Author's Note:
Dear Readers,
Sorry this chapter is a little shorter. As I've said before (I think), I'm wanting to take this slow. Also, we get a new character! I hope you enjoy!
sarahandmarquis
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Word Count: 1753
"Was" Count: 1
"Were" Count: 2
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CHAPTER 4:
The car door slammed shut and fingers quaked as she thrust the key into the ignition, starting the vehicle. The radio flipped on, some soft strains of music floating, un-noticed, past her ears, while a blast of warm air from the vents struck her. Smoothing the lines of her skirt and adjusting herself in the seat, her white boot pressed the brake and her hand shifted the gears of the vehicle. Tires ground against the gravel and dug into the mud of the ditch as she turned her car around and drove back down the deserted road, casting her mind back over the evening.
He wasn't lying when he said he wore a mask. She thought, recalling vividly to memory the white plastic, binding his muscles and hiding all expressions. Unnerving cat eyes had peered at her, revealed only in the darkness, reduced to pinpoints barely visible during the light to remind her he had eyes beyond the black depths of the eye-holes.
As her mind cast back upon his physical form, a realization dawned on her.
"Not a single of inch of skin was showing." Her hands tightened on the wheel and her breath caught in her throat. His whole body was masked. Brakes squeaked as the car rolled to a stop at the stop sign leading to the main road. No cars in sight, she pulled into her lane and drove homeward, a smile creasing her face.
I'm sure everything will be great despite this. He's probably just eccentric. I'll allow him his oddity. Besides, he plays so beautifully!
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Soft strains of a violin carried through the house, the horsehair bow pausing periodically to allow the composer to scratch the notes onto staffed paper. Fresh ink, barely dried, oozed from the first letter of the title: Christine.
Golden eyes clamped shut, the writer swayed with the music, loathe to stop even to scribble down the notes and markings. His muse's face, locked inside his brain, spurred him on and drove his talents to dizzying heights with every notation and mark on the paper.
My finest work.
As the melody of the piece sang to an end, a perfect image, formed by music, of Beauty captured his mind's eye. Struck painfully by the intense power, he snapped open his eyes and lowered the violin into his case, clicking the bow into place and snapping the locks shut. Turning to face the piece, he blew lightly on the ink to allow it to dry. Fingers trembling with excitement and slight trepidation after the ethereal image, he retreated to his grand piano and began to craft the bass.
Skeletal fingers pressed the keys, allowing the powerful voice of the instrument to ring clear. If the melody had created an immaterial being, the bass gave her life, strength, and solidity. Captured in the throes of his creation, she danced before him, a shaft of light framing her in the darkness of his composing room. Quick feet leapt about the hardwood floor, long dancer legs elegantly arched in the air. Her hair, long and blond, drifted about her face, shielding her eyes from his.
Tearing his eyes way from his vision, he ripped himself from the piano and fled, shaking violently and nearly tripping, to his work room, desperate to escape the powerful piece this haunting vision had spawned.
Having hushed his craving before taking to his violin, the morphine remained quiet as he pressed the start button and booted up his computer. Work wouldn't wait forever, after all. Updates properly ignored, he opened the browser and pulled up his email. Several unopened messages greeted him, three commissions for musical work and one from an undisclosed sender.
Leaving it for last, the commission attracted his attention first, one for a new movie and the others for video games desiring his talent. Fair prices were offered and those earned them a reply email requesting further information. The last message, appealing to his other talent, drew his attention only for a moment before being disregarded.
The price isn't nearly high enough.
Closing the computer once more, he yawned, surprising himself. I suppose I have had a busy day. Rising from his swivel chair, he retreated to his bedroom before exchanging the plastic mask for the cloth one. Painful red spots had formed on his high cheek bones, not deep enough to be sores but worthy of attention.
One finger dipped into the jar of suave and gently rubbed it into the injured skin. Any longer and sores might have formed. As going mask-less would never be considered, he allowed the cashmere to sling to the raw flesh before entering his bedroom and pushed aside the coffin cover. Descending into the black abyss of his sleeping arrangements, he folded his arms across his chest.
Come quickly sleep.
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Bills lay scattered across the kitchen table. An advertisement for TV service decorated the top of the messy pile before finding itself hurled into the trash. The bills, rapidly catalogued into appropriate folders, disappeared from table, leaving only a few dirty lunch dishes to clutter the scratched surface.
