Chapter 5

Darci sat in the passenger seat of Will's car, her lips pursed to stop herself from laughing out loud. Given his penchant for designer suits, she had been fully expecting to see him pull up in a yellow Jag or a red mid-life-crisis Porsche. It had therefore come as a bit of a surprise when a ten-year-old midnight blue Ford Focus, one of the earliest models, had rolled into her driveway.

The car was perfectly presentable, but it was a far cry from what she had been anticipating, and she had been close to hysterical laughter from the moment Will had held the passenger door open for her. She thought she had been hiding her amusement well until Will finally spoke.

"What's the matter, Darci? You look like you're about to either laugh or burst into tears."

"It's just the car," she said, managing to bite back her need to giggle once and for all. "It's not what I was expecting."

"Well, I prefer to keep a low profile when I'm out and about, and this car is guaranteed not to draw too much attention."

Darci didn't bother asking what he meant. She had grown used to his cryptic comments and figured they were simply a personality quirk. It was hard to believe that over a month had passed since their first meeting. He had attended every one of her concerts since then and she had slipped easily into the routine of meeting him afterwards. It seemed so natural to her now that she couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been there waiting for her at the stage door.

It was as if she had known him forever, and yet, it seemed that he was holding back. Their relationship hadn't progressed beyond gentle, chaste kisses, and he grew silent if she prompted him to talk about his past.

What happened to him in the past? What is he afraid of? Darci turned and looked at him, studying his profile in the waning light. His pale face was staring ahead at the road, but the slight furrow of his brow told Darci that his mind was elsewhere.

As if he felt her gaze, he turned and glanced at her. The frown disappeared and was replaced with a smile, but it never reached his eyes.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"Oh nothing—just random thought… Ah, here we are!"

Darci noticed the relief in his voice, but her attention was distracted from any further questions as they pulled up outside a large townhouse. She climbed out and shut the car door, looking around to get her bearings. She had been too busy repressing her laughter during the drive to notice their route, but she now realised they were back in North Adelaide. Whoever this photographer friend of Will's was, he was clearly reasonably well off to live in this part of town. And if he was that wealthy, why would he exhibit his work in his home instead of hiring a gallery?

Will guided her towards the imposing doorway and rang the bell. While they waited, Darci bent down to inhale the scent of the last of the summer roses lining the path on either side. The aroma hung in the air like a twilight perfume, and the bright crimson flowers mingled with others whose petals were of such a deep shade of red that they looked almost black as the last glimmer of daylight faded.

The door opened, and Will stood aside for her to enter first. The light within was even gloomier than the dusk she had just left behind outside. The hallway was lit, but only very dimly, casting deep shadows along the walls, adding to the sense of darkness rather than alleviating it. Something about the house made Darci pause—an unwillingness to step into that gloom, a faint memory of a long-forgotten childhood fear that told her dark things lurked in the shadows. But she felt Will's presence behind her and she pushed aside her irrational fears and stepped forward.

Once they were both inside, the door was shut, making the darkness even more complete, a statement of finality: abandon hope all ye who enter here. The girl who had let them in brushed past, beckoning for them to follow her. As she moved below the light, which hung high above their heads, Darci was able to see her more clearly.

She appeared to be young, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Darci could think of no word to describe her other than waif. The girl was as thin as a stick insect, an anaemic stick insect at that. The scarlet dress she wore highlighted her porcelain skin. The fabric hung awkwardly, loose and limp, and her shoulder blades protruded at sharp angles. It looked as if she would break at the slightest touch. She led them up the stairs and guided them towards an open door.

"Please wait, he'll be here soon." She spoke in a voice so small and frail Darci had to struggle to hear her.

With her message delivered, the girl drifted from the room. Her feet, which Darci now noticed were bare, hardly made a sound on the polished floorboards. She could well have been mistaken for a ghost.

"Is that girl your friend's daughter?" Darci asked, turning towards Will.

"No, she's—"

"She's my assistant." The voice was smooth and sensual, the words softly spoken, yet the sound filled the room completely, leaving a vague, uneasy echo.

Darci looked towards the door to see a young man enter. If someone had told her he was a model, she would not have been the least bit surprised. He might also have just stepped off a film set, given that his clothes were outdated to the extreme. He was actually wearing a frock coat and a decorative one at that. As he walked towards them, the brocading glimmered like real gold against the black material, and she caught the occasional flash of what looked like pearl buttons. With his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a piece of scarlet ribbon that matched his loose shirt, he looked like he belonged in Interview with the Vampire or Dangerous Liaisons. Maybe both.

"Will," he said, opening his arms in greeting. "It was good of you to come." He turned and looked Darci up and down. "And who is this pretty friend of yours?"

"Stefan, this is Darci Madison, a talented young soprano and a new acquaintance of mine; Darci, this is Stefan Koske, the photographer."

"Charmed," Stefan said with an elaborate bow that left Darci unsure if he was being serious or facetious.

"Are you expecting many guests tonight, Mr Koske?" Darci asked.

"Please call me Stefan, and yes, I believe around fifty people will attend, though they will not be here for hours yet. My exhibitions generally open at midnight, but I agreed that Will could come earlier for a preview. Speaking of which, shall we begin?"

Darci watched as he walked back towards the doorway. She now noticed the room for the first time. Frames lined every wall, draped in red satin, and above each was a small light, the little bulbs around the glass making the room look like an elongated dressing room mirror. A large chaise lounge stood in the centre, appearing oddly out of place since the rest of the floor was bare.

Stefan must have turned on a switch because the lights slowly flickered to life, displaying the images beneath. With the main lights in the room so low, it was like looking at a series of film stills in a darkened cinema. Intrigued, she moved closer to the photographs.

At first she wasn't sure what she was seeing. The background of each image was dark, close to pitch black. In the foreground of each was a pale, gaunt figure, its skin a stark white against the darkness behind them, its mouth parted and eyes wide, looking upwards. They reminded Darci of Baroque paintings showing saints caught up in a religious fervour. The only colour used was red, splashes of it here and there. It was only after staring at the first image for a few moments that Darci realised it was blood. The theme of the images then fell into place. Each of the people in the shots was dying—their bodies growing pale as the blood, their life force, drained from them. But they weren't sad or distressed; they looked elated, their bodies twisted as if writhing in sexual pleasure. It was then she noticed the other link between them all. In each photograph, behind the dying figure, another stood in the background, barely visible because he was clad all in black and blended with the surroundings. She realised then that the eyes of the dying were not looking to heaven, but rather looking back towards the mysterious figure.

"Erotic death," Darci murmured under her breath, speaking her thoughts out loud.

"Yes, exactly, cherie." Darci jumped at the voice, not having heard Stefan come up behind her. "It is so nice to have one's work understood."

"The images are disturbing and yet strangely inviting at the same time."

"Oh, Will, wherever did you find this one? She's exquisite. Perhaps I should get her to model for me. She might enjoy assisting me—"

"No!" Will's vehement response startled Darci, but Stefan just laughed.

"I was only joking, my friend. Come, let us get these tedious interview questions out of the way. Ms Madison, Darci, pray excuse us for a moment. Continue to look at the photos at your leisure. If you like one in particular, tell me and I will happily make a gift of it to you after the exhibition."

Will followed Stefan out of the room, and Darci found herself alone, the only living thing in a room filled with death. She paced slowly, glancing occasionally at the images, as she waited for Will to return.