were screaming. I heard you screaming." He strode into the bedroom, fists ready.

N -"I had a nightmare. It was just a bad dream. No one's here but me. I have to sit down." She braced a hand on the couch, lowered herself. His own legs felt a little shaky. She'd screamed as if something was tearing her to pieces. He'd had a good taste of terror the night before, but it had been nothing compared to what had pumped into him on the other side of that glass door. He marched into the kitchen, poured a glass of water.

M -"Here, drink some. Take it slow."

N -"I'll be okay in a minute. I woke up, and you were pounding and shouting. Everything's still confused."

M -"You're trembling." He glanced around, spotted a chenille throw. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he sat on the couch beside her. "Tell me about the dream."

She shook her head.

N -"No. I don't want to talk about it, or think about it right now. I just want to be alone for a while. I don't want you here."

M -"That's the second time today you've said that to me. But this time you're not getting your way. In fact, I'm calling Sam and letting him know I'm staying here tonight."

N -"This is my apartment. Nobody stays here unless I invite them."

M -"Wrong again. Get undressed, get in bed. I'll make you some soup or something."

N -"I don't want soup, I don't want you. And I certainly don't want to be coddled."

M -"Then what the hell do you want?" He lunged to his feet, vibrating with fury and frustration. "One minute you're all over me, telling me you're in love with me, you want to spend your life with me. Then the next you want me to hit the road. I'm sick to death of women and their mixed signals and capricious minds and their goddamn expectations of me. Right now, you're going to do what I want, and that's getting into bed while I make you something to eat." She stared at him. A dozen vile and vicious words leaped into her throat. And she lost them all in a burst of tears.

M -"Oh, Christ, Please don't cry." Mayank scrubbed his hands over his face. "Nice job. Take a bow, Sharma." He stalked to the window, stared out while she wept wildly behind him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do about you. I can't keep up. You don't want me here, fine. I'll call Gunjan. But I don't want you to be alone."

N -"I don't know what to do about me either." She reached in the drawer for a pack of tissues. "If I've sent you mixed signals, it hasn't been deliberately." She mopped at her face, but the tears simply wouldn't stop. "I don't have a capricious mind—at least I never used to. And I don't know what my goddamn expectations of you are. I don't even know what my goddamn expectations are of me anymore. I used to. I'm scared. I'm scared of what's happening around me and inside me. And I'm scared because I don't know what's real. I don't know if you're actually standing over there." He came back, sat beside her again.

M - "I'm here," he said as he took her hand kissed it and then firmly held it in his."This is real."

N- "Mayank." She steadied herself by staring at their joined hands. "All my life I've wanted certain things. I wanted to paint. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be an artist. A wonderful artist. I studied, and I worked. And I never came close. I don't have the gift." She closed her eyes. "It hurt, more than I can tell you, to accept that." Steadier, she let out a breath, looked at him. "The best I could do was work with art, to be around it, to find some purpose for this love." She fisted a hand on her heart. "And that I was good at."

M -"Don't you think there's something noble about doing what we're really good at, even if it wasn't our first choice?"

N -"That's a nice thought. But it's hard to set a dream aside. I guess you know that."

M - "Yeah, I know that."

N -"The other thing I wanted was to love someone, to be loved by him. Absolutely. To know when I went to bed at night, woke in the morning, that this someone was with me. Understood me and wanted me. I never had much luck with that one either. I might meet someone, and we'd seem to click. But it never got inside me. I never felt that leap, or the burn that eases into that wonderful, spreading warmth. When you just know this is the one you were waiting for. Until you. Don't say anything," she said quickly. "I need to finish." She picked up the water again, soothed her throat. "When you wait all your life for something and then you find it, it's like a miracle. All the parts inside you that've been on hold, they open up and start beating. You were okay before, you were good. You had purpose and direction, and everything was just fine. But now it's more. You can't explain what that more is, but you know, if you lose it, you'll never be able to fill those empty spaces in just the same way again. Not ever. That's terrifying. I'm afraid that what's inside me is just a trick. That I'll wake up tomorrow and what's beating in here will have stopped. It'll be quiet again. I won't feel this way. I won't feel the way I've waited all my life to feel." Her eyes were dry again, her hand steady as she set the water down.

N- "I can stand you not loving me back. There's always the hope that you will. But I don't know if I can stand not loving you. It would be like… like having something stolen from inside me. I don't know if I can handle going back to the way I was."

He brushed a hand down her hair, then drew her close to his side so her head rested on his shoulder.

