5.1 Dark and Deadly

The painting I entered featured a ritzy jazz club from the 1920's. One of my faves, up until now. The club was bathed in blue light, save the white spotlight shining on the solitary figure onstage. A clueless audience watched from the crowd as Dark Dorian's fingers flew expertly across the piano keys. Shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, a cigarette between his lips, face clear of scars and wounds, he sang a beautiful slow song in French. If I hadn't known any better, he could've passed as the real Dorian.

I approached the stage, accepting a sidecar from a platter waved before my nose. Downing the drink, I took a seat at a small, empty table, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the black, sequined flapper dress Dark Dorian had left in Miriam's office. That's where the pointing was located. It didn't make any sense that he was here and Miriam was gone, and I wasn't quite sure I was ready to hear the answer why.

"You made it."

I looked up to see Vanida standing beside me, ashen-faced and similarly dressed.

"Van!" I sprang from my seat, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Frail as a bird, she sagged in my arms, her breathing harsh and shallow. Plagued by the fear and fatigue in her face, I helped her into my seat, then sat down across from Vanida.

"Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

Vanida shook her head. "Poison. He has the antidote." She gave an exhausted smile. "Danny?"

"Out of his mind with worry, but he's in one piece--unlike you. But don't worry, I'm getting you out of here--with the antidote." Pulling up my dress, I showed her the kitchen knife tucked in my garter. Dark Dorian had instructed me to come alone, but the real Dorian wouldn't let me go without protection.

"A, I don't know how much time I have left..." Vanida signed, her hands weak and limp.

"You have all the time in the world. You don't get to give up. Ever." I took her hands in my mine, squeezing in reassurance. "I'll be back."

Leaving the table, I made my way to the stage edge, where an attendant stood in wait. With a smile and a bow, he took my arm and helped me up the steps, waving me forward onto the stage. Dark Dorian stopped singing but his fingers never rested, continuing to fill the club with the song's soulful melody.

"Do you play?"

I un-clenched my jaw long enough to speak. "My father used to. He taught me a little."

"Shall we?" He slid over, making room on the bench. I glanced behind me, where a motionless Vanida waited at the table, head drooping over her drink. If I wanted her to live, I had to play by Dark Dorian's rules. For now.

I studied his hands for a moment, then joined in, backing up the melody with a few simple notes. He nodded, pleased, and continued to sing. A devil with the voice of an angel - who could have guessed? I didn't understand the lyrics, but his French was as flawless as the notes he held and released. I watched him as we played, studying his handsome, picturesque face, wishing I could hate him more than I already did.

The song ended and he continued to play, swaying to the music. "Ah, to be in Paris again. Such fire. Such passion. Such wonderful food--and music." He winked.

"You poisoned my best friend," I said, eyes on the keys as I played. "You'll die if it's the last thing I do."

"We'll see." He grinned. "In the meantime, humor me, hmm, and I shall tell you how to save her."

"Talk fast."

His smirk slipped to the corner of his mouth. "If you haven't already guessed, I've acquired this quaint little gallery--Salt by the Sea. It is suitable for my needs."

"That's impossible." I stared at Dark Dorian, too stunned to keep playing. "Miriam would never sell."

"I'm afraid Miriam is no longer in a position to do anything, bless her stubborn soul."

The lump in my throat sat heavy as a rock. "What happened to her?"

"The better question is what has she done to herself? Money can reduce people to very strange, desperate acts. Particularly where one's children are concerned. Though I daresay her son is set for life."

"Dorian... what have you done?"

He frowned at the keys, lifted his gaze to the distance, then dropped it once more.  "I did what I had to."

"Bullshit! You had a choice. You always. Have. A choice."

He scowled. "Has anyone ever told you kindness is a weakness?"

"No one that ever mattered."

"No one that ever mattered has ever told you the truth." Playing one-handed, he flicked his cigarette in my lap.

"Asshole!"

He chuckled. "The world is dark and deadly, my sweet. Only the cruel survive."

"Is that why you're doing this? For survival?"

"What else?" he replied, swaying to his song.

But I knew there had to be a better reason, one that he kept to himself.

"What do you want from me, Dorian?"

"Everything. But first I shall have your promise. Miriam said you were her finest employee. You shall continue your work at the gallery and you will not stand in my way."

"Or?"

"Or your friends die. Vanida first."

The waiter came by, placing a fresh sidecar on the piano.

"Ah! Wonderful!" Dark Dorian lifting the drink with a crafty grin. "To our future. A ta santé!"

