DARK FAÏZ Book 1: Every hero has his legend

by Sandra L. Kiss

  "A cappuccino, please, ma'am!"

  Immersed in my paperwork, I hadn't heard Lexy and Asarys arrive at the counter, although those two never went unnoticed. I served Lexy and then went to Asarys.

  "What do you want? Coffee, as usual?" I asked in a gloomy tone.

  "Oops, that's not the form, today," remarked Asarys.

  "I think she misses someone," Lexy whispered to her.

  "Ah!" Asarys said dryly, with an annoyed pout.

  "Can you explain the substance of your remark to me?"

  Asarys observed the world around her. Except for a few people sitting far from us, the place was deserted.

  "What are you waiting for, Zoe? You think things happen on their own?" she persisted.

  "What are you getting at? I never complain!"

  I had raised my voice unintentionally.

  "You're not complaining, but your mood is weighing us down! Yes, Faïz is in a relationship. Yes, he avoids you and that will not change. It's not up to us to pay for all this!"

  "Why are you hurting me like that? I don't deserve this."

  I repressed the tears that came to my eyes.

  "Leave her alone, Asarys. What's the matter with you?" Lexy intervened, stunned.

  She interfered in this lively exchange to prevent the tone from rising any higher. Asarys looked at me severely, straight in the eyes, and then added,

  "I'm your friend. Don't ever question that. You love him, you want him, so now you're going to move on or fight for him. You never get anything without anything. It's not by moping in a corner that you get something, Zoe!"

  "Well... All this in such a small body," Lexy said, surprised by her friend's behavior.

  Unable to answer anything, I remained nailed to the place, totally numb, under the shock of her words.

  "David, do you mind if I leave early?" I screamed so he could hear me from the back. "I don't feel well."

  "Yeah, go ahead. I'll call you tonight, sweetheart."

  "Zoe, wait!" Asarys tried to catch up.

  "No, shut up. I don't want to hear anything from you anymore."

  I left angry, leaving my two friends at the cafeteria counter.

  When I was getting in my car, I didn't start it right away. I thought back to Asarys' biting sentences. How could she judge my situation so badly? I hit my head against my seat several times in a row, mad with rage. Suddenly, someone knocked on my window. It was Ray. No, this is not the time! I sighed in spite of myself, before reluctantly opening my window.

  "Is everything all right?" he asked me in an anxious way.

  "Yes, it's okay," I replied in a slightly too bitter voice.

  He leaned his head to the side, his eyes sarcastic. He walked around the car, opened the door, and sat next to me.

  "Go ahead, I'm listening."

  At his insistence, the only way he would leave me alone was to tell him the minimum about my situation.

  "Nothing serious. I just had a little fight with Asarys. She was honest and it offended me."

  "So, was she right or was she wrong?"

  I raised my hands to heaven and frowned.

  "Right, but I was not ready to hear the truth."

  "That's what friends are for, you know. She wants to pull you up, not keep you down."

  "Have you ever had a fight with...Faïz?"

  He began to think for a brief moment, then stared at me in a skeptical way.

  "The argument was about him, wasn't it?" he guessed by shaking his head, a sign that he disapproved of all this.

  "Yes," I confessed. I was embarrassed.

  "There's something between you?" he murmured, worried.

  "No, nothing. It's just one-sided feelings."

  "Yes, I know that."

  The intensity in his voice betrayed his disappointment. I felt sorry for him then. I knew that Asarys was the cause of this cold and empty look. I hoped that she would quickly make a decision about it. He pulled me out of my thoughts and added,

  "He's at home in his loft...alone. If you leave now, maybe you can avoid traffic jams and get there before he leaves."

  My heart accelerated immediately. Finally, Asarys was probably right. I had to fight for him, tell him everything. Ray got out of the car, trying to adopt the least somber expression possible.

  "Take care of yourself," he said before closing the door. "You know, Zoe, you should get Faïz out of your head, because you might lose a lot."

