"Kirby..."

Desirae's voice faded to the background as my eyes lowered once again to Gabriel's purple feet nailed to the cross where the tattoo of Artie's signature wrapped around his ankle like my own.

"Just hold still..." I could still hear her laugh in my head as she pinned me down on the couch, wrestling my leg onto her lap with the cheap tattoo gun. "I want you to always take a piece of me wherever you go."

"Kirby!" Desirae gripped a hold of my arm, pulling me back to reality. "Bay City PD is on the way and I need you to listen to me. I can't risk exposing myself to Landon and the staff. Can I trust you?"

"You're a cop," I restated, trying to focus on her, but I couldn't stop looking at Gabriel's pieced together corpse looming over us. "And undercover?"

"FBI." Loosening her grip on me, she glanced around one last time before returning her gun to her holster. "I've been looking into the museum's finances. I assumed Landon was laundering money for his in-laws, but now—"

"You're after the Cassini family?" I swallowed hard as my self-preservation finally started kicking in. "I can't be here when they show up—the police, I mean. I need to go. I need to leave."

"Kirby, what do you know?" Faint sirens echoed through the lecture hall as Desirae's eyes seared into me. "Are you on the run?"

Darting around the curtain, I whipped the heavy fabric behind me, but it barely slowed her down. I knew if I could just get back into the Renaissance Court, I could lose her in the crowd, but that thought died right quick. I hardly made it to the edge of the stage before I felt her on my heels. Definitely should've kept up with my cardio while I was away. In a second, she had a hold of my arm again. Throwing her body weight into me, she hip checked me right into the wall, my cheek squished flat against the cold brick.

"I can't let you run away." Her ribs pressed against me, expanding in heavy breaths. "Not like this." She slowly turned me around, waiting to see if I'd run again, but I knew it'd be pointless. "Come with me."

Desirae held tight to my wrist, leading me down the steps and back through the door that exited into the court. As my heart finally began to settle, I started thinking a little more clearly. And my head was telling me to keep my fucking mouth shut.

But very rarely do I ever listen to it.

"I'm pretty sure this is like entrapment or something."

"This isn't entrapment," she murmured, staring past me. "Are you okay to walk a couple blocks in those heels?"

"Walk?" As I tried to meet her eyes, they were busy scanning the crowd. "You're not arresting me?"

"Did you want me to?"

"I uh, never really got into the whole handcuff kink, if I'm being honest."

She still wouldn't look at me, but I thought I caught a hint of a smile on her lips. "I have a feeling you'll be more help if I don't. Now, come on."

"So we're just leaving?" I asked, my feet not moving. "Shouldn't you stay? In case you forgot, there's like a hacked-up corpse reassembled and sewn together on the stage."

"Look around, Kirby." I followed her eyes this time as she glanced back over the crowd. "Notice anyone missing?"

"There's at least two hundred people here, plus the staff, how—"

"And the host?"

My eyes continued to dart from each cluster of guests to the next, but Desirae was right. Landon was nowhere to be found. Looking back towards the entrance, I panned along the bar again, searching for a shaggy head of dark unkempt curls, but didn't see Rafael anywhere either.

When I turned back around, my eyes met a blonde woman in a tight black dress as she came out of a gallery.

"Oh my god, Kirby?" She stopped in the middle of the hall to look me over as I did the same to her. "I wasn't sure if you'd come—if you'd heard, I mean, about the show."

"Keep it together." Desirae leaned close to my ear. "Do not say a word about..."

"Cora," I murmured, sliding my hand around Desirae's waist to keep her close. Cora had been one of those trendy hipster chicks in college who wore paint-stained jeans she bought that way and leather boots that cost more than my first car. Where heavy makeup once circled her eyes, she now had a more natural aesthetic with her hair a platinum blonde. In hindsight, I recognized this version of her in some of Artie's newer pieces hanging in the gallery. "It's been awhile."

An awkward lull fell heavy over us as Cora continued to stare. Her eyes sharpened on me now like she just remembered I slept with her then-girlfriend ten years ago. In my defense, as a broke eighteen year old, I'd only signed up to sit for a couple hours to make some easy money. But blurring the boundary between artist and model was where Artie made her best work.

I just wish Cora hadn't walked in on us, mid-session.

"Cora, this is—"

"Desirae and I know each other." Cora dropped her crossed arms with a smirk. "I'm the curator."

"The curator? Here?" I pointed down like a jackass as my words failed me. "Oh. Damn." My fingers tapped against Desirae's back—my own version of Morse code for let's get the fuck outta here. "Good for you."

As I tried to inch away, Cora blocked me. Red flashing lights bled into the museum behind her. "It's strange to see you here, Kirby. I thought for sure you disappeared like all the other girls. Landon had me trying to track them down to showcase the paintings during the auction, said it might bring in more money using live bodies to sell the work."

I stole a glance at Desirae, feeling her curiosity pulling at the inch of space between us.

"Only Maya is still local," Cora continued. "She's running her family's nursery. I believe you posed with her once? Part of the Eden series?"

