Read Online Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1) by Jeremy Flagg - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeremy Flagg
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“Conthan.”
“The Conthan?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Because there’s more than one Conthan on the list?”
She gave him a dirty look and waved him in. “Gretchen will find you.”
“What is going on?” he mumbled to himself.
He dodged his way through the crowd and lifted a glass of champagne off a tray from one of the several servers circulating the room. He rounded a white wall in the middle of the gallery space and got his first chance to see one of the other painter’s pieces. Conthan stared for a moment and then began to fall into his schooling. Examine the work. Absorb the work. What did the artist want you to see? What did you feel?
He explored the black vortex of paint on the two-by-two-foot canvas. He could see the liberal use of the palette knife and sloppy delivery of the medium. He felt dark looking at the piece, as if he were looking into an abyss. He leaned back and attempted to unravel the possible messages being delivered by the artist.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” asked a gentleman next to him.
“He has a unique style,” said Conthan. “A bit awkward on the application of the medium, I feel.”
The man gasped at the criticism. “The medium does not matter. This work is an examination of the soul of humanity. The artist is trying to explore our depths and reveal to us the dark nature that is burning the foundation of our society.”
“Bullshit,” commented Conthan. “Could you go find another elitist to talk to? I’m trying to enjoy art.”
The guy swore several times under his breath and stomped away from the wall. Gretchen quickly took his place. “You realize you just pissed off Mr. Leboy, the art critic for the NY Times?”
Conthan shrugged. “That would explain why he doesn’t know anything he’s talking about. The guy wouldn’t know art if it bit him on his ass.”
“He put an offer on one of your pieces,” she replied. “Willing to offer you twenty thousand for one painting.”
“Uhm.” Conthan thought for a moment. “No.”
She let out a sigh and smacked her forehead. “You really are difficult sometimes, you know that?”
Conthan chuckled at the obvious. “You already told him no, didn’t you?”
“Of course I said no,” she grumbled. “I told him about all this integrity bullshit and what I wanted to say is ‘No, he’s the biggest bonehead I know. Of course he won’t take your money.’”
“What’s with the crowd outside?”
She stood on her toes to see out the massive windows that lined the front of the gallery. “I hired the police force. I figured that your work might bring out some of the crazies. I also had a suspicion that the haters were gonna hate. You can tell by the guest list that the people inside here are a bit more”—she paused—“endeared to your cause.”
“I don’t have a cause.”
“Whether you know it or not, tonight you are the poster child for the Children of Nostradamus.”
Shit , he thought.
“Did you notice the two Corps soldiers outside?”
“What the fuck,” she said, seeing the two out-of-place officers. Things rarely bothered Gretchen. This was orchestrated by her, but the sight of the officers thoroughly irritated her.
“Not your idea, I take it?”
“I need to introduce the two of you to the crowd and then I’ll go outside and take care of the Corps.”
Conthan laughed out loud as she walked away. He had no doubt in his mind that she, a tiny woman, was more than daring enough to go wrangle cybernetic humans. The Corps should be fearful of that girl when she goes on the warpath , he thought.
“Excuse me, everyone,” came a booming voice over the speakers in the room.
He turned to see Gretchen standing on the stage with a microphone in her hand. “I’m glad everybody could make it this evening. Gallery Systems Incorporated is more than delighted to present two new up-and-coming artists. The first is a recent college graduate, Conthan…” She paused, looking at the card. “I
“The Conthan?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Because there’s more than one Conthan on the list?”
She gave him a dirty look and waved him in. “Gretchen will find you.”
“What is going on?” he mumbled to himself.
He dodged his way through the crowd and lifted a glass of champagne off a tray from one of the several servers circulating the room. He rounded a white wall in the middle of the gallery space and got his first chance to see one of the other painter’s pieces. Conthan stared for a moment and then began to fall into his schooling. Examine the work. Absorb the work. What did the artist want you to see? What did you feel?
He explored the black vortex of paint on the two-by-two-foot canvas. He could see the liberal use of the palette knife and sloppy delivery of the medium. He felt dark looking at the piece, as if he were looking into an abyss. He leaned back and attempted to unravel the possible messages being delivered by the artist.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” asked a gentleman next to him.
“He has a unique style,” said Conthan. “A bit awkward on the application of the medium, I feel.”
The man gasped at the criticism. “The medium does not matter. This work is an examination of the soul of humanity. The artist is trying to explore our depths and reveal to us the dark nature that is burning the foundation of our society.”
“Bullshit,” commented Conthan. “Could you go find another elitist to talk to? I’m trying to enjoy art.”
The guy swore several times under his breath and stomped away from the wall. Gretchen quickly took his place. “You realize you just pissed off Mr. Leboy, the art critic for the NY Times?”
Conthan shrugged. “That would explain why he doesn’t know anything he’s talking about. The guy wouldn’t know art if it bit him on his ass.”
“He put an offer on one of your pieces,” she replied. “Willing to offer you twenty thousand for one painting.”
“Uhm.” Conthan thought for a moment. “No.”
She let out a sigh and smacked her forehead. “You really are difficult sometimes, you know that?”
Conthan chuckled at the obvious. “You already told him no, didn’t you?”
“Of course I said no,” she grumbled. “I told him about all this integrity bullshit and what I wanted to say is ‘No, he’s the biggest bonehead I know. Of course he won’t take your money.’”
“What’s with the crowd outside?”
She stood on her toes to see out the massive windows that lined the front of the gallery. “I hired the police force. I figured that your work might bring out some of the crazies. I also had a suspicion that the haters were gonna hate. You can tell by the guest list that the people inside here are a bit more”—she paused—“endeared to your cause.”
“I don’t have a cause.”
“Whether you know it or not, tonight you are the poster child for the Children of Nostradamus.”
Shit , he thought.
“Did you notice the two Corps soldiers outside?”
“What the fuck,” she said, seeing the two out-of-place officers. Things rarely bothered Gretchen. This was orchestrated by her, but the sight of the officers thoroughly irritated her.
“Not your idea, I take it?”
“I need to introduce the two of you to the crowd and then I’ll go outside and take care of the Corps.”
Conthan laughed out loud as she walked away. He had no doubt in his mind that she, a tiny woman, was more than daring enough to go wrangle cybernetic humans. The Corps should be fearful of that girl when she goes on the warpath , he thought.
“Excuse me, everyone,” came a booming voice over the speakers in the room.
He turned to see Gretchen standing on the stage with a microphone in her hand. “I’m glad everybody could make it this evening. Gallery Systems Incorporated is more than delighted to present two new up-and-coming artists. The first is a recent college graduate, Conthan…” She paused, looking at the card. “I
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