Chilled by Death (7 page)

She cozied up by the fire, grateful for the moment. Her brother had brought a huge pasta dish to heat up on the big heater stove for tonight, but it was taking its time warming up. So was the cabin. The conversation went around in a mix of laughter and arguments. The others were already planning their trips out tomorrow. She was still thinking a book by the fire was the right answer.

Royce plunked down beside her. “Are you going out tomorrow?”

She studied his face, aware that the conversation had died down around them. “I’m not sure. What are the plans?”

“Two groups,” he said. “One is heading to the runs beside the waterfall, the other is going to go to the snowboard park.”

“Hmm. High winds, freezing cold air, or my camera in the sunshine.” She grinned. “I’ll go with the sunshine.”

There were exclamations at that one.

“I’m good with a camera,” George said, “but she’s gifted.”

That drew a snort from her. “Not likely. Look at the stuff you take pictures of. You have to be gifted to do that.”

“And then look at your images. They are surreal. Like you see something no one else can,” George countered.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were
both
photographers,” Kathleen said. “Really? How come I haven’t seen any of your work, Stacy?”

Stacy curled her lips but stayed quiet.

“You have,” George said. “You just didn’t know they were hers.”

A surprised pause stopped everyone as they turned en masse to look from him to her.

She groaned. “It’s no secret. I made a little bit of a name for myself way back when, that’s all.”

“And what name is that?” Royce asked, his gaze narrow, searching.

She shrugged her shoulders, uncomfortable with having the spotlight turned her way.

It was her brother who answered. “You guys have the privilege of being in the presence of Eternal.”

A shocked silence filled the room. Stacy wanted to laugh. She didn’t know if the name was bringing that reaction or the fact that they didn’t know the name.

It was no big deal. She’d been doing photography since she was in her teens. She stopped for a long while after losing her friends – she’d been lost herself back then. After her weekend with Royce, she’d picked it up again. That was when she’d started working on her new project – Faces of Nature.

“Really?” Stevie asked in shock. “And you didn’t tell us? We’ve ranted and raved over so many of those photographs to you over the years. And you never said anything.”

“I thought Eternal was dead,” Kathleen said with surprise.

Geoffrey walked to stand in front of Stacy. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” He snorted. Then he stopped as if considering her words. “You know, in hindsight, that makes a lot of sense. You went through a lot of phases. I remember that series of ice climbing photos you took. The images in the ice that you managed to capture that even those of us who’d been there with you couldn’t see.”

“Well, I for one haven’t ever seen your work,” Yvonne said in a tight voice to go with her tight smile. She tossed her long red hair.

“I didn’t expect anyone to. I haven’t done much work lately.” That was actually a lie. She’d done a lot recently, but under a different name. Another pseudonym. She looked at her work as an artist looked at his. Some of it she hated and some of it she loved. And some of it she loved but was unsure how anyone else could.

So she’d started a new name. It’s not that she’d been a different person, but this new work was different for her. She hadn’t shared that name with anyone.

Yvonne popped up and said, “I really like Rebirth’s work.”

Managing to keep her face bland, inside Stacy jolted at hearing her second name mentioned.

“I don’t know that one.” Royce made an odd sound. “And what’s with the artists putting up their work under these abstract names?”

“I can’t answer for everyone,” Stacy said, “but for me it was about the photos in that series.”

Everyone looked at her, confused. She laughed.

Her brother said, “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re signing by the series.”

“On the back is my real signature,” she added with a smile. “In your case, you don’t own your photographs. You work for the company who gets the rights to all your work, so it’s not an issue.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “At the moment. Who knows where I’ll be down the road? I hadn’t thought about the individualism with my work.”

She didn’t add that she’d been in a strange space when she’d started doing her professional signature series that way. In truth, they weren’t signatures. They were titles. But as there was more than one in the series, the name had stuck. The world loved different. It added mystery to her work.

Considering this was the first time Stevie and the rest were hearing about her work and the slightly injured look on their faces, she realized that their relationship would be changing again, too. Maybe it was time. And maybe that was the real reason for coming on this week-long adventure. She needed fresh inspiration.

It would center on letting go.

She needed to open up the narrow scope of her world. Her girlfriends were gone. She wasn’t responsible for what happened to them. She couldn’t hide away on the off chance that something might happen to her. And if fate intervened, making it her time, then she needed to come to terms with that. Still, it was time to move forward. Time to move on. Time to say goodbye. Somehow.

She’d been looking for months for new inspiration. She’d been working on a massive urban portfolio of her local area for months now. She hadn’t shown anyone but the gallery owner. He’d immediately booked her for a showing under her Rebirth name. She knew that at the release of this next set, the world would understand some part of who she was.

