Chapter 6: The Wolfdog, Part 1 

KALISTA

After what felt like five long hours of shopping at the supermarket, we finally loaded the bulging bags in the trunk and slipped inside the car. My dad turned on the engine and then paused for a moment. "Honey," he said, as if he wanted to ask something I wouldn't like. "Would you mind if we stop somewhere else before going to the house?"

My eventful agenda wouldn't allow it. "Where exactly?"

"An art gallery. It's just two miles away from here. I need to go and meet somebody."

"From work?"

"Not exactly."

"Sure. Let's go."

The ride was short and the landscape the same: big green trees and huge mountains instead of soaring silver buildings and skyscrapers. The only thing that I might have considered different was a beautiful golf course called The Links at Sierra Blanca, which was a nice change from the jagged scenery.

We pulled in front of an art gallery called Studio W. From what it showed through the wide windows, it looked promising. We opened the French door leading to the art sanctuary and a cylindrical wind bell announced our arrival with a beautiful cascade of chimes, as if inviting us to enter its realm.

"Look around if you want to. I'll be right back in a few minutes," my dad told me and left, striding inside a room that appeared to be an office.

I turned around. The gallery was luminous and vast. It seemed like a white, heavenly labyrinth with paintings hanging everywhere. Crystal chandeliers shed light on every section, painting the floor with flowing, graceful shadows. Roman columns with white dangly flowers lined the walls, reminiscent of a goddess temple. Baroque velvet chairs filled several spaces, offering comfort amid the glimpses of creativity, and small sculptures were set below the paintings, resting on pale, pristine marble tables-beautiful and elegant, not what I would have expected from a small town like this.

Amid the beautiful concerto of paintings, "The Hunters," a beautiful pack of wolves in the snow under a mystical moonlight, caught my undivided attention. The fusion of white, silver and black was magical.

Even though this painting was completely different, it reminded me of one of my favorites: Van Gogh's Starry Night. The night sky, filled with swirling clouds and stars blazing with their own orb of light and bright cresset moon, was otherworldly. The clouds looked like water, curving and creating a visual dance with the stars, the movement astonishing, something you could keep staring at for a long time and never get bored. This beautiful pack of wolves was doing the same to me.

"Kalista?" called a distant voice, snapping me out from the trance. It was my dad.

"Coming!" I said and hurried toward him. He was standing in front of the doorway with another man, a few years younger than my dad. But where he won in age, the man won in height. He was tall, an imposing six four, with big emerald-green eyes, brown hair, and light honey-colored skin. It reminded me somehow of a certain person.

"There you are!" my dad said when he spotted me. "Let me introduce you to Julian Winfield." He waved his hand toward the imposing man.

"Kalista, it's a pleasure to meet you." The man greeted me, holding out his hand in a well-mannered gesture.

"Mr. Winfield." I said, shaking his hand. Winfield? Wasn't that Tristan's last name also? Could he be a relative? It would explain the resemblance.

"Please, call me Julian," he told me with a stunning smile.

Yep, they were definitely related.

"Julian is in the Ruidoso Regional Council for the Arts and, of course, he's the owner of this exquisite gallery."

That would explain the W in the gallery's name. "You have a beautiful gallery Mr.-I mean, Julian."

"Thank you, Kalista. You're welcome any time." His manner was gentlemanly, like an old-fashioned man from another century. Could he be Tristan's uncle?

"You know, honey...this is one of the largest art galleries in the north-southwest region, and one of the finest," my dad said.

"It's very kind of you, Peter," Julian said.

I had to ask something to find out. Something fast. "Do you live alone?"

Jesus. What a stupid question!

"Oh, no. I have two sons." He smiled warmly. "In fact, my youngest is with you at school."

I felt like a heavy rock had been dropped into the pit of my stomach. Of course he was his father. The planes of his face weren't as perfectly outlined as Tristan's-his nose was a bit crooked, his thick eyebrows slightly uneven-he had the looks of a Spartan soldier, stoically handsome. Still, that entrancing emerald in his eyes and that soothing shade of his skin should have given him away immediately.

"Do you know him, honey?"

"I...yes. I think I do. Tristan, right? I saw him for the first time in school today." I said.

"Ah, yes. He left for a week to North Carolina to run some...errands."

"North Carolina? Wow, beautiful place," my dad said. "My wife and I went there once, before she gave birth." He looked at me with a smile, as if remembering the trip.

"It is beautiful. We used to live there before coming here. But we love this town and its surroundings," he said.

Okay, Tristan did go to North Carolina, and he obviously had a girlfriend over there. Model or not, it didn't matter. It was his life. I should mind my own business and let others do their errands.

"We love this place, too. It has a lot of potential," my dad claimed. "Speaking of which, I forgot to ask you something." They started talking about things I didn't understand, so I decided to leave them and pop outside.

Besides, I was feeling kind of irritated. Maybe some cold air would relax my mind. "I'll wait in the car, Dad." I told them. "It was nice to meet you, Julian."

"The pleasure was mine." He bowed politely.

I stepped outside the gallery and stood on the gray sidewalk that glittered under the dim sunset light. Silence hung over the deserted street, the only sound the wistful whooshing of trees in the bitter breeze. I zipped my jacket up and put my arms around me, blocking the whispery cold. Why was I feeling this way? Things about some guy shouldn't affect me this way. I had so many emotions inside of me, and I didn't recognize any of them. It was so confusing. Everything about him felt so confusing and intense.

A sudden gust of air blew in my direction. I turned, avoiding the strands of hair in my eyes, and spotted a dog resting sphinx-like a few feet across from me. He looked like one of the wolves I'd seen earlier in the painting. His dense-coat was a sable color. He had long legs with large paws and pointed ears drawn back. He seemed relaxed, as a big cuddly toy, begging to be patted.

I walked slowly towards him, wanting to appreciate his beauty better. He turned his head to look at me, pulling up his ears as if curious, and I noticed his narrowed eyes displayed a blue color, deep and wide as an ocean, but cold and biting as ice.

It reminded me of Chloe's eyes.

"Hey." I told him, stretching my arm to caress him.

He rose and snarled at me, fur bristling and arching back. The ears had flattened against his head and sharp incisors had come into view. A sense of danger penetrated every inch of my body.

I backed down.

But he kept snarling, infuriated. The beautiful and peaceful creature now transformed into a devilish beast about to crouch and attack. I didn't know what to do or where to go. He was faster than me, so running away wasn't an option.

Do something! He's going to jump on you. At that moment, the beast crouched, his eyes full of dark determination. For some reason I'd been peeling off my jacket, so I decided to use it and shoved it against its head, covering those searing eyes and derailing them from its focus: my neck.

I dashed into the road while the beast struggled to shake off the jacket. I tried to scream but I couldn't. The fear running through my body had eaten my voice.

I turned to look back at the beast, wanting to make sure I still had time to escape without being stabbed by sharp teeth, but those searing eyes were on me again. I froze. I had no way out. The evil creature crouched again and-

"Stop!" said an unexpected sharp voice, calming the beast down immediately. "Bad girl!" Tristan howled, stepping between the animal and me. "You shouldn't have done it. You know what this means."

The evil creature lowered its head, lips and ears drawn back, and started whimpering. Whimpering. Was this even the same beast?

"You okay?" He turned to look at me.

I lost my breath. His glorious eyes were waiting for an answer that wasn't coming. He slammed the animal on its back and ordered, "Go," perhaps thinking that my shaking body and clogged throat had anything to do with the beast, dog, or wolf.

It didn't.