by Meg Evans
“What difference does it make to you?” I stare blankly at him, my tone sharp. “You’re not the one who’s locked in the same room with a murderer whose intention is to kill you!”
“I don’t want to kill you!” he says indignantly.
“Hard to believe, considering that you’ve just told me the process of taking away my soul started a good while ago!”
“Then maybe you should try listening to my advice for once.”
“Why is that? Because it’s you who decides when it’s over?!”
“Yes! It’s me who decides when it’s over!” Dorian’s patience wears thin, and he loses his cool. His eyes turn as black as coal. My breath catches in my throat as I’m reminded of what he really is once again. He zips toward me, ignoring my previous objections. “So shut up and hear me out!”
If there was anything human in his expression before, now it’s all gone. I hope he can still control his impulses. He stretches out his arm to help me get to my feet, but I don’t want to touch him. The thought of how many innocent lives he’s taken fills me with revulsion.
I slowly hoist myself up. When we’re at eye level, I’m still pierced by his black, eerie gaze. I shiver, wanting to get away from the dark and disturbing stare. I can’t tell what’s more horrifying: the truth about him or that there’s still a hint of something attracting me to Dorian that doesn’t let me truly hate him. But how can that be? Why am I still so hungry for his presence after learning all these cruel facts about him?
His rapid breathing slows down. I notice blue dots appearing in his irises, replacing the black. “The thieves you saw in our house carry out monthly inspections, checking how many souls we managed to steal within a certain timeframe.” His voice is calm again. “The more souls stolen the better. The low number indicates that something’s wrong and has to be fixed.”
“Fixed?”
“If a thief doesn’t provide a decent amount of souls each month, then he or she will be encouraged to be more active in the hunt.”
I swallow hard. “It doesn’t sound too good.”
“Because it isn’t. Those thieves are subjected to excruciating pain and suffering to drive even the smallest shadow of an idea of rebellion out of their heads.”
I remember one of the thieves mentioning ripping someone apart. Is that one of the ways they give “encouragement”? Is that what the man meant?
“Has it ever happened? A rebellion, I mean?” I walk away from him and start circling the room to make the distance between us as long as possible, but he follows me no matter where I edge.
“Of course. There’s not much left of those who dared to stand up. They served as a lesson to the others. No one likes insurgencies and uprisings.”
“So thieves can be killed, then?” I try not to look at him. It gives me physical pain.
“You can’t kill something that isn’t alive. But we can be destroyed.”
I could swear that for a split second I heard a noise coming from outside. Did I imagine it? However, judging by Dorian’s reaction—he pads to the window—the noise must have reached his ears as well. He regards the area outside, but I’m certain he can’t see much; the world is already shrouded in darkness.
“Is there someone outside?”
“It’s just an animal,” he replies, but I don’t really believe him. He said it to spare me from being even more afraid. Or, also possible, to prevent me from screaming for help.
There’s something inside me that won’t settle down. Perhaps Rafael being on the loose makes me uneasy. Could that be him lurking outside? Did he follow us all the way here?
“You haven’t told me yet who Rafael really is and what he wants from me.”
“I promised I’d come back to that.” He’s still by the window, keeping an eye on what’s happening on the other side. “He used to be a hunter.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“Hunters have one objective: destroy all thieves.”
“I sincerely hope they’ll succeed.” The statement tumbles out of my mouth before I know it, but I don’t regret those words. My fists clench when I try to imagine how many innocent lives they’ve possessed. They are all killers, who should be exterminated.
But do I really wish that for Dorian?
“Can you tell me more about them?”
“They don’t stand out too much.” He glances back at me. “They look like ordinary people who blend into the crowd. You would never spot one unless they wanted you to. Anyhow, even though they camouflage themselves very well, there are two things that help us—thieves—single them out.” Dorian clears his throat. “First, they have a tattoo in the shape of a wide-open eye. Each of them has it tattooed, no exceptions. Second, they always carry a dagger, a so-called Black Heart. You’ve already seen one. It’s the dagger Rafael has on him.”
