Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1)

by H. M. Rutherford

  “Not a problem, Doctor.” Detective Spencer glanced down for a moment, brows knitting together. “With the lack of evidence, they say it was more than likely just a freak accident, but an eyewitness said there were two people.”

  Henry’s hands froze on the railing and he stared up at the man, eyes wide. The word “witness” almost blurted out but he stopped himself. “Two people?” he asked. It was almost a whisper.

  “Yes,” Spencer answered.

  Henry’s eye twitched at that. “And they weren’t both identified?” wondered Henry to himself through barely moving lips.

  “The witness didn’t get a good look at the second person,” Spencer explained. “Security tapes were destroyed in the fire. But that’s why we need you. You worked with him, so you’d know more than anyone if he were a target. Dr. Jekyll, is there anyone you know of who might have disliked Franklin Stein?” he continued, cautious. “Any verbal threats? Funny stares?”

  Bitterness rising from Henry’s core, he shook his head. “No! That’s absurd!” he snarled through his teeth. “Frankie was a wonderful man.” As he realized the heavy truth of what he was saying, he began to sob into his hand again. Tears flowed down his cheeks harder than before as he teetered back on the wood banister. “He didn’t deserve it!” he wept.

  As Henry sniveled, the detective looked down at the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card. “Here.” He handed it over to Mr. Poole. “If either of you remember anything, call me.”

  Mr. Poole nodded, fighting through his own uneven breathing. “Y-yes, of course.”

  Henry ran a heavy hand down his face, wanting to wipe off all the agony and fear. Once he had composed himself enough to speak, he let out an exhausted sigh and straightened himself. “Thank you, again.”

  Detective Spencer gave him a sad grin and made his way to the door. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dr. Jekyll.”

  In reply, Henry dropped his head, eyelids closed, for they weighed heavy with burden and misery. Loss. Yes, it was a great loss. A loss to the world; they were missing out if there was no Franklin Stein. But Henry? No one would have missed him…

  Maybe not even Frank.

  When he opened his damp eyes, the door was closed and all in the house seemed still.

  His butler approached him, sorrow streaked across his face. “Henry, I’m so sorry about Mr. Stein.” A glint of worry reached Poole’s aged eyes. “I know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally harm him, but what happened?”

  Henry stared at Poole for a long moment, asking himself the same thing. Finally, he turned to the stairs. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

  His butler remained silent for a moment as Henry’s foot fell onto the first step. “Are you alright, sir?”

  The question rocked Henry and he turned back to Mr. Poole, giving him a sneer. “Am I alright?” he jabbed. “Of course not! Frank is—!” His tight throat stopped him. Anguished, his gaze fell.

  “That’s not what I meant, Henry.” His butler’s voice was smooth and gentle, carrying with it the concern of a parent. “Are you safe?”

  Henry shook. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Poole,” he whispered, numb. “You can leave now.”

  “L-leave?” Poole repeated, befuddled. His feet tried to rush to his master but stopped short.

  Henry stopped and glanced at him from over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said shortly. Then he turned and continued to the top, leaving his servant frozen in confusion.

  “I-I’m not quite sure I understand, sir. I—”

  “I need a moment,” Henry said sternly, stopping near the end of the banister and giving Poole a harsh look.

  The butler only stared, shocked. After a gulp, he tried, “Shall I call on you when lunch is ready?”

  “No, Poole! Pack your things and go! I’ll call you if I need you!” Henry continued without so much as an apology. Slamming his bedroom door closed behind him, he hurried over to his nightstand and ripped open the drawer. There he stood and let out a shaky sigh.

  The Glock 17 sat, untouched, unmoved, beguiling its master toward it. It had originally been purchased for self-defense, but now…

  Henry ran his fingers over the slide before picking it up by its grip and yanking it out of the drawer. Something white flittered up with it and gently fell to the ground. He lowered the gun and stared at the folded-up piece of paper on the floor, noticing a few small blue stains covering the wrinkled edges. He didn’t remember putting a paper in there. Curious, he stopped and picked it up, setting the gun back. As he unfolded the paper piece by piece, his hands began to shake. He felt the crisp, singed edges and his blood began to boil, a hatred for himself burning deep within him.

