Read Online Wonders of the Invisible World by Patricia A. McKillip - Free Book Online Page A

pained, as though berries he had eaten earlier were beginning to make themselves known. The fairy figures were no less difficult; color had to be suggested rather than shown, and the strange faces, part human, part fox or bluebird, were extraordinarily elusive.
    A good thing, he reminded himself, I’m not doing this for a living.
    At last the sun sank within an inch of the trees in the park. Shafts of lovely, dusty-gold fairy light fell between the branches, gilded the grass below. It was one of those spring days that revealed how much more ease and warmth and loveliness there was to come. A perfect mellow dusk for a first walk into the future. He cleaned and put things away quickly, slipped on his coat and went around the block to Adrian’s apartment.
    Adrian, who was in the midst of paying Euphemia Bunce, received Ned with pleasure and without surprise.
    “Come at the same time tomorrow, Buncie,” he requested. “Maybe I can finish those veils and we can start on the platter you’re holding. Ned, I don’t suppose you would let me borrow your head. You’ve got exactly that combination of innocence and strength in your face that I need.”
    “Doesn’t sound like it helped me much if my head winds up on a platter.”
    “You can bask in the company of Miss Bunce and me for a couple of weeks. And Mrs. Dyce’s cooking.”
    “Might Miss Slade be basking with us?” He glanced around. “Has she returned from the women’s studio? We had plans to walk.”
    “Oh.” Adrian’s amiable smile diminished slightly. “I’m afraid she’s been snared by Wilding.”
    “What?”
    “He apparently talked Miss Cameron into letting my sister pose for him first. That’s what he told me, at any rate. I doubt that’s the full story. But we’ll have to wait for Emma to tell us the rest. She should be here soon.” He folded Miss Bunce into her shawl. “Tomorrow morning, then, Buncie.”
    “That Mr. Wilding is a mischief-maker,” she said tersely. “I’d keep your eye on him.”
    “I will do just that with both eyes,” Adrian promised, opening the door for her.
    “Thank you, Mr. Slade. Goodnight, Mr.—Bonham, was it?” She flashed him a smile. “I hope your head will join us.”
    “So that’s what she was doing in those veils,” Ned murmured. “Salome dancing about with the severed head. I wondered. Do you suppose the public will appreciate it?”
    “They will appreciate Miss Bunce. And your guileless and saintly head, cut so tragically short from its body, will affect them deeply, I’m sure. There won’t be a dry eye at the exhibit.” He was cleaning his brushes with a great deal of energy, glancing down at the street now and then.
    Ned paced a step or two, then stopped and said simply, “Where is Wilding’s studio? I’ll go and meet her there.”
    “Yes,” Adrian said emphatically. “Good idea. It’s straight down Summer Street beside the river, a yellowish villa-ish sort of thing with red tiles on the roof. You can’t miss it.”
    Even if he had missed the eye-catching villa at the corner of Summer Street and River Road, the monkey chattering at him on the wall beside the gate would have alerted him to Wilding’s domain. The monkey wore a thin gold chain around its neck, long enough for it to reach the ground, but too short for it to do more than climb back up. Ned opened the gate cautiously, wondering what other wildlife roamed Wilding’s garden.
    The only wildlife he found on the other side of the wall was Emma and Bram Wilding, walking together toward the gate.
    “Ah, Bonham,” Wilding said, with a faint smile in his eyes. “How good of you to come and visit me. Miss Slade is just leaving.”
    Ned looked at her. She had colored at the sight of him, but other than a trifle embarrassed, she seemed quite pleased to see him.
    “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he told Wilding with satisfaction. “I have an appointment to escort Miss Slade through the park.”
    “So she told me when I tried to