The Enigma of Eros

hadn't slept, not even for a moment. The events of the previous evening replayed in her mind like a never-e

ying glass, a notebook, and her laptop. She had taken photographs of the painting at the gallery

sy

amount of internet searching had yielded an answer. It wasn't a common symbol in art history, nor did it align wit

the desk, pulling he

answered, supp

s voice was laced

ave news, or are you just checking in to ma

ally, I do have news. Julia

ened in her

were trace amounts of an unidentifiable substance in his bloodstream.

"Unidentifiable?

mething experimental. Whatev

ighten his creative process-drugs, sleepless nights, even dangerous rituals he clai

"Julian's phone. He'd deleted most of his recent messages, but we

did it

. Just two words: 'It's ready.'

sted. "He was talking

ely. You said he'd been working on the painting for ye

been obsessed with secrets, with embedding layers of meaning into his work. If Eros in Cha

her bag, her exha

the main entrance, slipping in through the service door she remembered from years ago. The corr

s displayed, she found it mercifully empty. The painting

as chaos-an explosion of color and texture. But Julian had always been meticulous

tracing the edges of the carving. It

angles, the layers of paint revealed subtle patterns-tiny cracks and brushstrokes that seemed deliberate.

ds through

nt a chill d

re you

nd Catherine Albright standing in the doorway. Her exp

g," Isabelle said, slipping th

herine said, her voice cold. "

ing," Isabelle snapped. "I

oor. "Understand what? That Julian was brilliant? That his

ets the eye," Isabelle said, her tone

for a moment, something like fear crossed her fa

ched out to me before he died. He wanted me to find something-something

t himself toward the end. He talked about visions, about seeing

o what?" Isa

ed the edge of the frame. "I don't know

corridor. Catherine straightened, her mask of composure

t the side door just as a gallery assistant ent

red at the photographs she'd taken,

avior-it all pointed to something much larger than a painting. Julian had been searching

with growing dread, she was