It wasn't so much a question but an accusation. She was trying to get under my skin in front of Desirae. "Speaking of the old crew," I redirected, taking a risky shot, "do you know what happened to Gabe?"

"Gabe?" Cora shook her head. "He disappeared about the same time you did. I heard he started using again, though that's all I really know." She must have caught a glimpse of the police lights from outside as her eyes trailed away from us. "I'm sure Landon would love to have you accompany the pieces you sat for on stage. I can arrange—"

"No." I swallowed hard as the thought of being back on that stage with Gabriel made my stomach flop. Clearly, she didn't have a clue. "No, I better sit this one out. In the background. I've got massive stage fright. And I wouldn't wanna make it awkward for Landon, being a random ex that just shows up outta nowhere. I'm sure he's still grieving."

"We're all still grieving," Cora insisted. Her eyes drifted to the front of the museum where a couple cops were making their way through the crowd. "Sorry, excuse me..."

Cora had barely walked away, but I couldn't hold my tongue. "I can't believe Raf is screwing around with someone who's been inside his sister."

"Artemisia slept with Cora?"

"She slept with all her models. All the women, at least."

"Interesting." With a pensive nod, Desirae crept towards the back hall.

"To be fair, it was art school." I followed her into the shadows, past the red velvet rope again. Carl was no longer sitting in his chair. "Everyone was sleeping around."

"We definitely went to different art schools." Desirae glanced back at the Renaissance Court where the officers were just reaching the doors to the auditorium. "All right, let's go before they see me sneaking you out and I come to my senses and change my mind. And don't touch anything."

As we reached the exit near the back of the stage, acrid tendrils of formaldehyde and florals strangled me like the vines that wrapped Gabriel's body. His very real, very dead, gray body. An image I couldn't get out of my head. "What the fuck was that, Des? Some kind of sick publicity stunt?"

Desirae pulled her phone from her pocket and flicked the flashlight on, waving it over the hallway. "Are you surprised after meeting Landon tonight?"

"I don't know. The Hermann Nitsch comment was one thing, but arranging a corpse into some kinda tableau of Artie's painting? Have you ever seen something like that before?"

She took a long moment to answer. "I've seen all sorts of non-transplant tissue being abused; fully embalmed heads discarded in the woods, frozen torsos dethawing in a back-alley drain..." As she panned her phone over the steps, her light caught the glare of a murky, brown-tinged puddle that I'm sure I must have stepped in earlier. "But no, nothing like that."

Folding my arms across my chest, I tried to hold back from heaving, but Desirae seemed to have noticed. She tucked her phone away and backed up against the exit door to push it open.

As soon as the fresh air hit me, I spilled my stomach in a topiary urn along the portico. Acid burned the back of my throat like the caustic chemicals that refused to leave my nose. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as my chest lurched, heart hammering. Every putrid image of Gabriel ultimately took me back to Artemisia.

Soft fingertips rubbed against my shoulder blades as I wiped my eyes dry. Desirae pulled my hair back and slid it away from my face. "First time seeing a dead body?"

Spitting out the last bit of acid that had welled up in my mouth, I rubbed my lips clean and stood upright. "I wish." Curiosity filled her deep brown eyes, but she didn't question my answer. Which was good because it wasn't something I wanted to talk about. I really wish I had taken advantage of the open bar. A blurry mind maybe would've stopped the intrusive images playing out in my head.

I settled on the next worst-best thing as I spotted an opened pack of Luckies laying on the sidewalk next to a bench with the lighter tucked inside. Thank you, Carl. I snatched them up, popping a cigarette between my lips and then tried to light it, but my hands trembled from the adrenaline still coursing through my body.

"Come on," I groaned, shaking out my fingers as I struggled with the flint.

Just as I got it to light, Desirae plucked the cigarette from my lips and broke it in half. Tossing it into the garbage can next to the bench, she continued to walk ahead of me through the courtyard. "You shouldn't smoke," she called back without looking over her shoulder. "Major turn-off."

My lips twisted up to a smile in sheer irritation as my heart settled inside my chest. Looking down at the pack, I gave the remaining three cigarettes a shake, but tucked the lighter in with them and tossed the pack back down on the empty bench. My eyes drifted back over towards the door and I felt my stomach churn again. I hurried down the path to catch up with Desirae, wanting to put as much distance as I could between me and the museum.

Long shadows cast from bronze and stone sculptures loomed around us in the courtyard. I'd cut through here plenty of times growing up before they enclosed the gardens, but tonight I felt the eyes of every sculpted figure watching us the whole way.

When we reached the side street, I started to turn down where Rafael had parked, but Desirae stopped at the corner. "My place is just a block from the docks."

"Oh?" I stared hard at her through the dark, confused but intrigued by her change in tone. "Are you inviting me over? Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? Or something?"

"It's just a drink, Kirby."

"Sure." I cleared my throat and hiked up the hem of my dress, lumbering up to her side. "A drink would be great."