M-"Nobody's ever loved me, not the way you're talking about. I don't know what to do about it, Nupur, but I don't want to lose it either."

N -"I saw the way things could be, but it wasn't true. Just an ordinary day that was so perfect it was like a jewel in the palm of my hand. He made me see it and feel it. And want it." He eased back, turning her to face him.

M - "The dream?" She nodded.

N -"It hurt more than anything I've ever known to let it go. It's a hard price, Mayank."

M -"Can you tell me?"

N -"I think I have to. I was tired. I felt like I'd been through this emotional wringer. I just wanted to lie down, have it go away for a while."

She took him through it, the waking with that sensation of absolute well-being, of moving through a house that was full of love, finding him in the kitchen making her breakfast.

M -"That should've clued you in. Me, cooking? An obvious delusion."

N -"You were making me French toast. It's my favorite lazy-morning treat. We talked about going on vacation, and I remembered all the other places we'd gone, what we'd done. Those memories were inside me. Then the baby woke up."

M-"Baby?" He went icy pale. "We had—there was… a baby?"

N-"I went up to get him out of the crib."

M-"Him?"

N-"Yes, him. Along the walls on the way were paintings I'd done. They were wonderful, and I could remember painting them. Just as I could remember painting the ones in the nursery. I picked the baby up, out of the crib, and this love, this terrible love for him. I was full of it. And then… and then I didn't know his name. I had no name for him. I could feel the shape of him in my arms, and how soft and warm his skin was, but I didn't know his name. You came to the door, and I could see through you. I knew it wasn't real. None of it was real." She had to stand up, to move. She walked over to open the curtains again. "Even as I started to hurt, I was in a studio. My studio, surrounded by my work. I could smell the paint and the turpentine. I had a brush in my hand, and I knew how to use it. I knew all the things I'd always wanted to know. It was powerful, like having the child who had come from me in my arms. And just as false. And he was there."

M -"Who was there?" She drew in a sharp breath, turned back.

N- "His name is Kane. The stealer of souls. He spoke to me. I could have it all—the life, the love, the talent. It could be real. If I just stayed inside it, I'd never have to it up. We would love each other. We'd have a son. I'd paint. It would all be perfect. Just live inside the dream, and the dream's real."

M -"Did he touch you!?" He rushed to her to run his hands over her as if to check for wounds. "Did he hurt you!?"

N -"This world or that," she said, steady again. "My choice. I wanted to stay, but I couldn't. I don't want a dream, Mayank, no matter how perfect it is. If it's not real, it means nothing. And if I'd stayed, isn't that just another way of giving him my soul?"

M -"You were screaming." Undone, reassuring himself that she was safe in his arms Mayank laid his forehead on hers. "You were screaming."

N-"He tried to take it, but I heard you shouting for me. Why did you come here?"

M -"You were upset, with me. I didn't want you to be."

N -"Annoyed," she corrected and slid her arms around him. "I still am, but it's a little hard to get through everything else to my irritation. I want you to stay. I'm afraid to sleep, afraid I might go back and this time I won't be strong enough to come out again."

M -"You're strong enough. And if you need it, I'll help pull you out."

N -"This might not be real either." She lifted her mouth to his. "But I need you."

M -"It's real." He lifted her hands, kissed each one in turn. "That's the only thing I'm sure of in this whole damn mess. Whatever I'm feeling for you, Nupur, it's real."

N -"If you can't tell me what you feel, then show me." She drew him to her. "Show me now." All the conflicting emotions, the needs and doubts and wants, poured into the kiss. And as she accepted them, accepted him, he felt himself settle. Tenderness spread through him as he picked her up, cradled her in his arms.

M -"I want to keep you safe. I don't care if it irritates you." He carried her to her room and laid her on the bed. "I'll keep getting in the way, if that's what it takes."

N -"I don't need someone to look out for me." She lifted a hand to his cheek. "I just need you to look at me."

M-"Nupur, I've been looking at you from the beginning, even when you're not around." She smiled.

N- "That's a strange thing to say, but it's nice. Lie down with me." They were side by side, faces close. "I feel pretty safe right now, and it's not particularly irritating."

M -"Maybe you're feeling a little too safe." Coming closer to her.

N -"Maybe." She sighed when he began to nuzzle the side of her neck. "That doesn't scare me a bit. You're going to have to try a lot harder." He rolled over, pinned her, then plundered her mouth with his.

