Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1) Read online

  BLIND

  WORLD

  The Onyx Fox Saga Book I

  BLIND

  WORLD

  H. M. Rutherford

  Blind World

  © 2018 by H. M. Rutherford

  All Rights Reserved

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-7324040-0-7

  eISBN: 978-1-7324040-1-4

  1. Christian—Suspense—Fiction. 2. Occult and supernatural—Fiction.

  Cover design by Jarmal Wilcox

  This novel is a work of fiction inspired by classical characters. Names, characters, places, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or personally known by the author is purely coincidental.

  Soli Deo Gloria

  And I found I stood on the very brink of the valley

  called the Dolorous Abyss, the desolate chasm

  where rolls the thunder of Hell’s eternal cry,

  so depthless-deep and nebulous and dim,

  that stare as I might into its frightful pit

  it gave me no feature and no bottom.

  Death-pale, the Poet spoke: “Now let us go

  into the blind world waiting here below us.

  I will lead the way and you shall follow.”

  The Inferno, Dante Alighieri

  Canto IV, lines 7-15

  Prologue

  The Countess gave a warm smile to the two orphans before her. The young one, maybe recently turned five by the Countess’s guess, was so innocent and oblivious as she sat and patiently watched her older sister. The elder, in her young teens, seemed nervous as she glanced around, everyone’s motives found in questioning. But of course she would think that, living alone on the street these last few years. The Countess could see in the teen’s sparkling blue eyes all the horror and hardship that the two sisters had endured together—very pretty eyes on a very pretty young lady. Those eyes reminded the Countess of the life that had used to glow inside her own.

  The eldest girl flinched as the maid offered her tea from a fine, vintage floral cup on a gold-trimmed saucer. The girl saw it was merely a kind gesture and sighed in a bit of relief.

  With a great tenderness, the Countess set a calm, wrinkled hand over the girl’s small, smooth one. The sight forced back memories of hardships of her own—hardships she had endured and lived through. If only she had known in her youth what she knew in her old age. Her power would have come much smoother. The two girls before her had it easy. They should be thankful.

  The Countess definitely felt something strong for the two little nobodies. Even if they wouldn’t admit it, they just wanted to feel special, like every other little girl. The younger one more than likely didn’t understand. The older one, though? The Countess could only imagine the thoughts running through her head. Who would miss her? No friends, no family. No one but her five-year-old sister. She would wonder if it always had to be that way.

  “It’s alright, my dear,” said the Countess in her soothing, deep voice. “It’s just a drink, I promise.”

  Despite her assurances, the girl stared at the cup for a moment before taking it. Once it settled between both of her cautious hands, she took a small sip, grimaced, and let the cup rest in her lap.

  Of course. It was more than likely too sweet for someone so unaccustomed to it. “Would you like some water instead, my dear?” For the best. Water would revive her faster. “Maybe some food, too?”

  The girl nodded, rigid.

  After a small nod to her maids, the Countess folded her hands neatly on the desk. “I know this might be strange to you both, but don’t worry, darlings. I’ll find you both a place where you’ll be wanted.” Her voice was strong with warmth and happiness—something the girls surely weren’t used to. The young one welcomed it. The older one appeared to resent it. How many times had she heard such a honey-coated voice only to see evil come afterward?

  “My sister and I must share a family, if we are to have one,” the eldest snapped, quick to intervene on account of her sibling.

  “Of course,” the Countess reassured them with a big smile. “It will be a bit difficult at first, but I’ll find someone. Don’t fret, dearies. Why, you two are so charming, I’d take you in myself, but what fun would an old woman be to you?” She sighed with a hint of remorse.

  The idea of a home seemed so ideal to the little girl that she flashed a very large grin at the Countess. Age appeared to be nowhere on her mind.

  It was quite clear that the older sister, however, was still not fond of the idea of home. They had managed food and water when they could, no doubt. To her, it was as if starving half to death was more ideal than ever having to trust people.

  The Countess sighed and shook her head at the girls. It was a common picture. She got up from her desk and bent toward the youngest. “Why don’t you go pick out a toy, hmmm? Then we’ll eat,” she suggested kindly.

  Grinning again, the little girl nodded and bounced out of the seat. A maid took her tiny hand and walked her out.

  After a moment of silence between them, the Countess made her way to the door as well. “Walk with me, child.” She did not look back, for she knew the girl was following—curious, maybe, or left with nothing to do but otherwise. They walked in quietude through the large house, the girl distracting herself with the fancy tapestries and gaudy furniture. It was obvious she had never seen such nice things before by the way her eyes wandered. Two double doors stood open for them to reveal a beautiful garden, harboring a rainbow of colors.

  Even the young girl could not deny this treasure that seemed to go on forever and she stepped outside with an eager gleam in her eyes. The farther out they went, the bigger and brighter the bushes got. Past the flowers sat a beautifully sculpted fountain, welcoming guests into the maze of tall hedges. Her awestruck eyes took in this bright, colorful world that she seemed doubtful even existed.

