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The Child - Nine Maya’s words had brought that scene into his mind, and it enthralled him. She continually presented some new thought or idea for Ted to ponder. Maya would lay the idea before him, let him play with it for a while, and then guide him through a pro- cess of questioning and assessing. Ted was never aware of her influence while it was being exerted, but later he could see how completely she managed the conversations. There was never an opening for him to question her on personal things, either. His deepest thoughts were expanding as a result of their shared explorations, but Maya herself remained as mysterious as ever. Ted wondered why she was always alone when they met. Sometimes he would see her in a hallway, rushing off on some errand, and occasionally he spotted her walking between the Lodge and the Chalet. He had described Maya to his friends, of course, but after a while they started teasing him, insisting that he had invented the story, since no one but Ted had ever seen the beautiful Maya. Ted laughed with them, but the more he thought about it, the more suspicious the circumstances seemed. He also wondered why she was so difficult to find in the relatively small environs of the valley. Just once he wanted to run into her, instead of the other way around, for invariably Maya was the one who did the ‘finding.’ Ted determined that the next time he saw her, he would get some answers. Where did she live? Where exactly did she work? And why was she always alone? But the next time he saw her, she wasn’t alone. Ted was jogging up a trail, and when he rounded a small bend he saw Maya and another young woman walking toward him. Maya waved, and her smile had a hint of the mischievous about it. “Hi, there,” she called out. “You’re late, Ted!” She had been waiting for him, Ted was certain, but his attention was drawn to the other girl. “Who’s this?” he asked, unable to quit staring at Maya’s friend. She might have been her twin, with the same surreal complexion and dark hair and eyes. She was equally beauti- ful, but in a slightly different way, and when she spoke her Masquerade of Angels 80 The Child-Nine accent echoed Maya’s perfectly. “Hello, Ted,” the young woman said. “My name is Lyra. It’s nice to meet you. Maya has told me about you.” Ted nodded. “Do you work here, too? I’ve never seen you in the valley before, and believe me, I’m sure I would have noticed.” “No,” Lyra said, “I don’t. Maya is my friend. I’m visiting her now, that’s all.” Before Ted could ask another question, Maya took Lyra by the arm and walked on down the trail. “You go ahead,” she told Ted. “Enjoy your walk. We have to leave now, any- way, I’ve got to work soon. But I’ll see you later, don’t worry.” He was tempted to follow them back to the valley, hoping to learn more, but something stopped him. Whenever Maya said it was time to go, he had learned that she didn’t want him to go with her. She always left as mysteriously as she appeared. At least he knew one thing more about her, he con- soled himself. She had friends, and if Lyra was any indica- tion, there were others like her up in the mountains that Maya called home. A few days later, she found him again, out walking the trails as usual. They went along together chatting for a while, when Ted noticed that Maya was carrying a large photo album. He stopped beside a tree and motioned for her to sit down beside him. “What is that?” he asked, pointing at the album. “Oh, that,” she replied, as if she’d forgotten all about it. “T want you to look at this, okay? These are all pictures of friends and some people I know. Here, take a look. I’d be interested in your response.” Maya placed the album in his lap, and Ted flipped through page after page of large photos, mostly formal por- traits. There were people of every age, in a variety of settings. “Are you a photographer?” he asked, thumbing through the pages. “No,” Maya said, “I didn’t take these. A friend of mine shot these photos and gave them to me. These are all people I know.” Masquerade of Angels 81