I knew there was a lot more to Allie Fields’ story about her missing daughter than she chose to say, but I followed her directions and started a sketch of the kidnapper. A young man’s face with perfectly aligned features, a belligerent jut to his chin, and a shock of blond hair took shape on the page. I completed the portrait by adding cold, blue eyes.
“You’ve got it! The eyes did it,” Allie said. “But Dillon looks more arrogant.”
I bent over my work again, then slid the pad toward her. She stared down at the cruel, beautiful face. “I can’t believe how well you’ve caught his looks and also insinuated his character, down to the sense of evil that clings about him.”
“You gave a detailed description and I had the added benefit of reading your thoughts. My people have long known this warlock should be dealt with.”
“Your people?”
“I’m kin to Rad and Knotch. So I know you’re one of the few humans who understands my capabilities. I weave in Fey magic with each pen stroke. Don’t worry, Dillon Yates will be found.”
Allie stared at me. “I didn’t know the Fey worked in the human community.”
“We’re everywhere,” I told her.
Comments are closed.