2.2 Monsters and Magic

I met up with Vanida at a local bar across the town. With the smoke and music on the air, and the atmosphere of mystery, the Blue Moon was the perfect place for shots and pool. Or just coming clean to your friends.

"You did what?" Van was furious, her frantic signalling . "You promised, Amelia! You said you'd stay away!"

"I know I did, Van, and I am so-so sorry! But he came to me--he needs my help."

"Says who?" Van set her beer on the counter with a vengeance. "If he tells you to jump off a bridge, I won't be there to catch you."

"Van, are you paying attention? I rode a unicorn!"

She snorted. "Apparently insanity is contagious."

"You're the one who said the impossible can't always be explained. What would you do in my shoes? Would you really be able to just walk away?"

"I wouldn't walk. I'd run." Van slipped from her stool at the bar. "So should you." She strutted off to meet her boyfriend on the dance floor; Danny gave me a look over her shoulder, as if he knew I was up to no good.

Sighing, I hailed the bartender and ordered a double shot of Patrón.

The next day, as I snuck mojitos and wine coolers at my mother's backyard garden party, all I could think of was Dorian's evil portrait. The painting bore his likeness - his every sin and misdeed captured on the canvas for all time. Dorian would stay young and beautiful forever as the man in the portrait grew more grotesque and evil with Dorian's every mistake. Dark Dorian, the creature in the portrait, the man who had accosted me in my dream, would remain alone in the attic, begging to be set free, forever. That night, before I left his home, after I promised once more to keep Dorian's secret, he sent me home with a gift.

"It's a dream-catcher." He pressed the beaded, feathered hoop in my hand. "It will protect you. Hang it over your bed and he won't bother you again. Not if I can bloody help it." A delicate moment lingered between us. I could see in his eyes that Dorian wanted to say more. But the words never fell from his lips; I left feeling incomplete...

"Where's my damn dress?" Alessa found me hiding out near the hedges, as far from Jeff's donors as I could get. I'd only agreed to make an appearance at the fundraiser to make up for no-showing the Fairway. Shaking hands with simpering constituents was no walk in the garden, no matter how many roses my mother planted.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you flutter those fake lashes at me." Alessa stole the cocktail from my hand and took a heavy drink. "Just give it back."

I snatched my drink. "There were... dry-cleaning issues. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'll buy you a new one--"

"And it better be couture! From now on, keep your sticky fingers out of my closet!" Alessa marched off while I stayed behind, praying I wouldn't get more visits. Mom and Jeff shooting evil eyes from across the garden was more than enough company for me.

As I turned to make my way from the hedges to the bar, a familiar figure interceded, cutting across my path. I was beginning to associate the smell of Chanel with death.

"Opal." I shook my head. "What the hell are you doing here?" Beautiful and murderous were her motif.

"Saving your life, of course. It's what I do."

"Could've fooled me."

"Hmph." She smiled back, a mojito resting between both hands, long scarlet nails clicking premeditatively against the glass.

"What do you want, Opal? If you're looking for Dorian, he's not here."

"I come for you, ma chèrie." Opal stepped close; I stiffened. A crowd full of witnesses and the drink still shook in my hand.

"You should leave."

She took a delicate sip from her drink, unmoved. "And you should heed my advice, though I know you will not--he is too handsome, and you are too gullible. But Dorian is bad news. He is a danger to everyone in this town--"

"And yet you're the one who shot him in cold blood. I'm sure you'll be disappointed to know he's still alive. He told me about you--how you've spent the last five years chasing him across oceans and continents. How you've managed to scare away anyone he's ever cared for, preventing him from having any semblance of a life or meaningful relationship. How you've tried over and over to kill him... and you always fail."

"Yes, that is rather annoying." Opal circled me, eyes sharp and narrow as she raised her drink to her lips. "Dorian calls himself a reformed man. He believes the sins of his past are over-shadowed by his newfound guilt. A foolish notion--our sins never leave us. They fester and rot, like his withered soul."

"Why do you hate him? What could he have possibly done to make you this... bitter?"

"Every rose has its thorns. But Dorian is not a rose, he's the snake in the garden. His immortality is a ruse - everything dies, toutes les petites choses. Dorian's time will come. And if not by my hand, then by the next hunter that takes my place. Or the next, or the next. It's only a matter of time, darling, which he's had more than plenty of. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to see a clairvoyant about a reading. Adieu..."  Opal winked; her hand brushed my shoulder as she passed.

