It had been a rather odd transaction. The man had specifically asked for an appointment long after dark. Something that wasn't exactly requested on common notice. But nothing that unusual. There were other higher priority clients. But this one paid just as much as any of them, and then some.

Only after a certain point did conversation finally bubble to the surface. Lucio was his first name. That was the most recent information he had learned in their introduction.

"I must say." He uttered. "I haven't been in a place such as this in quite some time."

"Oh. A studio?" Dylan questioned. He wasn't really paying attention to anything but the canvas for a moment.

"Actually yes." Lucio responded. "At least one such as this. I haven't been invited to many social events. Lately."

The painter looked at him for reference before quietly continuing. Lucio always found that ability fascinating. Someone with the capability to capture the essence of life and recreate it in such a way. The focus on details.

"Yeah. I bet the pandemic probably put a damper on that for a lot of people. Haven't seen some friends in two or three years."

"That's a long time."

"Well, some of them have kids, grandparents. No sense in putting them in danger."

"Has your work been affected?" Lucio asked, making sure to stay as still as possible when Dylan was looking.

"Less than you'd expect actually."

"Good. That's good."

Dylan had to admit things had been easier thus far than usual. People usually need to take a few breaks or realign themselves a little to get comfortable. But it had been two hours and Lucio had yet to truly move. Occasionally he'd grin in some fashion, before settling back into the same look. The guy had some noticeable teeth however. Dylan didn't understand why that was what he'd noticed, but he ignored it and carried on.

"So what's the last thing you went to?"

"...Paris."

"Oh nice." Dylan answered. "I've never been. How was it?"

"Very nice." Lucio smiled. "You've never been to Paris?"

"No. Never left the country." Dylan smirked. "I haven't left the state in maybe a year and some change."

"Oh goodness." The young man laughed. His voice carrying a vague air of wealth and perhaps royalty in some fashion. "You must surely go at least once."

"Eh, maybe some day... Not today though."

"At least tell me you do travel."

"I do. Every once in a while."

"How so?"

"Well, I walk from this room to another room. Take my shoes off and watch Hulu or something." Dylan shrugged. There was a mild look of disapproval that flashed across Lucio's face. Or misplaced concern?

"I'm kidding. Occasionally I drive up into the mountains. Go on a hike. It's peaceful."

"Camping?"

"No. Motels." He explained. "Our ancestors fought and died for shelter for a reason. Me dying in a gorge somewhere sounds, cosmically; like a let down for them."

It had been four hours now. It was at least midnight. A cursory check corrected him that it had to be at least one in the morning. The basics had been covered. Now came the real details. Dylan nonetheless kept a steady hand. Lucio stayed statuesque as if actually made of stone.

"So what did you go to Paris for?" Dylan asked as checked his work. "Vacation? Business?"

"A bit of both." Lucio contemplated slowly. "You have to forgive my lack of detail. I've been all over the place. Paris, Rome, Berlin. Warsaw. Athens. Barcelona."

"Lifestyles of the rich and famous." Dylan jokingly interrupted.

"Yes. But well." Lucio redirected. "I was in town for the Expo. The World Expo to be precise."

"That's a pretty big deal."

"Arts and technology in modern life." Lucio recalled. "An interesting theme. Consistently relevant."

Dylan nodded as Lucio continued on. Little tidbits like this were fun to learn from clients. And usually they were bit more rigid. A lot of his earlier examples. Heads of state, corporate types, or celebrities. They tended to be tight lipped, too proud, or too withdrawn much of the time. For good reason he assumed.

But not Lucio. If anything, talk of his personal life seemed to have improved their progress. A bit of warmth that added to the portrayal. But he still felt a bit off about the details of the trip. He couldn't place why.

"...Guernica, by Picasso. Granted, he was a mess of a human being. But the man had talent, I tell you."

Dylan was finishing up his last touches. The clock reading somewhere close to 5:15 in the morning. The sky was still dark outside, but faintly turning a deep blue.

"I believe it." Dylan promised. "So did anything else really stand out?"

"There were a lot of things that one could enjoy." Lucio promised. "But it all, really, just told me what was going to go wrong. What was coming."

The painter stopped. A measured movement that suggested he had pried too hard.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." Lucio dismissed. "It's all ancient history now."

Perhaps a half hour later, Dylan turned the canvas and offered his work. It was a simple yet detailed visage. The colors and pose coming together to make a perfect depiction of a momentary lull in life.

"It's immaculate." Lucio began.