  The formula that started it all…

  Trembling, he turned it sideways and started to twist it apart, smiling faintly at the sound of ripping paper.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Henry.”

  The voice made him stop. It sounded familiar, but at the same time, new. Cautiously, he turned to the sound.

  The door to his bathroom was opened wide, the light flipped on with the mirror fully in view. As he glanced into the parallel world, he expected to see himself standing by the nightstand. But what he found was a distorted image of his own frame—a man of a warped, grotesque countenance, small and shriveled, with the same bright red hair and blue eyes. The man’s mouth curved up into a dark smile that bared his crooked teeth.

  “It would ruin everything we’ve planned up to this point,” the creature whispered. Its voice sounded as if it traveled through a tunnel of sandpaper before it escaped his mouth—rough and dry.

  Confused, Henry slowly gravitated toward the mirror at the horrid sight, the other man following his lead and grinning in amusement. “We?” Henry demanded, continuing to the bathroom.

  “Yes, we,” the odd man snorted, as if Henry were stupid. “You do the science.” He stuck his finger up at Henry but mirrored each step. “And I do the plotting, of course.” He jabbed his thumb at himself.

  Disgusted by the sorry excuse of a human, Henry spat, “Who are you?” He stared the man up and down, going through all the options. A trick mirror, perhaps? “How did you get in here? What are you? I don’t…! I don’t know, I—!” The stress of his mind pressed in on him. “What makes you think I’ll work for you?” he demanded. Better to address something you could actually grab a hold of.

  As Henry moved toward the sink, the man followed, stepping when he stepped, stopping when he stopped.

  “Well, you don’t have a choice,” the small man chuckled. “Besides, I’ve always done the plotting, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal. Nothing’s changed, really.”

  “What do you mean?” Henry demanded. “Who do you think you are?!”

  The man laughed loudly and introduced himself. “You may call me Edward Hyde. I believe I like that name.” He gave a deep bow. When he straightened, he wore a sly grin. “I’d like to think of myself as the brawn of this operation. And the brains,” he added. Then he looked up, humored. “Technically, I am the operation. You’ve just been the hands,” he concluded.

  “That’s stupid!” Henry snapped. “I’ve never seen you before in my life! I’m supposed to believe you’ve been planning things all along? What kind of things, anyway?”

  “I’m stupid? Henry, come on.” Hyde chuckled, rumbling his chest. “Who’s the one talking to a mirror right now?”

  Henry wavered at once, realizing the depth of Hyde’s words. Hyde was right. He was talking to a mirror. But why did it seem so natural? Had the chemical made him insane? But the man in the mirror seemed much too real to be anything other than human. Testing his sanity, Henry peered down at his own arm to see if it was shriveled, only to find it a normal, healthy size. Dumbfounded, he stood there a moment, speechless. Then he focused back on the mirror.

  When the man saw Henry’s dour face, he growled. “You could never follow through with a plan in your life. It’s always been me. I’ve always been there, tak
ing all your research and pushing it into reality, waiting for my shining moment…” He chuckled and rocked back a bit. “You’re the one who came up with the formula that I needed to give me more power. I’ll give you that. I just made it happen for us. I need you as much as you need me.”

  The arrogant way this Edward character spoke sickened Henry to his very core. He brought the paper up into the light where they both examined it. Just the sight of it crushed Henry. “I refuse to cooperate with anyone who thinks any good will come of this formula!” he said with a wince, shaking it at the man in the mirror. He could feel his mouth quiver.

  “Good will come out of it,” Hyde snapped, annoyed. But then he laughed. “For me, that is. It can be good for you, too—if you allow it.”

  Henry shook with all his horrible, torn emotions. “This formula can’t be good for me! This formula is the reason Frank is dead!” he wailed, his voice cracking.

  “And…?” Edward stared at him expectantly in faux-puzzlement.

  “I killed my best friend!” Henry cried, but try as he may to make it stern and direct, the words bounced in his throat in a painful, strained way. At the sentence, he broke down again, anger and woe blurring his vision.