  Why was everyone telling me the same thing?

  The discussion ended there. He moved away as elegant as usual. I started the engine, determined to confront Faïz.

  Parked at the bottom of his building, I saw his black McLaren parked not far from me. I undertook to get out of the car when Faïz appeared at that moment. My heart jumped into my chest. It was the first time I had seen him in a month and a half, and my feelings for him were intact. I noticed, intrigued, two other people on his heels, a woman with bright mahogany hair and a smaller man. Faïz, in a hurry, got into his car while the duo got into a vehicle parked just behind him. Without thinking, in a moment of impulsivity, I decided to follow him, hoping that he would not drive too fast. I had no experience in spying, but I didn't want to miss an opportunity to talk to him. Faïz's car headed southeast towards Long Beach.

  The two cars drove for a long time on the I-710. About forty-five minutes later it was getting dark. Suddenly, the vehicles turned to the left at the exit toward the port. We were in San Pedro Bay. When I felt the destination approaching, I turned off my car headlights to avoid being spotted and remained as discreet as possible. It was then that the two vehicles stopped in the middle of the huge port of Los Angeles, divided into several delimitations. I had followed Faïz to one of the terminals dedicated to freight containers.

  I got out of the Mustang without making a sound, approaching as close as I could to the small group, hiding behind one of the big boxes to listen to their discussion. They were very close to me. Damn it, Zoe, you don't belong here. You better leave as soon as possible. No! There was not turning back. I wanted to know what was going on once and for all.

  "This is where they were found!" confided the little man when he addressed Faïz.

  "How many were they?"

  "About fifteen, no survivors," the woman replied dryly.

  Any survivors? What the hell are they talking about? My ankle tickled me at that moment. When I laid my eyes on it, a big rat was trying to grab it. A burst of terror made me hit the container, which resounded in a thud. The silence then became total. Fuck!

  I waited a few moments before daring to observe the three individuals again. To my great surprise, they were no longer there. They had disappeared quietly, as if they had evaporated. I certainly had scared them away. I stepped forward onto the platform where they'd been standing just a few minutes ago. The location was illuminated by a low light emitted by a streetlight. The place, at this hour, was completely gloomy.

  Suddenly, on the side of my field of vision, I saw a shadow coming at full speed toward me. I just had time to realize that it was the woman with red hair. I dodged her low blows, keeping my guard in front of my face. With my elbow, I blocked her leg, thus moving my opponent and creating the opportunity to kick her high, hitting her neck. I turned and lay her down. Everything happened in a few seconds.

  "No!" roared Faïz, running towards us.

  He stood in front of me, blocking the other man who was about to throw himself at me and stopping his action instantly.

  "What the hell is your problem?" I was screaming in anger and out of breath.

  Faïz looked at me with his black eyes. He seemed angry at me. His eyelids creased. Suddenly my fury gave way to worry. I remembered that I had no reason to be there, and suddenly wondered how I would be able to explain my presence on the scene. The woman got up, mad with rage. Faïz looked at her with a scowl.

  "Zorrick, take Miss Reyes's car back to Elora," Faïz commanded the little man.

  "Yes."

  Then he t
urned to me again and added in a most annoying tone that did not foretell anything good,

  "I'll take you back. Get in the car!"

  The red-haired woman silently left in the direction of her sedan. I assessed the catastrophic situation as quickly as possible. Faïz, for his part, was boiling. Once installed in his McLaren, I made myself as small as possible, praying to disappear. The tires squealed when the car started at full speed and nailed my back to the seat. After a few minutes on the road, my phone vibrated. Asarys left, for the second time, a text that was far too long for me to read now.

  "What were you doing there?" asked Faïz, his voice full of animosity.

  "I had come to see you at the loft, but when I arrived, I saw you leaving and I followed you," I confessed, embarrassed.

  "Don't you realize you could have put yourself in danger?!"

  "Why? What were you doing on those docks?"

  "Nothing!" he fumed. "Stop following me. Stop..."

