Spirit Bound Read Online Free PDF Page B

restoration and painting for the public.
    Every dark thought, every dark need, strong enough to wake her in the middle of the night and leave her sweating on the sheets, was carefully left in this room, just as carefully and deliberately as she cared for her paints and brushes. This was a room of depression and madness. Dark. Ugly. One of heavy sorrow, guilt, shame and absolute, utter despair.
    Judith sent another bold stroke sideways from corner to corner, the brush sweeping along its side, giving the edgy quality she needed for the rage in her to express itself. She gave the same attention, if not more, to these paintings. This studio was the only place she dared allow life to the darker emotions seething like a volcano deep inside her.
    In the center of the room was her worst and best masterpiece, a large kaleidoscope she kept covered, just as she did the paintings. She didn’t want anyone accidentally stumbling into this place of dark power. The kaleidoscope was particularly dangerous, each cell compiling a year’s worth of murderous fury, five of them, for each of the years that had passed following her brother’s murder. She had a separate studio for working on kaleidoscopes, but it was far different from this one. She sent another stroke screaming across the canvas, this one a deep, almost midnight purple.
    The breeze slid again into the room, sending the flames flickering again and the overpowering scent of the dense oils creeping into the very walls, giving the black anger held prisoner there a distinct odor. She took the edge of her brush and splashed a thin line across that promise of vengeance as an exclamation point. A jagged piece of glass ripped a cut through the skin on the outside of her hand, not for the first time, dripping her blood into the painting. Her sweat and tears often ended up inside these paintings, mixing deep into the sections of glass so that when she painted over the shards, pieces of herself were just as deeply embedded.
    Judith cursed her “gift” for the thousandth time. She could bind any element to her, she shared emotion, and she could amplify and use that emotion for destructive purposes. Here, in this room, it was safe enough to allow herself the luxury of tears, of anger, of hatred, of the very real need for revenge, but she could never risk taking those things outside these four walls.
    The breeze blew insistently, carrying with it a melodic note. Soft, incessant—one that penetrated the layers of her concentration.
    “Judith.”
    Her name sounded like the whisper of wind shifting the scent of darkness.
    “The telephone is ringing. Where are you? You home?”
    Judith blinked several times, looked down at the great fat drops of blood dripping onto the floor now. It took a moment to focus, to remember where she was and what she was doing. She’d lost herself completely this time, pouring her hatred and guilt onto the canvas. She recognized the voice of Airiana Rydell, one of her beloved sisters. It wasn’t that hard to imagine her padding barefoot through the house, bare feet sinking into the thick, creamy carpet, platinum hair swinging as she searched for Judith.
    A hint of urgency crept into the melodic voice. “Judith? Are you all right? Answer me.”
    Judith made her way to the edge of the French doors and inhaled sharply to try to clear her head. She was consumed by her painting, still in a deep fog, struggling to get out and make sense of where she was and what she needed to do. It took a few moments to push back the dark, swirling waters of rage and sorrow threatening to eat her from the inside out and find the way back to sanity.
    “Be out in a minute, Airiana.” She struggled to keep her voice even as she wrapped a clean cloth around her hand to soak up the drops of blood. “Take a message for me, will you?”
    Very carefully she cleaned her brushes, taking her time, knowing Airiana would cover for her on the phone. Airiana would know she was fighting her way