3.1 Fire and Ice

In case I was wrong about my family having dinner with the mayor, I parked my car down the street and Van, Dorian, and I walked the rest of the way to the mansion. I punched in the security code and the tall wrought iron gates swung open, allowing us access to the winding drive leading to the front door.

"You know you don't have to do this," said Dorian, watching as I fit my key in the lock.

"Of course I do. If we're right then Opal has the painting--and that's my fault."

The others followed me into the foyer; Vanida offered to stay behind and keep watch.

"Thank you," I signed back. "Text me if you see anything."

Van nodded. "I got this. Hurry up."

As she took her place by foyer window's gauzy curtains, Dorian followed me to the third floor. He stopped me just outside the ornate oaken door leading to Jeff's office.

"What you said before--you're wrong, Amelia. This isn't your fault. You're the first person I've trusted in quite some time. I don't regret that."

"I do." I tried to smile back and failed. Reaching in my bun, I removed a bobby pin and set to work unlocking the door.

As we ransacked Jeff's lavish, immaculate office, we did our best to leave no trace of our thievery.

"We're looking for anything that contains addresses," I said, rummaging through Jeffrey's desk as Dorian snooped through the book cases. "If my stepfather is as thorough as I know him to be, he'll have records of all his donors."

"Perhaps he stores them on the machine," Dorian replied, motioning at Jeff's laptop. "Shall we?"

"We shall." I took a seat at the desk, sighing at the screen. "Except I don't know the password."

"Well, if he's as basic as the canapés served at the fundraiser it shouldn't be that complicated." Dorian grinned.

"Let's start with his favorite sports..."

I ran down the list. When those didn't work, I switched to foods and important dates. Soon enough, I was out of options.

"Damn. The only thing left I can think of are birthdays."

"Worth a shot," said Dorian, peering over my shoulder at the screen.

I tried Mom's first, then Alessa's, then Jeffrey's.

"This isn't working." I rubbed my eyes with my palms.

"Have you tried your birthday?"

I scoffed. "There's no way. But we need that painting, so..." I punched in the numbers, waiting with bated breath... "Oh my god! We're in!"

"You sound surprised."

"Guess I kinda am. Jeff and I, we don't always see eye-to-eye."

"Perhaps you don't have to. Perhaps you need only see each other."

I smiled. "Perhaps. Now let's find those addresses..."

The address Opal had given Jeff led us to a wooded area away from the town's center, closer to its outer limits. As I drove along the narrow, winding street through the heart of the Gentle Forest, Assassin by AU/RA filled the silence. Dorian rode beside me in the passenger seat, window down, his fingers skimming the air. We both knew time was short, if he had any left at all.

GPS led us to the front door of a tiny, lonely cabin in the woods. It was ramshackle, the windows cracked and dusty, rickety steps leading to a lifted porch. Potted plants hung from the ceiling, half dead. Apart from the leaves swaying in the breeze, there were no signs of life.

"I should go alone," said Dorian, stepping outside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Is he crazy?" Van signed.

"A little," I signed back. "Dorian, if she's in there, there's no way you're going alone."

"Opal is dangerous. I won't risk your lives."

"You aren't, we are--c'mon," I said, tugging him along.

We reached the front door and I knocked as Van and Dorian peered through the clouded windows, into the darkness beyond.

"No one's home." I shook my head. "Either that or she's hiding."

"Opal doesn't hide." Dorian scrutinized the cabin through narrow eyes. "We should leave."

"We didn't come all this way to give up now," Van signed. "The painting could still be inside."

"Van says--"

"I know what she said," said Dorian, interrupting with a smile. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me, Vanida," he signed. "But I appreciate what you're doing for me. It means a lot."

"I'm doing it for Amelia," Van signed back. "But you're welcome."

Dorian smiled again. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, I had already jimmied the lock with my handy-dandy bobby pin...