There was a rather lengthy silence as he studied it more. Most people, while impressed, never carried that much gravitas about it. Even when it was a picture of themselves.

"It's been so long." He frowned slightly. "I wondered what it was like."

"...Is everything okay?"

It was clear his change of behavior had made the painter a bit uneasy. Understandable. Lucio carried that air about him naturally. Especially when he was hungry.

"Forgive me. I haven't seen a portrait of myself in so long."

"A century. Right. You... um..." Dylan reminded him. "Lucio?"

"Yes?" The young man asked before checking the clock. "Ah, I must go."

Extra money was shuffled into Dylan's hands from a small bag Lucio had brought with him. "I will return for my portrait as soon as possible. Honest."

"Lucio?"

"What?"

Dylan offered as he casually picked up a small black object and waved it at Lucio.

"I know you said you have some sort of problem with mirrors? But you do know mirrorless cameras exist? Right?"

r/Jamaican_Dynamite

Hello! You must be Mister Archibald? Yes, very well, thank you. Please, do come in.

Oh, that? That's a portrait of Sir John of Engelheim. Yes, painted that one myself, first year of college. There's some flaws to it, of course, but one must keep their first painting around, if only to see how they've improved. Tea?

Ah, I see you've noticed the Dorchester. Really does draw the eye, doesnt it? One of the strangest commissions I ever had, to tell you the truth.

Oh, nothing fancy. We'll, if you want to hear it, it's a short story, I guess -- no, no, don't get up, I'll grab the sugar. Be forgetting my own head next.

So, the Dorchester. Well. About fifteen years ago, on a dark and stormy night --

What do you mean, 'that's cliche'? It's what happened. It was just past nine on a night filled with thunderstorms, can't get much truer than that. If I may continue?

Well I was sitting in my studio, working on a commission for the Queen, when someone pounded on the front door. No, this was so late, my housekeeper was gone for the night, so I had to go see who it was.

To tell the truth, I was a bit startled to see a bedraggled man, maybe tall as my shoulders, standing on the doorstep but it was a bit wet out. Fellow was young, but didn't seem too bad, 'cept for the pale skin, o'course. Happens around here a lot, people going pale 'cause of the storms all through autumn and winter.

No, this was in late spring, not unusual to see someone pale right up into summer, just depends on their job. Anyway , this poor wretch was soaked through from the rain and he looked a bit manic, to tell you the truth. Teeth chattering, eyes wide, all that. Asked if he could come in, he had a business proposition for me.

Well, at that point, I hadn't become the well-known portraiteer of the rich and famous. I didn't recognise the man, but I knew he was of good breeding -- you could see it in his eyes.

So we came in, and he sat me down and demanded I paint his portrait. Desperate he was, claimed he hadn't seen his own face in more than a century. Well, that caught me a bit off guard, o'course, but the way he was talking, I knew I'd be paid well for the service.

He was a spoiled thing, yeah, no doubt about it. But he offered me a full purse, couldn't have said no, even if I wanted to -- which I didn't. Something told me it would be a fair foolish thing to do.

So anyway, I look him over, and he says he's not crazy, he just needs to see his own face. Now, me, I don't think that's all that weird, Lord in Heaven knows we get some weird people coming in here, but I did find his aversion to Mrs Aldersleigh's famous foccaccias a little on the nose.

Oh, no, famous for her garlic and cheese foccaccias, no doubt about that. I'm sure I could find you one, Mrs Aldersleigh made some before she went off to visit her mother, poor woman, got the long illness, they don't know if she'll survive the week.

What? Oh, yes, the Donchester. Well, the man -- more a boy, to be honest -- was happy to sit still, weirdly still, for a few hours so I could get most of the blocking done. I told him he could come back next week for the first viewing, and he agreed, but after that...

Hmm? Oh, nothing. No, I don't remember much except waking up with a sore neck and a sense of managing to avoid the worse of it, but I couldn't work out what 'it' was.

The man -- boy -- sitter returned a week or so later, took one look at the canvas and burst onto tears. I don't know what he expected to see, but apparently my painting was not it. He screamed at the image, ran for the window and hurled himself out.

We never found the body, but there were a lot of animals in the forest that night, I realised through my broken window. I don't really see what haunted the man so, but then, I'm more than happy to paint people the way they want to see themselves, not as they were. I just didn't do it for that one, what with my commission jumping out a window before he could pay me.

No, I never got the man's name, nor payment. So I keep the Donchester to remind me to be wary of conmen seeking to swindle.

