Page 49 of The Black Lotus
“When we get back home, we can turn a guest room into an art studio so we can both start painting again.”
I lean in close, whispering low so no one can hear. “Just canvases? No little lambs?” I ask.
He sits up and looks at me with a familiar longing look in his eyes. “As much as I miss painting my lambs-” He stops, searching for the right words and grabbing my hands. “The Monet is dead; the lambs are no more. The Fatal Floral Killers live and will be Salem’s most notorious duo,” he whispers, bringing my knuckles to his lips.
“Better than the Patchwork Killers?” I murmur.
“The best.”
Our conversation is interrupted when the instructor begins talking, our brushes begin swiping.To think he doesn’t want to be the Morbid Monet anymore…My brushstrokes slow as I glance over at him.Does he really mean it? Or is he saying it for my benefit?Aster is changing who he is for me. He hasn’t even had a chance to kill anyone. He just sits back and watches me.Is he okay with that?The thought of being a certain way for so long and then having to change on a whim, would feel like whiplash to me. He was raised with the teachings of who he was supposed to grow up to be and now since meeting me he’s lost that part of himself.I hate to admit it, but… Maybe Cynthia is right.Aster has changed and it is all because of me.
I look over at Aster concentrated on his work, a regretful feeling washing over me making it hard to keep painting. I know he said he’s fine with never having another lamb but….All his victims looked similar to me.I get why he would want to change, but he’s been the Monet for so long.People don’t just change.
Aster’s breath tickles the back of my ear, his hand wrapping around mine to glide the paintbrush through the paint. “Killing beside you is better than killing by myself,” he whispers.
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline, my mouth parting with a silent gasp.How did he know what I was thinking?
He spins me around so I’m trapped between his legs, and taps his finger against my forehead. “Get out of that beautiful head of yours. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
A tentative smile crosses my features, my chin dropping in understanding. He may say he’s okay with it, but I know he has to miss it.After all of this is over, we can talk about how we can both continue to kill. I have a knack for it, and my hunger for spilled blood is growing with each kill.
His lips lightly press against mine. “I’ll be right back; I’m just going for a smoke.” I want to tell him to stay, to not leave my side. I want to scold him for smoking, since he knows how much I despise it. But I don’t. I know he needs a minute to just breathe in the toxic fumes. To slip back into who he was for just a moment, before he has to come back to the present. “There are too many people in this room for anyone to try anything. Donotmove until I come back.”
“I promise.”
He kisses the top of my head and walks out the door. I turn back to my painting, listening to what the instructor is saying, but turning it into my own style because what she is walking us through is boring. I look over at Aster’s painting and see he hasn’t listened to anything the instructor said either, choosing to freehand his own beautiful masterpiece instead. I glide my fingers along the wet paint, getting some of the red on my fingers. Rubbing my fingers together, I watch as the paint blends into a color matching the blood Sharon spilled. It’s drying the same way her red crimson did, even getting stuck under my nails. I hope Dad cleaned every speck left of her in her kill room.Any trace of her DNA could lead her family to believe she didn't run away, but was killed and I don’t even want to think about that.
I shake away the thoughts, rubbing my hands down my apron as I turn back to my canvas and decide if Aster went off script, so will I. Letting my hand flow, colors splash in harsh lines the faster and more into it I get, releasing every emotion into my art. The voices in the room quiet as I enter my own space.
Once I finish, I stand to admire the piece I created, coos ofoohsandahhsechoing behind me. The brush drops from my hand as I spin around to find everyone gathered around and looking at our paintings.How long have they been standing there?My cheeks tint red as I offer the crowd a bashful smile.
The last time I felt this kind of admiration was at the flea market, another place I miss. I wonder if Alice has been wondering where I am? I wonder how they’re doing. I’m sure when I see them again she would show me a picture of where she hung my painting and take me through another memory. I could just imagine how she would react to meeting Aster, she would drool all over him and Jerry would grumble, but eventually warm up to Aster as well.
Wait… Where is Aster?My eyes scan the room as I search for him, my head darting around, but no sandy hair or green eyes meet mine. No familiar smell of sandalwood or mint either. Just everyone else around me, snapping pictures of our work.
Everyone, except Aster.
Pushing people out of the way, I search the room and building and even the men’s bathroom for him. He’s been gone an hour when he should have come back in ten minutes. How could I let myself get lost in my own world, only to find it shattered when I returned. Why wasn’t I watching the clock waiting for his return?How could I miss his absence?
My breathing accelerates, my chest rising and falling with panic as I stumble out the front door screaming his name. No one has noticed my freak out since they’re too absorbed in capturing what isn’t theirs. Not even the host noticed me run out of the building since she was a part of the crowd as well.
I run down the alley, knowing it would’ve been the spot he’d choose to be alone to smoke. I see a half-smoked bud lying on the ground, surrounded by fresh scuff marks. I kneel to the ground, grazing my fingers against the pavement and pick up the cigarette. Closing my eyes, I inhale the bud, my senses instantly picking up a faint hint of sandalwood and mint.Aster.I stare into the dark void, a scream of agony interrupting the otherwise silent night for anyone to hear. Bending forward with the cigarette clutched to my chest, I rock back and forth as the feeling of numbness covers me with its suffocating embrace.
He’s gone.
TWENTY-SIX
SERENA
I’ve searched everywhere, I even went back inside and asked if anyone saw him. In my heart, I know he was taken but I don’t want to believe it. Luckily, he left the car keys, so I grabbed our art then sped home. I know he won’t be there, but I also know someone who is always watching that I hope will help. If I had her number I would have called her, but with her hacker skills I’m sure she’s always watching us through our cameras.
“Zephira!” I yell, bursting through the door on the verge of a complete breakdown. “Zephira, if you’re listening, I need your help.Please!Your brother was taken, and I don’t know how to find him or where to even begin looking.” I spin around the living room, yelling at the empty space, desperately hoping she’s watching. “We were on a date, then he went for a smoke and never came back. I went searching for him and saw signs of a struggle.” I fall to my knees, begging as the tears fall. “Please, Zephira. I know you care for him. I can’t… I can’t lose him.” Curling in on myself, I cry, whispering the wordpleaseover and over.
Why would anyone take Aster? Is it to get to me? Is this my fault?Sorrow fills my heart thinking about all the why’s, my lower lip trembling as I hold my knees to my chest, rockingback and forth. All that matters is finding Aster, killing whoever took him, and getting him back. My hand covers my heart, my fingers digging into my chest from the ache I am feeling, my eyes burning from my mascara.I probably look like a crazed raccoon.
After an hour of waiting and still no word from Zephira, or sign she’s heard me, the numbness returns and nearly strangles me. I stand and trudge up the stairs like a zombie. If she were to come knowing I was alone, she could kill me or send someone else after me and I don’t feel the strength I need to fight back.This is the perfect time to strike,but,Aster needs me.Aster didn’t fall in love with a weak girl, he fell for a strong woman.I can’t back down. I can’t give up.I need to stay vigilant, but Ineedto find Aster.
I grab my laptop, my phone, my charger, my knife and head to the attic. Clicking the button behind the picture on the wall, I go up and lock myself inside.I should talk to Aster about getting a remote with a button for this room.If anyone comes for me, they’ll have to find me first. I glance back at the door.There is only one way in and out. I sit in the corner opposite the mirror, placing the knife beside the laptop, and open the document we labeled ‘Hunters’, seeing the list of serial killers who could come after me.