It’s hard not to remember the magnificent thing he pulled out of the sheath which sparkled with dozens of inlaid gems. It was mesmerizing yet dreadful, with those two shining blades that popped out of both ends. I tremble at the thought that he might have used it on Cynthia.
“Why did he attack my aunt? She’s not one of you.”
Dorian still hasn’t moved. His relentless stationing at the window gives me a jittery feeling. I study his profile—so beautiful, not cold or scary.
“Rafael had a moment when he decided to rebel. It even crossed his mind to join the thieves. Everything went according to his plan until his conspiracies were discovered, and he got deprived of his hunter rights by the Hunters’ Tribune. He was accused of betrayal and was awaiting execution.”
“They were going to kill him?!”
“Yes. But he managed to miraculously escape and steal the dagger that had been taken away from him. Now, to worm his way into the hunter’s society again, his goal is to prove he’s worthy and wreak havoc among as many soul thieves as possible. Especially the ones who are the Creators’ favorites.”
“How do you know all that about Rafael?”
“I have my sources.”
“I still don’t get why he’s after me.”
“He’s so insanely determined that he blindly believes you’re one of us. I’m still trying to figure out what made him think that. Maybe it has something to do with your aura, or maybe some other abilities you have and of which I’m not yet aware.” He runs his fingers through his thick hair. “One thing is sure—he’s convinced that you’re a thief. That’s why he’s been chasing you.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I shake my head. “I didn’t do anything to make him believe that I’m a murderer! Why the hell would he come up with such nonsense?”
“He’s blinded by fear, anger, and hatred. The fact that he saw you dealing with me and Rita might’ve been enough evidence in his eyes that you are one of us. I’m not sure about that, though. This whole situation is very complicated. He’s been trying to get me and Rita for quite a while, but he knows that by himself he can’t harm us too much.”
“Why didn’t he break into your house? Why did he choose mine instead? Oh my God!” I close my eyes. The nagging sense of blame shudders through my body. I’m reminded again that whatever happened to my family was all my fault.
“You’re asking me about things that I’m unable to tell you,” Dorian says. He continues, unfazed by my little outburst. “I never spoke to Rafael, and my suspicions are only guesses. I’m not sure about anything. I’ve never dealt before with a rebellious hunter who’s trying to claw his way back into the ranks of the rest of his society at any cost. No hunter has ever mistaken a human for a thief, let alone attacked them. It’s contrary to their code of conduct. One of the crown principles is destroying thieves and defending people. He did something totally contradictory. Plus, hunters tend to keep the world of thieves secret from people. That’s why I was confident Rafael wouldn’t hurt you during the day when you were in the company of others. As it turns out, he’s completely unpredictable.”
“So it was him who kidnapped all those g
irls who’ve been the number one topic in the news recently!”
“No. It wasn’t him.” Dorian slides his gaze to the window.
I’m a bit confused by his assurance. How does he know it wasn’t Rafael? I’ve been blaming him for everything that’s been going on in Keizer. Rafael’s the only villain who’s shown up in our town. At least, that’s what I thought up until now.
He’s not the only one anymore. There are also… thieves.
I gulp and then, with a quivering voice, ask Dorian a question to which I’m afraid I already know the answer.
“Was it you?” The dead silence stretches between us. “Did you abduct Leslie Dean?”
Still silence. Dorian neither nods nor shakes his head, but I know it was him. It’s hard for me to breathe.
“You’re evil!” I yell, hoping that it will soothe me. Why am I even surprised? After all, Dorian has just confessed to killing thousands of people. Is kidnapping those girls any better? They were all the same. Innocent women whose only fault was falling in love with the wrong man. A serial killer. “What did you do with Leslie Dean? Did you murder her? She was so young and innocent! She wanted to live a happy life like the rest of the women you killed.” I feel so hopeless “You’re a monster! I don’t even want to be in the same room with you! Let me out of here!” I dash over to the front door, but Dorian is faster and cuts me off.
