Saltwater & Ink

25. Cold Light *auribus teneo lupum*

   Inky woke up with no idea where she was at first. As her senses slowly returned, she became aware that she was in a bed- Thorn's bed- and that he had gone to dispose of a body. Thinking those words to herself made her feel detached- surely this was just a sick dream. The events of the previous night came flooding back, and Inky slowly remembered all that had taken place. Despite how she felt about the whole situation, Inky knew that they were fated to end up here like this.
   She heard the hallway door open, nearly silent footsteps walking across the floor. Thorn had returned from whatever dark tasks he'd had to do, and Inky let go of her last remnants of lingering fear. He's not going to hurt you, she reminded herself. Inky recalled how different he was with her than what she'd witnessed the last night. "Are you awake?" Thorn asked her, and Inky sat up, aware that it was early morning and it was now light outside, cracks of sunlight filtering through the heavy curtain over the window.
   "You're back," she answered, knowing that he'd probably stayed awake all night. "It took me longer than I thought- I had to get rid of the rental car, too- you'll have to drive me back to the Gallery. I'm going to tell Cayson that I quit- I can't work there anymore," he explained, absently picking a dead leaf off of the orchid in the windowsill. Inky nodded. "I was wondering about that," she replied. "I'll be working full time at the museum instead- if you decide you'd rather work there, let me know." He looked at her, a tired expression behind his eyes. He looked like someone on the run, a fugitive of his own mind. Inky was aware of the possibility that they might have to go into hiding if this all turned out wrong.
   She drove them back into the city, the cold light of the early morning's sunlight casting strange shadows on the streets. Inky parked her car outside the studio, and they sat silently together for a few minutes. The Gallery was not open yet, in the early daylight they walked across the street, Thorn unlocking the employee door, Inky looking conspicuous with the plastic trash bag of bloody clothes. I have to destroy the evidence, she thought, remembering the blood under her desk in her office. They walked together through the silent halls of the Gallery, heading to the incinerator room. Inky quickly discarded the bag into the large furnace, watching the flames slowly consume the bloody refuse.
   Thorn helped her clean up the blood in her office, stopping to inspect the artwork she'd brought in to hang in her workspace. The mostly-monochrome red and black paintings, the paint smeared with her unorthodox painting technique, canvas encrusted with flower petals, twine, gold leaf, and Bible quotes from Revelations. He held up one of the strange, dark canvases. "These are really well done- it makes you- feel something," Thorn said to her. Inky looked at him shyly, still feeling somewhat self-conscious in his presence, especially in regards to her art. The Gallery owners hadn't seemed to be too interested in her work.
"I can get these in the museum for you," he said quietly, staring at another painting, covered in feathers and black candle wax. "Seriously, Inky. The world needs to see your artwork. Fuck what Cayson and the others think of your art- of you. They're the ones with a problem." Thorn set the painting down and helped her organize some paperwork before she locked up the office. We're in this together, Inky reminded herself again, looking up at him, finding no deception in his dark eyes.
   Downstairs in the Gallery, she heard a key turn in the lock of the main door. It was presumably Cayson, who'd come in early to set up the Gallery. Inky hastily looked at her reflection in one of the glass frames of a large painting in the hall. She looked a mess- tangled dark hair, eyes tired from lack of sleep, and still wearing the too-long black shirt she'd borrowed as a dress. Luckily it hid her bandaged leg, the silent knowledge of blood hidden under layers of white gauze. Thorn at least looked more presentable- wearing a black suit that looked like an undertaker's, but with a haunted look in his eyes.
They walked together down a dark stairwell to meet Cayson. Inky stopped at the bottom of the staircase. It was completely dark, yet she sensed that Thorn was standing beside her. "What are we going to tell him?" Inky asked. "I'm letting him know that I'm quitting because of my other job- that I've been out of town due to work- he shouldn't have too many questions to ask after that. There's no real reason to pry into our lives. You can stay here if you want- or you can come work with me."
Thorn looked at her through the dark, Inky couldn't see his face, but his voice was serious. He's right. There's nothing left for you here, she thought. "I'll go with you. I have to finish up a few projects here- and I can't move from my studio for at least a year because of my artist's lease. I'll commute. I want to go with you," she told him, feeling some of her anxiety lessen. They walked through the door that led out from the stairwell to the main floor, where Cayson's office was located. Thorn held her hand as they walked down the hall to Cayson's office.
