| |
HE STARED AT THE PICTURE that flashed on the television screen. It was the same face that crossed his path in the woods the other day and he cursed under his breath. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get back to his boat, he would have another prize-winning mask in his gallery.
This face was special. Even more so than the girl, and he paused the video, capturing the split screen showing the boy’s mug shot alongside his senior picture.
He leaned forward, studying the handsome features. Even the shocked and smudged face in the mug shot had character. The haunted eyes held a depth of knowledge along with an innocence he had never seen before. The combination was intoxicating.
This was a face he had to have.
A slow smile stretched over his lips and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation before grabbing a pen and jotting the name down. He released the freeze on the television and the news story resumed.
His smile faded as his nickname flashed next to the face.
He paused the video again and stood, pacing the room in silence. Every so often, he glanced at the bright bold text announcing the Windwalker’s arrest. A flurry of turmoil started in the center of his body, decimating his judgment, belittling his masterpieces, and he snarled at the television.
His gaze turned toward the exquisite mask hanging on the wall, her features distorted under the glass casing, forever capturing her scream under a mass of paint and acrylic.
They think that child is responsible for my artwork?
The thought drowned out any sense of mercy and he grabbed the remote, pressing play again to continue. When Agent Williams’ picture appeared next to the boy’s, he paused the video again, this time to study his nemesis. The cold blue eyes pierced through the screen, driving hot lasers into him and he shifted, uncomfortable, as if Agent Williams could see him through the looking glass.
He shivered and resumed the news story. The newscaster outlined the relationship between his nemesis and his next acquisition; and his blood turned thick and cold in his veins.
He slowly sat on the couch, gaze glued to the television, but his mind wasn’t focused on the news, no it was focused elsewhere, calculating his next move and planning his next masterpiece.