  “No, no!” Hyde laughed haughtily. “Don’t try and take all the credit! We killed your best friend!”

  Henry glared at Edward, disgusted and weak. “No, I did. I injected the chemical and my body reacted beyond my control. You, on the other hand,” he spat quietly, “are a figment of my imagination. Something the chemical did, I’m sure.”

  Edward buckled over, laughing, making Henry flinch. “Oh, no doubt about it!”

  Henry peered off into space and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m clearly insane now,” he told himself, his voice mangled by his emotions. Tired, he held his head in his hands. “But I can get over this—live with it. So many others do.”

  Laughter filled the air once more and Henry just watched the cackling man in silence, saddened by the lack of compassion. After a long time, Edward finally calmed down and leaned in, his ragged breath fogging up the mirror. “I’m sorry to say you can’t get over it,” he hissed. “Because, while what you see is a result of the chemical, you’re not insane. And I’m…” He smiled darkly and spread out his open hands, inviting Henry to gaze upon him. “…quite real.”

  Henry was sick of the mind games, but the claim terrified him. He shrunk backward a few steps. “That’s not possible.”

  “It was always possible, just difficult,” Edward grinned. “But I saw you making that formula and knew it could give me what I wanted.” His bloodshot eyes glittered. “Poor Jekyll, you thought your intelligence was your most dominant trait.”

  Those words cut deep. What did Edward mean? Hesitating, Henry looked down and shuffled his feet a bit. “What was my most dominant trait?” he asked, glancing back up.

  Edward’s teeth glistened behind his thin, pulled-back lips; he knew he had Henry’s interest now. “You think skipping out on your medication made you a better thinker?” he wondered, supercilious as he watched Henry’s face contort between confusion and hurt. When Henry showed no sign of understanding, Edward’s smile turned to a frown. “No, you stupid human, I did,” he grumbled. “I encouraged your mind to continue on with your work. I made it seem like you were better off without your medication. If you had been taking it when you should have been, perhaps I wouldn’t be here.”

  Of course. Another thing Henry should have listened to Frank about! Henry wanted to beat himself up. Gnashing his teeth together in anguish, he asked, “And how’s that?”

  Edward cackled and bounced around a bit. When he regained composure, he pressed his hands on the parallel counter and leaned in again. “When you injected yourself with the chemical, it took your bipolar disorder and split it completely in half!” He laughed insanely. “Your calm, reserved, yet utterly depressed side would belong to you, Henry. All the while, your more ravenous, excitable side would have room for an identity of its own.”

  “You,” Henry breathed. Fear of insanity seized him and he trembled. “You’re just a disorder! There! You’ve said so yourself!”

  “No!” Hyde shouted, slamming his fist on the counter, cracking it in both worlds.

  Henry flinched and stumbled against the wall as his counter crumbled. He stared at the man in the mirror, wide-eyed by the creature’s Herculean strength. Sheer terror rose up within him. What kind of manifestation was he looking at?

  “You did not create me, Henry Jekyll,” whispered Edward menacingly. “I’ve been around far longer than you have. No. No, I was the one holding you together this whole time, waiting for the right moment to enter into the picture. If it weren’t for me, you’d be suffering from a dangerous case of split-personality disorder.”

  Wide-eyed, Henry watched the man, cautious of his words and actions.

  “As the chemical warped your mind, I moved in and took the genes from the beetle for myself,” Hyde explained.

  Henry didn’t wish to believe it. It was too far-fetched, too unlikely. How could this fictional being “take the genes” of the beetle? No, Henry was insane, surely. But something deep within him was ever worried. He glanced back down at the shattered marble counter and gulped. “What are you?” Henry dared ask.

  Edward glared at his parallel comrade and whispered, “You’ll find out soon enough.” Slowly, a wicked, twisted grin formed on his mangled mouth. A secret burned deep within his eyes. “And then you’ll regret that you ever asked me that stupid question.”