Now she needed to heal the other areas of her life, and coming here was part of that.

She settled back comfortably. For the first time, she felt that spark of need, that spark of creation in her soul. She’d find her inspiration here.

She knew she would.

All she had to do was recognize who or what that was.

Then do everything she could to learn how it ticked.

*

Royce watched George
and his sister interact. Not only was affection and love in there, but there was no professional jealousy. At least none that he could see. George was fanatical about his work. Always had been.

Yet his stuff was all action.

George, as if realizing Royce was out of the loop, came over, his phone out in front of him, and he clicked on something then held it out for Royce to see. In a quiet voice, he said, “This is one she did several years back.”

Royce shot him a quick look then glanced at the image. It was a flower, dying from the outside in. As if in pain, the leaves were curling in on itself.

“Kind of depressing,” he muttered. He had to consider that a few years ago meant three. If ever someone had been affected by the loss of her friends, Stacy would be the poster child.

“Look closer.”

Frowning, Royce studied the photo. And started. It was a huge aster type of flower, the tips brown and dying, almost hanging like rotten teeth. Yet juxtaposed to those teeth was a series of tiny buds reaching up toward the brown tips as if ready to feed off of them. And sure enough, there was a single drop of dew hanging down, giving the life force to the little ones that they might grow strong. The aster in death was reaching out a hand and helping, offering the gift of life.

Royce stared, hating that he’d read so much into the picture. Surely that wasn’t what she’d meant to show. He glanced over at Stacy, speaking quietly with Geoffrey then letting his gaze slide from one person to the next then on to the next. Finally, he came back to his best friend.

“Do you see it?” George asked quietly. “Or rather tell me, what do you see?”

“I see the old and dying reaching out and nurturing the young.”

Stevie walked past just then and leaned over and saw the image. “Oh, that one. God, those teeth give me the chills.” And he walked away.

“Some people only ever see the teeth.”

“I saw those first.” Royce said, “Then saw them more as umbrellas but also directing the gift of water to the buds below.”

Stevie walked back. “Yeah, you could see that. Or you could take the teeth concept one step deeper and realize those buds are feeding off the mother plant’s decaying flesh.”

With that he sauntered away, a beer in hand.

Royce stared down at the image. “Not a nice thought.”

“It’s why her work’s so popular. People see different things with every one of her pictures. Are they innocent and spiritual or dark and devious?”

Royce shot his gaze back over to Stacy. As if sensing his look, she turned to stare at him. He dropped his gaze back to the image and recalled the disturbing interpretation Stevie mentioned. “Have you ever asked her?”

“No,” George said, putting his phone away. “Not sure I want to know the answer.”

*

Well, he did.
He’d been listening in quietly, studying the pictures with interest but from the sidelines. Stacy was a photographer? Like what the fuck? He hadn’t pegged her for the artist type. As his daddy would say, she was all book smart and life stupid.

Now he finds out she has a hobby. Not just any hobby, but one of
his
hobbies. Well, one he was working on developing. It kind of went along with his other hobby. As he sat there contemplating the implications, he started to burn inside. Like, how dare she?

If
, and that was a big if, she was the artist known as Eternal, then she was considered a leader in her field. One with a perspective like none other. Touted as a fresh look on life.

What bullshit.

She was like every other bitch he’d met on these trips. Only in Stacy’s case, she was too good for anyone – not just him. She wanted to be the queen and have everyone dote on her. Well, he had plans. Plans for her. To put her in her place like she had him all these years.

She’d see the results of her actions then. It might be years late, but revenge was best served cold.

And he’d make sure she was damn cold.

A shudder rippled down his spine. Goddamn it. He clenched his jaw so hard he swore he heard his teeth grinding.

He glanced down at his hands. A tremor was already starting. He shifted, tucking them out of sight. No one could know.

No one could suspect.

Or else he’d have to ramp his agenda up. And make Stacy pay – now.

T
he next morning,
Stacy woke up cold and sore. She had no idea why the aches. Maybe from the long drive yesterday? Maybe the extra heavy running workout schedule she’d put herself through this last week? As she rolled over, a groan slipped out. Well, there was that answer. She’d earned those aches from sleeping on the floor last night. Maybe she should have taken another look at her choice of sleeping quarters. She’d also gone to bed before the others. And had felt self-conscious doing so. She opened her eyes to study the large loft. Was she alone here? Was she so lucky?

It appeared to be so. For some reason instead of cheering her up, she felt let down. As if finding out no one had wanted to share her space was deliberate. Silly. Everyone was in groups already. And there were plenty of bedrooms downstairs. So why would anyone come up here?