Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1) Page 8

  Krishna’s breathing became ragged as the silence dragged on. Her features scrunched from under the napkin.

  “Are you ready for your surprise?” he asked.

  She hesitated, but whispered, “Yes.”

  “You know, I picked you myself,” he whispered. “You were chosen for this because you’re special.”

  Her whole body began to relax as he fed her sweet verbal affirmations.

  Dorian pulled off her blindfold. He smiled and reeled up, bringing the knife over his head, the flickering tip pointing down at its victim.

  “Dorian?” she asked, confused.

  He laughed madly, soaking in her face as it turned to horror.

  She let out a bloodcurdling scream, but it only heightened his excitement. Scream! he thought. No one can hear you! Viciously, he brought the blade down into her left lung, watching as a ribbon of blood oozed out. His aim was precise, making sure she would be able to feel every suffocating moment.

  Her screams bubbled in her throat. When he ripped the blade out, specks of red splattered them both. Then he stooped over her, enjoying watching her face freeze in an unattractive, desperate manner. She wrestled desperately with the tight chains but to no avail. After a while, he set the blade down and stared at her blood-soaked body.

  Scarlet sputtered from her mouth as she stared up at him, weak.

  “I told you that you were special,” he smiled, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “Tonight, you got to be part of something bigger than yourself.”

  Far too weak to cry, scream, or even give him a stern look, her eyes stared at him blankly as she coughed and hacked up blood. And he just stared back, enjoying the view. After a moment, her eyes turned dull and her shaking chest stopped heaving.

  When she was dead, he cut open her wrists and ankles to let her finish bleeding out.

  Satisfied, he smiled and got up. Setting the knife down on the table, he picked up a picture frame, holding a photo of the beautiful Sibyl Vane. As he stroked her face, reminiscing, the blood on his fingers washed over her smiling expression. Staring at her, he felt a pang of sorrow in his chest, but not for what he had done to her. No, her face had stopped making him feel guilty years ago. He could never quite shake that sadness of her absence.

  Letting the sweet memories of her go, Dorian set down the picture and smiled instead at his bloodied hands. After a long time of standing there, letting the remnants of the life Krishna bled out finish soaking into his soul, he sighed. It was time to leave. The body would be taken care of, but first he had to let the blood soak the symbol.

  Walking out, he left the scene behind him, mulling over what he had prayed for. He had wanted a mission to carry out for such a long time. It seemed a lifetime as he waited for something—anything to please the darkness. All the people he had learned such rituals from were jumping on opportunities left and right, almost as if they were placed in their laps. But he had to wait—and it ticked him off. Maybe tonight would finally be different.

  When he got to the kitchen, he washed his hands and pulled out an apple, hungry. Nice and relaxed, he made his way back to his room, ready to shower off the remnants of Krishna’s sweet, crimson life. Just as his teeth sunk into the apple, his phone went off.

  He stopped and stared at it on the nightstand. Who would call this late?

  But it kept ringing.

  Confused, he walked over and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he snapped, challenging the person on the other end.

  “Hello, Dorian,” an unfamiliar voice greeted.

  There was something ominous and sinister in the man’s tone that left Dorian uneasy. He ran through his memory and tried to place the stranger, with no success. “Who is this?” he asked.

  “Someone who can give you what you need,” he answered, his voice mischievous.

  Dorian sighed; just some stupid salesman or a black-market thug. “I don’t want what you’re selling,” he grumbled. “How did you get this number, anyway?”

  The man on the other end laughed. “Oh, I knew your number, Dorian, because I have been given the privilege of calling you on behalf of your…task.”

  Dorian stopped. Surely the man had no idea what he was talking about—probably just a poor choice of words—but Dorian was curious now. “Go on,” he insisted, sitting on the bed.

  The man laughed again. “Mr. Gray, my name is Edward Hyde and I have a very interesting story that I think you’ll want to hear.”

  —

  It had happened seven more times throughout the week—seven more times! That’s how Suzette knew there was something more to this strange occurrence. Of course, it was always something simple, like a dish falling from the table or counter. But nothing extravagant like what had happened at church. She would watch as the object floated like a feather, everyone around moving like sloths, unable to react. Only, she could; she could reach out and grab it slowly, with little effort. It was as though her body worked on its own volition, moving her, forcing her to react.

  Finger tapping in a steady rhythm against the diner table, she couldn’t help but think about it—and eventually, worry about it. Something was wrong with her. Or maybe not? It was on her mind ever since the experience with Lady Augustine. Her foot bounced to a smooth beat underneath the table. Deep in thought, she contemplated whether this new discovery was a good thing or a bad.

  “Are you done?”

  Startled, Suzette looked up. “Huh?”

  The waitress stood there, hand on her hip, staring at her expectantly. “Are you done?” she repeated, more assertive this time.

  “Oh.” Suzette’s eyes fell to her forgotten, half-eaten cheeseburger. Giving the waitress a sheepish look, she mumbled, “N-no, I’m sorry. Give me a few more minutes and I’ll have it finished.”

  The waitress sighed and nodded. “I’ll get you a refill.”

