Bloodsong

Chapter 10

T he line for the opening of the art gallery was long. Not wanting to be late, Lilith had dragged us to line up two hours before it opened.

“Remind me why I signed up for this?” Mia asked, shivering.

“At least it’s not raining,” I offered, wishing the gallery would open already.

A tram went past, breaking up our conversation briefly.

“Maybe hot food would help?” Lilith asked. “There’s a fish and chip shop around the corner.”

“I’ll go; maybe walking will keep me warm,” Mia left, hands in her jacket pocket.

Our conversation turned to the unknown owner.

“I bet he’s hot,” Lilith said. “That sexy artistic look. Maybe he has a leather jacket. Long hair.”

“That’s very specific,” I laughed.

I‘d seen an article written about the gallery. The owner was something of an artist, and rumours flew about him also being a collector of art. Whoever he was, he’d wanted to remain anonymous until opening night. I spotted half a dozen journos and photographers in line, amused that they were not automatically granted special treatment.

“Do you think the owner’s already there? Or will we see him arrive?” someone nearby asked.

“It’s likely they’re already in there,” I said in response. “Someone who wants to remain anonymous, we probably won’t even know who they are.” I imagined looking at art and some mysterious art collector watching everyone, the entire room clueless to who he was.

The woman looked over at me and gasped, her eyes widening.

“You’re Quinn Bailey and Lilith De Micheli! I saw you play on Friday night! You’re amazing!”

“Quinn and Lilith? No way!” a voice behind us gasped and I hid my smile. “Can I get your photo!”

The woman who’d recognised me looked at Mia. “Oh my god, and Mia Wallace.”

A man spoke up. “I love your music! You have such a unique sound.”

“Thank you!” The three of us said in unison.

The heavenly smell of hot chips made me hungry. Mia handed us a carton each. They were still hot, and delicious, flavoured with chicken salt .

“I want to work with that new song you wrote this Friday,” Lilith said to me.

My scrawling had turned to lyrics over the last couple of days.

I shook my head. “It still needs some more work.”

Lilith’s eyes met mine. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” I asked.

“You’re letting your imposter syndrome hold you back. Why don’t you come over tomorrow and see what we can come up with for music? Maybe try playing it on Friday, see how people react to it.”

Before we could continue, the door to the gallery opened, and people started to move in. Looking forward to the showing, I followed them.

Inside, artists stood by their art, food and drink was handed around, and no one had identified the owner yet. I loved the display, and spoke to all the artists, some of whom recognised us. But I was drawn to a piece that stood out from the rest. It looked older, similar to those of the renaissance period. Water with the colours of a sunset dancing across its surface with what looked like Venice in the background. I stood there so long, Lilith and Mia gave up on trying to move me to the next display. They left me alone at the painting.

“You’ve been here for quite some time,” a male asked from behind me. “I see your friends left you, I’d love to know what you see.”

I tensed, annoyed that some guy had decided to try to get his flirt on with me the moment I was alone. But I couldn’t turn down talking about the art. “It’s a beautiful piece,” I expressed, lost in the painting. “I can almost feel sadness in it, like it’s the last time the artist saw this and they wanted to hold on to it.”

“You have a good eye,” he noted. “A singer and an art connoisseur that is unexpected.”

This time I recognised the voice and glanced up, Matteo’s dark eyes met mine. Then I realised I was staring. “Um, hi!” I knew I was doing a bad job of hiding my embarrassment. “I studied art in uni. I wouldn’t say I’m a connoisseur, though. I just appreciate a good painting when I see it.”

His eyes passed over my face, and he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Wait, this is your art? You did this?” I gaped at the painting again. “Mysterious Italian guy and artist. That’s not what I expected.”

His face lit up. “ And gallery owner.”

Gallery owner. I tried to work out what the chances were that the hot guy who I’d dreamed of kissing would be the owner of the gallery. “Gallery owner? Wow. You really are full of surprises.”

I caught sight of Lilith and Mia watching us from the other side of the room.

He held his arm up in an old-fashioned way, as if waiting for me to loop my arm around his. “I’d be honoured to show you the rest of my collection and hear your thoughts.”

I saw no reason to be rude, so I wrapped my arm around his. A quiver ran through me, his skin through the shirt cooler than expected. He led me across the room, showing me his paintings. Most of which I had seen, unaware he had painted them. I couldn’t deny I was enjoying his company, though. He was merely an artist excited about showing his work. I couldn’t blame him for that. We spent some time before each painting, him asking for my thoughts as we went.

“You’re really talented,” I enthused, his presence the only thing I could focus on. The painting in front of us was a nude woman, with light dancing across her face and neck, as well as one of her breasts. But most of her was in shadow enough to conceal her body. “Tasteful, and elegant,” I said. “A nice combination of light and shadow.”

“You know your art.” He sounded impressed.

His hand slid over mine. “I have one more piece, I’m not certain how to prepare you for it. I hope you don’t consider me…” he paused as if searching for a word. “Creepy.”

I met his gaze. “Creepy?” Laughter burst from me. “You worry about that now, after kidnapping me to force me to look at all this incredible work you’ve clearly put a lot of effort into.”

“Uh, kidnapping?” Horror flicked from within his eyes.

I gave him a warm smile, holding back laughter. “I was joking. Lead the way, Mr gallery owner. Show me the piece you’ve clearly been saving for last.”

People crowded around us, questions being shouted at him. He answered them, but his eyes never left mine. Then we were alone again.

“This is my most recent work. I was inspired in a way I haven’t been for a long time. I finished it a couple of days ago. I hope you don’t mind.”

