Robb Stark Book Art Novels & Stories

One man dropped and another went down after Sergio’s return fire snapped through the hallway like thunder. Sergio looked back at her dubiously. "How come you are so comfortable with a gun and shooting people?" he asked her. Rosy shook her head uncertainly. "I don't understand it myself. My body is just responding to a command on its own." she replied and Sergio smirked. "Surely now you believe the De Luca's blood runs through your view now." "Doesn't prove anything." she muttered focusing on gaze on the men exchanging gunfire. Blood pooled across polished floors. Priceless artworks were torn to shreds. Smoke drifted toward the high ceilings like a prayer gone unanswered.

I saw a notebook, poking out from one of the metal shelves. I pulled it out and flipped it open. Inside were sketches, some of which I could match up with the finished pieces I'd seen. As I continued to leaf through the book I could see how each vision took shape before being expressed in metal. Taylor really was a talented artist in many ways. I turned the page again and gasped.

Just unmarked leather and the weight of secrets waiting to be discovered. I opened it carefully, mindful of pages that looked fragile enough to crumble at a touch. The first page made me gasp aloud. Ink drawings filled the yellowed paper—not the crude sketches of an amateur, but artwork of remarkable skill and disturbing beauty. A wolf, massive and powerful, its eyes rendered in such detail I could swear they were watching me from the page. And beside it, a woman in flowing robes, her hand extended toward the beast as if in offering or benediction.

"Mr. Blackstone's car just left the airport." "Perfect."Forty-five minutes for me to work my magic . And forty- five minutes until the Ice King returned to his frozen kingdom. I snapped my fingers at the team of movers. "The corpse trees first. Then the monochrome abomination over Chesterfield." As they dismantled Damien's bleak empire, I unveiled my arsenal: First was the "Blood Meridian" – A Rothko-esque oil painting with crimson so deep it looked freshly spilled Next was a "Bird Flipper" – A kinetic sculpture that danced with air currents (currently giving the ceiling the middle finger)

I fired, but he didn't listen, as he continued to ransack through my things, and then he gave a short shout, and held a canvas between his hands. "This is what I'm talking about." He said, coming towards me. "What's that?" I quizzed, eager to see whatever painting was in that canvas. Robb sat beside me, and opened the painting slowly. I badly wanted to guess what was in it, but I knew it didn't work that way. "Look at this." He said, placing the open painting on my laps. I was filled with horror and shock at what I was seeing. It was a naked painting of Miss Ellen. Why did I have such hidden in my room?