The cabin was a one-room living space, with a small, dingy bathroom you could barely turn around in. We knew immediately we were alone. Judging by the thick layer of dust and cobwebs, it hadn't been lived in for quite some time.

Dorian poked his head in the bathroom. "No dishes in the sink, no sheets on the bed, no lavatory paper in the loo. She doesn't live here."

Van shrugged. "I don't get it. Why would Opal list this as her home address?"

"Because she's clever," he signed back. "Besides, hunter's live a solitary life; they're always on the move. They'll set up shop in the most inhospitable places and abandon them just as quickly. But I don't think she ever lived here. She just wanted us to believe she did."

"Why on Earth would she do that?" I ran my hands on the window sill, inspecting the dust on my finger.

"Maybe she just needed a fake address to give Jeff," signed Vanida. "If I was a hunter, I'd do the same thing."

"Opal never does anything without reason," Dorian sternly replied.  "In any case, the painting's not here. We should go."

Disappointed, defeated, we made our way towards the front door, freezing in place at the loud, harsh ring of a telephone. I turned, spotting a pink, rotary dial phone planted on the bedside table.

"Don't answer it," Dorian warned.

"Why not?" I challenged. "It could be our only chance at finding her and the painting." Ignoring his protests, I strode across the cabin and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello, darling."

I would recognize that smug, Parisian accent anywhere.

"Opal, where are you?" Dorian and Vanida swarmed to my side, straining to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh, I'm miles away, admiring this extraordinary painting as we speak--such detail. I'm sure it'd fetch a pretty penny. It's really too bad I have to destroy it."

My heart dropped to my toes. "You can't--"

She laughed. "Do you think you can negotiate? Because I assure you, there is nothing in the world that equates to the many lives lost at his expense. You see, I've worked it out. No man-made weapon can kill Dorian--but perhaps tossing this demonic painting in a dumpster fire will finally do the trick."

"No one's innocent, Opal. You're a hunter--how many lives have you taken?"

"It's a bloody business, chérie. But I am not heartless. He has until midnight to say his goodbyes." Her sigh was heavy with nostalgia. "I shall miss the chase."

"If you do this, I'll find you, Opal. You can't escape forever."

"Then I suggest you start running. It is good you are not in heels."

"How do you--" Heart beating like a drum, my gaze swept across the cabin, landing on the red light blinking in the corner of the ceiling. I pulled the receiver from my ear, mouthing at the others. She's watching.

"Clever, clever Amelia. Because I like you, I'm giving you ten seconds."

I dropped the phone. "Everybody run!"

We scampered across the room, throwing the door wide and spilling from the cabin's dim, musty atmosphere into the sunshine. We were hardly down the porch steps before the explosion occurred, so forceful it knocked us in the dirt, sprinkling us with glass and wood chips.

Ears ringing, bruised all over, we sat up in unison, watching angry, red flames engulf the cabin.

"You three look terrible." Hands on her shapely hips, Driselle stared down at us in bemusement. "Milkshakes and pie, on the house."

"Thanks, Drizz." I sighed, waiting until she left the booth. "We failed. Opal has the painting and there's a million places she could be. There's no way we'll find her before she destroys it."

"I'm so sorry, Dorian." Vanida reached across the booth, placing her hand on his interlaced fingers.

"Don't be." His smile was grim, but warm. "We did the best we could."

"It's not fair." I raised my hands in disbelief. "Opal says she's doing the right thing but this isn't justice. It's murder." My eyes burned. The only thing holding back my angry tears was knowing it wouldn't do Dorian any good. If he could put on a brave face, so would I.

Dorian exhaled. "I've lived many lives. I've been places most will never get the chance to see. If it's my time I won't complain. I've lived enough and then some."

But that wasn't good enough for me. What's the point of living if you can't die on your own terms?

Driselle returned to the booth with a tray, balancing an entire apple pie and a round of strawberry milkshakes.

No one felt like eating.

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