Immortal Sin |✓|

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."