My memory? Well, now and then I forget something, wake up with the window open and so on, but that's just old age. I am seventy-seven, you know.

Good Lord in Heaven, is that the time? Sorry, Mr Archibald, I do have to move you along, I have an appointment to keep. No, nothing serious, just a spot of blood donation. No, it's fine, leave them there, I'll have the housekeeper deal with it.

Thank you so much for coming out to check on me, Mr Archibald. Nice to know there's still some decent kids out there.

I think I'll skip walking you out, my legs aren't what they use to be. No, thank you for coming.

Oh, and if you could let the young man outside into the house on your way out, that would be great. Thank you. Good day, sir.

The stranger sat before me with a stillness of the like I had never seen.  His features were razor sharp in the soft white light, his milky complexion almost transparent.  It was all I could do not to shiver, as my eyes traced every line of his face.  The splash of freckles across his nose, the slender curve of his lips, the way his dark hair framed his face.  My hand moved like it had a mind of its own with all its experience, from my decades of artistry.  I was transfixed, my breath catching whenever I caught the slightest of movements. 

He was young and so painfully beautiful, and yet his eyes were heavy and sad.  He was everything I had ever wanted to capture.  He was the epitome of art, poetry in the shape of a man.  A human sized porcelain doll.  Nothing would ever be the same.  I could never draw another again, I could not even look upon them.  He had changed everything for me, how I perceived beauty, how I saw the world. 

Heart in my throat, I shuddered as I looked down at my creation.  It paled in comparison to the real thing, but god was it beautiful.  A shadow passed over me and my breath caught, I hadn’t even heard him move.  I looked up into those eyes, full of pain, and hunger.  He took the drawing from my hands, and he cried.  Somehow I knew what would come next.  I had known the moment I’d answered my door.  I saw a flash of those teeth, and I was happy it would end this way.  It didn’t matter.  For what I had drawn would change the world forever.  I had captured the unseeable.  I had given hope to the dead.

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[removed]

You tilt your head to the right knowing you are exposing it to the man! He is so beautiful. His black onyx eyes mesmerize you. You’re sure that you know his race. You have heard stories your whole life. But why isn’t he doing what you expect him to do. What you want him to do. You lean closer and he backs away.

Maybe you’re wrong maybe he’s not what you think. Just then his eyes turn red and his canines lower. He turns away abruptly and asks you not to look at him. His whole body is trembling. Is it in fear, is it hunger?

You feel his gazing hold fade. You’re not sure how much of your desire was him and how much of it was you. You put your hand on his shoulder and say “ How can I paint you if I can’t look at you? “

He slowly turns around. “I’m not frightening to you?” He asks surprised.

“On the contrary, you are absolutely beautiful! “ you said to him. You move closer he backs away. “We need to discuss payment. “ you say.

“How much do you charge” he asks. “I was actually thinking of a different kind of payment if what I believe in you is true, tell me it’s true, tell me you can give me eternal youth and eternal life.”

“I can but I promise you that you don’t want it! I promise you it’s not what you have heard, not what you imagined. Nothing not even what is rumored can kill us. Nothing and I mean nothing can fulfill us. You will spend eternity trying to satisfy your never ending hunger.”

“ I believe I can handle it, it’s what I want it’s what I’ve desired my whole life! I will paint you but only if you agree to change me.”

“You don’t know what you are asking of me, you don’t know what you’re in for. You need to realize before you I stand your fantasy. But when I allow my full self out I am no longer a man. I no longer look this way. I am beyond scary! You know how they say you can’t see our reflection in a mirror. That’s because when we look at ourselves we automatically turn into the monster you will see!”

“I am not at all afraid” you state as you invite him in to paint. You finish your painting with all the beauty you see before you. You smile well pleased and turn your painting to him. His canines drop more. His eyes look like fire. His face becomes unrecognizable. You fight screaming. You want to but you won’t give him the satisfaction of being right about knowing you would be scared.

He pounces on you and tears at your neck. You can’t get away you feel week, you feel your life drain out of you. He smiles and wipes the blood away. “I haven’t had fresh blood in a century! That was amazing “ He said to himself.

You find yourself at the judgment gates. You’re not sure why you are there you had a deal! The Angel reads your mind. “Look lady you invited him into your home. You knew he was a vampire. Your clientele who weren’t vamps were always just as shady. How are you surprised. Brace yourself your not getting in… It’s going to be quite the fall into the pits of Hell! You have surrounded yourself with people who have sold their soles your whole life. In turn due to this you have lost yours as well! Prepare to burn for eternity!