  His words trailed away in silence. He could not finish his sentence. Faïz had said these words with such anger... Normally, I would have kept quiet without adding a word, but my exchange with Asarys came back to me.

  "No!"

  Faïz, surprised by my reaction, took a quick look at me and then squeezed his jaw, looking frustrated. He certainly hadn't imagined that I would stand up to him and make him lose the control he usually exercised. We defied each other with our eyes.

  He stopped at the top of the hills, on the heights of Los Angeles. We weren't far from The Griffith. Faïz got out of his McLaren and sat on its hood. He contemplated the view in order to calm himself. After several seconds, I went out in turn, determined to have a real discussion with him.

  "Faïz, speak to me," I whispered, very close to him, begging.

  He turned and looked at me. He seemed so vulnerable all of a sudden... I stopped thinking and even breathing, preferring to contemplate his so perfect features.

  "I can't give you what you want, Zoe. Stay away from me."

  His tone had softened. A tortured expression could be seen on his face. It was almost possible to hear my heartbeat at full speed, his words hurt me so. I shook my head slightly and moved closer to him again. He let me do it.

  "You don't know what I want, because even I don't know it. All I know is that I'm always looking for you," I confided to him.

  He stared at me, disconcerted. I felt this electricity between us and asked myself if he felt it, too. Then he looked away.

  "I don't share these feelings for you. You're wasting your time."

  "Say it to me while looking into my eyes."

  A step separated me from him and I crossed it. He broke away as if I had burned him and held his head in his hands. He seemed to be consumed by an inner struggle.

  "I don't love myself. How can I love a woman?"

  Why did he have such a harsh opinion of himself? I gathered my thoughts.

  "Aren't Victoria and Lily the women in your life? So yes, you are able to love!"

  An absolute silence settled. Faïz opened his mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

  "You know what I meant, Zoe. My family is, of course, different."

  "No," I objected, confident.

  "Enough. I'll take you back."

  The subject was closed. In a second, he had already settled in the driver's seat and started his car by making it roar to force me to hurry to join him. On the way back, we were silent, when suddenly his phone rang. He did not bother to answer. Deep down, I knew it was Rachelle. Faïz wanted to spare me that moment.

  We arrived at the villa faster than I would have liked.

  "Are you staying?"

  He shook his head to answer. I leaned in and kissed his cheek a little too long. Faïz closed his eyes.

  "You didn't say it to my eyes," I whispered, referring to our conversation earlier.

  He didn't answer, preferring to look straight ahead to avoid my gaze.

  At the door, I turned one last time towards him. I only saw the back of his McLaren as it disappeared into the night.

  FAÏZ

  Zorrick and Belize were sitting in the living room when Karl Barthey entered Faïz's loft. The serious look on his face was bad news. Faïz, leaning against the bay window, watched the inspector move into the middle of the room and position himself right next to him. For a moment he observed Los Angeles, immersed at the beginning of the evening, lit by the city's lights.

  "Have you found the Maestro's trail?"

  The inspector asked this question while turning his head towards Faïz, whose eyes had suddenly darkened. He wanted to observe every expression on his face, thus assessing the degree of danger, but Faïz was looking into the void with an impenetrable air.

  "He remains untraceable." This last was said in a calm voice. Far too calm.

  "Then why did you ask me to come tonight? We were supposed to meet at the end of the week."

  "The trail we were following took us to the docks of San Pedro."

  Faïz paused. What he feared most horrified him deep inside. Was Barthey going to understand what he was about to tell him? He finally looked him in the eye and continued.

  "The door has opened on our world. Gally, his black dog, has managed to escape the world of darkness. The bodies of civilians found in the port leave no doubt. The Maestro seeks a human body to incarnate himself, in order to accomplish what he has begun. LA is in danger."

  "So, that day has finally arrived," said the inspector.

  His stomach knotted. A breath of terror squeezed his throat.

