4.3 Cain and Abel

Restless, depressed, I stared at Vanida's empty seat the next morning, in government. Even if I had told her family or the police she was missing, it wouldn't have done any good. They would think I was crazy. I was beginning to think so too.

After class, my ex hailed, catching up with me in the hallway. Flawless as her makeup and A-line bob, her deep brown skin sparkled with body glitter. With her straight A's, infectious laugh, and bubbly personality, there was nothing Mallory Starr couldn't accomplish. She was perfect - and that's exactly why our relationship failed. Perfection was the one picture I couldn't paint.

"Hey." Mallory walked alongside, knocking my elbow with hers. "Haven't seen you around lately."

"I know. I'm sorry. I've been—"

"Busy? Yeah, I noticed. I worry about you, Em. You throw yourself into a project; you disappear, and you don't come up for air."

"Painting literally opened a door that saved me. I can't give that up."

"Just your social life, your family, and your friends."

I stopped short, turning to face the girl who always thought she knew me better than I knew myself - and was always right.

"And what, Mallory? Are you here to save me?"

"Depends. Do you need to be rescued? Sure looks like it. Did you even sleep last night?"

"Yes. No. Not really." Self conscious, I ran my hands through my frizzy curls.

"My point exactly. Let's catch up. We'll have lunch, grab some coffee at the Sunset—""

"Can't. I have to find—I mean take care of Vanida. She's sick."

"Doesn't she have a boyfriend who can do that?"

"Mel..."

"Okay. I'm sorry. You're right—she's your best friend. But I used to be that too. Look, I don't wanna step on your toes," she said, glancing down at her Nikes. "I just wanted to invite you to a bonfire this weekend. It's up at Pearl Lake. Everyone will be there; you should come. Bring Vanida."

I scratched the back of my head. "I dunno."

"C'mo-o-on," she cajoled, walking backwards up the hallway. "What have you got to lose, besides what you've already lost?"

"Everything," I muttered. There was nothing to gain with Dark Dorian on the loose.

Lifting my face to the ceiling, I blew a breath, straightening when I noticed the canvas on the wall beside me - a century-old painting of the school's original headmaster. How many times had I walked past it over the years? A million? And not once had the stern old man ever moved - until today. Today, he was watching me.

A fearsome, insidious understanding clicked into place. Dark Dorian wasn't just using paintings as doorways, he was using them as windows...

"I'm on to you," I said, stepping close. "You're not as clever as you think."

The painting parted its teeth in a wicked smile.

In a fairytale painting, Dorian and I sat on the edge of a hilltop, watching Mother Nature. A goddess with streaming white hair, she used her magic to turn the valley below from summer to winter. Icy winds streamed from her hands, freezing the lake, turning green things white and grey.

"He's using paintings to spy on us," I said, taking a sip from my thermos of hot chocolate. "Ever since he escaped, he's been one step ahead. Now he has Van."

"We found Opal, we'll find her too," he replied, brushing fallen snow from my cheek.

"And when we find Dark Dorian?"

His gaze never wavered. "We'll do what needs to be done."

I chewed my lip. "Maybe there's a spell to put him back. Maybe Opal or Danny knows someone with magic who can help." If we could walk through paintings into new worlds, why couldn't we send Dark Dorian back where he came?

"Perhaps." But he didn't sound very hopeful. "How was work?"

"No work today." I knew what he was doing, but I let him distract me anyway. "The door was locked--again. This isn't like, Miriam--something's wrong. But one problem at a time, right?"

We kissed, as below, Mother Nature beckoned a new season.

"We're disappointed in you, Amelia." Later that evening, my mother stood beside Jeff in his office. He sat behind his desk, with her at his side, their faces etched with more than disappointment. Jeff was sad; Mom was livid.

"Great. So nothing's new." I dropped in the leather check across the desk, resigned to being chastised like a kid in the principal's office.

Arms folded, Mom looked expectantly down at Jeffrey, who swiftly intervened.