  As they walked, the Countess spoke. “I understand the hardships both you and your sister have had,” she said with a gentle tone, careful not to be too insensitive and nosy. “I cannot imagine the things you’ve had to do in order to provide for her, nor do I wish to.” She glanced down to see the girl staring off, haunted tears on the brims of her eyes as the bright happiness around her appeared to fade away like a distant memory. She remained quiet, with her head hung low, face hard. The Countess had dealt with many girls like her. It had proven an enjoyable game to break down their walls. With a calming hand, the Countess rubbed the girl’s back and led her into the maze. “It is not fair for this to happen to any child, but you have proven so strong—so full of life and tenacity. I admire it, for not many adults could fathom what you’ve seen.”

  They trudged on, the girl never uttering a word, dragging her feet behind her, looking down and admiring nothing. Only glooming.

  With a tender hand, the Countess lifted the girl’s chin and stared into her distant, piercing eyes. “All you see is the darkness in the world. And the world is indeed a very dark place, young lady. But look around, love.”

  When the girl looked, they were on the other end of the maze. Here, there were even more flowers than before. A worn gazebo lay in the middle and in the corner, an old pool house that’s windows were so fogged, no one would ever be able to glance through them again. All were surrounded by a mighty wall of hedges, the tall oak trees spreading endlessly into the flatland that lay beyond. The scene was rustic and amazing and the girl’s eyes became lost again.

  “There is beauty in it,” the Countess showed her, walking again. “I’ve dealt with several girls your age, just a few
this morning, in fact. Most felt the same way you did. But they all had the same ending.” She stopped in front of the pool house and beamed at the child, taking her hands. “I will make a promise to you now that I will find your sister a good home. She will never even dream of enduring what you have.”

  The girl’s chin quivered but after a moment, she nodded, stiff-lipped again. All she wanted, more than anything, was to see her sister have a peaceful, happy life. That much was obvious.

  Releasing her hands, the Countess took hold of the pool house doors and nodded toward it. “Come, child.” She smiled. “I want to show you something.”

  The girl obeyed and followed the Countess into the worn building. Once the doors closed behind them, she looked around, her eyes questioning.

  It was old and moldy, with a few rusted benches in the corners. Dead leaves, grass, and a small collection of fallen-off tiles lined the bottom of the in-ground pool. In any crack found, a weed sprung up and took residence, barely surviving by the UV rays that seeped into the matte-finished glass.

  It was nothing special at all, but it was interesting, to say the least, and the Countess saw that the girl agreed. She looked up at the old lady with a conflicted expression, maybe trying to say something nice, to be polite, but stopped.

  The Countess held her face firm and cold, watching the girl grow more confused.

  Two men appeared on either side of the girl, gripping onto her arms. Fear flashed in the girl’s expression and she let out a squeal before her eyes became distant, as if falling back into a past memory.

  The old woman walked down the grimy steps of the empty pool, old tiles and dead leaves shuffling under her feet.

  Forced to follow, the girl demanded, “What’s going on?” Try as she might to be brave, she couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice.

  There came no reply. They walked into the deep end of the pool in silence and stopped. The Countess pulled a tile off of the wall of the pool, revealing a button that resembled a doorbell. She pressed it once and replaced the tile.

  A section of the wall began to lower like a drawbridge before them. A dark tunnel welcomed them, and they continued in. As they walked, the girl trembled. They traveled down a dim, narrow stairway, their steps ominously echoing through the air, until they stopped at a large door.

  The Countess turned and smirked. “Are you alright, love?”

  The girl snarled and rattled her head viciously, but the terror was obvious in her eyes.

  The Countess hummed a small tune in reply and opened the door, turning back to watch the child’s reaction.

  The girl took in the large, dark room. It looked like an old crypt—empty, with a few old pillars—yet it appeared clean and new, with smooth tiled floors. The Countess saw she had a hard time seeing but that her eyes focused on the odd and eerie symbols sketched on the walls in a dark, muddy-looking ink. Candelabras stood in a half circle, wax dripping down in different patterns, each telling a different story of their use. In the middle sat a great stone tub with steps leading up to it on all sides, and inside was the same muddy water that had been used for the wall art.

  The Countess turned and held out a frail hand, warm and loving again.

  The two men released the girl and she stared, uncertain. She took an abrupt step back and stopped, afraid of what might happen if she refused. After a moment of contemplating, the girl walked up and took her hand. She had learned it was best not to argue. From there, the Countess led the girl up the steps and sat with her on the edge of the tub.

  “This is my favorite room,” she whispered, glancing into the dark water.

  As she spoke, the girl peered nervously around the dark, dank room, sensing, as the Countess could, something darker at hand. “Why?” she breathed, confused.

  Stroking the girl’s hair back, the Countess replied, “I take all the girls your age here.” Her eyes went back to the water. “We bond here. I feel like I can soak in all their spirit and rejoice in their life with them.”

  Curious, the girl glanced down at the water.

  “Can I do that with you?” the Countess asked kindly. “Celebrate your life? Show you that your troubles will end?”