Large abstract paintings glared out at her from the walls, the too-bright colors assaulting Inky's vision. She'd never been a fan of artwork like this- her own abstracts were much darker, a certain twisted, uncomfortable look to them, even with the gold leaf accents and dried flower husks. No wonder we were drawn together, she thought, looking down at their hands. There was always a certain darkness...
Inky knew that this path wasn't going to be easy- or even bring her peace of mind- but she no longer wanted herself or Thorn to be alone with the existential pain the Red Void had inflicted on their lives. Nothing else really mattered anymore- outside their strange world of art, darkness, their shared demons, each other. Two outcasts- stronger together than alone, standing to fight the Red Void, the abomination, keeping the darkness away in the only way they knew how. Inky held onto his hand as they hesitated in front of the office door.
"Cayson is probably going to be royally pissed off that I'm leaving the Gallery for the museum job," Thorn said, "This sorry collective excuse of pretentious assholes didn't appreciate my work anyway. It was always- too dark, too disturbing for the general public. I've wasted my time here- lost money, and only ended up with more enemies. The only good thing about this place was meeting you," he told her. He knocked twice on the office door. Cayson answered, looking like an upper-class blonde skeleton, a fake smile plastered to his face.
"Well, well. Look who finally turned up- the Gallery's prodigal son, so to speak." He chuckled to himself, leering at Inky in her awkward shirt-dress. What a creeper, she thought to herself, stepping slightly behind Thorn to hide from Cayson's disturbing gaze. "I'm leaving the Gallery," Thorn said flatly, staring Cayson dead in the eyes until the Gallery owner awkwardly cleared his throat and looked away.
Inky was impressed by Thorn's ability to intimidate people like Cayson, making them uncomfortable to the point of avoidance. She smiled slightly to herself, glad that she wasn't the recipient of Thorn's cold stare. The way he looked at her, though... she felt her face grow hot, hoping neither one of them would see the expression hidden behind her eyes.
"I'll be packing up my personal effects later in the week," Thorn continued, eyes unwavering. Cayson tried to hide his look of disappointment, failing miserably. "So- just like that, then. I guess I should have realized when you were gone so much." He extended his hand for a handshake of farewell, and Thorn looked at him in disdain. "I don't think so. You're a bastard, Cayson. The worst kind. And stop looking at Inky like that- she works hard for you, and you're making her uncomfortable."
She blushed again, wishing that Thorn hadn't drawn attention to her awkwardness. They turned to leave. "So, are you going with him?" Cayson asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "I don't know yet," Inky replied, still unsure of the answer herself. "Well- keep in touch, I guess- or don't," Cayson said, talking more to himself than either of them. Inky nodded swiftly, hoping that she wasn't going to get fired- or mistreated, after the way Thorn had left things. She walked slowly with Thorn down the hallway, then out the front door of the Gallery into the morning light.
   "Sorry about all that in there," said Thorn. "I figured if I threatened him a bit you'd have a better chance for job security in case things don't fall through. Cayson is scared of me," he explained. Inky laughed. "Oh- I can't imagine why," she said wryly. "I wanted to kill him when he looked at you like that," he stated possessively, "though I must admit I don't blame him,"  he continued, looking back at her.
   Inky awkwardly adjusted the hem of her shirt-dress. She almost couldn't meet his eyes, the intense stare he gave her was unnerving. "Let's get out of here," she replied quietly, her eyes on the ground. Broken glass sparkled like stars under the sunlight. Thorn held her hand again as they walked through the alleyway away from the Gallery. He surprised Inky by pulling her into a small brick alcove cut out in the wall, standing in front of her. In slow comprehension, she deciphered the look in his eyes. Silently, she stared back. He could just as easily kill you, she thought.
   However, his intentions were different with her- the darkness redirected from an all-consuming rage to something quite opposite. "I want you to know- I'm not going to hurt you, Inky. Never. I don't have any ulterior motives- I'm not like that. Not with you," he said quietly, stepping closer to her, closing the space between them. Every fibre in her being screamed out at her that this was wrong, perverse. After all, he had killed people- on her behalf, though she still knew it was morally void. She ignored the protests of her mind, until they became a dull background noise in her head.