"Uh, Amelia, we-we'd just like an explanation. If you and your friend needed something, you should've come to us. You can always come to me. I'm here for you."

"Jeffrey, for goodness sake, don't placate the girl. You're always so soft on her."

"I'm not soft, Denise. I'm trying to be understanding."

"What she needs are consequences!"

"Of course! But clearly something else is at play here. Why else would she have done what she did?"

They both stared at me, waiting for a response.

I shrugged. "Wasn't me."

"Really? Because we have you on camera." Mom pushed a button on Jeff's laptop, swiveling it to face me.

I stared at the screen, open-mouthed at the sight of Dorian and I rummaging through Jeff's office. Guilty as charged. "Oh. That. Yeah, th-that was definitely me." I sank back in my chair, cringing as I bit my lip. "So... what happens now?"

"Now? Now, you start explaining!" Mom slamming the laptop closed with enough vehemence to make Jeff wince. "You can start with that criminal you were with. He must've pressured you--he obviously made you do it. Jeffrey, we should call the police--"

"He never makes me do anything. And you can call the police, Mom, but you'll have to put us both away because I'm not letting him go to jail alone. It wasn't his fault--it was my idea."

"No one's calling the police," said Jeffery, raising his hand in reassurance. "I just want to know why, Amelia. Breaking into my office? Looking through my laptop? Why not come to me first? I could've helped you. I still can."

"Yeah, right." My one-note laugh was full of bitterness. "Even now you're judging me. Nothing I do is ever good enough. We can't all be perfect like you, Jeff."

"You think I'm perfect?" He chuckled. "I'm anything but. Just ask your mom."

"For once we are in agreement." She placed her arm on his shoulder, warm with pride she always seemed to withhold from me.

"Great!" I clapped my hands. "So we're done here?"

"Absolutely not!" Mom pointed one slender, manicured finger in warning. "Sit. Down."

Gingerly, I re-took my seat. "Look, my friend and I--we didn't steal anything. We just took some information from Jeff's laptop--that's it, I swear."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Amelia, that is exactly the definition of stealing. How can we trust you after this?"

"Did you ever trust me, Mom? When I told you I wanted to be an art major, do you remember what you said? You said I was exhibiting 'poor judgment'. And that later, I'd regret my decision and all that money you were wasting on it. Well, guess what? That decision saved my life--who knows, it might save my friends too."

Mom rolled her eyes once again. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Amelia."

"I'm sorry, Jeff. Really. But I had to do what I did. I accept the consequences--all of it."

"Right." Jeffrey tapped the pen in his hand, sitting back in his swivel seat with a grim sigh. "I just wish you had come to me first, kiddo."

Mom straightened to her full height, merciless. "As for those consequences..."

"They took back my key to the manor. They don't trust me anymore--assuming they ever trusted me to begin with." Morose, I turned my beer in my hands, grateful for the company. Dorian and I had a cozy booth at Blue Moon, as far from the noise as we could get.

"For what it's worth, I trust you--with all my lives." He raised his glass of chardonnay, toasting with a grin.

I felt a little better as our glasses clinked, but not enough to close the wound Vanida's disappearance had left behind.

Dorian sipped from his glass. "Thinking about your friend?"

"All the time. I just feel so guilty. Danny's been searching nonstop, and Opal's doing her best to help. And I just keep thinking... What if we made a mistake? What if we did leave Vanida behind? What if one of the Yetis took her and she's still trapped in the painting--what if she's..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought.

"Vanida's strong, like you." Dorian reached across the table, covering my hand with his. "She'll survive this. We. Will. Find her. I promise you."

My phone buzzed. I removed it from my purse, choking on my beer when I saw the name on the screen.

My heart thumped as I answered. "Vanida?"

"Not quite, love." Dark Dorian chuckled on the other end of the line. "But if you want to see her alive, do exactly as I say. Cheerio?"

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