To Love Yin and Yang

Chapter 3

The next day I spent sketching one of the paintings I wanted to show at the gallery. My phone began to ring at some point in the afternoon. I checked the caller ID and it was my current boss at the gallery. Confused he would call at all I answered with a very confused "Hello?"

He informed me that one of other other artists had just quit the exhibition so he wondered if I could design a painting around a dark theme. I was hesitant and replied "My work has rarely so much as bordered on being classed as dark... but I do have a design in mind I think would work."

I thought he would be more hesitant to trust as I didn't do 'dark', but he just sighed in relief and said he was looking forward to seeing my work. The conversation was quickly concluded after that and confused I stared at the screen. It was odd that he didn't even ask to see a preview of my design to be sure it would work with the theme, but trusted I could manage all the same. I didn't know what to do or how to feel at that moment so I texted April that I would need to call and talk to her about something. She responded that she would close up shop around six so I could call after that.

When it was well after six I called April and proceeded to tell her about the odd phone call from the gallery director and she asked, that though it might seem strange, I was a reputable artist and perhaps had enough clout to my reputation he wouldn't need a preview?

I answered that true I had clout, but not where anything close to 'dark' was concerned. Continuing I explained that that reasoning didn't sit well with me and began to pace my living room. The sun was setting and the room grew ever darker but I'll switch the lights on later, I thought to myself. "I think you're overreacting but I can maybe check the exhibitions finances if you want? If they've exceeded a budget it might make them desperate enough to accept almost anything so as long as it's from credible artists," she explained calmly.

"Would you," I asked eagerly. "Look into the whole exhibition I mean," I quickly added, unsure if I wanted something to be wrong or not. My luck wasn't usually this good but I would work for free if it meant showing my work in the National Art Gallery. I could practically see her donning her reporter cap and getting to work and smiled when she promptly told me she was on the case. She began to ask some mundane questions as to how I had gotten the job in the first place, what was the original arrangement and who the other original artists were.

The conversation ended taking over an hour and it didn't help that she from time to time had put me on speaker to eat something or to write things down. She had shouted a good bye at one point in the conversation and when I asked who she said goodbye to, she simply said Fearless and continued her questioning.

When she was finally satisfied we hung up and I strode into the hallway to chuck my phone into the bowl I had stashed there for holding important things, like my phone, wallet and keys. Moving back towards my kitchen a chill swept down my spine and a sense of wrongness crept over my skin. Alarmed I tried to remember where I kept my can of mace, only to remember it was in a clutch somewhere in my closet. Trying to calm myself I began to tell myself I was just delusional. I suddenly cursed myself for not switching on the lights when I had the chance but was also curious as to why nothing had yet to happen. I tried to see if anything was actually amiss, peering into shadows but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

If there was a burglar, wouldn't they have attacked me or at least tried to make an escape by now? I waited a while longer in the dark trying to remain clam but also trying to see if I could hear movement or something to give credit to the sense of unease I was feeling. I gave up in the end and called out softly, afraid someone might actually answer, "is anyone there?"

A shadow just to my right unfurled and a massive figure moved to stand in front of a floor to ceiling window. With the light coming from behind him, he was cast entirely in shadow and I only saw his outline. The hilts of two swords stuck up from his back, which had a rounded shape. Odd for a burglar, I thought and it dawned on me then that this was most likely Fearless himself. He had been at April's apartment, left it recently and he had tried to get me to meet him earlier but I had refused. If the roundness of his 'back' was anything to go on, then he was likely one of the turtles I had accidently seen in April's apartment last night. If everything I had figured out was true, then I wasn't supposed to know anything about him. That had me desperately trying school my features to be a mask of indifference with just a hint of shock. At least the shock didn't have to be faked, but we probably had differing thoughts as to it's origins.