These visions were so strange, and Abraham wondered if the chemical had somehow poisoned his mind. This past vision wasn’t as exact as the one of the boy on fire, who, coincidentally, had caught on fire and burned everything to the ground. Because last time Abraham checked, there was no monster attached to his back, feeding off of him. Even stranger was that the tiny slip of a girl had been the one to rip it off. Shaking his head, he readjusted his crossbow on his shoulder and leaned against a tree, folding his arms across his wide chest.
Something had hindered Abraham from hurting Suzette. Even when she’d challenged him with her lack of fear and her claim at his gentleness, he’d felt as if a hand had stopped him. Maybe she would serve a purpose, even if only a small one. She’d said that her coming into contact with the chemical had been an accident, but he wasn’t quite sure he could pinpoint what her power was exactly. Maybe it was something that helped her see more than what was actually there, like how she knew he wasn’t really going to hurt her, though he’d wanted to. Or maybe it was some instinctual thing, like how she had been able to dodge him so well. Having her close would help him understand what her power was and how she would wind up using it. Let’s hope, for her sake, she’ll use her power for the right reasons.
He got up from the tree and walked toward the house, scooping up a pebble in his hand. He reeled his hand back and stopped a moment, remembering all the objects he had broken since getting used to his own power: branches, one of his knives, a door handle. Careful not to release his new strength, he gently tossed the rock at the glass.
A moment passed and the window opened. Suzette stuck her head out. Setting a hand on her cheek, she gushed, “Oh, how romantic!”
He opened his mouth to shoot something rude back but stopped when he saw that a mask covered her face. “Are you serious?”
“What?” she muttered back.
He rolled his eyes, turned, and started walking toward the trees, throwing a look over his shoulder. “You look ridiculous.”
“You look ridiculous!” she grumbled. She clanked down the drain with ease and landed softly on the grass, making Abraham pause. “Who still wears trench coats, might I add?” She rushed up toward him, giving him a weak snarl. “Flashers, that’s who!”
He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Together they walked on, Abraham leading the way. Silence was eminent as they made their way through the woods, though Suzette quite often drew in a sharp breath as if about to say something. They walked for about an hour, and the girl’s breathing grew ragged and short. Definitely a sign that she would not last long.
“So, what’s your name, Hercules?”
“None of your business.”
“Okay, then. So, Henry Jekyll made the chemical, you say.”
He remained silent; she should have remembered what he had said the night before.
A few seconds passed. “Right?”
He sighed, annoyed already. “Yes,” he snapped.
“Well, respond next time!” she poked lightly.
“I didn’t need to,” he said. “You didn’t ask.”
“I was trying to confirm a fact.”
“If it’s a fact, why do you need it confirmed?” he shot back.
Suzette scoffed. “It would have just been polite to respond,” she grumbled. “Do you know what that word is?” Her voice was slow and teasing. “Po-lite?”
“I’m not polite.”
“Now, on that we can both agree.” She suddenly gasped and came to a halt.
Abraham’s brought his crossbow up a bit and he planted his feet firmly on the ground, a bit surprised she had noticed something before he had. “What?” he whispered.
She tilted her body toward him and set her hand over her heart, giving him a stupid, girly grin. “I never thought we’d agree on anything.”
What? The longer he stared, confused, the wider her smile grew. When the joke hit him, he groaned, letting his hands fall to his sides.
She turned and began walking again, giggling to herself.
He trudged after her. “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”
“Do you appreciate anything?” she poked. “Don’t look so glum, Stud.”
Abraham smirked. Her pestering was lighthearted, but it wasn’t something he was used to; it annoyed him, but it also left him trying to figure her out more. When silence fell over them, she almost seemed to skip while she walked next to him, as if they weren’t about to go hunt down a monster. Almost as if she hadn’t fallen into an icy lake just the day before. This girl is strange, he thought. But he welcomed the quiet, relieved by it.
“So, where is Jekyll?”
Abraham’s jaw clenched. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Do you ever stop brooding?” she wondered with a laugh.
“No.”
Suzette grinned. “Then, no. Where’s Jekyll?”
“I believe he’s left town.”
“Where to?”
“No idea.”
She stopped and turned to him, disbelief on her features. “You’re not interested in where he’s gone?”
“No,” he said shortly.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?” she pressed.
“Just because.”
