Jaden (St. Sebastians Quartet #1) (7 page)

Jaden pulled her gaze from the painting to stare at the artist. A chill ran down her spine.

"Well, it's time to open up," Hayley said, and broke the contact. She motioned at someone as she walked away. A moment later, a lady in a lavender dress opened the front doors.

Only then, when the sound of conversation filled the room and people filled the gallery, was Jaden able to move away from that painting.

'There's darkness in all of us,' Hayley had said. And what had she meant by that? And how had she painted Jaden's dream in such detail. The screaming, the bent bodies, the agony. She could almost hear their cries.

Yeah, maybe she would have a whiskey after all. If the rest were like the first, she'd need it. She forced herself to calm down and slowly inhale. It was only one painting and it had been a coincidence. Hayley could just have easily been inspired by a Hieronymus Bosch painting as anything else. Come to think of it, Jaden's dream could have been inspired by a Bosch painting, too.

She was going to have a nice night, she decided. No ghosts, no nightmares, just art.

But the next painting wasn't much better than the first. Like the first, it had been beautifully done. Each figure, each scream was perfect and so realistic as to make Jaden want to turn and leave. She could sense something evil approaching these people, as if it were approaching her. She could feel their fear as though it were her own. They seemed so real. That was the true horror of the paintings. The exquisite details. The realism, as though Hayley herself had been to this place of suffering.

"Hayley said to bring this to you."

Jaden jolted back to the present. A man dressed in a black suit was holding a drink out to her. She thanked the man, then took a sip of her drink as he retreated toward the bar.

She was surprised to see how crowded the gallery was. Staring at those paintings was like slipping into that world. Tasting the whiskey, Jaden was suddenly glad for it.

Though it seemed impossible, completely impossible, Jaden knew that somehow Hayley had seen the places in her paintings before. She'd seen those people. The details. The details were unmistakable. But how?

As the gallery filled, Jaden remained in front of that second painting, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. How had Hayley painted something Jaden had dreamed about?

She moved from painting to painting, in a daze. In some paintings the world was hazy red, as though she were looking at a move through the lens of a camera covered in blood. The people in the painting were suffering. There was always suffering. In others the world was white. Stark white. The people seemed to be covered in thin layers of snow, as though entombed in it. And they didn't look dead or like they were asleep. They were awake. In every painting they were awake and aware. And somehow that was more terrible than the paintings of the people screaming.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one disturbed by these."

Jaden started. A man had come up beside her. The next thing she realized was that she was clutching her throat.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the stranger said.

"No, you're fine. I guess I got a little lost. This isn't what I was expecting."

"Clearly Hayley has a dark side."

There was that phrase again; dark side.

Jaden turned to face the man, then found she had to look up to actually see his face. "You," she said, breathless.

"Jaden, nice to see you again. And forgive me for failing to introduce myself properly yesterday. My name is Kenda."

"Kenda. That's exotic."

He stunned her with that smile. "What can I say? I was the last of three. My brothers are Tyler and Chris. I guess my parents decided to get fancy on their last go round."

"I love it. It suits you."

He opened his mouth, but didn't actually say anything. A moment later his cheeks were turning red. Was he blushing?

"Thank you," he said, finally. "So you think I'm exotic?"

He wouldn't see her blush, but her face got hot. She supposed that was essentially what she'd told this perfect stranger. That she thought he was exotic.

She laughed, then covered her face with a hand. "Yeah. I guess I do."

"Not that I'm complaining. I like exotic."

"Exotic is good."

Kenda's appearance was in stark contrast to the Hayley's paintings. He was blond, and Jaden had never found blonds particularly attractive, but she was finding it hard to take her eyes off of this one. He was dressed in slate gray slacks and a simple white, collarless shirt. He was simply dressed and just a man, but at the same time he was the most extraordinary man in the room. Easily.

"I think you're exotic, as well. So we make a perfect match."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she settled for a smile.

"So Jaden, you said you'd be here all summer? Your aunt is in Europe, right?"

"Aunt Edna is in Paris learning about chocolate. She wants to start incorporating more chocolate at the bakery."

"Just what my stomach needs." He looked at the painting once more, then back at Jaden. "Want to brave the rest together?"

"Yes. I'm usually not so...I don't even know how to describe it."

"They're disturbing."

He held his arm out to her so she took it, gratefully. They walked around the gallery as they talked, moving from painting to painting. Jaden found them less shocking with Kenda at her side. The misery seemed less stark somehow, the terribleness of each tableau seemed a bit more bearable.

"How do you like our little village so far?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't seen much of it, but what I have seen makes me feel like I'm living in a..." she was going to say fairy tale, but the words never came. "No!" she shouted, and stepped away from the painting they'd come to stand in front of. She knew she was clutching her throat again, but couldn't stop herself. The fear had been immediate. The desire, the need to run was nearly too much. She had to get out of there. Now. Could he see her? Was he here? Would he hurt her again?

When Kenda touched her shoulder, she jolted.

He rubbed her arm. From a far off distance she could hear him say her name.

Then, someone screamed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jaden was finally able to pull her gaze away from the painting. Her eyes drifted down to the floor where the woman lay. If Jaden had thought her own reaction to the painting had been bad, the woman on the floor had suffered a total breakdown. She'd screamed and the sound had curdled Jaden's blood. A moment later the woman had fainted.

Kenda rushed to the fallen woman. A moment later, a tall, dark-haired female squatted beside him. She had light brown skin that made Jaden think she was Hispanic. After that, Hayley appeared. Everyone else seemed frozen where they stood, unable to do anything but stare.