We stopped in front of a painting of a stage with three women. A ‘Not for sale’ sign had been placed in front of it. I had missed this painting on my earlier circuit of the gallery. A single shaft of light shone down through the painting on to the singer, red hair with a glow around her. I stared, speechless. I didn’t know how I felt about art of me being on display. Or about the fact that he’d painted me in the first place. His use of the word, ‘creepy’ was accurate .

“You painted me.” I couldn’t look at him.

“You don’t like it.” Hurt reflected in his voice.

“This is a serious invasion of my…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Privacy? “Not only to paint me without my knowledge, but to put it on display. You didn’t think to ask me?”

His silence only made it worse. Frustration flared. I opened my mouth, but before I could say more, something stopped me. Fear curled around my spine, ice fingers sliding over the skin on my back.

“Thank you for your company,” Matteo’s voice was low. I’d hurt him. “If you’ll excuse me.” Without another word, he walked away, leaving me in front of the painting of myself.

Fuming, I turned to leave, almost walking straight into a man I didn’t realise was there. “Sorry, excuse me,” I muttered, stepping around him.

He stepped to the side, into my path. I glanced up at him, confused. He had curly brown hair, and his eyes were so blue I could have sworn they saw into my soul. He was dressed in black jeans, a white tee-shirt and black leather jacket. But there was something unsettling about him. I forced down the urge to run. “Excuse me,” I said again.

“Perhaps it is your manners that need excusing,” he spoke with an accent.

My heart sank. Great, a friend of Matteo’s had stepped in to say his piece.

“I don’t think so,” I snapped. “This is-”

“Stop talking,” his voice was so low, it was almost a growl, and I immediately shut my mouth. “Before you make snap judgements, perhaps you should appreciate the art. He painted this from seeing you one time. He didn’t stalk you, merely painted from memory.”

I wanted to argue, for him to understand my point, but I couldn’t find the words. This guy was clearly protective of his friend.

“Matteo is taken by you, and now that I’ve met you, I see why. However, you should know that the past week has been a difficult time for him. Art has been his peace for a long time. When he’s in pain, or struggling to contain…himself, art helps to calm him. And this time, you did that. Painting you was what it took to centre himself.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, my shoulders slumping.

“Of course you didn’t. You made up your mind that you didn’t want to look under the surface.” He turned to face me then, his eyes moving from my eyes down my body and back up to my face. “There is pain in you, deep pain. I think you two might be good for each other. But you’re afraid.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me there’s nothing to be scared of.” I rolled my eyes. The feeling of uneasiness slid across my skin, and I wondered if it was his presence that was giving me the creeps.

A smile slid across his face. “Oh on the contrary. You have a lot to be afraid of. But wouldn’t life be boring without a little fear every now and again?” He winked at me.

I took in the painting again. He was right, I hadn’t given any thought to the why. I’d just seen that some rando I’d met once had painted me.

“I do like you, Quinn Bailey. You have a fire in you that I don’t see all that often these days.”

I tried not to flinch that he knew my name. Matteo had probably told him. “Who are y-” I stopped, realising he was gone .

Mia and Lilith joined me as I was searching the crowd. There was no sign of him.

“So, he’s an artist,” Mia noted as we stared at the painting.

“He also owns the gallery,” I said.

“Whatever you said to him, it really looked like you hurt him,” Lilith observed, “You got angry about this, didn’t you?”

I scoffed. “Can you blame me?” The feeling of being watched ticked between my shoulder blades, but I couldn’t see anyone in the crowd facing us.

“I think it’s romantic,” Mia gushed.

“You think everything’s romantic, babe,” Lilith laughed.

Mia hit her playfully. “It is good art. Maybe we can ask him to use the image on our website or something.”

“I think I screwed up,” I admitted. “He was nothing but a gentleman, and I overreacted.”

“What are you going to do?” Mia nudged me gently.

I let my shoulders slump. “I think I’m going to find him and apologise. His friend seemed to think that painting it was therapeutic for him.”

“You want us to wait for you?” Lilith asked, pulling Mia’s hand into hers.

I shook my head. “Nah, I’m okay. My apartment is just around the corner.”

Lilith’s eyes lingered on me. “Are you sure?”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “Go. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Mia grinned. “Maybe when you’ve apologised, you can let him walk you home and…” She grinned. I burst out laughing.

We said our goodbyes, and I set out to find Matteo. He was nowhere in the gallery. A ‘Staff Only’ sign on a door challenged me. I glanced around before opening it and walked down a dark hallway. I had no idea where to go. I asked myself how I was going to explain being where I shouldn’t be when I heard a moan. I stopped at the door to an office and found him in an intimate embrace with one of the artists. It looked like he was kissing her neck. My heart fell. I let out a small sigh.

He lifted his head and hissed at me. I took a step back as the room around us darkened, spinning. His eyes were bright red, as was the blood that dribbled down his chin, but the fangs were terrifying. A scream bubbled up as I took a step back, unable to look away. The woman fell from his arms, hitting the ground with a thud, groaning.

Recognition crossed his face. “Quinn.” The eyes remained red, but his fangs retracted, and he licked at his lips.

He wasn’t human. I had seen those red eyes that first night and convinced myself it wasn’t real. I turned to run, and he was there, right in front of me. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Please don’t be scared. I can’t control myself with fear.”

I took a step away from him, unable to speak. I could only stare, my heart racing as he took a step towards me. I’d read plenty of vampire books and watched enough movies to know exactly what he was, but I didn’t want to believe it. My gaze lowered to his mouth, the lips I’d fantasised about, red with blood dripping down his chin.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked finally, my voice betraying my fear.

He didn’t hesitate. “No. Just please, don’t run. Or scream.”

A growl rumbled as I took a step back. Darkness swelled and swallowed me whole.