Lucky: Dorian Gray Novels Book 1

by F. E. Bradley

  “I don’t have a suitcase.” I know it’s a childish response, but I feel that I’m on the losing side of this argument and can’t think of anything else to say.

  “I’m sure there is one under your bed.” Worry is starting to show on Dorian’s face and I decide to not press him anymore right now, remembering that his worry is only for me.

  Under the bed in the purple room, I do find several suitcases. Mrs. Baker really did an excellent job appointing this place.

  Putting one of the smaller ones out on top of the bed, I open it up and hit a roadblock. “What should I pack?” I shout over my shoulder toward the door to the main living area.

  “Anything will do.” I can tell that he’s trying to rush me, but I’ve never done anything like this before.

  “Jeans are fine – we won’t be doing anything formal,” Dorian shouts from the other side of the doorway. I’m relieved. Even with all the clothes I borrowed from Emily, I’m not sure that I have anything formal except for the ball gown I’m still wearing.

  I hear him shouting again, but still in a hurried tone. “The main bedroom should be stocked with clothes if there’s anything you need.”

  What? All my clothes are in here. I walk through the Jack and Jill bathroom that attaches the two rooms and go straight to the closet in the largest bedroom. Opening the double doors, I see that it is completely filled with beautiful clothes that I don’t recognize, and they all seem to be in my size.

  Stepping back, the large dresser comes into sight and I step over and pull a drawer open. It too is completely filled with clothes. Mrs. Baker didn’t point this out to me before – I just assumed that they would be empty. I can’t believe that Dorian bought me a wardrobe full of clothes!

  I shut everything up and go back to the purple bedroom. I won’t confront him about this now, but I will add it to the list of things that I need to talk over with Dorian.

  After changing quickly behind the closet door, I pack a few of my own sweaters and jeans into the bag and head back out to see Dorian. He’s been pacing, and when he sees me, he grabs the suitcase quickly and heads for the door.

  I grab my purse from the coffee table and my phone and charger from the table by the door as I walk out behind him. His haste makes me tense and I find myself again looking around in the dark as we walk outside.

  Dorian is walking straight toward a large black SUV parked alongside the curb, where the back hatch automatically opens as he approaches. He puts our bags in and opens the door for me as I approach.

  The inside is all high tech and leather. It’s a beautiful car, and another reminder that Dorian and I come from very different worlds. I’m happy to have a car that isn’t covered in rust and I wouldn’t think to look for more beyond that. He seems to be a little more demanding.

  As he walks around the car, I wonder how many cars could be bought with the five million dollars he put into my account.

  Dorian seems to be on edge as we drive through campus and neither of us say a word, both looking nervously out at the dark. I saw how worried he was after the ball – so worried that I couldn’t even argue with him about missing work anymore.

  Since I met Dorian, my life has been like the pendulum of a clock swinging back and forth between light and dark, spending equal amounts of time in both extremes and very little time in the middle.

  Dancing with Dorian was so amazing that I’m filled with a warm glow even thinking about it, but the price is now being paid as we rush through the dark. Whatever price there is, I know I will pay it because my time in the light is worth any price.

  It’s also so similar to how I’ve seen Dorian. His smile and happiness can be so bright, but he suffers so much in the darkness of his curse too.

  Dorian heads straight out of town on the road I travel every day that heads through Pickett. We pass by Wyatt’s apartment and I think of how much I now keep secret from him. I never imagined anything that could put space between me and Wyatt, but I never could have imagined Dorian either.

  Chapter 17

  Here I sit, going away on vacation with Dorian (Or getting away from some kind of supernatural danger depending on how you look at it). I’m going away with a man for the weekend, and no one knows about it except me. This is exactly the type of thing that all of the school safety videos warn about, but I know that I am safer with Dorian than anywhere else. Those school safety videos don’t consider immortals, curses and Druids, so I think I’m okay to ignore them in this instance.

  “Will you tell me now why we needed to leave?” I ask, hoping that our distance from campus will make Dorian a little more verbal.

  “Because I couldn’t show you New Orleans if we stayed.” He must realize that I won’t let him get away with an answer like that.

  “Dorian,” I say, and cross my arms.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll explain – it’s just been so long since I’ve had to explain myself to anyone. I will try to do better.” I think to myself that I will try to remember that this is difficult for him too.

  I put my hand over his, which is resting on the console between us. I’m glad that I’m starting to learn how my touch can affect his mood.

  He relaxes and begins to talk. “Coan and I were gone the last couple of days for his scrúduithe, his annual check in.

  “Once a year, Coan needs to report to his elders if he’s run across anything interesting. It only lasts for a minute, but I wanted to make sure that nothing could lead back to you, so we both went to the east coast, to be far away when it happened.”

  “Is that why Coan kept saying that I’m not interesting? So he wouldn’t have to mention me?” I ask.

  “He may have been saying that to make himself feel better about keeping you a secret, but I’m the one that asked him to not mention you.” He keeps his head facing forward at the road, but I see his eyes dart to the side to gauge my reaction.

  “I thought that you believed Druids were the good guys.”

