Chilled by Death by Dale Mayer Read Free Book Online Page B

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