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“So, where’s the artist who drew that judgmental crow?” Ryden asked Enzo with a smirk, making the other man turn red.
“Come. She has two of her paintings on display today. They’re so damn good,” Enzo said, looking excited.
Ryden turned to me. “Do you want to go see it? But it’ll be more disturbing than good.”
“I want to,” I said as Ryden took my hand in his.
The three of us walked toward a woman standing there, twiddling with the edge of her long-sleeved jacket. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, looking nervous.
When we moved next to her, she jerked back like a startled animal, ready to flee at any moment.
I stared at the painting, noticing the soft lines but also the harsher undertones. The picture was of a man in a goat mask, horns twisting from the sides of his head. His face was entirely covered by the mask except the eyes, and the look in his eyes was sinister. The lower half of the man was cut open until his intestines spilled out of him, and he was carrying it with his bloodied hands.
If I wasn’t someone who dabbled in death and murder, I would have retched right here. Thankfully, the three of us, all well-versed in dead bodies and gore, didn’t even flinch.
“I told you,” Ryden said. “God. He looks ugly as fuck.”
“It’s provocative,” I said, studying him. He reminded me of most of the men I killed. He could be any one of them behind that mask.
“Did it provoke your puke response?” Ryden rolled his eyes, and I chuckled.
“Ryden, dude,” Enzo huffed. “Shut the fuck up.”
The woman standing next to us let out a small squeak.
Oh fuck, she must be the artist.
“Please, don’t mind him,” Enzo said to her, his voice kind.
“You’re the artist.” He looked at the blushing woman, and she nodded, rubbing her hand against her jacket. She must be younger than me, but behind those doe-like eyes, I saw something else—something that came with pain and suffering.
“I-I am. I’m Trish,” she said. “I know everyone won’t like the… depiction of the gore and brutality, but…” she trailed off, looking flustered.
“I love it,” I said. “You expressed his cruelty in his eyes. He wanted to hurt someone, and then… when you look closer, you know he can’t hurt anyone because he’ll be dead in a few seconds, and then the way he is holding on to his intestines… It’s desperation. He wants to live, just so he can hurt her.”
Her eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe I said it before she gave me an enthusiastic nod. When I looked up, Ryden was looking at me with a strange expression, and Enzo was giving me a bright smile.
I could see how much Enzo liked Trish. His eyes were gleaming, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“Yes,” she finally said, rubbing her fingers against the back of her neck. “It’s my way of giving someone courage. Look, he’s stronger, but you’re not weak, either.”
“I love it. Is it for sale? Can I buy it?”
She gasped again. Her fingers went to her brown hair, which was cut closer to her chin as she tugged at it.
“What!” Enzo said. “I was going to buy it, Doctor Death.”
She smiled a little. “I can paint you something else,” she said to Enzo in a whisper, her eyes away from his, and Enzo glowed.
Oh, fuck. This is cute. I had never been shy in my life, and this was… making me feel strange, which became stranger when Ryden placed a hand on my ass, leaning closer to me as if he didn’t want there to be any distance between us.
“Do you promise?” Enzo said, and Ryden laughed next to me.
“Of course,” she mumbled.
Ryden and I shared a quick look, grinning. Oh, this was turning out to be an interesting date. I didn’t expect to meet so many new characters in my old story.
“Oh, and you can talk to Daphne,” Trish said, biting her lips. “I mean, if you want to buy it.”
