My Beautiful Mind

11.

Curled up in the gray dish chair in my room, I'm typing furiously on my laptop, trying to get everything swirling aimlessly in my mind into words before I forget the exact details. Mom's on her way to work and so is Dad, wrapping up last minute repairs before the holidays. Meanwhile, I'm so lost in the LED-lit, white document on the screen that I just barely register that Cordelia has materialized in the middle of the room in a cloud of black twilight. "Hi," I greet her quietly without taking my eyes off my laptop. Cordelia huffs out something along the lines of "the demise of humanity is forthcoming with their dependence on fancy machines," and throws her traveling cloak over the back of my desk chair. I close my laptop when Cordelia's boots disappear from her feet with a snap of her fingers and she settles on the fluffy area rug by the wall, wanting to prove her that humankind isn't that doomed.

"Mila is about finish her discussion with the doctors. Adela will be here shortly, something about a 'grocery run.' Emy's most likely tumbling in the sheets with a certain someone," Cordelia gives me a raised eyebrow. "Brilliant idea, you know, to give her a suitor," she says sarcastically. I just shrug, "It simply happened." Cordelia snorts, taking out a throwing knife to clean underneath her fingernails. We don't say anything for a few minutes, and I decide to strike a conversation with the Hunter. "So, we're going to meet here to discuss how we're planning to find Evan's creations?" Cordelia looks up from her hands and nods, "But first, it would be useful if we knew their identities."

Before I can reply, a glittering dark cloud appears in the middle of the room and out steps Emy clad in a brown cloak draped over a floor-length, dark green cotton dress. Her thick red hair runs down her back in loose curls and frames her pale, freckled face. As always, I'm stunned by her simple beauty. Cordelia notices the faint blush on Emy's cheeks and wiggles her brows suggestively at her. Emy scowls at the Hunter and crosses her arms defensively. Watching the two interact is like witnessing two opposing forces clashing into one another. While Emy's hair is down, Cordelia's shorter, black hair is coiled neatly in a French braid. While Emy's unblemished body is covered by a flowing gown, Cordelia's scarred arms and legs are shoved through a button-up shirt and trousers.

But all opposing pairs have their one similarity. The predators within them stalk patiently under the skin, more than capable of killing me instantaneously if they so wish. By the time I shake myself out of my thoughts, Mila and Adela materialize themselves into the room, the latter clutching a box of Cheez-Its she must've taken with her after grocery shopping. Adela passes around the Cheez-Its for an afternoon snack. Mila and I casually grab a handful of the crackers having been familiar with the snack since infancy, while Cordelia holds an orange square in her palm and studies it intently as if it might kill her. Emy's slightly more open to trying the cracker and nibbles at the corner of it, but makes a face when she discovers she doesn't care for the artificial cheese taste. Adela shrugs at the varied reactions to the snack and sets the box on my desk.

"Cordelia told me that the first thing we need to do is find out who Evan's creations are," I start hesitantly, "and I think the answers are in his room." Mila perks up when it dawns on her what I'm suggesting. "His paintings," she breathed. I nod and gesture everyone to follow me into Evan's room. Beyond the family portraits and images of places Evan's been are more of his more eccentric paintings, artwork of people and universes I'm not familiar about. At the time Evan's created them, I didn't think they were anything more than dreams. Little did I know, they'd become so much more than two-dimensional figments of imagination.

I lead the girls over to the group of more interesting canvases and let them see for themselves if they can discern anything from them. While they kneel on the carpet to get a closer look, one catches my eye. A young man hikes up a snowy mountain bundled in layers of clothing and clutches a camera in his gloved hands. Based on the camera's high-tech features, the hiker isn't an amateur photographer. While it appears that he's having the time of his life, Evan captures the sadness and regret on his face. I pick up the canvas from the floor and hold it up to the girls. "He's one of them–my heart's telling me he's out there," I announce quietly. Emy takes one more look at her chosen painting and picks it up. Like Emy, the man in the painting isn't human–far from it actually, if the pointed ears aren't enough. The heavily armored faerie is in the midst of battle with other faeries like him to defend a city made of glittering silver against an army of menacing mythical creatures and evil-looking humanoid faeries.