  “Yes. They are, but I just wanted a chance to maybe figure this out for ourselves, at least to try for a year.”

  “What happens in a year?” I ask.

  “Every ten years, Coan’s elder goes through his mind to fish out any interesting bits to share them with the other elders. Next year is that tenth year. Nothing will be able to be kept secret then – there is nothing Coan can do to avoid it.” Dorian’s tone conveys just how inevitable it must be.

  “Won’t Coan get in trouble?”

  “No. The elders are all very very old and close to immortal. The difference of a year in learning something means very little to them. Coan wouldn’t have done it if he thought the elders needed to know right away. He believes in the Druids cause too much to do anything against them.

  “What worried me is that other Druids usually stay far away from me for the same reason that Coan won’t get close.

  “Every once in a while, it might happen by accident, but he got so near, and it was right after our return; it worried me that they found out our secret.”

  “So, what happens if they do find out what I can do?” Am I sure I want to know?

  “Probably nothing. Coan thinks we should tell them everything, but he can’t promise that they won’t interfere in your life, so I’m just not willing to risk it.”

  “Could they figure out why I have this power? Could that help you?” Maybe it would be worth the risk if they could give us some information.

  “Lucky, please don’t rush into anything. We have a year that we can use on our terms. If we don’t find anything, they will all find out anyways.” As he speaks, the strain of not being able to control everything seeps through his voice.

  “But what can we do to figure things out?” If neither he or Coan had any ideas about how I got this power, where would you start?

  “Now that the scrúduithe, the check-in, is complete, we can do more. We don’t have to worry about doing something that would raise questions because we won’t have to answer them until Coan’s next
scrúduithe.”

  I appreciate that he’s trying to protect me, but to me, a year seems like a long time to wait if there is something that could help sooner. I know that Dorian’s curse is lighter now that I can help him, but if my existence provided a key to ending it, if I could help him live in peace, then I don’t want to wait.

  Dorian interrupts my thoughts, and says, “When I was traveling back to you, Coan was contacting someone that might help. There is a former Druid elder living in New Orleans. Leaving the order without becoming a Witch is very rare, but it means that she might be willing to share information without the threat to your current way of life.”

  “So, we’re going to see her?” It would feel good to be doing something that could help.

  “No, Coan is going to see her, and I might too, if she wants it. You won’t be anywhere near her – I don’t want you mixed up in this.” His tone is pleading

  “Dorian, I am a part of this. I want to know why I have this power, and I want to know why I have Lavinia’s eyes.”

  “I promise that I will share everything that Coan finds out. For now, let’s just focus on spending some time together in a beautiful old city. I want to spend time with you more than anything else.”

  “Okay.” When he says something like that, I can be agreeable. I also trust that he will honor his promise and tell me what they find out.

  While we’ve been talking, we’ve made the drive to the Oshkosh airport. It’s an unusually large airport for the area, but it exists for the one week every year when it hosts the Experimental Aircraft convention, otherwise it’s usually dark.

  On the other side of the overpass, I can see that their main runway is lit up like Christmas.

  I’ve never been in the airport, just like most of the locals who have only ever driven by, but tonight there is a man standing by the main gate, holding it open so we can drive through. After a few feet, we’re driving on cement and heading straight towards a plane on the runway.

  I’ve never flown anywhere, but I’m pretty sure that you don’t usually drive right to the plane.

  I’m trying to not let on about how awkward I feel, so I don’t say a word as Dorian stops in front of the red carpet that leads up to the plane.

  I take a minute to stare at the sleek white plane, and Dorian is there opening my door before I think to get out for myself.

  There are three people standing by the bottom of the stairs leading up to the plane. One of them immediately starts walking toward the open back gate of the SUV, and the other two stand stick straight waiting for us to approach.

  He takes my hand and walks toward the man I presume to be the captain, who has his hand extended as we get near. Dorian avoids his hand at first, but then a second too late, he warmly shakes it with a smile. I’m reminded of how being able to touch others without causing harm is still so new for him.

  They exchange a few words about altitude and jet streams before we climb the stairs.

  The inside of the plane is mainly white with creamy pale wooden accents. There are only a few seats, but they are large and remind me more of a loveseat than anything meant for just one person.

  We are the only two people I can see in the cabin, and Dorian looks completely at ease in these posh surroundings – even his clothes match the color scheme of the plane.

  “Aren’t there any other passengers on this flight?”, I ask.

  “No, this is my plane,” Dorian answers. “I usually fly it myself, but considering my happy new circumstances…” He holds up our entwined hands. “I thought that it would be safe to hire a crew so that we could sit together.” His smile is nothing but grateful. I couldn’t have imagined anyone talking about how they can fly their own super fancy plane without trying to brag, but somehow Dorian does it.

  “You usually fly your own plane?” I ask in amazement.

  “I didn’t really have any other choice. I couldn’t risk a security pat down on a commercial flight, and I couldn’t let my curse kill the pilot if I was on a small charter flight.” This reminder of his curse brings a dark cloud over Dorian’s face and I can see that he is slipping away into his memories.

