Wrapped in Color and Light

Chapter 15

The gun was no longer cold. Tucked in Craig's waistband and pressed against his back, it had become warm, adopting the temperature of his skin. He reached behind and touched it, checking it was still there. The feeling of metal roused fear, and he shook as he lifted his hand to knock. Robert's door opened before his fist had a chance to hit wood.

"Listen, you didn't have to come down. My word is final. I'm sorry, but I just don't think it's safe to lend these paintings out. I can't be responsible for anything that might go wrong." Robert kept the door half shut with most of his body shielded behind it.

"Let's just talk about it. I know I can make it worth your while." Craig reached out a hand and pushed the door open wider.

Robert stopped it with his foot. "No, Craig. And if you come any farther, I'm going to call the police."

Craig saw the paintings hanging on the walls, like scared children cowering behind a mother's skirt. He wished he could reach out, scoop them up, and stuff them in his pocket, as he would a pile of coins. His stare lingered, his chest pounding. "Robert, remember what I've promised. I can find your dad and send him back."

Robert's posture relaxed. "I know, but I've been thinking. You already have Captives. Why not just leap through that? Do you really need these?"

Craig clenched his teeth, the tension in his jaw locking bone with bone. "I've tried, but it's not working with Captives. Maybe it will with one of those." He nodded toward the artwork in the background.

Robert looked down at his feet while Craig's vision swam, the colors in the paintings blending into one another. Then, his ears popped, making Robert's next words sound distant.

Craig shook his head, clearing it. "What did you say?"

"Why don't you try leaping here?"

It would be the sensible thing to do, but with the way the wizard had shaken his head, Craig wanted to leap in front of him, to warn the wizard of his upcoming demise.

"No. I want them in the storage room with Captives. I think it will help."

Robert sighed. "Tell you what. Go and try to leap through Captives one more time. If it doesn't work, we can talk about you using these paintings. Maybe I'll let them go one at a time."

Robert stepped back to shut the door, and anger along with years of pent-up rage burned like fire inside Craig, swallowing all the sanity he had left and destroying the fear. He threw his shoulder into the door, the weight of his body too much for Robert to withstand.

"What the hell, Craig?"

Craig felt as if an army of ants were crawling up his arms, and his heart beat against his ribs as he tried to shake them off. Then, he couldn't breathe, couldn't inhale, as though he were deep underwater.

Robert stared in shock.

Craig couldn't speak, couldn't open his mouth for fear of drowning. All he could do was reach around his back, his fingers tickling metal, before gripping the gun and pulling it free. The sight of it pointed toward Robert calmed Craig, the feeling of the trigger draining the water and killing the ants, leaving him back in control of his body.

Robert gasped and stepped back, his hands held high. "Okay, Craig. Let's not do anything drastic here. Why don't you put the gun down, and we can talk?"

Craig discreetly held the pistol at his hip. "I'm done talking. It's time we do this my way."

"Okay, you can have the paintings. Just put the gun down, please."