Archangel's Heart
Page 58
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
When she looked up, it was to see that Aodhan’s wings had turned golden, his feathers reflecting the room. Tapestries shimmering with golden threads, sculptures created of gold, paintings done in shades of gold, old-fashioned lamps with golden casings, a graceful carved settee upholstered in golden velvet and with a frame of golden wood, and ornately framed mirrors that reflected the gold to turn the entire space into a burst of sunshine.
“It’s happy,” Elena whispered. “Does that sound strange? This exhibit, the way it’s set up, it feels happy. Alive.”
“Art is meant to evoke emotion—but the emotion is not necessarily the same from person to person. Where you see joy, I see a delighted pride.” His wings brushing the floor as he deliberately lowered them, as if to experience every aspect of this room, Aodhan stared at a painting that was all thick, textured paint, the shades of gold within it endless.
Though the painting had no structure, it reminded Elena of the sea, a crashing wave of color under a sky glowing with the hopeful tones of sunrise.
“Come look at this, Ellie.”
Rising to join him, she lifted her fingers to touch the paint, found it as thick as it appeared. “You think there’s actual gold in this paint?”
“Yes.” Aodhan’s eyes, the shattered light of them, glowed with endless reflections as he turned from the painting to look up. “But that’s not what I wanted you to see.”
She followed his gaze, gasped. She’d noticed the chandeliers attached to the bottoms of each part of the staircase as well as the pathways that led to each exhibit, but the overall effect was only now apparent. All those chandeliers created a shower of shimmering light, scattering a dazzling rain over them and turning this room into even more of a dream.
“Okay,” she whispered, “the Luminata might hoard art, but they sure know how to show it off, too.”
Leaving Aodhan to his contemplation of an intricate tapestry that had caught his eye, she wandered around trying to take in as much as possible. It was unlikely she’d have a chance to return—because, open as it was to all Luminata, she couldn’t see the older members of the sect hiding any secrets here. And even this beauty couldn’t compare to Elena’s need to unearth the truth about the woman with hair of near-white who had looked so much like her that the Luminata found the resemblance eerie.
It feels like a ghost is haunting Lumia.
Skin pebbling, she decided she and Aodhan should head to the library next. Though what had Gian and Ibrahim called it? The Repository of Knowledge, that was it. That, too, was a public space, but with so many millennia of knowledge there, it was possible there were secrets that had fallen through the cracks, small clues she might be able to string together to form a coherent picture.
Not just yet, however. Leaving the Gallery too quickly would betray her impatience, arouse suspicions. And Aodhan was enjoying this. Happy to wait for him, she eventually found herself looking into a glass cabinet in which lay a tumble of golden artworks in miniature. Tiny sculptures, paintings, jewels, all of it sized for dolls.
Delighted, she took out her phone—which she carried around out of habit—to grab a few shots for Eve. She knew her youngest sister would enjoy zooming in to see all the different objects. It was only after she slipped away her phone that she realized this place was probably “No photography allowed,” but oh well, at least she hadn’t used the flash.
Leaning in closer, she smiled at the cheerful way this space had been organized. Someone in the Luminata had a sense of joy, understood that art didn’t always have to be in perfect lines. She was about to move to the other side of the case when her eye fell on something half hidden beneath a tiny bust of a hawk-nosed man. It was the edge of what looked like a small painting.
The surround was aged gold, but there was a miniature canvas within, and from what she could see, that painting was of someone with long hair of near-white. It could be nothing, a truly ancient archangel or vampire, or just a blond woman whose image had faded over time, but Elena’s heart thundered. She couldn’t walk away without seeing it. But no matter how carefully she looked, she couldn’t see a way to open the case.
She didn’t realize Aodhan had noticed her preoccupation until he came up right next to her, their wings overlapping and the bare skin of his biceps almost touching her own arm. “Ellie, what is it?”
Elena glanced around before whispering, “You think this place has security cameras?” There’d been none in their suites, or in the hallways, but this Gallery held treasure after treasure.
“I would bet my wings it doesn’t,” Aodhan said. “Many angels believe such technological intrusions disrespectful to the contemplative space required for art. The Luminata are highly likely to fall into that category.”
Breath coming a little too fast and shallow, she touched her fingers to the case. “There’s a miniature painting right at the bottom with a portrait inside that I want to see.”
“Which one?”
She tapped her finger on the glass to point it out. “Under the bust.”
Aodhan’s expression sharpened as he realized what had caught her interest. “I can break the seal.” His tone was as quiet as hers had been. “But the damage would be obvious.”
Shaking her head, Elena looked up, the lights of the chandeliers now frustrating because they blinded her to anyone who might be watching them, or who might be heading to this level. “No,” she said after looking back down, spots of black light dancing behind her eyes. “We can’t risk the Luminata becoming suspicious—if they figure out I’m searching for information about the unknown woman, I think they’d bury any other clues that might’ve been inadvertently left lying around.” She was pretty certain the miniature, if it was a clue, had been overlooked because it was so small and part of a jumble of other objects.
