His jaw tightens. “So this is aboutmenow.”
“I guess so. You want me to be able to shrug off any guilt or responsibility for the part I may have had in this when it’s obvious I’m involved somehow—that my arrival and my gift have had an effect on the skriken at least, and possibly on something else. Denying that doesn’t help matters.”
“Removing the guilt makes you feel better,” he says.
“Oh my god.” My hands clench with frustration. “It’s not that simple, Dorian. Feeling better shouldn’t be the end goal, especially when your presence and your choices have caused harm to those around you. Can’t you understand that?” I search the azure void of his eyes, looking for the cracks I saw before, searching for a chink in his armor. But I can’t find that vulnerability, and it frightens me, because what if I imagined it? What if I tricked myself into seeing what I wanted to see, into believing I could fix him, like every other stupid girl who falls for a toxic man? “Maybe you really can’t care,” I murmur. “Not anymore. Maybe you’re too far gone.”
“I’m not, I swear.”
“Then why don’t I see any regret? For the people from your past, for Sibyl, for Vane—for any of it?”
He blows out an exasperated breath, a scoffing sigh. Like’s he’s minimizing everything. Mocking me for making it such a big deal.
I set my drink down and rise, my pulse racing. A frantic heat crawls over my skin. Something inside me is fracturing, crumbling into bloody shards and ashy fragments.
“I’ve been fooling myself,” I whisper. “Pretending I saw something in you when there’s really nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Baz.” He lunges to his feet, knuckles whitening on the glass in his hand.
“No. Don’t—don’t speak to me right now. I’ve heard what you had to say, and I can’t.”
I pause, weighing the meaning behind my words before I repeat them again, slow and final. I have to do this while I have the courage, while I can see clearly.
“Dorian, I can’t. The answer is no.”
His body goes rigid, his face a mask of dread. There’s a leaf in his golden hair and liquor shining on his lips.
I want him. I hate him. I need him… I can’t save him.
Pain. I haven’t felt pain like this since that day.
Blood on the sofa…
“I have to go.” I move toward the door.
“So you’ll cast me aside, take what I gave you, and become Charleston’s ingenue?” he says. “The up-and-coming artist everyone loves?”
The bitter mockery in his tone spurs another decision, one I might regret—but it feels thoroughly right.
“No. I won’t ask you to do what I’m not willing to do myself. I’m taking responsibility for my part in this, and I’m leaving Charleston. I’ll cancel my appearances at those art shows. Everything you bought me… I’ll send it back to you. You can resell it or donate it. I have to get away from here before I do any more damage. The longer I stay, the more that Thing is going to stir. I can feel it.”
“This is madness, Baz.” His accent sharpens with each word. “You artists of the modern age—you crave visibility, yet you’re so eager to throw it away once you have it. It’s absurd. Come back and sit down so we can talk about this.”
“We’ve talked about it enough. I can’t discuss it any more tonight, except to tell you again that the answer is no. I won’t paint you.” I step into the elevator, scarcely able to see the buttons because my eyes are glazed with tears. “I’m sorry, Dorian.”
I find the button for the lobby and hammer it with my finger, vaguely terrified that he’ll come toward me, seize me, keep me from leaving.
But he’s still standing there, flawless and motionless, when the doors glide shut.
28
Baz
I don’t see Dorian Gray for two days, during which time I begin preparing to move out of Charleston.
It’s not going to be a speedy process. I have property here that I’ll need to sell, final orders to fill, things to pack. But I’m getting out of town as quickly as I can. My Realtor can handle the sale of the house and the shop, even if I’m back in Columbia.
The faster I get away from this hotbed of supernatural activity, the better. Columbia should be a safe place to go for now. Eventually, once my property is sold, I’ll move even farther away.
