Page 26 of The Storm
She didn’t want this place filled with voices again. Didn’t want new songs to fill the hall. It would have seemed as irreverent as a feast on a grave.
Renata walked back to the children’s tunnels and paused at the entrance, sure she didn’t want to follow through but certain this was the place where she’d caught the scent earlier in the day. It was gone now, but she could swear she heard the stomp of running feet and the sound of childish laughter.
Relentless curiosity won out over the ghosts.
She walked back, carefully examining each room with the clinical eye of an investigator. By the time she reached the end, she was certain someone had been in the caves. There was little dust and the air wasn’t stale.
She turned to the last door on the left and hesitated. Images of empty clothes and abandoned shoes filled her mind. Gold dust in the air and blood spattering the walls.
With a scream trapped in her heart, she walked in. She kept her eyes from the corner opposite the door and swept her flashlight along the far wall. It was empty. No clothes. No shoes. No blood. Mala had been the one to clear this room. Renata hadn’t had the courage.
Her flashlight stopped on the table. Paper and colored pencils. Mala was an artist, but these didn’t look like her work. These drawings could only have been made by a child.
Renata walked closer and slid them across the table. Most were animals. A cow with a bright bell around its neck. A lion. A well-rendered stag and a flock of sheep on a mountainside. The last one was a bright red fox with his head lifted in a howl, the artist dropping the brown colored pencil in the middle of a stroke, as if she had been interrupted.
What was this?
There had been nothing left like this after the Rending. The colored pencils were new. Modern. She’d seen that brand in the shops in the village.
She lifted her flashlight and turned it around the room. When her flashlight illuminated the mural, she froze.
Mala had cleaned the room, but she’d done something more. The painting filled a wall that had been covered in blood and little handprints. The wall was warped by Renata’s scream when she’d discovered it. The surface had buckled with her magic, like a body absorbing the force of a blow. What once had been smooth had become rippled and jagged.
But Mala had transformed that wall. She’d smoothed the cracks into gentle ripples and covered the blood with bright paint. She’d turned the room of horrors into a place of peace by capturing the beauty of the mountains around them. She’d filled it with creation instead of death. The children and animals sprang to life in the dark cave, so vibrant they’d inspired a small artist to copy small pieces of them with childish hands.
Renata’s emotions ricocheted between anger and wonder.
Who had invaded this place?
The mural was so beautiful. So peaceful.
Was it a child? How had a child gotten into the caves?
She needed to thank Mala, but thanks wasn’t enough.
Did one of the renters—
“We really do make the best team,” Max said quietly from the door.
Renata lifted her eyes to him and he blocked the glare of her flashlight. He was wearing a pair of linen pants and nothing else. She dropped the beam to his feet and ignored the instant surge of lust his exposed body provoked. Her emotions were running high.
“Did you see this earlier?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s what I wanted to show you.”
“You should have insisted.”
“I would have, but you were in full avoidance mode. I thought it would be better to wait.”
She left it alone because he was right and she didn’t want to admit it.
“Bread,” Renata said. “It smelled like bread in the corridor.”
“I noticed it too.” Max stepped into the room and set a lamp on the table. The low light illuminated the room, bringing harsh shadows to soft light. “Did Mala paint this?”
“She must have.”
“It’s beautiful.”
