3.3 Fire and Ice

I awoke with a start, sitting up in terror as I felt the empty side of the bed. I couldn't believe it. Dorian was gone. He was really dead...

My breath stuttered when I glanced across the apartment, spotting a shirtless Dorian making his way from the kitchen.

"Omelette?" He sat down on the bed, extending a delicious-looking plate sprinkled with chives and parsley.

Ignoring the food, I held my heart in relief. Was I still dreaming? I poked his nose, just to be sure I wasn't. "How?"

He shrugged, setting the plate on the bedside table. "I'm as lost as you."

"Maybe she didn't burn the painting after all."

"She burned it. When Opal sets her mind to something there's no stopping her."

"Okay. So... If the painting's destroyed and you're still alive, what does this mean? Is the curse finally broken?"

"If only." Dorian reached for the plate and grabbed the knife. He dragged the blade across his skin, opening a shallow wound on his palm. When he raised his hand, the cut had already healed.

"Shit."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Okay. Well. The world hasn't ended--yet. We'll figure this out." I glanced at the clock." But first I have to go to class," I wrapped the sheet around me and slid from the bed. "And you have to stay put."

"Nope!" I held up my finger when Dorian tried to argue. "You need to stay hidden. This could be our one chance to save you from Opal. If she believes you're dead then you need to stay out of sight. At least until she leaves town."

"I suppose you're right."

"Always."

"And are we going to talk about last night? We both thought I was dying. It's fair to assume certain things only transpired for that reason."

I scoffed. "Assumptions are for assholes. What happened last night... happened. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Amelia--"

"There's cable and Internet and ice cream," I offered, walking backwards to the shower. "If something goes wrong and you feel like you're going to spontaneously combust or something, call me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I stepped in the shower; the curtains weren't nearly as sheer as my disappointment. Clearly, last night had only happened because we thought he was dying. There was nothing between us, and maybe that was for the best.

While striding across campus to the castle-like University ahead, I received a phone call from my sister.

"Amelia, what the hell have you done this time?"

I switched the phone to my other ear, hoisting my backpack higher on my shoulder. "Morning to you too, little sis."

"Mom and Jeff were up arguing all last night and I'm pretty sure it had something to do with you--as usual. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Y'know, so you could screw things up even more."

"Thanks for the heads up, but I don't want you to worry about me. I'll call you soon, kay'?" I hung up the phone, wondering how the day could get any worse.

As I walked through the campus' main entrance, a stranger strode past me out the doors. Dressed in heavy winter gear, a ski mask covered his face. Even for the Village's temperamental fall weather, his clothes were severely out of place. Catching a glimpse of unsettling blue eyes, something about them caused me to glance over my shoulder.  My gaze connected with his, and a shiver ran down my spine.

A large, neatly wrapped package was waiting in my seat when I walked into government.

"What's this?" I signed.

Vanida shrugged, sipping a latte through a straw. "It was already there when I arrived. Got your text. I'm glad everything worked out with Dorian."

"He's alive. For now." I eyed the package with interest, noting its thick brown wrapping and how the string tied around it formed a pretty, perfect bow.

Professor Yarlagadda cleared her throat. "Ladies?"

"Oh! Sorry, Professor." Moving the gift out of the way, I slid into my seat, itching to unwrap the string.

Vanida and I met in the quad for lunch, choosing a picnic table away from other students. All day, I'd toted the mysterious package from class to class, unwilling to let it from my sight.

"What do you think it is?" Van popped Hot Cheetos in her mouth, watching me set the gift on the table.

"We're about to find out."

Treating the gift like a bomb, I carefully untied the string and removed the paper, revealing the painting within - a picture depicting a fierce blizzard. Snow fell in a frenzy, so thick you could hardly see the sets of demonic red eyes glowing in the distance. My mouth went dry when I read the painting's title and the artist's name in the corner...

A Cold Night With Opal by Dorian Gray.

