The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (4 page)

The dream worked its way into her thoughts. She shuddered at the thought of the menacing reverie. Everything about the dreamscape was so much more real this time. Her brush moved furiously. Images clouded her mind’s eye. She had no control over the brush as it dipped into the black and the yellow, then the red, and the red again.

In the back of her mind, a flash of the dream appeared—his unusual eyes. She’d been looking into those eyes most of her life. There was something enigmatical about them. The brush magically placed the sapphire gems upon the canvas. She watched the brush attack with a frenzied passion. It was as though someone else was painting and she stood behind them watching it all unfold.

This hasn’t happened in a long time
. The first time was when she was a child.

She sat on the window seat, looking out at the stars with her sketchbook on her lap. She’d had the nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep. Then she started drawing, not looking at the paper once, but staring out at the starry night sky. The graphite dredged deep into the paper, nearly snapping the lead. Had her mother not walked in and startled her, she never would have realized what she was doing. The sketchpad and pencil fell for an eternity before they hit the floor. Each tap the pencil made on the hardwood floor echoed throughout the room and the sketchpad landed with a thud, causing her mother to jump. Kylie’s hand ached for an hour afterward. Later, when she looked to see what she’d drawn, she found the outline of a distorted face, its eyes and mouth. The mouth was what bothered her most about that drawing because of the teeth. The creature had fangs. She’d crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, never wanting to see it again.

That state entranced her once again, but her mom wasn’t around to interrupt this time. She was only seven years old, when her grandfather passed away shortly thereafter from a violent heart attack. Thirteen years later, the nightmare appeared again and her parents were killed in a head-on collision within days after. Nerves wreaked havoc on her, and she wondered who would die next, because someone always did . . . someone close to her.

And if she had no blood relatives still alive, then Ana was the only person left.

Kylie looked at the canvas and gasped. The horrible creature from her dreams materialized with each brush stroke. The eyes changed. A split second later, the brush streaked across the canvas, flew out of her hand, and hit the wall near the sink, leaving a large bright red splotch next to the mirror.

She sat back on the stool behind her and stared at the painting.

“What in the hell
is
that?”

The vision from the end of her dream. The reason she woke up. She tried not to look at the eyes for very long. Sapphire gems turned white gleaming with evil intentions. His hair was black as it always was in her dream, yet held the beginnings of changing to blonde, though she couldn’t recall it doing so in the nightmare. His hands reached forward, reaching through the canvas . . . for her.

She put her paints down and stumbled over to her desk. She sat in the chair, covering her face with her hands, trying to stop the tremble shifting through her body.

“I hate it when this happens.” She looked through her hands at the desk calendar, staring at the last day of the month; a day she did
not
look forward to.

Kylie looked to the back of the studio, drew in a deep breath, and walked over to the painting once she’d calmed her nerves. The image was slightly blurred, just like the monster in her dream. Its eyes were a bit creepier this time with the added white. They suggested malevolence, whereas before they merely appeared enchanting. Her intuition nagged at her, but hell if she knew what it was trying to say. Even if this monster approached her, she’d never recognize him because she couldn’t remember enough detail about him.

* * * * *

Kylie heard the bell ring. Ana walked in and found her behind one of many canvases.

“Hey girl, you ready for lunch?” She moved through the studio, looking for Kylie’s latest creation.

“Yes, in a minute.” She peeked around the canvas again, her long hair falling in her face. “Just let me get cleaned up.” She pushed her hair behind her ear with the end of the brush and walked over to the sink to wash up.

Ana stopped in front of one of the paintings. “What’s this one you’re working on? It’s . . . different.”

Kylie looked at her strangely and saw which painting she was asking about. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Looks like something to me. Kinda creepy, eh?”

“I suppose so. I don’t think I’m done with it yet.”

“Girl, is this one of those ‘I’ll start it and see what happens’ paintings?”

“Pretty much.” She walked toward the front of the gallery. “Let’s go, I need a drink.”

Ana didn’t say anything, but Kylie knew the drink was a dead giveaway that something was up. Kylie didn’t drink much, let alone so early in the day.

“So where did you want to go for lunch?” Ana followed her out the door.

“That new café down the street,” Kylie replied.

Ana talked about her new client; a very handsome and wealthy man, but her words faded into background noise. Kylie’s mind was once again overcast with the dream.

“You okay?”

She really wasn’t, but couldn’t explain what she felt. “I’m fine. I just had this creepy dream last night. Have you ever had one of those dreams you can’t get out of your head?”

“Yeah, but it usually has something to do with tall, dark, and handsome taking advantage of me in more than one way.”

Kylie rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You’ve never had a nightmare?”