"You have no future, Dorian."

"Quite right. I have nothing without you."

With her arm slung around my neck for support, I helped Vanida from the gallery and outside, to the empty, moonlit parking lot where Dorian waited by my car.

He sighed in relief, opening the door as I helped Vanida into the backseat.

"He poisoned her," I said. "I gave her the cure but I still think we should get her to the hospital. Just in case."

"Of course. And what about you? Are you alright?"

"I'm... alive..."

I whipped out the knife, pressing the blade to Dark Dorian's throat.

He smirked. Do you really think your little blade will work on someone like me?

"I dunno. Let's find out."

"Then tomorrow you'll bury your friend. Already, time is slipping through your fingers. How much more will you risk for vanity's sake?"

The knife shook in my hand. I glanced over my shoulder, crying out when I saw my friend slumped over the table. Dorian used the opportunity to knock the blade from my hand, shoving me to the floor. He rose from the bench, following as I scuttled backwards on my hands. Suddenly, black smoke swirled around us. It blocked out the club, enveloping us in impenetrable darkness, until all we had was each other.

"You can fight me but you will never win, Amelia." He squatted next to me. "By my side is where you belong, don't you see?"

I spat in his face. "Take me back."

He sighed and wiped the spittle away--then seized me by the throat. His entire body shook with rage; I could feel his fingers vibrating as he fought the urge to choke the life out of me.

Relenting, Dark Dorian cupped my chin, lifting my face closer to his. "Don't ever expect me to feel sorry for you. Every beautiful thing is marked by tragedy--and you, poor thing, are quite exquisite. You are mine, and I shall always be yours. One day, you'll see. One day..."

"Vanida's alive, thanks to you." Dorian took me in his arms, sliding curls behind my ear with a tender fingers. "The nightmare's finally over."

"I work for him now. The nightmare's just beginning..."

As soon as Danny came hurrying up the hospital corridor, Dorian and I rose from our seats to greet him.

He glanced frantically over my shoulder." How is she--where is she?"

"She's fine," I assured. "Vanida's in a room down the hall. She's a little dehydrated, but the doctor says she'll be okay once the poison's out of her system--"

"Poison? Dark Dorian poisoned her? Are you serious?"

"Have no fear," said Dorian resting a hand on his shoulder. "She'll make a full recovery."

"You stay out of this," he replied, shrugging Dorian's hand away. "And you, Amelia..." Words failed him in is anger. He walked past me and turned back, shaking his head as he rubbed his mouth in fury. "All of this is your fault, y'know that? I knew something like this would happen--I told you to keep Vanida out of this and you didn't listen! You're supposed to be her friend, Amelia!"

"I am her friend!"

"Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you? If you and Dorian can't finish this, I will." Danny shoved past us with a final glare, determined to find Vanida on his own.

I returned to my seat, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "He's right. I'm not a good friend. Or a good daughter. Or a good sister. I'm not a good anything."

"That's not true." Dorian took the seat next to me, passing me his Styrofoam cup of coffee. "Don't start feeling sorry for yourself now. You're doing all of this because you're good. Never mind Daniel. He's upset--he has a right. He nearly lost someone he loves."

"Back at the gallery, Dark Dorian said only cruel people survive the world. Maybe there is some truth to that." I stared into the swirling blackness of the coffee, feeling the heat against my face. "After all, you can't really kill someone with kindness, can you?"

"Killing him will fix some of your problems, but it won't solve them all. It won't repair your friendships, it won't bring you closer to your family, it won't heal you." Dorian's words didn't quite hit home until a family passed by, weeping in each other's arms. "Ending his life may be the only solution, but if you kill him, it will mark you, Amelia."

"You've marked me. Are you death?"

Dorian smiled. "I'm whatever you need me to be. Always."

Dorian's sheets were the finest silk, his bed the darkest of thrones.

Shirtless, honey hair and blue eyes silvered by the moonlight, his lips skimmed my stomach as he undid my jeans. A dream-catcher spun overhead; Dorian was the one fantasy eluding its web. Running my fingers through his soft waves, I tucked the hair behind his ear as he kissed me. Lips smooth like velvet, he tasted like wine and chocolate.

"A thousand pictures, and I've never seen one lovelier than you." Our fingers interlaced, Dorian smiled, whispering more beautiful things in my ear.

As I looked into his sapphire eyes, I realized I was wrong. Some things you can kill with kindness.

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