   "I don't want anything else- just you," Thorn said, no traces of dishonesty in his voice. He looked down at Inky, black eyes shining as if lit by some dark spark. She bit her lip, once again feeling self-conscious, aware of the small space they were in. "I know," she replied softly, not caring what any absent god thought if it were watching. Pulling him closer, she deliberately kept eye contact, wordlessly telling him that she understood. "Oh- and my shirt looks much better on you- but you should probably give it back," Thorn said in a low voice. Inky shivered, feeling her pulse rate quicken at the implication.
   Are we really going to do this right here, she thought, slightly mortified. He started to slowly unbutton her shirt, and she averted her eyes from the intense look he was giving her. The black cloth fell to the pavement below. He leaned down to kiss her, running his hands across her pale, exposed skin. She was aware that they could be caught in an inappropriate situation, but a part of her didn't care who saw them, and she pushed away the thoughts of broken morality to the back of her mind. Inky had witnessed the darkest parts of his mind already, and she wasn't afraid. She wasn't sure if she would ever fully accept what he'd done, but he hadn't given her any real reason to distrust him.
   Her back was pushed up against the wall, cold rough brick against her bare skin, legs wrapped around Thorn's waist as he stared into her eyes with a strange desperation. Inky didn't know how he still had this effect on her, knowing all he'd done. The same hands that touched her like she was the only one in his existence were the same hands that had carried out those unspeakable atrocities. She knew that he'd never hurt her, not intentionally, he had killed for her- kept the Red Void away with an offering of spilled blood. Inky kept her eyes locked with his when he touched her, wanting him to understand that she wasn't afraid of him, even with all the darkness in his mind. She had her own demons to contend with, her own personal hell. Thorn had never tried to leave her, abandon her to the abominations. Together they would figure out what needed to be done, for now she was focused on their time together.
   Inky didn't notice the pair of eyes that were watching them voyeuristically from the alleyway, the intrusive presence not making itself known. She felt a strange thrill that they could possibly be discovered in the midst of their intimate act, and she smiled darkly, wondering absently what Thorn would do to any unwanted party if they were caught. They were partially shrouded from view by Thorn's jacket, but if someone were to interrupt it was blatantly obvious- there was no mistaking what they were doing.
   This time though, Inky was not self-conscious, instead mentally daring whoever- or whatever- to look. Thorn's hand was gently wrapped around her neck, fingertips tracing her veins with a slight pressure. Her entire body seemed to be filled with electricity, and the way he always looked at her when they were together made her heart race erratically.
   They had become each other's sanctuary, solace against the abominations in the Red Void. Inky remembered their first night together, how somehow they'd banished the creatures back within their own realm. Thorn's expression changed as he looked into her eyes. It was as if somehow she'd chased away all the darkness in his mind, until they were the only thing left. He took a shaky breath, leaning closer to her. "I love you, Inky," he said quietly, a look of almost-fear in his eyes. "I've never allowed myself to feel much in my life- until we met." Inky leaned up to kiss him, resting her face against his chest. She heard his heartbeat- erratic and nervous, mirroring her own.
   Inky knew then that he wasn't just some common psychopath, that he felt strong emotions towards her- even if he didn't communicate them much. There was no way to falsify the physical reaction. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?" she asked tentatively. After all, he probably had unfinished business elsewhere, but she always felt so utterly alone after he'd gone. She knew it wasn't his intention to leave her, and they lived in two separate locations. Inky idly thought that they could possibly move in together, if she could get out of the legal paperwork she'd had to sign for the studio apartment.
   She felt that there was a red string of fate tying them together, the narrow bloody line stretched thin to keep them tied to this strange reality the two of them had created. "I'll stay anywhere with you," Thorn answered in a serious tone. They disentangled themselves from each other, making sure nobody was watching as Inky re-dressed herself in his too-long shirt, then they stepped out of the brick alcove. Inky lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke like the remnants of a bad dream. Her back felt slightly scratched from being pressed up against the brick wall, and her dark hair was a messy tangle. Both of their faces were slightly red, though this time, Thorn was the one who turned away self-consciously. Inky smiled secretly to herself.