The Hanged Maiden by Cara Wylde

Author:Cara Wylde [Wylde, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

What Sia called her place was, in fact, a converted loft that could only be accessed by an outside ladder, and what she called her room was a two square meter space divided from the other improvised living spaces with cheap, plastic panels. Her bed was an old mattress that was currently littered with clothes and painting supplies, which made it obvious that it also acted as her work space. The rest of the floor was covered in ink bottles, gouache paint tubes, watercolor paper and canvases in various sizes. To say that the whole thing was a mess was a huge understatement. As Valentina stepped between scattered brushes and empty soda cans, she understood why Loki had told them he’d rather wait outside. Piper was doing her best to keep a straight face, and for a second, Val asked herself what her friend could possibly see in the crazy, dirty girl who looked like a beggar and painted like an angel.

“Miss Harlow,” the hobgoblin coughed discreetly, “I’m not sure you understand how my sensitive nose works.”

“Here it is. Come closer.” She ignored his comment as she pulled an old rag off the only framed painting in the room. “Guys, meet my aunt Liv.”

Val jumped in surprise. The woman in the painting was moving. Smiling and waiving at her, actually. She had the same red hair as Sia, the same amount of freckles on her face and chest, and the same green eyes.

“Olivia Harlow,” the woman said, “It’s so nice to finally meet Sia’s friends. She never introduces me to anyone. Well, it’s understandable, of course. Seeing how... I’m trapped in here. And that’s not what people usually do... live inside paintings. I don’t mind it, though. No, no, no! I’m grateful.”

“Don’t say that, Auntie...”

The sadness and regret in Sia’s voice didn’t escape Valentina.

“So, this is how it works,” Piper whispered. “Until now, I just thought... that it was all metaphorical... Painter of souls. A metaphor, right?”

“Not a metaphor. A curse,” Sia spat through gritted teeth. “Can you help me, hobgoblin?”

Magny poofed himself in front of the painting and looked up at the woman who was moving in there, breathing, smiling, blinking... doing everything a live person would do. Except, she wasn’t supposed to be alive. He’d lied to Sia before. He couldn’t smell the curse on her because there was no curse. What she had was a gift. The curse, however, was written all over her aunt’s pretty face. And when she said that she was grateful, she was lying to protect her niece. Magny knew that. When he tried hard enough, he could read minds. Human minds were easier to read, and that was another reason why he’d abandoned Valentina’s shoulder for Piper’s. It was no fun when he couldn’t take random peeks into his carrier’s thoughts.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

Sia sighed deeply and let herself fall on the mattress. “Six years ago... Aunt Liv was sick. I was still living with my parents, and Aunt Liv was living with us.

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