❝Your secret is a painting?❞ I took a few cautious steps; the hairs on my arms stood on end.
❝Not just any painting.❞ Dorian approached the easel, shadows on his face as he touched the cloth protecting it. ❝It's a dark object, the manifestation of m...
Kneeling on the banks of a sparkling, impossibly blue stream, Dark Dorian rinsed the blood from his hands. Setting suns dipped below the forest-line behind us, sending streaks of red and purple through a star-strewn evening sky. Fairy lights fluttered all around; across the stream, a centaur dipped its head for a drink, tail swishing. We had jumped through the blood window in the warehouse straight into a painting I didn't recognize. I racked my brain for an explanation as to why Dark Dorian would choose such a romantic place to recover but couldn't come up with a cruel enough reason.
"Why did you bring me here?" I demanded.
"To decompress. I thought you'd appreciate the setting." Dark Dorian ran his wet hands through his hair, pushing blonde waves from his forehead as he rose. His face was no longer demonic; though he had rinsed clean, he and I would never be free of the blood on his hands. "It's a painting I acquired from a new artist. Not my taste--utterly useless as is--but I had you in mind."
"You just killed two people and now you're trying to be nice." I shook my head in disgust. "Go to hell."
"If you come with." He laughed. "Do you know why I need the paintings I asked for? The ones that frighten small children and make the boldest men cringe?"
I licked my lips. "Why?"
"Less messy than guns and they don't leave evidence. If I'm to protect myself, I need an arsenal. Starting with yours. Your mind has taken you to some very dark places. I would love to visit."
"How do you know about my paintings?"
"Miriam kept a rather extensive catalog. The old bird photographed every piece you showed her. Tragic, that she would thumb her nose at your talent."
"She didn't. She said I wasn't ready to sell and she was right--I'm not."
"But you are. You're visionary. Your talent exceeds expectation." He came closer, feet treading a field of blue grass; it took all my willpower not to step back. "Like any star artist you'll be greatly compensated. Imagine the money, Amelia, the freedom. Together we can go anywhere, do anything. Once I've dealt with my lesser half, of course."
"Never. I'll never go with you." There was no use lying to him. "All my paintings--I got rid of them."
"You what?" He stepped forward in disbelief.
"I destroyed them. Every. Last. One."
Dorian blinked. "Then you'll make more."
I shook my head, backing away. "I'd rather die."
"Do not tempt me, Amelia. That can surely be arranged." Eyes blazing, his handsome face became hideous as he ushered his demon side.
The skies rolled; violent winds whipped. Forgetting that he needed me alive, forgetting what it felt like to stand and be brave, I turned and ran for the forest.
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