She set her hands on her hips. “That’s not very smart.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you the expert?”
His brows furrowed. “Yes.”
“Ignoring where he’s going isn’t a very smart decision on your part.”
He shook his head. “But you’re not the expert.”
“Exactly.”
He didn’t get it. “So?”
“So, even I know that’s not smart.”
Abraham took in a deep breath to calm himself. “You know, I have never met a person as annoying as you.”
Suzette’s lips curled up into a sheepish grin. “And I haven’t even warmed up.” With that, she began walking again. “Just wait, Stud.”
The words almost frightened Abraham—and fear was not something he felt very often. Just how long was she planning on sticking around? He had not spoken this much in years, probably. It wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable with. He wanted to keep an eye on this girl, but he wasn’t expecting to have to deal with such a character.
“So, what exactly is your story?”
His eyes almost bulged out of his skull in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
Suzette chuckled. “Not much for stories?”
“You know, if we were trying to sneak up on someone, you’d give us away in a heartbeat,” he said.
“Are we even close?” she challenged.
No, he thought. “What if someone were after us?”
“Who would be following us? What was it—the Order of the Dragon?” She snorted. “I still think you made that up to scare me. And you said so yourself that Jekyll left town, so we don’t have to worry about him. And if you know where the monster is, we don’t have to worry about it either. Besides, if we were being followed, I think my powers would have caught that.” Her pace slowed for a moment. “I think…” She shook her head and kept going.
Abraham let the silence take them again, studying her out of the corner of his eye. When she’d spoken, he had watched the way her full, pink lips curved up in a playful smile he remembered all too well on someone else—one full of deceit and mind games that he never had let himself fall prey to, only watched as others had. He remembered a creature so small and seemingly gentle, only to turn out to be a vicious, soulless killer underneath an empyrean mask. Hers was a smile he’d striven to forget. But now that he had spent some time in Suzette’s presence, she seemed devoid and even incapable of such malice. Now, she only seemed stupidly innocent. But he liked that about her—almost envied her. She was lucky for it. The once beguiling smile that had led to destruction was slowly becoming appealing with each cheeky grin this new girl gave him. It was refreshing. Oelewapper, he
thought, rolling his eyes. I can’t believe I thought this girl was with the Order. He started to feel confident in the idea of cutting her loose after this; she was no real threat. The only threat she offered was making his ears bleed with her constant pestering.
“So, what’s your story?” Suzette repeated after a while.
Abraham gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to know your story,” he answered instead. “So you don’t need to know mine.”
Her mouth hung open at him.
“What?” he demanded.
“That hurt my feelings.” Abraham couldn’t tell if she meant it in jest or in all seriousness. “I happen to think I have a pretty cool story, thank you.”
“You already told me some and I don’t care to the rest.”
She scoffed. “Don’t you know how to talk to a lady? How do you ever expect to get a girlfriend like that?”
“Like what?” he snarled.
“Next time, don’t insult me with your disinterest in my life. Just tell me you ‘don’t want to talk about it.’” She flipped her hair at him as she turned her head. “However, you’ll never get married keeping to yourself all the time.”
“All the more reason to keep to myself.”
“What?” She stopped abruptly, making him do a doubletake. “You don’t want to get married?” she asked. All sarcasm seemed to disappear, leaving only a deeply rooted inquisitiveness—maybe even concern, if Abraham didn’t know better.
Abraham’s posture fell. “Will you please just stop talking?” he begged.
“But why don’t you want to get married one day?” Her voice became sympathetic.
What is wrong with this woman?! He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to find peace in his situation.
“Hell-o?” her shrill voice echoed.
He let out a deep breath. Calmly, he replied, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And why not?” she demanded.
His eyes shot open. “You said that was all I had to say! That I don’t want to talk about it and you’d shut up!”
“But this is an important issue!” she whined.
“No!” he growled. Spinning her forward, he added, “What’s important is getting to the monster!” He pushed her forward.
“But you have to answer me!” she insisted.
“Because I don’t want to! I don’t want to get married!” he howled. “There! Are you happy?!”
“That’s all you had to say!” she bellowed back.
“Keep walking!” he hissed.
The quietude came back on them like a wave of relief. But after a minute, Suzette giggled to herself and regained a pep in her walk. And suddenly, Abraham felt as if she actually enjoyed the frustration she caused him. He rubbed his pulsating temple.