“I never claimed I wasn’t evil.”
He’s right, but so what? It doesn’t change the fact that I can’t come to terms with it and accept it. So far, simply knowing that Dorian is a murderer has been enough to make my blood run cold; however, at least those women were anonymous to me—I wasn’t aware what they looked like or who they were… Unlike Leslie. She wasn’t just a name I heard. I remember perfectly well the way she dressed in all those family videos, even the way she smiled and moved. It’s insane.
Dorian blocks my way out. I’m not strong enough to move him or push him aside.
“Let me out! Right now! You can’t keep me here against my will! You have no right to stand in my way!” It’s the adrenaline ripping through me that gives me the courage to punch my fists against his chest, but it’s still not enough. There’s no escape. Finally, Dorian restrains me by grabbing my wrists and holding them behind my back. I’m pushed against the wall, which I bump into with my chest. Even though he did it as gently as he possibly could, it still hurts me.
“Calm down! You don’t get anything!” Dorian presses me against the wall.
“Do you think you can call the shots for me?! I don’t give a fuck what you want!” I cry aloud. I’m incandescent with rage, like a furious animal that just got caught in a trap. “Those are your intense relationships, huh?! You lure women, fuck up their minds and then kill them?” I’m trying to yank away. “You only care about the number! You don’t give a shit who they are.” He tightens his grip; I must’ve hit a nerve. “But what am I even talking about? It completely slipped my mind that you don’t have any feelings. Each night you hung out with a different woman. Did you drag each of them to bed? Did you cross every one of them off your list after the job was well done, huh?!” I’m so nasty that I don’t even recognize myself. I feel like a different Zara is talking through me. “Is that why you moved to Keizer? To find a new territory to hunt?”
I’m scared to death, but I have nothing to lose. If he ends up killing me in a fury, at least he’ll know what I think of him. I don’t even care anymore. All these recent revelations have taken away my will to live. I fell in love with a creature that has been slowly killing me. He can put an end to it now, for all I care. It would actually spare me all the sorrow and misery that will probably kill me before Dorian even makes it to stealing my soul.
However, although my mind is drowned in anger, in some deep corner of it I still can hear a weak voice telling me that he kept rejecting me like he didn’t want to hurt me. Does that sound like something an emotionless serial killer who lacks empathy would have done? What is that odd thing about me that didn’t let him touch me at first? What is the thing that he needs from me so badly? Isn’t it my soul after all?
Dorian doesn’t respond to my stream of words. He simply keeps holding me tight, probably waiting for me to cool down. But it’s not that easy after everything I’ve found out. How can he even expect me to relax?
Becoming aware that I don’t have the slightest chance of freeing myself from his grip, I sigh heavily and lean my head against the wall. My pulse still pounds in my ears.
Dorian leans forward and says directly into my ear, “Zara, you aren’t thinking reasonably. You can’t associate the facts and just let your tongue run riot.”
The closeness of Dorian’s body and his scent, along with his voice so near to my ear, affect me instantly. The tension in me gradually goes away, as though Dorian has just injected a sedative into me. My furious heartbeat slows down. I regain my composure as if by magic. My shoulders loosen up and I become drowsy.
Apparently not only Rita can put me to sleep.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Have you ever wondered why, when I met you, the first thing I told you was that you weren’t a good fit for an intense relationship? Why I didn’t just jump on the opportunity as it came about?” I twist my head. Words seem like too much of an effort right now. “I was confident you were a hunter who camouflaged yourself very well, but when I checked your neck, there was no tattoo. You couldn’t be one of them. On the other hand, the lack of a visible aura didn’t let me believe that you were a human being either. I was far from taking any risk and bringing any danger into our life. But as time passed, your presence started affecting me in a very peculiar fashion. I didn’t know what to think about you. I felt an urge to defend you rather than attack you.”
