1.3 Blood and Unicorns

Dinner was a disaster, of course.

I left, heart-sore from heated words exchanged over the chef's paella and poached pears. Back home, I slammed the front door behind me, tossed my purse to the floor, and slid against the door with my face in my hands. Mom and Jeff were devastated that I had missed the speech but all I cared about was who Opal would hurt next - and where Dorian could possibly be.

Too angry to cry, too sad to paint, I ran a bubble bath and spent the rest of my night eating chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Of all the girls to get caught between Dorian and Opal, it had to be me.

The next morning, after hitting snooze three times too many, I flew out of bed and into the shower. My first class at Harbor Village University was eight a.m. sharp; I made it to government by the skin of my teeth, sliding into my seat next to Vanida as Professor Yarlagadda began her lecture on American politics at the turn of the century.

"Long night?" Van signed, dimples flashing as she offered an empathetic grin.

"The longest," I mouthed. "Any results?"

"Still cooking. I'll let you know."

We pulled out our notebooks but Van was the only one paying attention. Disregarding Professor Yarlagadda's teachings, I used my pages as a sketchbook, drawing a creepy, beautiful face peering back at me from the water.

"It had a flat nose and green teeth," Van signed, smiling at my work.

When the picture was complete, I tore the page from my book and passed it to Van, who stored it lovingly in the back of her textbook.

As Professor Yarlagadda rehashed government's basic principles, I returned my pencil to the page, this time sketching the face I saw every time I closed my eyes. Who could forget lips that dripped refinement, hands so warm and solid, and eyes that only saw you.

The end is never really the end...

"Is that him?"

I nodded at Van.

"He's gorgeous."

"Gorgeous is an understatement," I whispered back. To anyone with eyes, Dorian was breathtaking.

Realizing my pencil was getting dull, I reached in my backpack for another, gasping in shock when my eyes returned to the page. Dorian's face had changed. His lips were pulled back in a smile I hadn't drawn, his vacant gaze now zeroed on mine...

Heart thudding, I slammed the sketchbook shut, earning startled looks from my classmates. I pushed the sketchbook away, as far as it could go without falling off the desk. But I was the one on edge.

Dorian was bad for my health.

After classes, Vanida and I caught up with her boyfriend in the parking lot. Daniel Begay was a senior studying criminal justice at HVU. Sparkling with mystery, Danny's brown eyes were as dark and shining as the straight locks falling down his back. A silver hoop glinted in his nose, and the tan skin exposed by his Kiss t-shirt was mapped in stunning tattoos of wildlife and nature. Danny was attractive, but more than that he was loyal and fierce, his devotion to community affairs the only rival to his passion for Vanida. Secretly, I was jealous. Vanida had found someone who loved her completely, and asked for nothing in return.

Danny slid from atop the trunk of Van's car, scooping his girlfriend in a spinning hug that ended with a kiss to her forehead.

"Hey, beautiful," he signed. "I missed you."

"You better." Van pushed the dark, loose waves from his face and kissed him again, pausing to squint at the sky when an eagle cawed and wheeled overhead.

"I can't stay," said Danny, shooting us both an apologetic smile.

"Let me guess, another secret meeting?" I teased. Daniel Begay had a habit of disappearing as quickly as he came. For someone who didn't have a car he sure got around.

Danny grinned. "Community meeting at the Fairway. I'd invite you both, but--"

"They're not accepting new members," Van finished, earning another sheepish grin from her boyfriend.

Newsflash. They never accepted new members.

"Sorry, V,"

"Don't apologize," Van signed. "Just go be great. I'll see you tomorrow."

Danny kissed her cheek then waved goodbye to me. Hands in his pockets, he strode off, disappearing around the corner of the campus greenhouse. Moments later, a second eagle joined the first in the sky, Van shading her eyes to get a better look as the beautiful creatures flew onward.

Sensing her sadness, I knocked Van's shoulder with mine.

"Wanna eat scones at the Sunset and pretend to study for Yarlaggadda's test?"

Van shook her head, the tips of her inverted bob brushing her shoulders. "You go. I think I'll stay behind, study the blood sample in the lab. Yesterday it looked weird under the microscope."

"Weird good or weird bad?"

"I don't know. Just... weird."

And she left it at that.

Later that night, I had the strangest dream...