M -"Oh. Nice work," she managed. She was trembling, and her skin was flushing warm. He was tied to her. Perhaps he had been even before he'd met her. Could it be that all the mistakes he'd made, all the changes in direction, had been only to lead him to this time, and this woman? Was there never any choice? She sensed him drawing back.

He made good on the soup, though he could tell it amused her to have him stirring a pot at her stove. He put on music, kept the lights low. Not for seduction, but because he desperately wanted to keep her relaxed. He had questions, a great many more questions, about her dream. The part of him that felt that asking questions was a human obligation warred with the part that wanted to tuck her up safe and quiet for a while.

M -"I could run out," he suggested, "grab some videos. We can veg out."

N -"Don't go anywhere." She snuggled closer to him on the couch. "You don't have to distract me, Mayank. We have to talk about it eventually."

M -"Doesn't have to be now."

N -"I thought a newspaperman dug for all the facts fit to print, and then some."

M-"Since the Dispatch isn't going to be running a story on Celtic myths in the Valley until all of this is finished, there's no rush."

N-"And if you were working for the New York Times?"

M -"That'd be different." He stroked her hair, sipped his wine. "I'd be hard-boiled and cynical and skewer you or anybody else for the story. And I'd probably be strung out and stressed. Maybe have a drinking problem. Be working toward my second divorce. I think I'd like bourbon, and I'd have a redhead on the side."

N-"What do you really think it'd be like if you'd gone to New York?"

M -"I don't know. I like to think I'd have done good work. Important work."

N -"You don't think your work here's important?"

M -"It serves a purpose."

N -"An important purpose. Not only keeping people informed and entertained, giving them the continuity of tradition, but keeping a lot of them employed. The people who work on the paper, deliver it, their families. Where would they have gone if you'd left?"

M -"I wasn't the only one who could run it."

N -"Maybe you were the only one who was supposed to run it. Would you go now, if you could?" He thought about it.

M - "No. I made the choice. Most of the time I'm glad I chose as I did. Just every once in a while, I wonder."

N - "I couldn't paint. Nobody told me I couldn't or made me give it up. I just wasn't good enough. It's different when you're good enough, but someone tells you you can't."

M -"It wasn't exactly like that."

N -"What was it like?"

M -"You have to understand my mother. She makes very definite plans. When my father died, well, that must've really messed up Plan A."

N -"Mayank."

M -"I'm not saying she didn't love him, or didn't mourn. She did. We did. He made her laugh. He could always make her laugh. I don't think I heard her laugh, not really, for a year after we lost him."

N -"Mayank." It broke her heart. "I'm so sorry."

M -"She's tough. One thing you can say about her, she's no wimp."

N-"You love her." Nupur brushed at his hair. "I wondered."

M -"Sure I do, but you won't hear me say she was easy to live with. Anyway, when she pulled herself out of it, it was time for Plan B. Big chunk of that was passing the paper to me when the time came. No problem for me there, since I figured that was way, way down the road. And that I would deal with it, and her, when I had to. I liked working for the Dispatch , learning not just about reporting but about publishing too."

N -"But you wanted to do that in New York."

M -"I was too big for a podunk town like Pleasant Valley. Too much to say, too much to do. Pulitzers to win. Then my mother married a great guy. gunjan's dad."

N -"Can he make your mother laugh?"

M -"Yeah. Yeah, he can. We made a good family, the four of us. I don't know that I appreciated that at the time. With Pa around, I figured some of the pressure on me was off. I guess we all figured they'd work the paper together for decades."

N -"He's a reporter?"

M-"Yeah, worked for the paper for years. Used to joke that he'd married the boss. They made a good team too, so it looked like everything was going to work out fine and dandy. After college, I figured to build up another couple years' experience here, then give New York a break and offer my invaluable skills and services. I met Dia, and that seemed to be the icing on the cake."

N -"What happened?"

M -"Pa got sick. Looking back, I imagine my mother was frantic at the idea that she might lose somebody else she loved. She's not big on emotional displays. She's sort of contained and straightforward, but I can see it, hindsight-wise. And I can't imagine what it was like for her. They had to move. He had a better chance of copping more time if they got out of this climate, and away from stress. So either I stayed, or the paper closed."

N -"She expected you to stay." He remembered what he'd said about expectations.

M-"Yeah. Do my duty. I was pissed off at her for a year, then irritated for another. Somewhere in year three I hit resigned. I don't know exactly when that became… I guess you could say contentment. But around the time I bumped into contentment, I bought the house. Then I got Moe."

N -"I'd say you're off your mother's plan and on your own." He let out a half laugh.

M -"Son of a bitch. I guess I am."