Lemuria: The City of Mysts

Chapter 18: The Artist

“Yes.” Fred had planned to bring it up later and was relieved that the matter was out in the open.

“What did you feel when you saw it?”

Very afraid, he wanted to say.

“What made you paint it?” Fred asked, his heart hammering against his chest.

Cheska arched he brow and leaned against the back of her chair. She hadn’t told a soul about the painting and here was a man with secrets of his own. Cheska had heard voices in the columbarium yesterday before she had accidentally let loose her a set of coloured pencils. She was surprised to find Fred all alone. When he left the chapel, she had gone down and inspected the columbarium. Cheska discovered dirt near the tunnel’s gate.

Would she dare tell him her secret?

“I’ll keep your secret, if you keep mine”, Cheska said.

Fred agreed considering that if she had planned to reveal his true identity in the Mysts, she would have done so in the bat of an eye.

“It isn’t mine”, she said so softly that he almost didn’t catch it.

“What do you mean it’s not yours?”

“You might have noticed that I didn’t sign it.” Or, he might not have, Cheska thought, vaguely recalling the man had a panic attack of sorts.

“But the style...”

“The style is similar, but wholly different.”

“Then, who painted it?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Cheska said, disappointed.

“How on earth would I know that?” Fred said curtly. He was frustrated that he had come up against a dead end.

“I heard how you reacted when you saw it. You weren’t amazed at all. It looked like you recognised it.”

Fred started to say something but thought better of it. Cheska didn’t know that she had hit the mark.

“Who gave it to you?” he asked.

“I’ve no idea.”

“Paintings don’t appear out of thin air.”

“Let’s just say this one did.” She bit her lower lip and crossed her arms. “I fell asleep in my studio that evening. When I woke up, it was sitting on my easel.”

“I see.” Fred fell silent. There was nothing more to say. The mystery would remain unsolved. The truth about Electra’s and the forest’s existence would still be mired in half-truths and lies.

“So, do you have any clues as to who painted it?” Cheska asked.

Fred glanced at the woman. “Sorry”, he said. “No, I don’t.”

“I thought you recognised it.”

“The subject looked familiar”, he admitted. Fred felt sympathy for her since they were on the same boat.

“Is he someone’s pet?” Cheska said carefully.

“You can say that.” Fred was starting to be bothered with her sunglasses. He couldn’t read Cheska with her eyes hidden behind them. And he needed to see them when they were touching a sensitive topic.

“Can’t we go to that person and ask?”

“No”, he said with finality.

“Why not?”

Why can’t she take a hint? Fred stared at her, willing Cheska to stop to no avail.

She repeated the question.