I walked the woods of Harbor Village, barefoot in the mist and darkness. Frightened by something unseen and unknown, I kept going. It was too late to stop now. There was no turning back.

Pushing aside foliage and branches, I pursued that feeling, that need to know exactly what it was I was running to. Dorian was here. He was waiting for me, I knew.

I entered a misty clearing dotted with trees. Someone sat beneath the boughs of one particular canopy, painting at an easel. Their back was to me, but there was no mistaking the long blonde hair spilling down their shoulders, golden as sunlight.

"Dorian?" I took a tentative step forward; the figure stopped painting, their head straightened. I took another step, uncertain, heart pounding in my chest. "You shouldn't be here. What if Opal finds you?"

"What if I find Opal?" His chuckle was low and unfamiliar. Dorian returned to his painting. "Will you help me?"

"O-of course. Of course I'll help you."

"Then you must find me. He'll try to stop you. We mustn't let him."

"I don't understand."

"You will. Soon enough." He paused, setting his brush aside. Moonlight struck the canvas; from over his shoulder I saw his chosen subject - me. And not me. My expression was cruel and heartless. Evil, to be exact.

"Some day you'll join me, Amelia. It will be lovely to have some company. Don't you think?"

I didn't answer. Something was wrong. He was wrong.

"Dorian?" I gripped my arm, shivering in my thin nightgown. "Why won't you look at me?"

"For the same reason you don't look at the sun. Too bright, my darling, too bright." Dorian turned in his seat with slow deliberation. Immediately, I regretted asking.

Dorian was a monster.

His scarred face was grotesque, the features inhuman. His skin was white and sunken, like the dead. His skull bulged at the brows. His blue eyes were bloodshot and hollow beneath, his lips stretched in a yellow, rotting grin.

"I see you, Amelia Thorne." He rose from his seat; I took a frightened step back. "You'll be the one who finally sets me free."

I shook my head, too stunned to speak.

Dorian's features darkened, clouding with anger and cruelty. "Set me free, Amelia."

"No," I whispered, my voice hardly a squeak.

Dorian de-materialized in wisps of black smoke and reappeared before me. His hands gripped my arms so painfully tight I would've buckled if he hadn't kept me in place.

His red eyes bulged, teeth bared like an animal as he yelled in my face.

"SET. ME. FREE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!!!"

"NO!" I sat up, panting in fear, hand on my racing heart as the weight of the dream pressed onward. I groaned; my arms ached. Sliding out of bed, I walked to the vanity, wincing in pain as I raised the sleeves of my nightgown. Reflected in the oval mirror were two, angry, finger-shaped bruises.

Last night was not a dream, and neither was this.

Government was the only class I had with Vanida. Seeing her empty seat that morning had me ill at ease. I texted her when Professor Yarlagadda's back was turned but didn't receive a reply until my next class, when I was up to my elbows in clay. Washing my hands at the cleaning station,  I pulled out my phone to read Van's urgent, all capitals text.

MEET ME AT THE SUNSET AFTER CLASSES!!!

I exhaled a shaky breath. She must have discovered something. Hopefully whatever she had learned would shed some light on the crazy things that had been happening since he waltzed into my life.

I raced to the Sunset when classes ended, so anxious I parked crooked in my space. Van was already waiting inside, looking unsettled as she played with the straw of a strawberry milkshake.

"Hi." I dropped heavily into my seat, dumping my book bag beside me. "You weren't in class. Everything okay?"

"I'm fine. It's Dorian who isn't okay."

"What do you mean?" I signed back, frowning in confusion.

Van leaned forward, dark eyes intensely alert. "I tested the blood samples. The results finally came in." The pretty girl faltered, unsure how to continue.

"It's alright," I said aloud, covering her hand with mine. "You can tell me."

Sighing, Van dug in her purse, extracting several folded pages which she passed over the table.I separated the pages, doing my best to translate the medical jargon.

I shook my head. "Van, what does this mean?"

"It is blood, but it's also more than that. It's paint."

"Paint? Like paint had been spilled on top of the blood?"

Van shook her head, grim as a statue. "The blood samples contained paint because the paint was a property of the blood - just like plasma, blood cells, and platelets. It's part of him, part of his DNA."

I sat back, astonished. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I ran five different tests. They all came out the same." Van looked worried.

