Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1)

by H. M. Rutherford

  —

  From his crouched position behind the toppled-over table that he had used for shelter, Edward watched Dante explode and the other boy vanish through the wall on the other side of the compound. The flames on Dante’s body seemed to have vanished miraculously, and the young man appeared unscathed by the fire, but the college student is what distracted Hyde and made him smile. What an interesting power. He quickly snapped out of his awestruck daze and glanced around at the growing flames. Hyde had no vanishing powers, but he did have his strength. Turning, he scooped Dorian back onto his shoulder and ran through the heat, past the extinguished Dante, and straight at the toppled-over metal equipment. With a swift kick, the shelves gave way and Hyde hurried out into the night, just in time to catch a glimpse of the college student high-tailing it into the trees. Knowing Van Helsing, he would have taken the woman to safety, far from Hyde’s grasp. The student may have been the only thing immediately salvageable from the wreck. Surely this boy’s power would be of help in the future to further the dear doctor. Better follow him, Edward thought. They could snatch him up once the movie star came to.

  Hyde took a few jogging steps with the actor but they were both thrown to the ground when a louder, bigger explosion knocked Hyde down. He shoved Dorian’s limp body off his back and rolled to peer behind. The building was reduced to a few scraps now, most of it in burning chunks in the grass. Perhaps the gas line finally exploded. Hyde had suspected something like that would happen. Good thing he made sure there was no alarm in the building. He couldn’t have the authorities stumble across their work before the time was right, could he? Hyde regained his footing, threw Dorian on his back once more, and started away until he was closer to the tree line. He paused and looked into the forest, waiting for a sign of the boy. When nothing stirred, he snarled.

  Of course, that strange burning man is still in there, completely unharmed, he thought, his anger simmering. If Hyde couldn’t catch up with the student, then perhaps this other man—this potential new form of weaponry—could help him even more. He would wait for the flames to die, and then retrieve the man. Decided, Edward set the celebrity against the nearest tree and examined him in the flickering light.

  Bruises and swelling already overtook the majority of his face. His nose and mouth bled profusely. Severe trauma was certain.

  Edward hummed an amused tune and leaned closer, bracing himself on his knees. He knew the Order would be more than glad to be rid of the pest but Hyde still found him to be usable. “Don’t worry, Dorian. I’ll get you all fixed quicker and better than any doctor could.” He grinned to himself, knowing how eternally grateful the actor would be. Finished, Hyde took a few steps back toward the building. There, he planted himself in the grass and watched the flames giddily, waiting.

  Suddenly, his head jerked sideways and he grunted in discomfort.

  “No, Henry!” he snarled. “Not now!”

  But as Edward’s heart stuttered, it shot a horrible, familiar pain through his body. Gritting his teeth against it, he fought the change. Henry would ruin his plan to wait for Dante.

  Try as he may to stay upright, Hyde was forced flat on the ground again and twitched madly, taken aback by the strength of Henry’s will. Unprepared for such an unexpected battle, Hyde let himself go in one sweet sigh.

  Shocked, Henry sat up abruptly and looked at the fire that now reached up into the sky. Was there anyone still in there? Did Dante survive the inferno? And that other boy, Jack—did he make it out? Henry gripped on the sides of his head, wishing he could know what happened. All he’d been able to make out were a few sounds and the occasional dim reflection of the real world.

  He didn’t know who was still in there, if anyone, but he couldn’t risk being seen when the authorities inevitably arrived. He would go to jail for sure. He couldn’t even risk being seen there. When he turned to the woods to flee, a figure caught his attention. It took a second to recognize Dorian’s swollen face. For a moment, Henry thought of leaving him there.

  But if he was found, the selfish man would rat Henry out, right? Sighing, Henry cupped his hands under the man’s arms and dragged him into the woods, pausing a moment to take one last glimpse of the fire.

  “Dante…” His throat swelled at the name. He had failed Frankie even further. Frank’s poor little brother hadn’t even been part of their quarrel. This wasn’t his battle. Henry’s heart wrenched at the thought of the youngest Stein being gone. Ashamed, he forced his eyes away and retreated into the darkness, hauling the actor’s unconscious body behind him, its weight far lighter in comparison than the weight of his own guilt.

  Canto IX

  Brian picked up his suitcase from where it sat in the booth beside him. When he stood, he swooped Cecilia close to him and kissed her goodbye.

  “Oh, do you really have to go?” she asked, playing with his tie.

  “I have to.” He kept one hand on her hip, playing with the strap of her waitress apron. “I have to get to work.”

  She made a pouty face and, for a moment, he was hypnotized by her plump, red lips.

  “I can’t stay with you for too long. You know that,” he reminded her. “What more can I give you before Jenny gets suspicious?”

  The mention of his wife’s name turned her pout serious and she pulled back. Folding her arms, she glared sideways. “Fine.”

  “Come on, babe.” He chuckled and tilted her chin to make her look at him. “You know you’re my world.”

  A smile formed on her lips and she giggled. “Alright,” she said, twirling her curly, brown hair. “See you tonight, baby.”