  Suzette glanced at her name tag. “Thank you, Cecilia.”

  Cecilia tucked her short, curly brown hair behind her ear and gave a small mm-hmm before turning and scuttling to the kitchen.

  Suzette stared intently at her burger, the thought of food not something she felt too excited about as of late. But she had to eat something. That had been the whole point of coming to the diner. She picked up the burger and began to force it down, keeping in mind her promise to make good on time. Every time her mind wandered to explosions, labs, flying bodies, weird reflexes, or depressed boyfriends, she literally had to shake her head and focus on the ketchup oozing out between the cheese and bun before taking another bite.

  Cecilia came back with Suzette’s drink.

  “Thank you.”

  She turned abruptly and left Suzette in silence.

  Suzette brushed off the waitress’s brusqueness and drank her soda down. She ate a fry or two between sips, concentrating on the different flavors that went into her mouth and not on the subject of strange goings-on.

  The bell on the door chimed and brought her eyes up. A small group of loud men walked in, one or two women with them. They all wore matching shirts with fire station numbers across the chests. All of the people seemed to be laughing. All but one.

  Dante shuffled in after them, adorning the same fire station shirt as the rest. He wasn’t smiling, hardly seemed to pay attention to what they were joking about. As everyone shuffled to the booth in the back, Suzette watched as they passed. Please look at me, she pleaded in her head.

  Dante walked straight past her. No glances. Nothing.

  She sighed. It had almost been two weeks since Frank had died. He hadn’t spoken to her at all—not once. Maybe he knew she would smother him in love and attention, something his habitual emotional detachment would fight against. Or maybe it was something else. She nibbled at her lip, a fear filling her. Did he blame her for Frank’s death?

  But she sought out the bright side. The fact that he was out having lunch on Friday with coworkers showed her that he was coping. That he was getting better.

  “Ready now?”
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  Pulling her wandering mind back into the real world, Suzette stared up at Cecilia, confused. Gazing down at her empty plate, she mumbled, “Oh.” Her eyes lifted back to the woman. “Yes, thank you,” she responded with a distracted smile.

  A dull-pink bubble swelled between Cecilia’s bright red lips as she reached into her apron. Popping the gum, she handed over the bill, which Suzette promptly paid.

  But instead of leaving, Suzette sat for a while, watching Dante as he focused on his coworkers. She wanted to run to him and hug him, but she knew such an action would only render him an emotional wreck. Let him enjoy some peace and quiet. Forcing herself to move, she discreetly grabbed her purse and scooted out of her seat. As she walked out the door and onto the sidewalk, her mind was once again distracted by the incident with Lady Augustine.

  Suddenly, she rammed into something big, halting her train of thought and sending her back up onto the curb in front of the diner. She teetered back onto a fire hydrant for support.

  The tall, menacing-looking, burly man in front of her let out a low growl after she collided into him, his mouth set in a deep frown underneath his short facial hair. He towered over her like a broad, solid wall. He fixed the crooked aviators that sat on his slightly aquiline nose, straightened his trench coat, and ran a hand through his short, wavy blond hair, aggravated.

  “Sorry!” Suzette gasped, shrinking back at the man’s intimidating presence.

  The man didn’t even look at her. He muttered a quick, rude, “You’re fine,” in a deep, chest-rumbling voice that seeped through his clenched, square jaw as he strolled into the diner.

  Suzette started to hurry away, a little frustrated herself, but a pang of sorrow filled her chest, one that didn’t feel at place in her heart. Feet frozen on the concrete, she glanced back into the restaurant.

  Inside, the stranger walked along the window, past tables of people who didn’t seem to notice his gargantuan presence. He took off his sunglasses, revealing that his own fixed gaze was set on her as well. His face was strong, firm, and cold with a threat, but his brown eyes seemed to speak a different language, one that spoke to Suzette, whispering to her a conflicting message.

  Odd.

  He smoothly nestled his large frame into a seat. As his eyes peeled away from her, the aching in her chest evaporated. She let out a sigh of relief and stood there a moment, baffled by the unexplainable feeling. What is that supposed to mean, God? she asked herself. Staring at the back of the stranger’s messy, dark blond hair, waiting for an answer from above, she began scuffling back out into the street.

  A horn blared loudly and Suzette felt her heart jump into her throat.

  She turned to see a long, black car speeding in her direction. But as she caught sight of it, it slowed down.

  For a moment, she thought it had just missed her, but there was a low, roaring noise that sounded an awful lot like the blare of the horn. She gazed into the windshield and saw the frozen, terrified face of the driver, his arm locked against the horn of his steering wheel. The car seemed to inch toward her.

  It’s happening again!

  Reacting, Suzette watched as her leg sluggishly hiked itself up, the sole of her foot pressing against the fire hydrant. It gradually pushed off and boosted her other leg up to land on the hood of the car. She proceeded up to the roof. Now on the top, her legs trotted ahead two slow steps along the limo. Then she knelt a bit and pushed off, springing herself into the air, hovering over the vehicle until it passed by underneath her. She watched as it trudged along slowly. She feared her body would come crashing down against it at any second, but she remained in the air far longer than was physically possible. When it was gone, her legs repositioned under her on their own and she landed safely back to the ground.

