Page 13 of Etched in Stone
“I'll think about it,” Ray said.
“We all know that thinking about it means you'll go back to your rooftop and freeze frame yourself until I've grown a few more wrinkles and my hair turns gray.”
“How will you know under all that blue dye?”
“Ha!” Giles poured a shot of some clear liquid and took a quick look to see if anyone was watching before tossing it back himself. “We all get old sometime. Even stone weathers.”
“Not any time soon. But thanks.”
Ray nodded and slapped down a twenty even though he hadn't ordered a drink. It had been worth the confirmation of what his gut had been telling him.
Pedro was not only bad news, but he was also Rose Syndicate, the same organization that had imprisoned him in London for six months. They were like a hydra. Cut off one head and two grew back in its place. They were perhaps even more dangerous now because they were much better at
being sneaky. It was only because they'd been sloppy before that he had managed to escape.
The memory of Tas was still vivid. The acrid smell of smoke and explosives still haunted him from the corner of the senses. Ray had left him, abandoned him to save his own skin, and it was that decision that had saved his own life, condemning his friend, his only real connection with others of his kind.
Ray stepped into the hallway and activated his perception filter. He didn't like to do much walking on city streets when they were crowded. He was leery about doing it much at all lately with the advancement of digital photography and street cams. His perception filter might fool the brain, but it did little to fool the camera.
7
JE SSE
It was amazing how fast the project came together. For some reason, she had a singular focus and worked straight through the night and late into the morning. Her basic sculpture was done around 5 AM and then she crashed while it rested.
The crystal was fascinating the more she looked at it. She started a painting, just waiting for the molds to set, and got caught up for hours in the blood red facets that seemed to reflect a multitude of purples, greens and blues as well. It was a new picture from every angle that she turned it.
The pictures fascinated her as well. It was clear this object resided in an art collection somewhere. They were shot on white backgrounds in high resolution photos that captured every detail. Someone had spent quite a lot of money cataloging this item.
There was writing on it, but none of her searches seemed to come up with anything similar. Was it an ancient rune or some made up movie language?
She couldn’t imagine someone was paying her twenty grand to create a replica of a movie prop.
Of course this whole thing could be a sham. It could be that he wasn’t going to pony up any of the final payment.
Jesse was willing to take that risk, just to be able to sit there and examine the stone for a day or two. That alone had inspired a painting. Plus, she’d still have the molds to go on. She could pour another crystal out of resin but getting the color of it just right was going to be a challenge. Either way, it was worth the time to have her creative juices sparking something that really set her imagination flying.
It was right at the tail end of her first crash that Ray decided to make another appearance. He knocked this time.
“Thought I’d get some more tile,” he said, glancing to the wheelbarrow beside him.
“Come on in.” She opened the door, glad that the weather was still holding. She could probably go out onto the patio and paint, but perhaps it was better to keep an eye on him from upstairs. That’s where her painting was, anyway. She headed upstairs and he got to work, banging up a storm in the bathroom.
Thankfully, she’d already taken most of her personal items out of the space in preparation for whatever remodel he was planning. By the amount of noise he was making, he was taking more than
just the tile down. For such an old guy, he was pretty spry. She’d never have guessed that he was fit or ripped under that sweater, especially since he never seemed to go out and exercise.
Jesse put on her headphones and tuned him out, centering in on the explosion of paint in front of her. It was a continuously morphing blob of fire that was inspired by the jewel. She still didn’t have the color right. It needed more blue and purple. But that was going to have to wait.
Her stomach was growling. She looked at her phone and noticed it was nearly 2 PM. No wonder she was hungry. She headed down the stairs and opened the fridge. The offerings were slim except for the gallon of milk.
Cereal it was! She poured herself a bowl of the frosty marshmallow cereal she had stashed away in the back of the cupboard. It was always her hope that she’d forget it was there, but hunger was a great motivator to search high and low and rediscover the things you’d bought on impulse and really should have tossed before.
Ray exited the bathroom, wheeling a barrowful of debris from her shower as if it were light as a feather. It looked as if he had broken up the tub into smaller pieces in order to haul it out. Where he planned to put it all was quite a mystery.
Ray stood there watching her consume some of the cereal in her bowl. He looked over at the counter.
“That’s a lot of milk for one person,” he said.