My brain starts to get foggy. I hear his words, but it takes me time to register their meaning. I have the impression that Dorian’s voice comes from behind a thick wall. My limbs become heavy; I need to sit down.
“Whatever you’re doing to me, can you stop it?” I try to move my hands. “I’m uncomfortable.”
“I’ll stop if you promise you won’t behave like a wild animal again.”
“Promise.”
“Good. For your information, if you are planning to escape, you’ll end up in this position again, but next time I won’t set you free,” he warns me.
“I understand.”
As soon as he liberates me, I turn around to face him. I feel much more confident having Dorian in front of me rather than behind my back. My mind is still blurry, but I steadily regain clarity. His eyes examine my face as though he’s trying to determine which emotion dominates in me: disgust, fear, or perhaps hatred. I’d like to know myself. I can’t sort my own feelings out. I’m empty inside.
“How old are you?” I ask in a weak voice, barely able to stand on my own.
“Older than you think.”
“Have you ever loved anyone? With a real, pure, and innocent love?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“So you have… But how come, if thieves can’t love?”
“I’ve never had, and I never will have, any feelings for any woman.” He says it loud and clear, as if he’s talking not to me, but someone standing far behind me.
His raised voice doesn’t affect me; I’m still emotionally chewed up. Indifferent. Besides, even though he’s told me time and time again that he isn’t capable of having any feelings, I know that it can’t be true. A man who can’t love wouldn’t look at me like Dorian has many times, nor would he protect me by putting his own life at risk. It almost feels like he tries to disguise his real self for some reason. Maybe behind the mask of a tough and heartless creature there is actually a broken and tormented being. I hate that he’d rather pretend than face who he really is.
I look into his ocean-blue eyes, trying to see into his soul, which he may not even possess, and say, “You’re a coward, Dorian. You’re nothing more than a coward who can’t even face his real f
eelings. You would rather live a constant lie and take away innocent lives to make up for your own misery.”
I’m not even certain why I said that. Maybe I just want to put an end to everything. Maybe I’m done with all these secrets and mysteries with which Dorian cloaks himself. Or maybe I don’t want to live anymore, knowing that there is no happy ending for us. All I know is that my words will have consequences.
I’ve touched a sore spot. Dorian’s face takes on the same ghastly expression that I saw a while ago. His eyes are instantly swathed in black; his facial features sharpen. As he transforms into this ferocious version of himself, I’m unable to avert my eyes from him becoming what he really is. A monster that is ominous and simultaneously magnificent. A strange piece of art. At this moment, he certainly isn’t the same man I know. He’s enraged to the limit, unable to control himself. He’s a beast of prey incited to attack.
Fear blended with lust bursts out inside me and pours out of my every particle. I’m accustomed to this mixture; it’s come over me dozens of times before in my dreams. Only Dorian can trigger such a profound combination of two opposite sensations. As I look at his face, cold, inhuman and deprived of any emotions, I’m convinced for once and for all that I’m standing face to face with the man from my nightmares. I can finally see him. Every piece of me knows that it’s him.
Dorian pushes me into the wall across from us. This time he’s less gentle than before. He pins me to it, not allowing me to move. His eyes find mine. There’s an unspoken message that he tries to convey, yet I can’t decipher his thoughts. His cold fingers wrap around my throat. I don’t try to shout or yank away; I’m ready for what’s coming. In this very moment Dorian is entirely the creature he’s been hiding from the rest of the world—a soul thief.
Seconds drag as I wait for my execution, yet surprisingly, he loosens his grip. A strangely familiar drowsiness comes over me. It makes my limbs feel incredibly heavy, and my eyelids are impossible to keep open. I’m completely immobilized. What’s happening?
My heartbeat slows down. So does my breathing. I suddenly realize that this is Dorian’s last mercy to me. Instead of killing me in cold blood, he’s putting me to sleep first. I suppose that’s a kindness from him.