Eternal Darkness, Blood King Read Free Page B

she gave me the finished portrait and I saw how she had gracefully reproduced my menacing smile, I made up my mind: I would kill her.
     
    I gave her a hundred-dollar bill. Her sad eyes met mine, telling me she didn’t have enough change to break it. I told her to keep it for the overtime, but she refused with such dignity that I couldn’t help but smile. No, I thought, I won’t kill her just yet. Instead, I realized that I wanted to know this girl. I needed time to figure out what was so appealing about her.
     
    I stood nearby as she packed her tools; I was still admiring the pencil portrait. I felt her despair, read her thoughts. I learned that she was alone in the city, and she was struggling badly. I turned toward her.
     
    “I’ll be opening a small galleria in a few months. I could definitely use the help of someone as talented as you,” I said casually.
     
    She stood up and looked at me with interest.
     
    “It will take me a couple of weeks to find the right place, and maybe a couple of months to get the permits, and then more time to find a good collection to showcase, but if you are interested in a steady job in the field, I may have one for you,” I offered.
     
    I had no idea how to go about making good on that promise, but it was the best I could offer.
     
    She was quiet for a moment.
     
    “What’s your name?” she asked.
     
    I gave her my card. She took it, read the information, and looked back at me.
     
    I contemplated the pencil portrait again just to show it back at her. “I’m afraid this one will go to my private collection, though,” I said in a casual manner.
     
    She smiled, looking straight into my Gypsy eyes; and I found myself smiling back at her.
     
    My lil’ Monet, I miss you.
     
    I learned to love her in a very special way. I truly loved her—not her looks or her talent, not the possibility of taking her, but her force, her energy and desire to be great. In all our time together, I always knew how far and how remarkable she could become. I wanted to be a part of that, to be a witness to the birth of a great artist—and that’s what she ultimately was.
    Lucy was an only child, born and raised in the South. She was very family oriented and refreshingly honest in her ways. It is not very often that someone like me finds hope in the people he meets, but I did with her. I used to struggle at times when weak and thirsty next to her; but at no risk of being hypocritical, I can honestly say I would have rather fed on rats before I would even consider harming her in any way.
     
    I also knew that her ambition, with the guidance of someone like me, would find the structure and the solid base it needed to go as far as possible. She was smart enough to see that and too naive to have second thoughts.
     
    I will admit that our little arrangement was comfortable. My kind is incapable of producing an offspring and just like with my stepson, Jason, Lucy became the subject of my attention, like a gifted daughter or a little sister.
     
    Her biggest tragedy lay in her lack of confidence. She was the type of creature who could never make up her mind. She wanted to be known and famous but couldn’t follow through. Her attention was divided among too many things—bright, beautiful, and shiny things. On the other hand, after having lived for so long, I knew better; and after a while, I found myself assuming the role of a father figure.
     
    The human frailty never ceases to amaze me.
     
    It is easy to desire the world, but making the leap to actually have it is another thing. To have the world, you need to know yourself and have the capacity to believe. Then dreams stop being dreams and become goals, made even more real with plans, strategies, sacrifices, and fees. Above everything else, you need to have a well-centered heart to carry on.
     
    Lucy had a golden heart. Her capacity for caring was sometimes overwhelming; and at times, it scared the hell out of me, because I know very well what