"What does this mean?"

"It's a scientific breakthrough."

"That's amazing! You could win an award."

"Or be killed." The fear in Van's eyes was plain as the fear I had felt last night, when Dorian had screamed for me to free him.

"Say I publish the results, make my findings public. I could make money, win awards--and gain lots of unwanted attention. Maybe from the government--or worse, the person who shot Dorian. We need to be smart."

"You're right. I'm sorry, V, I wasn't thinking. What do we do now?"

"You got your answers. I think we should let it go." Van had never been so firm.

"Really?"

"Yes! Dorian may not be human. Maybe he's a government experiment, or an alien from another galaxy--I don't fucking know! Whatever he is, he's dangerous, and I'll be damned if my best friend risks her life for his. Now excuse me as I get a refill." Glaring, Van swiped her glass from the table and stood. "Let it go, Amelia," she said aloud. "Promise me you will," she signed.

"Van... I can't do that."

"Promise me, Amelia!"

"Okay. I promise. I'll let it go."

"Good."

As Van marched to the counter, I stayed behind, running my hand over the bruises Dorian had left behind.

Later that evening, as I dusted painting frames in the gallery's main hall, all I could think about were the results from Van's blood analysis. If he was smart, Dorian would be far from the Village and halfway across the world by now.

But I needed to know - why was there paint in Dorian's blood? How had he survived three shots to the chest? Furthermore, what was his plan to avoid Opal? Were they destined to play cat-and-mouse forever? And why did she hate him so much? Dorian was the only person who could answer my questions, but I had made a firm promise to Van that I wouldn't go chasing waterfalls - especially the ones leading to death. Dorian Gray was a mystery I would never solve. Maybe it was better this way...

I jumped when the lights in the gallery dimmed. My mind raced to all the worst conclusions until Henry, the maintenance man with laugh lines and white whiskers, came whistling into view. A dirty rag poked out the side of his blue jumpsuit as he pushed his cleaning cart along.

"Closin' shop. Unless there's summat ya need."

"Nope." I smiled back. "Miriam left me the keys--I'll lock up behind you. Night, Henry."

"Good night, Miss."

Henry disappeared and an eerie quiet settled over the gallery. Ignoring the way my skin crawled at the thought of being alone, I straightened the last painting and wiped down its frame, taking a step back to admire my handiwork.

Around the corner and down the hall, the bell jangled above the front door, followed by footsteps.

"Did you forget something, Henry?"

"Not quite."

It wasn't Henry.

"Dorian." There he was, standing behind me in jeans and a dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, as sheepish and apologetic as one could be. "We're closed." I took a deep breath. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know. And I'm sorry to intrude, I'm sorry for everything. I owe you a thousand apologies--and more."

"Damn right you do." He had some nerve showing up here. I tossed my cleaning supplies in the bucket at my feet. "You scare the living daylights out of me, Dorian, and then show up here all handsome and charming like nothing ever happened!"

"Amelia, I would never... That night at the Fairway, with Opal--"

"This isn't about the Fairway, it's about last night!" I pushed up the sleeve of my t-shirt, revealing the bruises. "Do you expect me to believe I did this to myself?"

Dorian's face crumbled. I saw only his pain and shame - no trace of the anger and cruelty from last night. It was like he was a different person entirely.

"I have no right asking your forgiveness, Amelia. But I owe you the truth. That much I can give... if you'll let me.

Arms folded, I wrestled with anger and compassion. I promised Vanida I would stay away... and yet the truth, Dorian's truth, called out like a beacon.

I exhaled. "Alright then. Say what you have to say."

He smiled. "It's better if I show you. Choose a painting." He gestured with his hands. "Any one will do."

My arms dropped. "Dorian..."

"Humor me. Please."

"Alright, fine." Shrugging, I turned in a half-circle, my gaze sweeping across the gallery. "That one." I pointed and Dorian crossed the room, inspecting my choice.

"Marvelous detail. The artist has a fine eye for creativity."

I couldn't help but smile back. "I didn't fancy unicorns until she painted them."

"Aye." Dorian grinned over his shoulder. "Unicorns it is."

I watched, speechless, as he de-materialized into black smoke, flowing through the painting as easily as one would walk through a door. Dorian was gone; the painting rippled like a waterfall, waiting for me to step through.

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