Kenda got the fallen female to her feet. The woman's eyes opened, blinked, but she was barely there.

"She's still out cold," the dark-haired woman said.

"Kenda, can you carry her up to my loft?" Hayley asked.

Before waiting for him to respond, Hayley turned and started off toward the rear of the gallery.

"Yeah." Kenda lifted the fallen woman, who seemed tiny and frail, and then he followed Hayley.

Jaden didn't know what else to do, so she followed too.

Kenda carried the woman up to the second floor without any difficulty, even though the woman was basically dead weight. Jaden could see her eyes were open, but they were glassy and unfocused.

Hayley opened the door to what must have been her loft. Jaden had a glimpse of soft whites and pinks. They entered the space, and Kenda walked to the living room and laid the woman on the sofa. He rose quickly, heading back to the door. "I've got to get Nico," he said.

"Who's Nico?" Jaden turned to see the dark-haired woman had followed them upstairs.

"Her brother," Kenda said as he rushed out of the loft.

Jaden crouched in front of the woman. She couldn't help but feel a connection with her. Jaden been taken aback by the painting, but this woman had been scared nearly to death.

Then it hit her. Why? Why should Hayley's painting impact this stranger the way it had impacted Jaden? Further, how had Hayley painted it? Had she seen the Man in White?

"What happened?" Hayley was asking. She had a damp washcloth in one hand. She laid it over the girl's forehead.

"She looked at your paining," the dark-haired woman said. "And that was that. She started screaming, a second later she dropped like a sack of potatoes."

"Who are you?" Hayley asked.

The dark-haired woman looked around the room as though suddenly realizing she'd walked into a stranger's home. "I'm Sydney. I was standing behind her when it happened. I'm telling you, she was fine until she looked at that paining. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true."

"What painting?" Hayley bent over the fallen woman, whose eyes remained open, but whose mouth remained shut. The woman groaned a bit, but that was it.

"The one of the man," Jaden said. "The blond man with the blue eyes who's standing in front of a castle."

"But why would it upset her?"

"She's not the only one," Sydney said. "That one was upset by it, too. I saw the whole thing."

Jaden looked at Sydney, frowning.

"Is that right?" Hayley asked Jaden.

"Yes."

Jaden hadn't spoken. The woman on the sofa cleared her throat, then rubbed at her eyes. They were the kind of fathomless brown eyes that looked nearly black. They were wide as she stared up at us, but not confused anymore. She was alert now, and she was pretty. Jaden could see that. She had a lot of curly brown hair, but she seemed fragile. Delicate, even. She looked like a small doll. An exotic doll, with her dark eyes and long brown hair. She had a coffee complexion that made it hard to place her ethnicity. She could have been anything. In her simple Capri pants and black cropped top, she should have blended in with everyone in the gallery, but she was too exquisite to blend in with anyone.

"Yes," the woman said again. "Tell me, have you seen that man before?"

The question was directed at Hayley, but Jaden answered. "Yes."

Now, all eyes were on her.

Jaden shrugged. "Sydney's right. I was upset by the painting, too. Because I've seen that man before." She thought about stopping there. She'd never told the rest to anyone outside her family before. But she wanted to know how Hayley and the woman who fainted could know who this man was. "I've seen him since I was a little girl. And he never ages."

The woman on the sofa nodded. "Yes. He's like a ghost."

"I always thought he was a ghost when I was a little girl."

Hayley's hands were over her mouth. She was stepping away from them, shaking her head.

"Yes," the woman agreed. "Like a ghost. But he never does anything. He's just there, watching. Except when I sleep."

"And dream," Hayley added. "When you dream..." she trailed off.

"But they're just nightmares," the woman said. "He can't actually hurt me..." she looked around the room. "...hurt us? Has he ever hurt you?"

Jaden looked from the woman to Hayley. "Before last night I would have said no. The dreams always seemed so real. And so awful. I've never seen any of the places in my dreams before, not while I was awake, not until—"

"Until tonight," the woman finished. "Until you looked at the paintings."

Hayley had backed up until she was standing against the windows. "How is that possible?" She looked at each of them. "I don't understand how that could be possible. Those paintings came from my head. Not a movie or something I've seen somewhere. They're my nightmares."

Jaden closed her eyes for a moment, trying to work this out in her head. But she couldn't. "I can't explain it. I thought I was the only one who could see him. He's the shadow, isn't he? From your other paintings. The Red World and the White World."

Nodding, Hayley covered her face. "Yes."

"Wait a minute," Sydney interrupted. "You said something a second ago. You said he'd never hurt you before last night. So what happened last night?"

Jaden debated what she was about to do for a second. Only for a second. After that she threw caution to the wind. "Can you wet a paper towel with water and soap, Hayley? And bring it to me?"

Hayley frowned. "Sure."

A moment later, Hayley returned from the kitchen with a wet and soapy paper towel. Jaden used it to rub away the makeup she'd put on her chin and lower face to cover the bruises. It took a good minute of gentle wiping to wipe away all of the makeup, but when she'd done it, she could tell by the looks on their faces.

"You're bruised," the woman on the sofa said. "Did he—in a dream?"

Jaden nodded. "I was in the Red World. That's what I call it. He told me to leave St. Sebastians. Then he grabbed me by my face, the bruises are where his fingers were, and he threw me off a cliff. There was..." Suddenly, Jaden could feel the heat again, feel the sensation of falling. "Damn it." She exhaled and tried to keep her hands from shaking.