  Satisfied, he gave her one last lingering smile, picked up his coffee from the diner table, and walked out into the early, black morning. Getting into his car, he backed out of the diner parking space, straightened himself out on the road, and pulled away. It was a minute before he realized his lights were off. He fumbled around in the dark for the light switch. He glanced down at the knob by his steering wheel until he found it and flicked the headlights on.

  He looked up to see a woman standing in his path.

  He gasped and slammed the brakes, skidding to a stop just inches from her.

  The frail woman stared at the car wide-eyed and terrified, but she did not move. Her limbs shook, her hair was matted, and her nice blouse and dress pants were smeared with dirt. Flecks of white speckled her forehead.

  Brian sighed and rolled down the window. “Hey, lady!” he called. “You lost?”

  Uncertain, the shaken woman glanced around and made her way to the window. “Um, I think so.”

  Brian hesitated, uncertain himself. “Well, geez.” He shrugged with his hand and then scratched the back of his head. “I could, uh, give you a ride, if you want.”

  She nodded, still spaced out. Then she made her way around the car and got in the passenger seat.

  “Where d’ya need to get to?”

  She told him the address.

  “Isn’t that in the historic district?” he asked. “Near the old Catholic church?”

  She said something under her breath.

  “What?” He leaned in closer.

  “Yes,” she said, a little louder.

  “Yeah, I know where that is. Don’t worry; we’re not far.” With that, they drove off in silence.

  After a few miles, Brian could feel the woman’s eyes boring into the side of his head. Her breathing grew heavy. He could feel the air around them grow thick with something uncomfortable.

  “I know what you did.”

  “What?” he asked, confused. When she didn’t respond, he glanced over.

  She only stared.

  This is weird. I gotta shake this lady. Brian saw the old church and pulled up to it, feeling a small wave of relief. He put the car in park and stared up at the early morning sky as it shifted into a dark blue. “Alright, is this good enough?”

  “You think you can get away with it?”

  Brian furrowed his brows and looked over at her—the first t
ime he dared during the whole car ride. “What did you say?” He must have misheard her.

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with something sinister, something dark and evil. “You’re just like the rest of them.” Her voice was silky, only her mouth never moved. “You think you can get away with it.”

  Brian opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came. Am I imagining this?

  “You took a vow to stay true to your wife, but you lied,” her voice went on. “You betrayed her trust and broke your everlasting vow.” Her mouth was calm and still, but her wild, frazzled eyes seemed to bore into his soul, appearing more creature than human.

  Terrified, he tried to move, but he found himself paralyzed with a strange fear.

  “God won’t punish you,” her voice whispered in his ears. “But I will.”

  Frozen, Brian watched as her hand came up. It waved in front of his eyes and as it moved from view, everything turned black.

  Confused, he closed his eyes and rubbed them. Unintelligible whispers filled his ears. “Hey, lady!” he snapped. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you—” He stopped when he opened his eyes.

  Brian was no longer in his car. He took in the scene before him in disbelief. In front of him was himself, standing in his house. Confounded, he watched as his duplicate straightened his tie and picked up his suitcase from the end of his bed.

  His wife, Jenny, got up from her side and stopped him with a sweet, “I love you honey,” before he walked out the door.

  Without stopping, he muttered, “Yeah, you too,” just as he had every morning.

  When the front door closed behind his duplicate, Brian watched as Jenny’s face molded into disappointment. Darkness crept from the edges of his vision until the scene faded away. Then images of other times he’d made an excuse—numerous accounts of when he’d abandoned his wife—flashed through his head like a painful slideshow. He could hear his voice berating his wife until she seemed to shrivel. And worse, it was as if he could hear her very soul screaming out in agony until the shrill cries made him cringe in pain.

  “No!” he begged. Everything played out in fast-forward before him like a horror movie. He tried to slam his eyes shut, but they still remained, bombarding him with tormenting images. “Stop it! Please!”

  His wife’s agonizing sobs ignited his head with a horrible pain. Brian grabbed at his hair and then beat at his ears, trying to get the sounds and misery out of his mind. And still, her screams went on in his head.

  “I’m sorry, Jenny,” he sobbed, tears filling his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He looked up through his tears and tried to reach out and grab her, but the visions kept moving.

  “You’ve sinned, Brian.”

  It was her—that woman. “No!” he shouted. He tried to look around to find her, but there was nothing to indicate her presence—only torment.

  “And I won’t let you go unpunished.”

  A pressure built behind his eyes, between his ears. It began to pound, like a thousand bombs going off, one after the other. His head felt like it was going to pop right off his shoulders. All the while, his heart stuttered in an arrhythmic pattern. He screamed out in agony.

  —

  Dante’s head burned as an awful white noise filled his ears. His teeth chattered as the goose bumps tightened his skin to fight the cold air that shook the rest of him. As he lay there, unable to move his heavy head, horrible images flowed back to him, one by one.

  What happened? he thought. He had been in some building, but he was too busy being on fire to remember what it had looked like. He’d burned and burned, but it hadn’t hurt. He couldn’t escape, the rest of the building catching fire along with him. He remembered falling and closing his eyes for a moment, but when he’d opened them again, he could see the night sky. There had still been fire around him, but the building was crumbling, giving him open walls and chance to get away, where he disappeared into the darkness before his mind totally blanked again.