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h, this is bad," I said. "This is very, very bad."

Bad was just the beginning.

I felt terrible cancelling my shift at Salt by the Sea, but it was always better bailing on Miriam in person. Eyes on my phone, I scrolled through the numerous angry texts and missed calls from Mom and Jeff. No time to figure out why they were so pissed. I had a painting to investigate. Pulling on the door handle, I was surprised when it refused to give way, pulling once more for good measure before I noticed the happy-go-lucky We're Closed sign plastered in the window. I frowned. We were never closed on weekdays, unless it was an emergency. Even then Miriam would have called. Concerned, I peered through the windows, trying to see past the darkness beyond. When that didn't work, I scrolled through my phone and dialed Miriam's number. No answer. On the drive back home, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was on the horizon...

Vanida beat me to the apartment. She and Dorian were having tea at the kitchen table when I arrived - and they weren't alone.

"Danny?" I nearly dropped the painting when I saw him leaning against the wall.

"Apparently, Vanida has told him everything," Dorian signed. "Would you like some tea?"

"What I'd like is an explanation." I glared at Vanida, who stared defiantly back.

"This is getting dangerous, A. I had to fill him in. We don't keep secrets."

Danny stepped forward, arms crossed. "You can trust me. I can help."

"By getting yourself killed?" I retorted, arms folded over my chest.

He rolled his eyes.

Dorian rose from his seat, approaching with a steaming cup of what smelled like lemon tea. "What's done is done. All we can do now is move forward and deal with the crisis at hand. Yes?"

"I hate when you talk sensible." But I took the tea nevertheless, joining the others at the table.

"Opal followed through last night," I signed. "She destroyed the painting. But instead of killing the real Dorian, I think she set Dark Dorian free."

Vanida was stunned. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, warming my hands on the tea cup. "Before I found the painting, I saw someone strange on campus. I think it was him. Who else could have left it?"

"Well, if Dark Dorian escaped then we need to find him." Danny glanced round the table. "Before he hurts anyone."

"I fear he already has." Dorian walked to the painting and picked it up, observing it with a shrewd frown. "She's in there."

"Who?" signed Vanida.

"Opal," I replied, exchanging knowing looks with Dorian.

He nodded grimly, setting the painting on the table. "She may still be alive."

"In there?" Danny couldn't believe it. "Then that settles it--we can't just leave her."

"She's a hunter, Danny!" I shook my head in disbelief. "She tried to kill Dorian!"

"And she failed," he replied. "Besides, if we leave her there, are we really any better than her?"

I scoffed.

"Daniel's right." Dorian was the only one standing. "Over the last several decades, I've worked hard to change my image, to be a better man than I was. If I leave Opal to die, it's a step backward. And my lesser half will be stronger for it; he feeds on my sins. It's how his power grows."

"What exactly are his powers?" signed Vanida.

"He's immortal, and far stronger than I. And now that he's free, he can use paintings as portals to other worlds. It doesn't help that he's also deranged and incredibly evil."

Vanida snorted.

"Then that settles it." Danny rose from his seat. "We rescue Opal and we stop Dark Dorian."

"And what if it's a trap?" I stood up as well. "You're awfully invested in this, Danny." I had to admit, I was still sore at him from our last conversation. "Until twenty minutes ago, you didn't even know magic existed. And yet this doesn't even seem to bother you. I wonder why that is..."

"Lay off, A!" Vanida shot to her feet. "Danny's just trying to help!"

"Or maybe he's hiding something!"

"Sod it!" Dorian shook his head round the table, shaming us all to silence. "Every second we waste fighting brings Opal closer to death. She could already be lost. If we're going to do this, we have to do it now and we have to work together. Agreed?"

My gaze was locked in a silent, furious battle with Danny. He was the first to look away.

"Agreed," he signed. "But we're going to need to cold gear. And if those red eyes in the painting mean anything, we'll need weapons too."

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