  "The Callis had spoken of the last battle between good and evil. Prophecy..."

  Faïz kept talking, but Barthey didn't hear anything anymore. The most frightening legend of all time had come back to finish what he had started a long time ago. Maestro, the evil traveler, would now extinguish the souls of every human being on Earth. Evil threatened the City of Angels, the cradle of darkness.

  4

  That evening, only Lily, her daughter, and I were present at the table for dinner. Victoria told us about her day at the university. She and other members of her class were preparing the draw to determine the couples at the Halloween ball on Friday evening. Baylor preferred to employ high school students for this task in order to avoid any suspicious maneuvers. Lily warned me that Charles might be home late as he had been held up at a last-minute meeting at work.

  We took advantage of this time between girls to talk about everything, about my last weeks in high school and about Lily's work. During our conversation, I learned that she had met her husband while she was still an intern at a law firm. Charles and his father had had major disputes over shares in the multinational pharmaceutical company his father had created. It was after the umpteenth dispute that the dialogue was definitely broken between the father and his only son.

  It was the first time since I'd arrived at the Mattew's house that I finally learned something about this family, which made me appreciate even more this moment that we shared.

  I finished the evening alone in my room. I had just hung up with my father, who had told me that he was leaving on Wednesday for a mission of several months in Central Africa. Then came the moment when I decided to send a message to Asarys. She excused herself: she was very sorry about our argument earlier. I also made my "mea culpa," telling her about the end of my evening with Faïz in the heights of Los Angeles, taking care not to mention my little excursion to the port.

  She questioned me impatiently, but I promised to tell her everything in detail, face to face, during our break tomorrow. I started to get ready for bed when I heard a door slamming weakly, and this several times. I immediately felt an air current and decided to go and check it out in order to stop the annoying sound. I groped down the wide corridor, and deduced that this noise came from Mr. Mattew's office.

  "Charles?"

  Without an answer, I opened it wide and noticed that no windows were open in the room. The place was plunged in darkness, just lit by a few
moonbeams. I walked inside and turned on the little light on the desk. My gaze swept over the place. I felt a heavy atmosphere in the middle of this religious silence. My eyes suddenly rested on the first drawer of the desk. I hesitated for a moment, struggling not to give in to the curiosity that invaded me, but a force within me took over.

  I don't know why, but I feel like I'm going to regret this.

  I opened it suddenly and quickly. Administrative papers, drawings of plans, contracts, nothing interesting came out of it.

  Of course. What did you think you'd find there, you idiot? An ear in a box?

  I decided to open the last drawer at the bottom in order to put an end once and for all to my paranoia about this family. That was when my eyes were drawn to the meticulously arranged photos. On top, I saw three boys, their eyes empty of all expression. They seemed ghostly. When I turned the picture over, on the back was written, 'Harry Mattew, Sayer's Children Orphanage 1946.' A frigid shiver ran through my body, the horror in the simplest device. Under the pile of these photographs, I found a file. This one had as a designation, "Faïz."

  My hands shaking, I opened it. Inside were dozens of newspaper clippings, all talking about the same person: The Black Shadow. My brain began to make the connection between all the events of the last few months. My breath stopped, my head started to spin. It's not possible. It's not real. The truth burst out suddenly: Faïz was The Black Shadow.

  Everything came back to me: the night outings, his parents always worried, his secrets that no one wanted to talk about, and Victoria's comment that now made sense. "We are a rather complicated family.” A little? You don't say!

  So, what had Faïz been looking for those on docks tonight? The bodies? Everything was jostled in my head. I sighed deeply and my pulse slowed down. I concentrated on the silence around me. That was when I heard it. The sound of regular breathing was emanating from the corner of the room. Panicked, I turned my head in the direction from which the breath came. My eyes gradually got used to the darkness. A figure in the corner, not far from me, had been watching me from the beginning. A scream of fear came out of my mouth. I backed away hastily. It was then that Charles came out of the dark. He was pale, with a glassy look without expression.