  The memory, if a memory at all, remained vague and blurry. It hadn’t even felt like a real experience, more like a confusing, mind-bending bad dream, the kind where you woke up and felt lucky you escaped from it, as if it had really happened. It couldn’t have been real, whatever it was, he told himself. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

  If it was real, it couldn’t have happened the way he remembered it. Otherwise, he’d be a charred mess. Yet, he could still smell the smoke and taste the soot as if it had been real. Memories of the burning lab that Frankie succumbed to and Liza’s engulfed house interrupted Dante’s scrambled thoughts. He cringed against them.

  That must be why, Dante concluded. It’s stress-induced. Maybe he never left the hospital and this was all just a mixture of his troubled mind and the pain medication for his knee giving him a horrible dream.

  But the ringing in Dante’s ears began to stop and the loud, squeaky sound of what seemed like a thousand crickets became discernible. Confused, he opened his eyes, only to find a dark blue sky, a few rustling branches stretching out in front of it.

  Groaning, he forced his aching body to sit up. His hands felt the dirt floor beneath him and he paused. Looking around, he tried to piece together his situation. He could make out trees in the dark, a few bushes here or there, and lights up ahead, shining through a break in the foliage.

  He could feel a small panic begin to rise, but he felt perplexed more than anything. How did I get here? As he wondered, the pristine memory of having been attacked in his car hit him. But he still couldn’t make out the time in between very well. What he vaguely remembered was still too absurd to even accept. Something had definitely happened, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

  He quickly scrambled to his feet and glanced around the dark forest until the lights in the distance caught his attention. Glancing through the break in the trees, he saw down the steep hill a town. He stared hard for a moment before he recognized the narrow roads and what appeared to be the diner—his own town. Home wasn’t too far. Letting out a sigh of relief, he took a step and suddenly winced at his bum leg. Yes, he remembered that well, too. He pushed past the pain and began toward the town. The more he walked, the more the cold breeze nipped at his skin. He wrapped his arms around his chest and stopped in surprise at the touch of his bare skin. Staring down, he could barely make out his naked body in the dark. His bafflement grew. Naked? Why was he naked? Looking around, he found no sign of clothes, so he kept walking.

  His leg throbbed with each step. He knew it would be worse when he finally stopped, but now he just wanted to get home. He fought past the dream-like memories of horrifying flames in hopes of seeing his parents’ faces again. He longed to look into Suzette’s bluish-green eyes, to feel her small arms hug him. It propelled him to move faster until he got into the town. There, he clung to the shadows of the tree line until he made it to the neighborhood, where he hurried past darkened houses, hunched over to hide his bare form from any souls that may have caught a glimpse of him.

  The more he walked, the more his lack of recollection ate at him, feeding into his fear. Anything could have happened. Drugs? Sexual assault? Internal injuries? He sniffled against the cold air and took in the smell of smoke once more, slowing his pace. Was there a chance those flames weren’t a memory? And what would he do when he got home? What could he say to his family and Suzette? Just thinking about all of their probing questions made him exhausted again.

  First Frankie had died, then Liza went missing, and now Dante was wandering the woods after who knew how long, after who knew what happened. Attempted murder, maybe? There has to be something more sinister to all of this, he thought. No way it was all just a coincidence. Someone had to have it out for the Steins. The thought shook him.

  After a while, his house came into view. The sight made his heart swell in relief. He snatched up the spare key from under a flower pot and crept inside the backdoor, careful that he wasn’t heard. The lights were off and the house was silent. His parents were no doubt
asleep. All for the better; he needed to sit a moment and catch a breath before having to deal with the emotions of a reunion. As he made his way toward the stairs, the daily desk calendar by the front door caught his eye, and he knew his mother was always adamant to change it before she retired for bed.

  Monday? Dante froze with his hand on the banister. He left the hospital late Saturday or early Sunday.

  He groaned thinking about the worry his family must have experienced. Shaking it off, he crept up the stairs and paused at his door, glancing down the hall at his parents’ room. The thought of waking them up ran through his mind, but he shook off the idea and hurried into his room, still mentally unprepared for such an emotional high. He began rummaging through his drawers in the dark, grabbing a pair of pajama pants. Slipping them on, he caught sight of his bed. The image made his bones ache and he lowered himself onto the mattress and pulled the sheets around his shoulders, pausing a moment as his whole body relaxed. He hunched over and leaned on his knees. The skin on his back felt grimy against the clean linens, reminding him of scary, unanswered questions. He closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face, feeling his anxiety rising again.

  The light flipped on.

  “Dante!”

  He gasped and opened his eyes.

  His tiny mother stood there, trembling like a leaf, eyes red and puffy. “Where have you been?!” she cried, running up to him with her arms wide open.

  “Mom, please—!” He quickly stood.

  Before her arms could wrap around him, she paused and looked him up and down. “What are you covered in?!”

  Confused, he looked down at his bare chest, only to find it covered in a smeared black film. When his mom’s arms wrapped around him, he brought his hands up behind her and saw the same thing. It was a sight Dante knew too well.