Death Song (Tales from the Tarot)

10. Charlie

Chapter ten

Charlie

A shattering pain crashes through me, and I whimper into the pillows of the soft bed Rex gave me. My stomach pitches and rolls, the dream I’ve just been awoken from demanding to be painted, but I cannot.

I have none of my supplies.

In packing my bags, I had not though about this. I was so eager to get out of the space that was tainted by Colin and his theft that I let myself believe that tonight, in Rex’s comforting presence, the dreams would stay away.

Instead, I saw him. Mounted on horseback and riding into battle, his golden crown on his head and a standard bearing a rising sun with a raven in his hand. It is that image that demands to be painted, that moment of the dream that commands me to put it on canvas, but I know I cannot.

I tried tracing the lines of it earlier in the air above my head, wondering if that would suffice, but it hasn’t worked. Only the paint and the canvas will end this ache, but those are nowhere close by. I could creep out of the upper level and head down to the main floor where I do have some supplies stored, but that also feels impossible.

The sharpened knife edge pain enters the left side of my skull, and I press my hand against my temple, begging it to stop as tears fill my eyes. They trickle downwards, soaking my pillows as I let loose a small, pained cry, hoping that I’ve stifled my noise enough that I don’t rouse the vampires that live in this home.

The door to my room opens though, and I see Rex’s concerned face appear in the light of the hallway outside. This room is beside his, he’d told me, and at the time it had felt like comfort to know he was close by. Now I wish he’d placed me in a room far away from here where he didn’t have to witness what these dreams do to me. It is ugly, I know, my teeth gritted, and lips pulled back like a pained lion as I try my best to breathe through clenched jaw.

“Charlie,” he says, rushing over to the bed and sitting down beside where I lay, twisting in pain. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to paint,” I manage to get out. “I need to paint.”

I reach up my hands to press my palms against my eyes because it feels like they’re about to burst from my skull, but he stops me, grabbing hold of my wrists. “Don’t do that. We can make this better, but don’t claw your eyes out, okay?”

“I’m not.” I moan as the pain steals my breath. “It just hurts. I feel like there’s something gnawing on my skull with sharpened teeth.”

Rex seems at a loss, and I am as well. I’ve never let it go on this long without moving to paint and giving in, and I’m starting to think this will actually kill me. Finally, he crawls onto the bed and picks me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. I think he’s going to take me downstairs where the painting supplies are, but instead he holds me there on his lap, moving to lean on the wall behind the bed and splaying my legs over his so I am straddling his hips. He pulls my body against his, tucking my face into his warm chest, and I quickly soak his shirt through with my tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, stroking my hair and back with his gentle hands. “I’m so sorry the fates have given you this to bear.”

“Fates?” I ask, breathing through shuddering pains.

“The sisters. There are three of them, and together, they hold the cords of our lives, determining who we will be, what we will achieve and when our lives will end. They give out gifts to those they deem worthy. Have you heard of Pythia?”

“No.”

“The Oracle at Delphi,” he explains, his voice soothing my frayed nerves as much as his hands on my back, stroking up and down slowly are. “She was a seer, so they say, but she was no danger. People came from far and wide to sit at her feet and hear what she had to tell. She claimed to speak for the god Apollo, but I am unsure if she was his actual mouthpiece on earth or if that simply made it easier for people to understand her visions.”

“Did you see her?”

“I never did. I was roaming the wilderness in the aftermath of Marius’ death when she took up residence in Delphi. I never went to go see her to hear what messages she was sharing.”

“Am I like her?” I ask, because I don’t know anything beyond the fact that I need him to keep talking to me. The grip of pain is lessening the more I hear him speak, the way his voice sounds and his touch on my body taking away the ache of not painting my dreams.

“I don’t know,” he responds, the low timbre of his voice rippling through me like a wave of relief. “I don’t quite think so. Pythia saw more than simply one person and from what I know, she saw more than the past.”

“Hmm,” I hum, like I’m thinking though I am not really. The grip of sharp points have left my skull and I am merely bathing in the new warmth and comfort that encapsulates me now.

“What did you dream?”

“I saw you,” I say. “On horseback, with your crown and standard. There was a battle going on in the background and you were commanding troops, I think.”