“It’s happy,” Elena whispered. “Does that sound strange? This exhibit, the way it’s set up, it feels happy. Alive.”
“Art is meant to evoke emotion—but the emotion is not necessarily the same from person to person. Where you see joy, I see a delighted pride.” His wings brushing the floor as he deliberately lowered them, as if to experience every aspect of this room, Aodhan stared at a painting that was all thick, textured paint, the shades of gold within it endless.
Though the painting had no structure, it reminded Elena of the sea, a crashing wave of color under a sky glowing with the hopeful tones of sunrise.
“Come look at this, Ellie.”
Rising to join him, she lifted her fingers to touch the paint, found it as thick as it appeared. “You think there’s actual gold in this paint?”
“Yes.” Aodhan’s eyes, the shattered light of them, glowed with endless reflections as he turned from the painting to look up. “But that’s not what I wanted you to see.”
She followed his gaze, gasped. She’d noticed the chandeliers attached to the bottoms of each part of the staircase as well as the pathways that led to each exhibit, but the overall effect was only now apparent. All those chandeliers created a shower of shimmering light, scattering a dazzling rain over them and turning this room into even more of a dream.
“Okay,” she whispered, “the Luminata might hoard art, but they sure know how to show it off, too.”
Leaving Aodhan to his contemplation of an intricate tapestry that had caught his eye, she wandered around trying to take in as much as possible. It was unlikely she’d have a chance to return—because, open as it was to all Luminata, she couldn’t see the older members of the sect hiding any secrets here. And even this beauty couldn’t compare to Elena’s need to unearth the truth about the woman with hair of near-white who had looked so much like her that the Luminata found the resemblance eerie.
It feels like a ghost is haunting Lumia.
Skin pebbling, she decided she and Aodhan should head to the library next. Though what had Gian and Ibrahim called it? The Repository of Knowledge, that was it. That, too, was a public space, but with so many millennia of knowledge there, it was possible there were secrets that had fallen through the cracks, small clues she might be able to string together to form a coherent picture.
Not just yet, however. Leaving the Gallery too quickly would betray her impatience, arouse suspicions. And Aodhan was enjoying this. Happy to wait for him, she eventually found herself looking into a glass cabinet in which lay a tumble of golden artworks in miniature. Tiny sculptures, paintings, jewels, all of it sized for dolls.
Delighted, she took out her phone—which she carried around out of habit—to grab a few shots for Eve. She knew her youngest sister would enjoy zooming in to see all the different objects. It was only after she slipped away her phone that she realized this place was probably “No photography allowed,” but oh well, at least she hadn’t used the flash.
Leaning in closer, she smiled at the cheerful way this space had been organized. Someone in the Luminata had a sense of joy, understood that art didn’t always have to be in perfect lines. She was about to move to the other side of the case when her eye fell on something half hidden beneath a tiny bust of a hawk-nosed man. It was the edge of what looked like a small painting.
The surround was aged gold, but there was a miniature canvas within, and from what she could see, that painting was of someone with long hair of near-white. It could be nothing, a truly ancient archangel or vampire, or just a blond woman whose image had faded over time, but Elena’s heart thundered. She couldn’t walk away without seeing it. But no matter how carefully she looked, she couldn’t see a way to open the case.
She didn’t realize Aodhan had noticed her preoccupation until he came up right next to her, their wings overlapping and the bare skin of his biceps almost touching her own arm. “Ellie, what is it?”
Elena glanced around before whispering, “You think this place has security cameras?” There’d been none in their suites, or in the hallways, but this Gallery held treasure after treasure.
“I would bet my wings it doesn’t,” Aodhan said. “Many angels believe such technological intrusions disrespectful to the contemplative space required for art. The Luminata are highly likely to fall into that category.”
Breath coming a little too fast and shallow, she touched her fingers to the case. “There’s a miniature painting right at the bottom with a portrait inside that I want to see.”
“Which one?”
She tapped her finger on the glass to point it out. “Under the bust.”
Aodhan’s expression sharpened as he realized what had caught her interest. “I can break the seal.” His tone was as quiet as hers had been. “But the damage would be obvious.”
Shaking her head, Elena looked up, the lights of the chandeliers now frustrating because they blinded her to anyone who might be watching them, or who might be heading to this level. “No,” she said after looking back down, spots of black light dancing behind her eyes. “We can’t risk the Luminata becoming suspicious—if they figure out I’m searching for information about the unknown woman, I think they’d bury any other clues that might’ve been inadvertently left lying around.” She was pretty certain the miniature, if it was a clue, had been overlooked because it was so small and part of a jumble of other objects.
