Chapter 8: The Artist's Secrets

Michelle awoke to the buzz of her wristband. A new message blinked on the screen. "Team Alpha to report to headquarters immediately." Groaning softly, she sat up, her muscles still sore from the chaos at the mansion. She quickly dressed, tying her hair back as she reviewed her plan for the day. 

When she arrived at headquarters, the other members of Team Alpha were already assembled. Captain Veyla stood at the front, her sharp green eyes scanning the room. Michelle slipped into the back, hoping to avoid drawing attention. 

Captain Veyla began briefing the team, her voice authoritative. "We have multiple ongoing missions, and some of you will be reassigned based on priority. Focus is critical-mistakes cost lives." Her words struck a chord, and Michelle's throughts drifted briefly to the mansion and the mask. 

After dismissing the team, Veyla motioned for Michelle to stay behind. 

"Michelle, I need your report," Veyla said, her tone neutral but firm.

Michelle summarized her findings from the mansion, mentioning the mask and its connection to the artist Christian. 

"And what's your next step?" Veyla asked. 

"I'm heading to his studio. I need to find out how the mask was made and what materials were used to create it," Michelle replied. 

Veyla nodded thoughtfully. "Be cautious. If the mask is capable of opening a rift, Christian might know more than he's letting on. Keep your guard up."

With her captain's words lingering in her mind, Michelle left headquarters and drove to the studio. The coordinates led her to a remote location surrounded by thick woods. The building itself was unassuming, almost hidden among the trees. 

Michelle stepped out of her car and glanced around. The location of Chirstian's studio was odd, to say the least. A long, winding path had brought her here, far from the bustling city, to this isolated building that didn't appear on any maps. Tall trees surrounded the area, casting long shadows over the studio. Its sea-blue door stood out starkly against the rustic stone walls, almost like it was beckoning her to enter. 

She approached cautiously, the lack of security unsettling her. For an artist as renowned as Christian, shouldn't there be guards or cameras? She reached out and knocked firmly on the door. Silence. Frowning, Michelle tried again, but no answer came. The eeriness of the place started to creep under her skin, but curiosity pushed her forward. Gripping one of the ornate handles, she gave the door a tentative push. To her surprise, it creaked open with ease. 

Inside, the space was as eclectic as she imagined the artist to be. High ceilings with exposed beams loomed overhead, while scattered paintings, sculptures, and half-finished canvases cluttered the room. The scent of paint, varnish, and something faintly metallic hung in the air. 

At the far end of the studio, a man perched atop a tall ladder, focused intently on a massive canvas. His light blue hair shimmered under the dim overhead lights, and his white shirt, unbuttoned halfway, revealed a lean but muscular frame. He wore black pants with a belt adorned with intricate designs that looked almost like runes.

Michelle cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

The man jumped, startled, and before Michelle could react, he tumbled off the ladder. Instinctively, she stepped back as he landed in an ungraceful heap at her feet. 

"Oh, great," he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance as he sat up and glared at her. "That's one way to ruin an artist's focus." 

Michelle winced, guilt washing over her. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you." She extended a hand to help him up. 

He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand. His grip was firm, his palm calloused-a surprising detail for an artist. As he stood, their eyes met, his piercing purple-green irises locking onto hers. For a moment, she felt as if he were studying her, dissecting her like one of his art pieces. 

"You could've just waited outside," he grumbled, brushing himself off. "But I guess patience isn't a hunter's strong suit." 

Michelle blinked, taken aback. "How do you know I'm a hunter?"

Christian smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The wristband's a dead giveaway. And you've got that look about you-serious, uptight, and always ready to draw those pistols at your sides" 

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she quickly recovered. "I'm here to ask about a mask you created. It caused a... situation during a recent mission."

His expression darkened, the playful smirk fading. "The mask." He turned away, running a hand through his blue hair as he walked toward a cluttered workbench. "What happened?"

Michelle followed, keeping her tone measured as she explained the events at the mansion. She deliberately avoided mentioning the rift and her encounter with Alexander. 

Christian listened intently, his fingers drumming on the edge of the workbench. When she finished, he sighed. "That old fool. He wouldn't stop until he got that mask. I told him it wasn't for sale, that it wasn't meant for display. But he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"So you sold it to him?"

He gave her a sharp look. "Do you know what it's like to have someone constantly harass you? To send people to steal from you? I gave him the damn mask to get him off my back. Didn't think he'd actually use it for something dangerous."

Michelle frowned. "What makes the mask so special? Why would it open a rift?"

Christian hesitated, his gaze drifting to a nearby shelf filled with jars of pigment and odd materials. "It's the coral," he admitted after a moment. "A rare type, found in forbidden waters. It's what gave the mask that purplish hue. I didn't realize at the time that it could amplify energy."

"Forbidden waters?" Michelle pressed. "How did you even get your hands on it?"

He shrugged, a sly grin returning to his face. "An artist never reveals his secrets. But I can tell you this-it's not something you can just pick up at a market."

"Do you have any more of it? I need to test it."

Christian chuckled. "If I had more, do you think I'd just hand it over? No, if you want it, you'll have to come with me to get it." 

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go on a fishing trip with you?"

 "More like a dangerous expedition," he corrected. "The waters are guarded for a reason. But if anyone can handle it, it's you right?" 

She crossed her arms. "Why not hire professional bodyguards?" 

He leaned closer, his grin widening. "Because they don't have your skills, your instincts. And, let's be honest, they're not as fun to talk to."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "I'm not exactly looking for entertainment." 

"Think of it as a trade," he said, his tone serious now. "You protect me, and I'll get you the coral you need. Deal?"

She hesitated, weighing her options. The coral could be the key to understanding what happened at the mansion, and she didn't have any leads on how to find it herself. 

"Fine," she said finally. "But don't make me regret this." 

Christian's smile turned almost predatory. "You won't."

To break the tension, Michelle glanced around the studio. "So, what are you working on now?"

He gestured to the half-finished canvas on the easel. It depicted a stormy sea with shadowy figures emerging from the waves. "A reflection of chaos," he said cryptically. 

"Let me guess-it's inspired by me scaring you off your ladder?" she quipped. 

Christian laughed, a rich, melodic sound that caught her off guard. "Maybe. You're certainly chaotic enough."

She gave him a withering look but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Just call me when you're ready to go on this little adventure."

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. "I will. Take care, Hunter."

As Michelle stepped outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air. Christian was unlike anyone she'd ever met-maddening, intriguing, and far too charming for his own good. Shaking her head, she climbed into her car and drove off, already dreading what this "expedition" might entail.