Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1)

by H. M. Rutherford

  While Dante looked at the menu, Suzette couldn’t help but smile to herself. Things could finally start to go back to normal now. She watched his handsome eyes scan over the options, missing the opportunity to look into them. His eyes looked livelier than before, but there was still that lingering pain.

  At the thought of pain, the memory of the scary, blond guy rushed back to her. Her mind swam with the unexpected anguish she felt as the stranger watched her. It was so strange, so unnatural. She leaned over and glanced around the chair to look at his table near the back of the diner.

  He was gone.

  —

  Henry heard the crunching of gravel underneath wheels and peered out the curtain. A sleek, black limo parked in front of his manor. The chauffeur got out and made his way to the back where he flung the door open. Henry waited, curious to see who could be visiting.

  To his great surprise, the famous actor Dorian Gray stepped out in the breezy way celebrities do. Dorian straightened his tie and peered at the house, the look of disapproval clear on his face. He seemed to heave a heavy sigh and began to make his way toward the house, head high.

  He wasn’t coming to knock on the door, was he? There’s no reason a movie star would be at Henry Jekyll’s house.

  The doorbell rang.

  Henry froze, dumbfounded, and waited.

  It went off again.

  Henry jumped up and hurried to the door, remembering he had sent Mr. Poole away. Clearly Mr. Gray had the wrong address. No need for Henry to overwhelm him more with the untidiness of both himself and his manor. Henry gently cracked open the door and peered out with one eye. “Y-yes?” he asked.

  “My name is Dorian Gray,” the actor introduced. “I believe I was expected.”

  Henry’s eye squinted at him, befuddled. What an absurd notion. The poor man must be lost. Had to be. “You were?” he huffed.

  “Yes,” Dorian coughed, looking a bit agitated. “I was invited by an Edward Hyde.”

  Henry froze at the name. What could he mean? That was impossible, wasn’t it? He didn’t remember Hyde ever making a call. And if Hyde invited him over, what dark part was Dorian Gray supposed to play in the creature’s foul game? “Why?” Henry squeaked.

  Dorian rolled his eyes. “I was asked to help a Henry Jekyll with his friend in exchange for the first look at a new chemical,” he explained.

  Henry froze and stared at Dorian for a long time.

  The star began to tap his foot. “Was this a mistake?” he questioned, crossing his arms.

  “No—no!” Henry said, stepping back. He was sure nothing in his house, including himself, was presentable, but that didn’t matter anymore. He patted his wild, red hair down and opened the door wide. Holding out his hand, he babbled, “How do you do? My name is Henry Jekyll.”

  Dorian begrudgingly accepted Henry’s hand and shook it once. Without a word, he let go and invited himself in.

  Henry stood confused for a moment but closed the door and hurried after him. “Where do we begin?” he asked.

  Finding his way into the den, Dorian said, “A glass of tea.”

  Quick to appease, Henry ran into the kitchen and rummaged around, still trying to get used to where everything was. He wished Poole was there to make everything easier. If interactions like this were going to be frequent, it was a good time to call back the faithful butler.

  Pouring the tea into the glass, Henry wanted to question Hyde, but something told him everything was under control. But how had Edward contacted the famous Dorian Gray of all people?

  Shaking his head, he took a lemon slice, squeezed it into the tea, and stirred it with a spoon. When he pulled out the utensil, he saw his distorted reflection in it, upside-down. Doing a doubletake, he blinked at Edward’s flipped face.

  “Henry,” the creature whispered. “Listen to what he says, understand?”

  Glancing up to make sure his guest was not lingering at the door, Henry gulped and nodded.

  “He’s going to help us,” Hyde explained. “He knows powerful people and he’ll know how to improve the formula.”

  “But Frankie—” Henry began.

  “He’ll handle Frankie!” Edward snarled, impatient. “Make this man happy! Understand?”

  Henry nodded again and flung the spoon into the sink. Then he took the cup and walked it out to Dorian, who waited in the den, impatient.