  It seemed unlikely, but it terrified Henry. “Still, that’s all the more reason not to work with you,” Henry responded, his voice shaking. “I don’t care what it is! If you’re involved, it can’t be good! I refuse to be a part of something so dark. Not this time.”

  “Oh, don’t think of it that way!” chuckled Edward, insensitive. “If you wish, instead of thinking of it as helping me, you could think of it as helping against your will.”

  Henry could feel himself losing grip. “You’re wrong!” he cried desperately. Pointing to himself, he went on, “This is my body and I’m in control!”

  “Not for long, if you keep acting that way,” Edward argued in a snarky manner.

  The words petrified Henry. He stared, unblinking, body limp.

  Edward saw and shrugged. “But it doesn’t have to be that way,” he suggested. “If you help me, of course.”

  The demand shook Henry back to life, sending tremors through him. Rattling his head, his eyes fell to the cracked counter. “But I just…” He shook his head. Why wasn’t Edward listening? “I can’t do it!” he grumbled, miserable. “What good can ever come of it?”

  Edward grew equally shaky, but from frustration. “Power,” he snarled. “Recognition. More money! All this, I offer to you—if…” He smiled wickedly. “If you allow me to guide you.”

  “And what will you get out of this?” Henry challenged.

  Edward laughed at that and folded his arms across his chest. Looking away, he sighed, “I’m more interested in the later outcome of our partnership.”

  Henry looked away, too, debating. Was it worth it? Was it going to be worth all the time and effort? Either way he chose, he would have to help. Make the best of it, Henry, a voice whispered deep inside of him. Just ride the wave and enjoy all the benefits. Yes, the thought of all that fame…

  It was a wonderful dream to finally have recognition after all that time, and to have more money than he currently had was a promising thought as well. People would know his name. He would no longer be an unrecognized nobody, sitting in a lab full of other nobodies like himself. No, he would have a foothold out in the world—free reign to do what he loved. Yes, it seemed like a wonderful plan, but a faint, crippling thought still lingered.

  “Frankie,” Henry breathed. The horrid memory filled his conscience. His friend would have told him to forget the deal; why endanger a world full of people who did not deserve such a fate? Would they end up like Frank had? Or w
ould they too receive their own Edward Hyde? The latter sounded worse.

  Edward watched as Henry contemplated. The shriveled man seemed to read the thoughts on his troubled alter-ego’s face. Hyde furrowed his brows for a moment, but slowly leaned in and grinned. “I can bring him back,” he whispered, the words rich with the seduction of more secrets.

  Taken aback, Henry’s body tensed. The words ringing in his ears, he looked up at Edward to find any deception, but he found none. Still, it was too grand a promise. “Don’t patronize me,” Henry begged, his chin quivering.

  Hyde sneered at Henry, offended. “Grow up, Jekyll!” he barked. “I’m giving you the opportunity to change things and your first thought is to shoot it down?”

  “But it’s not possible!”

  Edward braced his hands on the mirror and leaned in, eyes wild. “Wake up, Henry! Just a few minutes ago, I rocked the very foundations of your reality! Why not expand your mind a little bit more, huh?”

  Henry paused a moment, measuring the words, letting hope fill him once more. Finally, he gulped. “How will you do it?”

  Hook. Line. And sinker. Victorious, Edward smiled that dark, toothy grin and laughed a bit. “Now, you can leave that to me. Do we have a deal?”

  Henry held his breath and thought about it. After a while, he looked up at his impatient counterpart.

  “I’m waiting,” Hyde snapped.

  Henry sighed and nodded, sealing his fate. “Deal.”

  —

  As the rain drizzled around them, Suzette watched Dante stare into the open grave, keeping a soothing hand on the small of his back. His mother sobbed against the shoulder of her remaining child, gripping tightly onto him while her husband held her shoulders. Liza Stein blubbered unintelligibly as she buried her head in Mr. Stein’s suit. Dante’s uncle Virgil stood off to the side, grim and quiet. While both of Dante’s parents and his sister-in-law wept, he remained strong and held back his tears, wrapping a firm, tender arm around his mother while his chin gave the smallest of quivers.