  The horn, suddenly loud again, stopped abruptly. The limo skidded to a halt.

  Though Suzette was safe and time was back to normal, she stumbled forward, feeling herself regain control of her legs. She fell flat on the ground. The heavy landing left her discombobulated.

  “Suzette!”

  When she looked up, Dante was running toward her, more terror in his face than she had ever seen before. He hoisted her up with ease and grabbed her shoulders. “Are you okay?” he gasped.

  “What’s a’matter with you?!” the driver yelled, storming over toward them.

  Dante’s face grew red. “What’s the matter with you?!” he challenged, jabbing his finger at the man. “What do you think you’re doing going that speed in a thirty-five?!”

  “You tell her to watch where she’s going!” the driver shouted, shaking his fist at them.

  Dante started toward him, fuming. “I’ll show you right now where you can stick that advice, buddy!”

  Suzette quickly grabbed him, glancing around at all the people staring and whispering. “Dante!” she hissed, embarrassed.

  The backdoor of the limo opened and a dapper-looking man emerged, dressed in a dark, sophisticated suit.

  As soon as he stepped out, the whispers of people at the diner door and the travelers on the street became louder and more hurried.

  “Now, hold on just a minute,” he told his driver. Commanding her eye-contact with a very charming look, he made his way over. He gently took her hand in both of his strong ones. “Are you alright, my dear?” he asked. He wore concern on his features and it echoed in his voice, but there was something in his eyes that belied the gesture.

  “I’m fine,” Suzette grumbled, hands still shaking from the car incident. The vast, bottomless look in his emerald eyes made her want to turn and run.

  “I’m glad,” he smiled. It was very nice, very inviting. However, it only made the look in his eyes more unsettling. “But please allow me to make it up to you. I’m Dorian Gray.”

  Dorian Gray the actor?

  At the confirmation of his name, everyone around stood back and began taking pictures of the famous movie star with their phones.

  “Uh…” Suzette paused. The ambivalence he stirred in her left her without words.

  “I feel so terrible about all this, really. Please let me take you out to dinner tonight. Someplace nice,” he offered in a suave manner.

  Dante pushed Dorian’s hands away. “She’s taken,” he spat.

  Dorian glanced over at the ‘competition’ and let out a short laugh. Turning back to Suzette, he said, “The offer still stands. I want you to know just how sorry I am about all of this. My driver was moving way too fast.”

  Dorian was much older than her. Suzette was sure of it. And he seemed so much more arrogant than expected. It completely contradicted the righteous, noble roles he had played in movies. After so many years of playing a hero, she wondered if this offer was his only real attempt to actually be one.

  “No thank you,” she muttered, her cheeks flaring.

  Dorian straightened himself, not bothering to hide the disappointment. “Hmm,” he grunted. “As you wish. Oh well.” With that, he simply got back in his limo. The long black car disappeared around the corner as abruptly as it had come.

  As he vanished, Suzette thought, Now, wait a second. What is Dorian Gray doing here? She’d thought he was supposed to be filming in a different country—India, if entertainment news held true.

  Dante whirled Suzette around, snapping her mind back into the moment. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he demanded.

  Still embarrassed, she nodded and looked down, rubbing her arm.

  “Don’t ever do that again!” he pleaded. “I already lost Frankie!” He heaved a few deep breaths as his face fell. “I can’t lose you, too,” he groaned.

  She saw the pained look in his eyes and hugged him. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she mumbled.

  Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s alright,” he breathed. “Just…never again, alright?”

  “Alright,” she answered. They stood there for a long time, not daring to let go. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to check in on you this week. I got distracted.”


  She could feel his head shake against her hair. “Don’t even worry about it.”

  Suzette smiled against him, relieved to be touching him again. But she pulled back, letting him go. “I’ll let you get back to lunch,” she said, her smile falling a bit.

  “Could you come in and eat with me?” he asked. “We’ll move to a different table.”

  She chewed the inside of her mouth. “Well, I already ate.” She looked down, away from his stare. “I saw you come in, but I didn’t say anything. I thought you still needed your space, so I finished and started to leave. Sorry.”

  “No big deal. Come in and sit with me while I eat.”

  Surprised, she looked around. “Uh, well…” Out of words, she shrugged. “Don’t feel like you have to because of what just happened,” she finally told him. “And don’t feel pressured into snapping back to normal. I’ll be fine.”

  “But I’ve missed you.”

  Embarrassed again, she looked down and glanced back up, feeling sheepish.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I-I don’t know what I was thinking,” he grumbled. “I thought mourning was supposed to be done alone, but…” He slapped his hands against the sides of his thighs and shook his head. “I was wrong.”

  She grinned a bit, not sure what to say, but happy to hear that he admitted what she could have told him two weeks ago. He needed to find out on his own, she told herself. “Okay,” she said, laughing airily.

  Smiling, he took her hand and walked her into the diner. When his coworkers waved him down, he waved back and shook his head. Once they got to a booth, they sat across from each other.