Exton

I move my way through the crowded room, Magnus at my side and Guunnar right behind us. One just has to love a God's magic, even a so-called forgotten God. The room should not hold so many people, but it does fior Grace's benefit. I see the man standing in the corner, arms crossed. I know Grace has also, but hasn't brought attention to him. His smile says it all. He adores her, and is more than willing to let her have center stage.

She holds up an aged hand to me. I hide my dismay at her changes. She was so vibrant just a few months ago. It only now registers just how much Torrent was building her energy.

I sink to my knees at her bedside, bringing her hand to my cheek. She smiles, happy and content, knowing her time is at hand. The woman is a treasure among the Humankind.

"Na... Silk, you were a gracious Hostess for all the time we spent at the Manse. I have something for both you and the good Doctor."

Torrent rises and slips into the living room, he returns moments later with an oil painting. Mortuis is decked out in his finest, cape swirling, the deep tones of black blending with the vibrant blue folds of Silk's gown. The couple is dancing, waltzing through a multihued mist. Torrent presents it to the couple with a flourish.

"It is the very first painting I completed when I got home. I had to get it done."

I reach out, just stopping from touching it. She has captured us perfectly. I fight back tears, glancing up at Mortuis.

"It will hang in a place of honor, milady." There is a catch in his voice, one only those who know him would hear. Grace simply beams at his words.

"Perhaps the library or the screening room, mi amor?"

He nods at my suggestion. We spend much time in those two rooms. Either would be perfect. He bends a knee, bringing himself down from his towering height to grasp the hand I had been holding.

"Would that I had known you longer, Grace; but if my friend Rowan is correct, we will meet again. Do me the kindness to introduce yourself then, so that our friendship may endure the longer."

Grace chuckles. "I will look forward to renewing our acquaintence. I do have a... guilty secret to admit to you. Matthias will tell you it is very true."

The man in the corner moves through the crowd. As substantial as he seems, one can still see his more spirit than either of the two women who have come for Grace.

"Are you tellin' the man about when we first came to this town?"

There is a definite twang to his words, deep south, but with an air of culture.
Grace grins. "Yes, Matt."

He rests his hand on the headboard, leaning against the wall. There is a sparkle to his eyes, a sense of laughter to his personality. "Go on... tell 'im."

Grace breathes deep, or at least as deep a breath as she can take. It all comes out in a rush.

"When we first moved here, I saw you one night. No one believed me. You were one of my artistic fantasies. Matt believed me though. The when you started your TV show, I became an avid fan. I love the old horror flicks, the bad plots, the actors, the dialogue. But it is your sly commentary that has kept me hooked for years. When I first saw you go into the Tavern, I came to the porch, daring myself to come in and introduce myself. I chickened out. When I was introduced to you, I almost peed myself. Now.. now I know the truth of you. You are the powerful man I first imagined, and so much more." She hesitates a moment. "You have been a favorite of mine to paint. If you look closely at my town portraits, you will find yourself, the town savior, reflections in windows, just disappearing around corners. There is even one where you are standing in the shadow of the local theater. The more obvious non-humans in my paintings stand out, but you are in nearly every one I have painted in the last fifty years."

Matthias leans forward, laughing. "She even has your hearse driving through traffic, your black hood just visible through the window. in her final painting."

"You honor me, milady; but is you and yours who are the true saviors. Those who can look within and see true magic; those who can perceive the wondrous in the ordinary; those are the true sorcerers and sorceresses. I am but a bad man striving to be better."

Grace slides her hand from his and pats his cheek. "My good Doctor. You are a better man than you think. I see the darkness, but I see the light striving to reach through."

Mortuis inclines his head. "The late Robert Kennedy was wont to quote Bernard Shaw - "Some men see things as they are and say, 'Why'? I dream of things that never were and say, 'Why not'?". You are the visionary who dreams this world into a better place. I merely remove the refuse when it obscures the view of more promising things."

"Well, my dear sir, you do a very good job. This town is better because of you. I have that on very good authority. A few of the long-term residents remember what it was like before you came to town."

From her portfolio she pulls another portrait. A small colored image of Mortuis, drawing a sword from his ever present cane. She pulls out another. This is of me in mid spin, dressed in my fighting leathers, my twin scimitars seeming about to blur into action.

"Something for a more private area."

As Mortuis rises, Grace reaches a hand towards Guunnar. The big man has tears in his eyes. He leans over her, dwarfing the bed, Grace, and the children. Grace hugs the man, tugging at his beard.

"Stop it. You know I am not going beyond the last ocean. You have to watch over everyone for me. Even Keon needs your strength. Besides... if you don't do it, I will know."

Guunnar rumbles. The laugh builds from a deep chuckle to a healthy roar that shakes the room. "Ach, I vill Grace. I vill watch over sem all. Und make sure Star eats vell."

At Grace's puzzled look, Guunnar sobers. "Voops."