  He gives me a seat by the window, and he takes the seat next to me so that we can still hold hands. I want to find a way to bring him out of his gloom, but the plane does it for me as I jump with its first movement.

  I’m nervous and excited and now that I’m actually in a plane I start to wonder when people figure out they have a fear of flying – is it during their first flight?

  Dorian gestures to his own seatbelt as an indication that I should put mine on. We separate hands momentarily, so we can buckle up, but I put my hand back in Dorian’s as soon as I can in an effort to calm my nerves. I stare out the window, watching each of the lights marking the runway pass us by faster and faster until it feels like my stomach is going to fall through the floor and the lights are suddenly farther away.

  We’re flying, and it’s exhilarating to be off the ground like this. We soar over the road we took to get here, and I see a small pair of headlights on what now looks like a small toy car below us. Flying is amazing, and I can feel the grin on my face as I look at Dorian. I think I like flying.

  He’s intently watching my face and smiling at my reaction. We sit in silence and Dorian starts to gently caress the side of my face. Lost somewhere in Dorian’s caress and the soft seats, the excitement and fear of the last days fades into sleep.

  I awake to Dorian whispering my name softly and I forget where I am for a minute until he says, “Lucky, the sun is rising, and we’ll be landing soon.”

  The light from the rising sun looks like silver on the water that we’re flying over. I can see the outline of the shore and many buildings that look so small they remind me of monopoly houses.

  When we touch back down to earth, it feels strange to be back on solid land. It’s odd to be so far from home and to not feel a connection to the land around me, but it’s also exciting to be someplace new.

  The plane moves slowly across multiple runways until we’re again parked next to a red carpet. At the end of this red carpet is another black SUV, almost like the one we left in Wisconsin.

  What’s different is that Dorian leads me to the back seat, and as I climb in, I can see that there is a driver. Our bags are loaded into the back as we get settled, and then we’re off.

  The open expanse of the airport is the last thing that feels familiar to me before we’re surrounded by buildings. I’m glued to the window watching the city as it passes, but each time I look over at Dorian, he is only looking at me.

  With a little bit of rest to clear my mind, a thought occurs to me. Whispering so the driver can’t hear, I ask, “How did you learn to fly a plane, if you didn’t want to risk the health of a pilot?”

  I didn’t anticipate that this would be another dark memory for Dorian, but I can see it as he answers. “Lucky, I…I have only ever been able to be concerned with preserving the lives of innocent people. The man that taught me to fly was a killer – it’s why I took lessons from him.” Looking down, he takes a pause before continuing.

  “Coan finds people that have gotten away with murder, and I try to position myself next to them. The energy drawn by my curse had to come from somewhere, but I’ve always tried to get it from the worst people I could.”

  His words make me think about the night of the frat party when I saw him reading in the bushes.

  “Professor Kondy?” I ask far too loud, and the driver asks if he can be of service. Dorian quickly dismisses him and gives me a ‘please be careful stare’.

  “Yes, it was his mother, when he was only 18. She was already ill, and she depended on him. He wanted to go away to school, so he ended her life to save himself the burden of caring for her.”

  Wow. I know he’s a jerk, but I never would have imagined that someone I knew would be capable of murdering their own mother.

  “What about that girl in Biology?” I ask without thinking through the conse
quences, but I see them on Dorian’s face as soon as the words are out of my mouth. It’s obvious that is something much more painful about what happened with her.

  “Her name is Samantha, and that was something different. I try to stay away from innocent people as much as I can, but sometimes when someone is in great pain, they will seek me out. I didn’t know she was going to touch me, but when she fell, I was able to see the bandages on her wrist marking her first suicide attempt – I was the second.”

  I feel terrible for bringing up what happened to that girl. I don’t blame Dorian for the curse that was put on him, so I don’t know why I asked, and I wish I didn’t.

  In an even quieter whisper, Dorian says, “I was worried that you were sick with depression when you wouldn’t leave the room after our first day of classes, but Coan couldn’t find any signs of depression in your life at all.”

  I’d never really given much thought to it, but reflecting now on it, I see that I have been very fortunate. I have health, two loving parents, amazing friends, a beautiful home, and now, I might even have a chance at the heart of the most desirable man I’ve ever met. “Yes, I’ve been very happy.”

  “I hope that I haven’t changed that.” I can almost feel his worry as he speaks.

  “No, you are a part of it.” Here it goes – it’s my turn to step out on a limb and tell him a little about how I feel. “You’ve changed how I see the world and I’ve felt so much more alive since I met you. My life was following the only path I thought there was. Now I can see that there is a lot more to the world and the path I’m on is a choice. I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with so much, but I don’t blame you for your curse, and I’m glad that it let you live long enough to be in my life.” I feel like such a sappy fool for everything I’ve said but seeing the look on Dorian’s face makes it all seem better than okay.

  As I’m feeling all self-conscious, he’s looking at me like I’m the prize of a lifetime. I lean in towards him looking up into his eyes hoping for a kiss. He’s looking at me like that’s what he wants too, but at the last second, he pulls me tight to his chest for a hug. We’ve fallen off the edge of a precipice again.