The Key To Eternity

Chapter 2-2

This time, when she entered the unpleasant space, she no longer felt willing to put up with its negative energy. She scanned the living room, trying to discern the source. She glared at the abstract paintings. That’s the first problem, she realized. The sharp edges and jarring reds and oranges did nothing to soothe her. She lifted first one and then the other from the wall and stuffed them into the hallway closet, hiding them behind her unneeded winter coat.

Now, the room looked like an empty box. Well, that’s no problem. I can look for something new from an artist on the beach or a shop nearby. It’ll be expensive, but my pay is quite good, and I can afford to splurge a little. A little locally produced artwork would make a better souvenir than a mug or shot glass.

As Lia examined the wall behind, thinking about what kind of painting she would like to put there, she noticed something odd. First, it felt almost like a vibration in her skin, a warning. Something’s wrong. I shouldn’t get closer.

A quick scan of the area revealed neither spiders nor cockroaches, so she couldn’t blame her bug revulsion.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the wall. Something about it seems strange. Is that a… pattern, there, half-hidden under a coat of paint? It is. Thick lines drawn with what could only be a red permanent marker, marred the wall. The hasty paint job hadn’t covered it. Strange symbols she couldn’t make out barely showed through the beige surface.

She shivered. Buildings have energy. They soak up the emotions of the people who live in them until they develop feelings of their own. This bland townhouse is possessed of what could only be called a malevolent will.

Lia hurried back to her studio and grabbed a palette knife. If there’s paint under that symbol, it’s going down. They can take any damages out of my paycheck. Oh well. It’s worth it if it allows me to sleep better.

It was harder to approach the second time, but she made herself do it. Putting the knife to the wall was harder still. She pressed, dragged, and the paint fell away in a sheet, taking the red lines with it. As soon as the symbol fell in pieces from the wall, the pall over the room lifted a bit, but it wasn’t gone.

Lia went into a frenzy, searching all over the townhouse for those odd markings and peeling them down. Ninety minutes later, deep scrapes marred the paint in every room, and the home felt brand new. Donning a pair of kitchen gloves, she gathered up the bits and tossed them in the dumpster behind the garage. Then she vacuumed. Then she threw away the half-full vacuum bag.

At last, exhausted, Lia ran a hot bath and sank into it, washing her sweaty brown hair quickly so she could stretch out and relax her tired muscles. Between fixing the apartment and getting a kiss from a handsome stranger on the beach, suddenly she felt better than she would have believed possible.

Her mind wandered. ‘Old Aiden Roark’ really is a good-looking man. Friendly too. It would be fun to see him again. Even more fun to kiss him. He feels like someone who knows how to take his time with a lady. Her lips curled up into a grin, and then subsided to a frown. Why would someone paint up this townhouse with such uncomfortable symbols? It makes no sense. An image of Earl Lancaster, with his evil grin, floated up before her eyes, but she dismissed it as ridiculous. Just because you don’t like someone, doesn’t make him some kind of warlock.

Deciding that there was no accounting for some people, she pulled out her razor to shave her legs. It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow. I could wear a short skirt. Yes. That would be good.