“I know it well. My rule was peaceful, save for the moment I realized my brother, who I had welcomed with open arms into my realm, had turned vicious. That was the only true battle fought under my reign.”

“Did you win?” I ask, though I already know. He is here, instead of ruling over some court in Rome, after all.

“I did not,” he says. “I was labeled a traitor to my people by my brother and taken to the dungeons to be held until sunup. They were going to let me burn in the purity of the sunshine, but Marius intervened on my behalf. My brother, as much as he hated me, had eyes for Marius, and when he went to him, begging for my life, it was spared under one condition.”

“Hmm?” I ask, sinking into his warm embrace, my cheek resting against his chest and my ears listening as breath whooshes in and out of his lungs.

“My Marius was to take up my brother’s bed instead of mine in exchange for my life, and that was when we fled to the cottage.”

“I’ve seen this,” I recall, knowing the scene from a dream. “Marius brought a horse to you. A light brown horse. I’ve painted you upon that horse with him behind you and the castle far in the distance. There were black birds in the sky.”

“My ravens. They have all since passed, but they were some of my closest friends. Marius loved spoiling them. I would love to see those paintings,” he says.

“To see Marius again?” It makes sense. Though he’s kissed me once and given me one hell of a hand job, I know his heart belongs to his long-lost lover. I may be human, but I am not stupid, no matter what Colin tried to put into my head.

“To see it through your eyes,” Rex says. “To understand what you saw in your sleep, and in doing so perhaps understand you better.”

Oh. That’s quite nice actually. I smile against his chest, the pain now gone and my body as limp as a noodle. “I’m tired, Rex.”

“Has the pain lessened? Can you sleep now?”

“Yeah,” I say, pulling myself off his chest. I straddle him for a moment before moving to the side and flopping onto the soft mattress. He makes a move like he’s going to get up and leave me behind but my body tenses as I think of being without him right now. If I will never have his heart, at least I can revel in his warmth and comfort for as long as he will let me. “Stay?”

Rex hesitates, half standing on the floor and half kneeling on the bed. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed again and lays down beside me. I roll over to face away from him and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me against his chest. I listen as he breathes softly into the now quiet room, his heartbeat nearly audible in the darkness, and it is only when he pulls me even closer to him that sleep comes to take me away again.

“Where the hell are you?” Finn practically screams into the phone. “Why is your apartment lock busted? Why is there wood everywhere? What the fuck happened, Charlie?”

It’s too early for this noise, but I deserve his worry. I forgot to text him last night to tell him what had happened, and he’d gone to the loft to find the door open and me missing. It was no surprise to me that the first call I got as soon as the sun rose was from him.

“Colin,” I start but before I can get more words out, Finn is off and yelling again. I hold my finger over the speaker, glancing at Rex’s sleeping form where he lays beside me still. My heart warms as he flops onto his back, blond hair cascading over the pillow like a waterfall. He stayed with me all night, and waking up rested with his broad body tucked around mine was the best thing I’ve felt in what feels like forever.

“I will murder him. I will hunt him down and murder the shit out of him. I swear, I will. You stopped me once, but he needs to be put down. What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay.” I spend a few minutes talking Finn through what happened the day previous, taking care to remove the pieces about Rex. I’m not sure my best friend is ready to hear that he drank my blood while giving me a hand job so good I saw stars.

“I hate him,” Finn huffs into the other end of the phone. “Say the word and he’s dead. Nobody messes with Bowman’s pack.”

The mention of pack brings a smile to my face. Since the moment I stepped foot into Bowman Galleries as a fresh, young artist just trying to find his way through the artist-in-residence program, Bowman has called me part of his pack, like we’re wolves or something. He’s protective over those he calls pack, and I have no doubt that if I said for him and Finn to take out Colin, the world would mysteriously find itself with one less asshole wasting the good air.

“It’s okay, I just wish he hadn’t taken my art. That’s all. I have one piece left, but I had so many more paintings in that closet, and he has all of them.”

“And where are you now? Safe?”

“I’m staying with Rex,” I say, anticipating another bout of barking in my ear from Finn for going home with someone who is basically a stranger but that isn’t what I get.

“Oh,” he says, sounding quite okay with it which surprises me. “That’s a good option. I was going to suggest coming to my place, but you’re good there.”

“I am?”