“Not since early childhood. Does this have something to do with that creepier-than-fuck painting?”

“I think so.” Just the mere mention of the painting had a chill rolling through her.

“What was the dream about?”

They neared the restaurant, but Kylie didn’t say anything. She gave Ana the ‘in a minute’ look. After getting a table on the patio, Kylie told Ana everything that happened, beginning with the nightmare.

Ana shuddered. “That
is
creepy.”

Kylie nodded once and stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “I told you.”

“What do you think it means?” Ana leaned forward, as if the conversation were super spy ops information.

Kylie chuckled. “Hell, I don’t know. I just wish I could get it out of my head.”

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Ana said.

“Vampire movies?” Kylie smirked, waiting for . . .

“No!”

. . . there it was. “Okay, what then?”

Ana stared off for a bit.

“Smoke’s coming out of your ears.”

Ana glared at her. “Girl, don’t make me slap that smirk off your face.”

He watched them from outside the shop across the street, listening to their conversation intently.

Assured they were staying put, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the one woman’s gallery. A security guard walked by, making his rounds, as he neared it. He waited patiently, standing before a shop window, pretending to look at the items. When the guard rounded the corner, he crossed the street.

He placed his hand on the door and tested it with a slight push. It didn’t move. He looked to his left, then his right.

At the tips of his fingers, a bright light flashed near the deadbolt, and the lock clicked. It was a simple trick, really, one requiring only a small amount of magical knowledge. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Once in, he closed his eyes, taking in her incredible energy filling the room. It drifted through the air, moving from canvas to canvas, and into his pores. He shuddered from the electrical pulse driving through his veins and opened his eyes with a start. His attention was drawn to one of the canvases in the back, so he walked toward it.

Interesting, this must be the one she was speaking of
.

A faint smile curved his lips. He walked back to the front of the studio to look at the other paintings. He struggled to get some idea of her personality. The mysterious woman captured his attention the night before last during his hunt, mainly because some invisible force obstructed his ability to harvest her lifeblood. It was a feeling intense enough to transform his precision hunting into fumbling footsteps of concealment. He’d struggled to observe her without exposing himself. Then there was also the damn nightmare he’d had the night before. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was in it. She reminded him so much of Siobhán.

But another woman had been there, in the dream. He’d felt her presence, if only for a brief moment.

Distracted by the paintings and his thoughts, he didn’t notice the time. And he couldn’t find what he’d come for. The piece wasn’t speaking to him, though he could sense it nearby. It just wasn’t enough to pinpoint it.

“Excuse me?” He’d felt her presence before she’d said anything. She walked in, finding him standing in the center of the gallery. “How did you get in here?”

Should have listened to yourself
.
Watched her too long, didn’t you?

“The door was open.” He slowly turned his head to her. He forced the shadows to cover his face. “I assumed someone was here. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude. I haven’t been here long.”

“It was open? That’s funny; I thought I’d locked it.” She scratched the side of her head. “Since you’re here, what can I do for you?”

“Are you the artist?” He turned toward the painting in front of him.

“Yes.” She stepped closer. “Are you interested in that painting?”

“You’re very talented.” His eyes shifted to the canvas in the back. “What’s this one back here?” He walked toward it.

“It’s not finished yet.” She stepped between him and the back room.

He smiled. “It looks finished to me.”

“Yes, well . . . it’s not.” She folded her arms under her chest, showing him he’d have to go through her if he wanted to see it again.

Though his smile faded, his soul surged at her defiance. “I’ve offended you. My apologies, I’ll leave now.” He turned around and walked toward the door.

Though Kylie wasn’t able to see the definition of his face, he was a large man with an oddly honorable presence not fitting for a man these days. He was tall and lean, and she admired the way his long, straight black hair flowed down around his broad shoulders. There was an iridescent radiance in it equivalent to a peacock’s feathers. A beautiful aura surrounded him. His energy quickly pulled her in, making her feel like she shimmered by simply being in his presence.

Shocked by his reaction, she leapt forward. “No, wait.” She reached for him, but missed his arm. He stopped anyway, and she stumbled for the words. “I’m sorry, I’ve been rude. I’ve just . . . kind of had a bad day so far and I know that’s no excuse—”

“It’s all right. I’ll come back another time, maybe when you’ve not had such a bad day.” He smiled again, turned, and walked out the door.

“Damn it.” She threw her purse across the desk. “Way to go, Kylie.”

Ana walked through the door in time to see the purse fly through the air, hit the desk, knock some papers off, and tip the pencils over. Kylie slumped into her chair. She watched the pencils roll off the desk one by one and let her head fall back against the chair.

Ana stood still, likely waiting for the chaos to end. “Um, what’s going on?”