Page 33 of Go Home (Kate Valentine #1)

He held the clay in his hands and squeezed, pushing it through the space between his fingers.

It was warm, wet, and slimy, like a birth.

He returned it to the board in front of him and began to mold it, slowly.

He had no design for it, no plans or instructions, merely an image in his mind, of the shape he wanted it to resemble.

A large-headed figure, squatting upon its haunches, its arms folded neatly over its knees.

Once he got that basic shape right, he took up a little tool: a chisel fashioned from a matchstick.

Used it to carve out the toes on the figure’s feet, the fingers resting upon the knees.

Using the surplus clay on the head, he fashioned a simple crown, under it, a pair of ears with rings in the lobes.

Only once all this detail was completed, could he turn his attention to the face.

Nose first, slightly aquiline. Lips full and sensuous, but enigmatic.

Was he smiling or not? He fashioned the eyes last of all.

Always did. Imagine if you could see yourself, and discover that you had no nose, or mouth?

That was why every sculptor made the eyes last. So that the effigy could see itself, and be pleased with the result.

He’d just completed the left eye when his phone lit up and beeped, startling him.

It was so quiet in the studio, and he liked it to stay that way.

Tutting with annoyance, he set the sculpture aside, picked up the damp cloth from the sink and wiped his hands.

Once you got clay in the keys of that thing, it was game over.

Hed received a text message.

The Lawgiver lives.

And as he was on the brink of setting the phone back down, it flashed with a second message.

Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.

He set the phone down and looked at the clay figure. And the clay figure looked back at him, with its single eye.