“Oh yeah. That guy has money, and money means security. I bet his place is locked down like Fort Knox. Bowman gets good vibes from him, so I do too.”

“Plus, close to work. I can just walk down the stairs and paint.”

“Have you started it yet?” Finn has been absolutely enthralled by the idea of me painting a mural since the first mention of it and I know he is champing at the bit to see what I come up with.

“I haven’t. It’s blocked out for the most part, but I haven’t really started on it just yet. I’m going to lay the base coats today and maybe some of the roses if I have enough time.”

“Can’t wait to see it. I’ve always said if given a canvas large enough, you’d paint something fantastic.”

“I’m not sure about that, but I think it’ll be okay in the end.”

“Shut up,” Finn snaps. “That’s Colin talking. Don’t let him being a shitface supreme drag you down again. We’ll get those paintings back somehow, don’t let him take up more space in your head.”

“Okay.”

“You call the cops?”

“Haven’t had a chance. When I got to Rex’s place, I was too tired to deal with it. They don’t really have much value anyway, they’re not my usual style and nobody who buys my stuff would believe I’d done them. Didn’t even put my signature on the bottom to claim them so there’s no real market value. Just sentimental. I did send a text to the building manager requesting a repair to the door though, so that should be locked up tight again soon enough. If anything else goes missing in the meantime, I have insurance.”

“I suppose that’s okay.” I can tell from his tone, he’d be raising hell to get the paintings back, but I’m unsure about taking that approach. Even if Colin had them, they’re likely long gone by now in the hands of his mysterious client who wanted them for whatever reason. I don’t stand a chance at seeing them again if I don’t do something about it, I know, but I’m not sure bringing the legal system Colin understands more than I ever will into the picture is the best option.

I chat for a few more moments with Finn, promising him pictures and updates as I paint, before ending the call. Someday soon I’ll have to go out for lunch with him, as we used to do. I can feel the distance my lack of sleep and piss poor attitude has created between us and I hate that it’s there. Finn has been one of the few on my side since the moment I stepped foot into Bowman Galleries, and on the night that Colin left, he was my first phone call. I love him as if he were my brother, and when everything is settled with the mural, I’ll have to give him the first look at it to make up for what I’ve put him through.

Second look, actually. The vampire in bed beside me deserves the very first. Aside from it being his commission, the things I know will make up the core of the work all speak to the things I know of him. Sure, what I know is based in dreams of my past, but if they are truth as he claims they are, what I’m putting into this mural will speak to him and his journey. I hope he likes it, in the end.

Rex snuffles, then rolls over, his eyes slowly blinking open. I wasn’t sure vampires slept, but I guess they do. Until I met Emery, I didn’t think they ate food anymore, and now knowing that they do, I suppose there’s lots of things I have yet to learn. My dreams didn’t give me everything, that much I do know.

“Morning,” I say, taking a chance and reaching over to smooth a lock of his soft blond hair off his forehead.

“Morning? Is it really?” he asks, smiling gently at me.

“The sun is out, and I have been yelled at by Finn, so yes. It’s morning. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. Just strange to be awake in the morning, that’s all.”

“Yeah, about that. What kind of hours do you guys keep around here? We met in the morning, which I assume isn’t normal for vampires given the sun? But Emery was watching a movie last night which is when I assume you’d be the most active. Like, out and about and feeding and stuff?”

“We keep odd hours around here,” Rex says with a gentle smile. “Often, we rise in the afternoons to take advantage of some daylight when humans are around. It’s tough to do business when your only availability happens when everyone else has finished work for the day. On days where nothing is needed though, we do follow the typical vampire hours. Sleep all day, up all night. It depends really. Emery often rises with the sun, spends some time in the den watching movies, naps in the afternoon and then heads out for the night to take advantage of the darkness. Gibson does much the same.”

“So basically, whatever you want,” I say, catching on.

“You got it,” he says with a lazy smile. “You still look shattered and tired. Are you ready to get up?”

I think for a moment but find very quickly that I am not at all. Being able to sleep for more than a handful of hours feels brand new, and now that I’ve had it, I want more. I answer his question by laying back down and closing my eyes, shuffling back into him. He laughs softly, then wraps me in his embrace, humming softly into my ears as I drift back into a dreamless sleep.