  Celebrate? The blank expression on the child’s face showed she had no concept of such a word. The Countess watched as the wheels inside her tiny mind ground together, processing the idea of being celebrated. When was the last time she was celebrated? In fact, when was she ever? Not only that, but her troubles would end? All of her past life washed away? The Countess knew all too well from the other girls she had worked with that these thoughts were more than likely playing in her head.

  It took the girl a long moment, fear swimming in her eyes, but she gave a small, hesitant nod.

  The Countess smiled. “I’m glad.” She snapped at one of the men, who made his way over.

  The girl stared at her reflection in the smooth surface of the water, growing comfortable with the thought of being celebrated. As she looked at her innocence-deprived face, she and the Countess could suddenly see all of her hope building, almost as if it were reviving everything she had lost. She was thinking of being a normal girl. That she didn’t have to worry about trying to survive. That she was worth something. It must have been a marvelous sensation to even entertain such a thought. But there was still a sense of apprehension on her face.

  “Did the other girls like it here?” she asked in a soft whisper.

  The Countess’s lips curled up in the corners. “Oh, they loved it so much that they stayed, darling.”

  The girl’s brows furrowed. She gave a quick glance to the Countess and cringed at her secretive smile. Then she peered around to all corners of the room, craning her neck to get a better look. Finding nothing, her eyes trailed back to the water.

  A drip from above disturbed the surface, making it shimmer red in the candlelight. Confused, the girl looked up.

  Horror filled her as she stared at the massacre. Bodies hung upside-down from the ceiling by chains and hooks, their necks bloody stumps. Their arms dangled down and swayed to and fro. Limp fingers reached toward her, as if calling out to her from the grave, maybe to warn her of her own fate. All too late.

  She looked back down at the blood-filled tub, only to catch in the reflection a knife coming down toward her neck. A bloodcurdling scream escaped her lungs.

  Canto I

  Franklin Stein stood next to his nervous boss, Jarvis Stevenson, at the front doors of the building. His boss was grinning a bit, no doubt trying to look as warm and inviting as possible. Frank glanced at him every once in a while, calm as could be. It wasn’t long before he could see a single bead of sweat run down the side of the man’s shaved head. Not that Frank had anything to stress about; he wasn’t the boss. He was just there to hold the papers, show things off, make sure the boss didn’t faint in front of the “big guy”.

  “You okay, boss?” he asked.

  Dr. Stevenson must’ve noticed himself slouching because he straightened. “Of course,” he assured his worker—or more likely himself. It would only be a matter of time before the boss imploded. Frank looked at Jarvis’s small, skinny frame, taut and forced to look inviting. Frank feared his own tall, sturdy frame and calm demeanor would give their guest a false idea of who was in charge.

  Shrugging, Frank took a few steps back to keep Dr. Stevenson in the limelight, and faced the door again. After a while, he glanced over at his boss and noticed the man checking his watch ever so subtly. Curious, Frank glanced over his boss’s shoulder at the bright numbers: twelve-o-five. Jarvis’s jaw clenched. He appeared calm on the outside, but Frank knew from the weeks of preparation not to believe the façade.

  Frank smirked and scratched at his dark, raven hair as he thought of how much of a discrepancy five minutes could create. So what if the guy was late? The man was allowed to be late, right? But next to him, Frank could feel Dr. Stevenson’s severe rigidness.

  So, they waited.

  And waited.

  The only sound
in the hall was the scratching of the receptionist’s pen as it scribbled on documents. Jarvis’s stare only grew more intense as the sound progressed, watching the doors like a predator in position.

  The white double doors burst opened and three men walked in. The two in the back each wore a simple shirt and tie, clipboards in hand. The one in the front, a middle-aged man with smile wrinkles, wore a fancy gray suit with his peppered hair slicked back. Yes, this was the chairman they were waiting for.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Durand,” Jarvis said. He practically jumped out with an extended hand, his smile awkwardly cheerful. “I’m Dr. Jarvis Stevenson. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

  Kiss-up, Frank grumbled in his head.

  But the guest smiled back and completed the handshake with great coolness. “Thank you.”

  Jarvis waved a hand at his counterpart. “This is Dr. Franklin Stein,” he said without looking at him. “He’ll be assisting us today.”

  Mr. Durand shook Frank’s hand with equal kindness and they exchanged quick “hellos”.

  Jarvis’s smile widened. “We’re very excited to have you here today.”

  Durand smiled back. “It’s a pleasure being here.”

  Frank was sure it was a lie. All he could think of was how difficult it had been to get the man to agree to come take a look. If he hadn’t had business in town, they would have never coaxed him into coming.

  Mr. Durand’s smile fell a bit and he looked up, searching for words. “Now, I have to agree with some of the concerns of this experimentation. I know it’s been going on for many years, but…” He frowned. “Could you tell me how it’ll help? What exactly is your plan?”

  Jarvis nodded as he spoke. He must have known it was coming. “Of course, sir. Right this way!” He turned and led them all through the halls to another set of doors, continuing, “This is our lab where we excel in making genetic engineering more efficient—and safer,” he explained.