  The star sat in the big armchair at the farthest end of the room that sat lodged between two bookshelves. Dorian propped one ankle on the opposite knee and rested his face against his closed fist. He stared curiously at the formula scratched into the walls over and over again, then to the paintings and side tables tossed aside aimlessly. Following the sloppy blade marks with his eyes, he seemed to be comparing them. One formula was big and the next was small. One was sideways and one was upside down, and so on.

  Henry hesitated, embarrassed at the result of his manic episode the other day. Nonetheless, he sat down across from Dorian and cleared his throat. “So, um…” Nervous, he stopped; what should he say? “What all did Edward…” He waved his hand in the air as if doing so would help him form words. “…tell you, exactly?”

  Dorian sighed. “He said you had a formula that could strengthen someone’s most dominant trait,” he stated, seeming uninterested. “I believe he called it a ‘super-human chemical.’ Also, he asked me to help give you what your formula needs.”

  What was wrong with his formula? As far as Henry knew the chemical had worked, even if it wasn’t the way he’d wished. Was Dorian insinuating that something was wrong with the design? And what could a stupid celebrity do? Henry smirked. “How so?” he questioned.

  Dorian rolled his eyes. But after a minute he regained composure and said, “I can make it so that the formula doesn’t change just a gene.” He took a long, hearty sip of the tea and toasted the cup to Henry a bit. “I can make it so that it could enhance a…” As words came to him, he smiled. “A spiritual gift, if you will, like discernment. Or even take someone’s hobby and give them a wonderful ability out of that. Maybe take the last thought someone had on their mind and make it a reality for them. The possibilities are endless, really; it’s all up to your imagination.”

  Henry paused a moment and stared him down, speechless. Was he serious?

  But Dorian accepted his challenge and stared back, unblinking.

  “How is that possible?” Henry interrogated, squinting at the celebrity. “You’re talking about mixing fictional ideas in with science as if it’s going to work.” Hyde clearly had no idea what he was doing. Henry’s hope in the creature’s promise began to dwindle.

  Dorian’s eyes glimmered at him. “You don’t believe in the spiritual aspect of a human being.” It was no question.

  “No,” Henry snapped. He refused to believe ridiculous fairytales.

  “And what of your condition?” Dorian suggested.

  But the answer was simple. “What kind of a question is that? I’m insane!” Henry argued, pained. “It’s as simple as that. Read a book. It’s called split-personality disorder. A psychological illness due to some radioactive drug I idiotically pumped into my body. A chemical you, for some reason, want to make worse.”

  All was silent for a minute as they glowered at each other. Then Dorian laughed a bit. “Edward Hyde called my private phone and addressed me specifically. You have no condition, Henry,” he sighed. “It has nothing to do with the human psyche. Trust me.”

  “What, I’m supposed to just trust you?” Henry asked, shaking his head. “I don’t even know you. I’m supposed to believe you know what you’re talking about?”

  Dorian smiled. “You provide the chemical, and I’ll provide the answers—and a lab. But first, I need to know it works. When I know it’s successful, I’ll inform the buyers and you’ll be stacked up in riches and recognition.”

  “You’d intake the chemical?” Henry asked, surprised.

  “No!” Dorian snorted. “Not without it being tested. But that’s w
here your friend, Franklin Stein, comes in.” His smile grew sinister. “First, we’ll need his body.”

  Henry’s head fell as memories hit him like a train. “That’s not possible,” he whimpered, wringing his hands together, uncomfortable. “Frank, he…he…” Exploded did not sound civil at the moment, so Henry stopped himself. “He practically has no body left,” he sniffed, peering back up.

  Dorian’s wicked grin was unhindered by Henry words. “Well, then, Dr. Jekyll…” His eyes glistened. “Have you ever been grave-robbing before?”

  Henry stared at the actor wide-eyed in disgust, the thought absurd to him. What a lunatic idea!

  But the star showed no remorse. When he looked at Henry’s face, he barked out a laugh and took a deep swig of his drink. “I assume not,” Dorian sighed, setting down his cup. Then he rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “Well, the first time is always the most exciting, I suppose. Grab a shovel, doctor. Tonight, we’ll go shopping.”