"Ow!" The foul woman had snagged my hair. Scowling, I watched her disappear in the crowd to haunt me from afar. Was she right? Was Dorian the rose or the snake? Or was he both?

That night, as I watched Dorian's dream-catcher spinning above me, I wondered what nightmares his painting had unleashed on the world.

Long after my conversation with Opal, that word still spun in my brain - hunter. I had to know what it meant.

So that weekend, I disrupted my routine painting schedule to do a bit of research. I sat down at my computer and typed the word 'hunters' in the Frooble search engine, pulling up thousands of advertisements for boots and camouflage gear. Groaning, I deleted that and tried a different tact - 'supernatural hunters'.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

According to Frooble, supernatural Hunters are given the single task of putting an end to anything that goes bump in the night - witches, vampires, ghosts, faeries... immortals. I knew now that Dorian's painting was the source of his power. If Opal destroyed it, would Dorian's curse end? Would he die?

I couldn't protect him, not with so little knowledge about the supernatural world. If I wanted to save Dorian, then I needed to know what I was getting myself into. He couldn't be the only one of his kind. How many more Supernaturals were living in the Village, hidden in plain sight? And how many Opals were here to destroy them?

There was only one place in town that could point me in the right direction.

The Begay family ran a New Age shop in the heart of the Village. At The Talisman, you could buy anything from tarot cards to essential oils to healing crystals or herbs. The business had steady clientele, but most of the people I knew only ventured to the shop during Halloween. Even Danny, who volunteered on weekends and whose grandmother owned the shop, didn't seem to take the place that seriously. But I did.

Danny's grandmother was more than happy to point me in the right direction. I left the shop with a bag full of books about supernatural beings and dark objects, as well as a few crystals and candles 'on the house'. A week ago I wouldn't have set foot in the shop. Today I couldn't imagine a more important place to be.

On my way home, Danny hailed me from across the parking lot, jogging to catch up. Frankly I was surprised, considering how silent and surly he'd been as his grandmother gave me the run-down on Harbor Village. According to Mama Begay, the Village was a refuge for supernatural beings, a home away from home. Danny hadn't seemed particularly thrilled to hear his grandmother sharing such information so freely.

"Danny, hey!" I opened the car trunk, setting my purchases inside. "What's up?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here, Amelia? Cooking up some Halloween art project or something?"

"Uh, no, not really." I frowned, thrown by his accusatory tone. "I'm sorry, do you have a problem with me being here, Dan?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. I don't know what it is you're getting yourself mixed up in, but I'd appreciate if you kept V out of it."

Arms folded, I poked my tongue in my cheek. Danny and I had never fought before. This was new territory.

"And I'd appreciate you letting my best friend make her own decisions. And furthermore, I would never knowingly put Van in danger--you should know that. What's really going on here, Danny? What are you so afraid of me digging up? I promise, I didn't come here to start trouble--"

"The kind of questions you were asking inside--trouble will find you. So if you care about Vanida, you'll keep her out of whatever it is you're doing. Please, Amelia. That's all I'm asking."

"If she asks questions, Danny, I'm not gonna lie for you."

The matter was closed - Danny shut the trunk, shaking his head as he walked backed to the shop.

That night, I lit a protection candle and read by its light, staying up until the early morning hours, gobbling up the pages of my new books. There were so many different types of supernatural beings - too many to count - with powers ranging from mundane to devastating. But all of them were dangerous.

I turned the page in my book, running my finger down the sketch of a supernatural in transition. "Unlike Werewolves, Shapeshifters can take the form of any creature they please, and show no aversion to silver. Shapeshifters can only be killed in their true form, by decapitation or a blade to the heart."

I sat back against the tufted headboard with a sigh. I had read through so many different descriptions of supernaturals, but none of them seemed to describe Dorian. Even dark and cursed objects had endless subcategories. So far, Dorian was a league of his own, the first of his kind. The only thing I could be sure of was that Dark Dorian was convinced he would escape the painting, and that I would be the reason. I needed to know...

Why me?

To dream or not to dream, that was the question.

Setting my reading materials on the nightstand, I made the heart-thumping decision to un-pin the dream-catcher from the ceiling. After tucking it safely beneath my mattress, I climbed back in bed and blew out the candle. Head beneath my hands, I watched the shadows on the ceiling as I waited for sleep.

Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for checking out Immortal Sin! I hope you're enjoying the story ❤️More Amelia and Dorian ahead! 🌹📚🕯️