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“No, but…”
“Someone has to save you from yourself.” She cast a quick glance over my shoulder. The hallway was empty, but that didn’t mean Caligo wasn’t there. “I won’t be coming here, though. From now on, we’ll have to meet in a wine bar or something.”
“Not a wine bar,” I insisted. “A coffee shop.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just testing. God forbid I have any fun.”
“You were the one who wanted to stay sober,” I pointed out.
“Yeah…” She no longer sounded too sure about it. She leaned forward, bringing her lips to my ear and lowering her voice. “Be careful, Rowan. I know you don’t think you’re in any danger, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. One day, you’ll be an earl. Which sounds boring as hell, admittedly, but you’ve still got an entire life ahead of you. Don’t throw that away just because he’s got a dick for all occasions.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Rowan
I did my best to push Laura’s warning to the back of my mind the next day and concentrate on losing myself in my painting. Caligo watched from across the room while I focused on bringing the rehab center and its surrounding forest to life. I didn’t mind him being there. There was something quite comforting about his silent presence.
Ha! See, Laura. He’s comforting. Not scary. Not something to be feared. Just because he terrified the life out of you doesn’t mean you need to project that onto someone else. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.
“Your heart rate is elevated,” Caligo said conversationally. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Why does thinking about nothing make your heart beat faster?”
I shot him a sideways glance. “Are you being facetious?”
“Being facetious is treating a serious subject with inappropriate humor,” Caligo recited with all the relish of a talking dictionary. “Is that correct?”
I shrugged. “I think so. We humans tend to use a lot of words without ever checking their precise meanings.” For my amusement, I added a dark shadow behind the window of what had once been my room. Most people looking at the painting—not that I planned to show it to anyone—probably wouldn’t notice the vaguely humanoid patch of deeper darkness, but I’d know it was there. I wondered if Laura would spot it. Something told me she’d zero in on it like a heat-seeking missile. “Nothing means I either don’t want to talk about it or it isn’t worth talking about,” I added.
“Which is it?”
I laughed. “All right, I’ll put it another way. It means I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Human minds are complex.” Caligo glided across the room to where I’d set up a second easel and picked up a paintbrush, examining the bristles. Then, to my surprise, he squeezed some paint onto the palette. Black paint.
“You’re going to paint?”
“You don’t want me to?”
“Oh, no.” I waved an inviting hand at the easel. “Knock yourself out.”
Caligo did indeed paint, his concentration so absolute that he fell silent. Unfortunately, I’d set up the easel at an angle that kept the canvas hidden from me. I’d expected him to give up after five minutes, but half an hour later, he was still at it. “You’re probably going to need more than just black paint,” I said after catching myself looking across at him for what had to be the twentieth time.
He didn’t answer.
“Just… offering some advice.”
With an air that could best be described as deliberately combative, he picked up the tube of white paint and added a splodge beside the black.
“Okay…” I said. “I can’t wait to see your zebra picture.”
More silence.
“Penguin?” I smirked. “Panda? Dalmatian? Killer whale? Skunk? Spider monkey? A Friesian cow?”
“I’m not painting an animal.”