  Canto V

  Suzette paced around her room, the address sitting in front of her computer on the desk, awaiting her patiently. She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth as her train of thought grew longer and longer. Should she go? Lady Augustine had probably forgotten all about it. Surely, what had happened was no big deal. But it felt like a big deal.

  Finally, taking a deep breath, Suzette turned and faced the tiny little scrap of paper. I’m going to do this.

  Her phone went off.

  Suzette jumped and stared at the phone, her confidence fleeting at the disturbance. She hurried over to it. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Suz!” Dante cheered. It was good to hear him sounding back to normal. “What are you doing?”

  She sighed and chuckled a bit. “Oh, hey, Dante. I’m just about to leave. I have to visit someone.” Well, there it was; now she had to go. Couldn’t turn back from that.

  “Oh.” He sounded a bit disappointed. “Could I go with you?”

  She fell silent. Would that be okay? What would he think? Could she trust him?

  Of course I can trust him, she scolded herself. The real question was, could she risk looking like a fool if it was all for nothing? No, she couldn’t. She would go to the house, speak to Lady Augustine, and come back to tell him, and only if the answers she got were what she wanted.

  “Not this time. It’s kind of important that I go by myself.”

  “Oh, alright,” he said. “I’ll just let you go, then.”

  “Alright,” she muttered. “But maybe we could do something later.”

  “Sure. Just call me when you’ve got some time. Bye, babe.”

  “Bye.”

  The sound of silence on the other end obnoxiously sat in her ear and left her feeling conflicted. She wanted to tell him, but it sounded so strange! She had to do what she had to do.

  Suzette inhaled a deep lungful of air and let it out in a short, brave huff. Feeling a bit more cemented in her certainty, she flung her purse over her shoulder and marched out her bedroom door.

  As she walked down the stairs, her father spotted her from the kitchen. Setting down his peanut butter-covered knife, he cleared his throat and glanced at the graying sky. “Where’re you going?” he asked.

  Suzette froze and hesitated. “Um, I’m just going to get out of the house,” she answered. “Maybe see a friend.” No use in lying.

  His concern dissolved. “Alright, no problem. If you’re going to be a long time, make sure you have your spare key,” he reminded her. “We’ll all be sleeping when you get back most likely.”

  “Right, duh,” she laughed nervously. “Quiet as a mouse when I come back. Promise.”

  After nodding in approval, he turned back to the counter. “Oh, and take a jacket. It’s getting cold out,” he added.

  Suzette hurried to the closet and pulled out the first coat she saw—her dad’s old, black hoodie. Draping it over her shoulder, she scuttled out the door. She got in the car and drove away.

  It took a good while to get to Lady Augustine’s house, almost a whole hour. Several times, she tried to enjoy the radio, but her loud, distracting thoughts made the music sound more like busy noise. What would Lady Augustine say when she just showed up out of nowhere? What would she think? Would she listen to the ridiculous rants of a paranoid eighteen-year-old? Would she even be there? Too bad she had not left a phone number, too.

  What was Suzette supposed to do if she had some strange power? Become some strange, secret crime-fighter?

  Yeah, right. Not if Dante could help it. He would freak out and lock her in a room. He’d always thought she was too rash and selfless in her pursuit to help people. No, being a crime-fighter was too dangerous; and while danger wasn’t her main concern, Dante would have a heart-attack at the mere thought. Besides, she had seen enough movies to know that cops never liked the crime-fighting types. And that was the last thing she wanted.

  She wished she had explained more to Dante. What kind of advice would he have offered? He may have surprised her by supporting her curiosity. Maybe would have driven her up to Lady Augustine’s himself. But more than likely, he would’ve said she was overthinking things, that there was nothing special going on, that it was all just a coincidence.

  Her mind flip-flopped from one thing to another. In an attempt to keep her thoughts at bay, every once and a while Suzette took in the scenery. On her way, she had passed through a lot of populated little towns. But as her journey grew near an end, people became sparser until there were hardly any houses at all. Finally, she came upon a cute little estate nestled behind some trees.