The bowls, caked with the remainders of yogurt and grapenuts, found themselves ducked into a sink filled with water, abandoned to soak. White boots padded against the vinyl flooring before treading their way through the carpeted hall to the tiny bedroom. Queen posters, made up of many album images, hung on white walls beside a tiny twin bed, covered in a folded King-sized comforter.
Fingers tugged down the zipper on the white boots and kicked them off, toes flexing. The dress hit the ground and a nightgown slipped over the dancer's figure before Christine tumbled between the folded edges of the comforter. Tucking the corners of the bedding around her chin, her fingers fumbled with the charger before setting aside her phone to charge.
Despite her exhausted muscles, her mind wouldn't slow. Memories of her evening raced through her brain. On her way home, she had pushed aside any pessimistic thoughts that might have entered her mind, but, as she lay hidden between the thick blankets, they crowded her.
Is he as safe as you want to believe?
Will he hurt you?
What is he hiding beneath that mask?
What is his history?
Why would he sequester himself in a mansion?
Her finger tips tingled with the recollection of the bone and sinew beneath the fancy silk suit he wore. Black gloved-hands had played the violin so beautifully, the thin material not for warmth but for concealment. What did he have to hide? Surely, he didn't mean to hide the form of his hands as the black gloves revealed every angle and sharp line of his fingers.
Every thought that ran through her brain bred more discomfort in her heart. While the paycheck for her services would be helpful with supporting herself, and decreasing her Conservatory debt, she wasn't sure if the money would be worth the possible danger that she might have put herself into. A quick cast through her brain, reviewing the details of her budget.
"Look like it will be worth the danger." She muttered to herself before tugging the heavy comforter over her head and falling asleep.
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"Working late again, Gul?" A rookie leaned on his forearms on the desk of his superior and flickered his eyes over the information flying by on the computer. The smell of smoke hung about him, recently acquired from a smoke break, combined with the linger whiffs of coffee.
"Of course. This robbery case is nearly solved. A few more details and the thief should be bagged." He tapped a button and the screen shifted to a pipes screen saver. "Why are you here? The boss need something?" The rookie nodded, standing up and rocking on his heels.
"Yep, he wanted me to tell you that you needed to go to his office. Apparently, there is something secret going on." The boyish face parted with a smile.
"Then you shouldn't be blabbering about it." Gul remarked, shoving his chair back and striding past the boy towards the boss's office. His combat boots, his preferred footwear over the dress shoes worn by most police officers, thudded on the tile floor, echoing about the empty rooms and hallways of the nearly deserted police station.
Approaching the office door, he shifted his shoulders beneath the suit jacket and turned the handle, opening the door on well-oiled hinges. A small office, sparsely decorated, and equipped with a desk, a computer, a single rolling chair and several large filing cabinets tucked into corners of the room.
"Dalir! Thank you for coming, Close the door behind you." The portly leading officer turned away from the darkened window and gestured for Gul to occupy his rolling chair. Accepting his kindness, he settled into the seat and turned green eyes to face the chief.
"I was informed you had some secret information you wanted to talk to me about." He prompted.
"Yep. Remember the case, about ten, eleven years ago, when we flushed that assassin?" Gul's dark eyebrows knitted together as he scanned through the years, sorting through information logged for the specific years.
"Yes, I believe I remember. Something about strangulation. We missed the guy but no more reports were given so we had to drop the case due to a cold trail. If I remember right, the guy had quite a nasty history and even a more unpleasant appearance." Pulling a pocket knife out of his pocket, he cleaned beneath his fingernails.
"That's the one. Well, he's back." He pulled some photos from his pocket and tossed them on the desk in front of Gul. "The evidence is the nearly the same. Similar method, similar people. We have narrowed down his possible living location to Daisy, North Carolina. We need a man on the ground to find him and bring him in." Gul flipped from the photos, images of purple faces causing him to wrinkle his nose. On several pictures, the necks were visible, revealing thin red lines coiled about their throats.
"Exactly like the previous deaths. And I gather you want me to go after him?"
"You did it last time." Gul sighed and tossed the pictures aside.
"My wife won't be happy about me leaving. Especially with the new baby."
"If you catch him, it will be the crowning achievement of your career." Gul flung the idea about his mind for several minutes before sighing once more.
"Give me the details."