Page 65 of The Last Session

I needed to get back for lunch, but something was tugging at me. I circled the storage room, picking my way around the boxes and furniture.

A black-and-white painting on the ground caught my eye. A geometric border encircled several figures, painted in a simple indigenous art style. The two largest ones had skull-like heads and faced forward, their hands raised. A snake that twisted in a spiral separated them from the smaller people below. One was crouched and facing sideways, its body covered in stripes. Two others held staffs, a wavy line connecting their mouths. Two at the bottom were mostly covered by a patterned square that looked like a blanket. Above them, a figure with large eyes held an arrow.

I couldn’t look away. Why did this feel important? I reached into my pocket for my phone before realizing I’d left it downstairs. I tried to memorize the painting before pulling it towards me so I could see the others stacked behind it.

In the blank space behind, Catherine’s pale, severed head stared back at me.

I jerked back, the painting clattering to the floor. “What thefuck?”

It was a sculpture. Like the ones in the courtyard, though this one was even more realistic. It still had blank holes for eyes.

I reached out to touch the sharp cheekbones, the slightly prominent upper lip. The likeness was remarkable.

“Uh… hey.” The peeved male voice caused me to scramble to my feet. Steven stood in the doorway, light filtering in from behind him.

“Hi!” I squeaked.

“What are you doing in here?” I’d barely heard his voice, but it was gruff, menacing.

“I’m sorry, I…” I tried to laugh. “I was charging my phone and I heard something and… I just ended up here.”

“This room is off-limits.” His face was absolutely unreadable.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

He strode towards me and I backed away; he bent to push the paintings back into place, hiding the sculpture.

I gestured at them, feigning ignorance. “Did you paint these?”

“No.” He straightened. “We’ve had lots of artists here. They’ve all left stuff behind.”

“But you did the mosaics?”

He looked down. “Yeah.”

“They’re incredible.” I tried to sound awed, which wasn’t hard—they really were. “How long did it all take?”

He stared at me for a beat. “A long time.”

He was answering my questions, at least. Now might be my only chance to speak with him one-on-one.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“Since the beginning.” He held my gaze.

“That was, what… five years ago?”

“Something like that.”

“And you knew Sol.”

That made him scoff. “Nope.”

“Moon?”

“She wasn’t calling herself that back then.” He said it quietly, as if to himself.

“What was she calling herself?”

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