  Suzette pulled up to the iron gate that surrounded the property. The buzzer on the callbox glowed a soft red and she pressed it. After waiting a good minute, she pressed it again and said, “Hello?”

  No answer came.

  To this, she sighed. She thought of leaving a note on the callbox but feared it would never be found, subjected to weather and haphazard caretakers.

  Just as she began reversing, she paused, something deep within stopping her.

  Go back.

  Her foot weighed heavily on the brake, befuddled. The thought was not her own. She sat there, waiting for the feeling to fade so she could keep driving, but it didn’t. She looked at the house for a long time. It seemed to call to her.

  So, she answered.

  She reversed back into the narrow, heavily wooded country road, driving down a way until she found a safe place to veer off the road and park. She tugged on the hoodie, exited the car, and began back toward the gate, tucking her hands in the pockets to guard them from the chill of the cool night breeze. It took a few minutes, but she made it back to the entrance just as all traces of the sun disappeared.

  Reaching the gate, Suzette grabbed hold of the bars and tugged once. When it didn’t budge, she pressed herself against it and examined the lay of the land. The large house sat a good distance back, devoid of any light. Trees speckled the property and lined the gate where it ran along the road, but she was able to make out the windows and door. Her eyes darted around the property as she waited for someone to discover her—a groundskeeper maybe. As she stared, she saw nothing. The longer she waited, the heavier her heart grew. She feared if she left, her confidence would extinguish over time and she would never return, never find any answers.

  Just then a little, faint beam of light, like something from a low beam flashlight, gleamed against the far side of the house.

  Her heart leapt. Excited, Suzette leaned in closer and opened her mouth to call out.

  Don’t.

  She snapped her jaw shut at the internal voice. Instead, she strained her eyes in the dark.

  Three figures emerged behind a tree just inside the fence, crouching slightly, all dressed in dark colors. The one in the front held the dim flashlight. Together, they crept around the back of the house.

  That can’t be anything good, Suzette thought. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and tried to click it open.

  Dead.
/>   She groaned and shoved it back into place. What now?

  Go inside.

  She scoffed. And do what exactly?

  But there came no answer.

  As she stood there, frozen, the incident earlier that day came back to her, the one with Dorian and his stupid limo driver. She had never taken gymnastics, participated in cheer, or even attempted parkour in her life. And yet, somehow, she had been able to show odd feats of jumping talent. Why not again? She just needed to find the closest phone, call the cops, and head out.

  Quickly, she grabbed the limb of the tree closest to the gate. Never having been very strong, she prepared for some strain. But as she pulled herself up into the tree, she found it easier than she expected. Still strenuous, but nothing compared to what it should have been. Trying to focus over the excited feelings of her newfound strength, she climbed up until she was clear over the top of the gate.

  Her stomach knotted when she saw how high the drop was. But she took in a few quick, heavy breaths and leapt.

  Her foot landed on the top of the gate’s post and clumsily pushed off, where she found herself hurtling face-first toward the ground. Just as she began to second-guess the brightness of this plan, time seemed to slow down, just like it had with Dorian’s limo, and she could feel her body reacting on its own.

  She tucked her head and felt her fingers meet the grass. As her palms met the earth, her elbows and knees tucked in. Her neck grazed the ground next. But instead of landing flat on her back, the rest of her body rolled onto the ground then propelled her up again.

  Time returned to normal and she was on her haunches, her hands gently falling back to the ground to catch herself from rolling again. Crouched low to the grass, she exhaled in shock but looked back up at the house, seeing the faintest of gleams against a curtain.

  She rose just a bit and scurried to the side of the house, throwing her hood onto her head. She peered around the back but found nothing. So, she hurried along the brick, stopping at the side of the backdoor. It was cracked open just slightly, and there was a small, black device stuck to the upper right corner, blinking green. She cautiously straightened and pressed her ear close, listening for any noise directly on the other side. When she heard nothing, she pushed open the door, peering up as she stepped inside, noting the awfully quiet security sensors protruding at the corners. It was hard to see in the unlit room, but she could make out a couch and the open doorway to the foyer, where a beam of light shone.