They walked the remainder of the time in silence until they got to the side of a large house.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Abraham took in the mansion and then looked over at her. “Dr. Henry Jekyll’s house.”
“Ew, does he keep the thing here? Like a pet or something?”
Abraham remembered watching the doctor’s tires spin up gravel as he had driven away from the beast. He grinned to himself at the thought. “Not exactly.” He took a step forward and stopped to turn to her. He squared up to her, hoping his tall stance would make her take him seriously this time. “Listen,” he whispered, “when we go in there, you stay close. I can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut for more than a minute, so please just keep it down and don’t touch anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Only because you said, ‘please’.”
Letting out a grunt, he raised his crossbow and made his way over to the front door. Pushing it open, he leaned his head in, crossbow at the ready as he scanned the room for any immediate sign of the monster, only to find none. Then he took in the area; a large, bare foyer with a big staircase in the middle, a few rooms on either side, a vase of umbrellas right next to him, and a small pile of mail shuffled and crunched slightly under the door. Proceeding with caution, he made his way into the foyer and stayed along the wall, examining the room. The nice tile floor was ruined by long, rigid streaks of grime. A horrible stench filled his nose almost to where his head hurt. Abraham dreaded the familiar smell.
He readjusted his hands on his weapon and, crouching a bit, walked further inside, waiting for the smell to get stronger. When he took a few steps to the right, nothing happened. Turning to the left, he quietly progressed on, aiming his bow at the archway of a dark room. The closer he got, the more his eyes stung from the smell. He took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. When he got to the archway, he pressed himself against the wall next to it. He couldn’t hear any breathing from inside, only the buzz of flies, but it was good to be cautious.
Flinging himself into the room, finger on the trigger, he prepared for the creature.
The room remained still, and the silence unbroken. When Abraham looked around, he observed a rich person’s den with a few seats by the windows and a couch against the far wall. His hypersensitive eyes noted scribbles on the walls of the dim room—an equation, repeated over and over. And lying pristinely across the couch was the monster’s victim.
—
Suzette watched the nameless hunter crouch away toward the rooms on the left. She shook off the tension in her shoulders and leaned herself against the wall by the door. The man’s brooding emanated so powerfully off of him that Suzette couldn’t help but feel it, so she was relieved to be free from it. But at the same time, she dreaded being left alone to her own somber thoughts. At least with the hunter, she could sense that her teasing seemed to draw him out of his funk and give her something to focus on. Bothering him left her feeling like she was actually helping him. Yet now, without a task, she couldn’t help but fall into brooding herself, still unable to cope with everything that had happened since the day before.
Just as the heaviness of her sadness crawled down to her legs, threatening to plant her feet in place, she determinedly jolted alive and shook her head. No, don’t sit there and think about your life right now, Suzette. It’s not the time. She glanced to the rooms on the right of the foyer. I can still be helpful, she thought to herself, wishing to hurl the thought across the house toward the man who thought contrary.
She quietly tiptoed through the first open doorway closest to her and peered in, seeing a fancy, empty room with paintings lining the walls. The raised floor at the end of the room almost looked like a little stage, as if used for some sort of presentation. But the rest of the room remained bare. She stepped out and made her way to a large dining room with a small doorway at the end. She scurried around the table, through the doorway, walked down a hallway only a few feet long, and came into a dark, messy kitchen. But still, no monster.
A flashing red light pulsated at her from the far left counter.
Curious, she walked over and stared at the old answering machine with its big, red button flashing at her. A voice told her to push it, but she fought the urge down for a moment. She looked around the room and tilted her ear out into the open space of the kitchen, waiting for the raspy breathing of a monster to keep her from continuing. When she heard nothing, she mashed in the play button. There were so many messages, but she listened intently, waiting for valuable information. The more the machine ran through, loud and shrill in the quiet house, the more she bounced on her tiptoes, waving her hand at it to hurry. Finally—
Beep. “Jekyll? This is Wotton, Dorian Gray’s agent. You better not still be home. You were supposed to meet Dorian at the airport thirty minutes ago. He’s not too happy about the thought of you missing the plane; he’s got things to do, you see, so you better haul it over there. You better answer your cell.” It ended and moved to the next message.
Suzette’s hand quickly smashed the button again, silencing it. She stood there, stunned a moment as she processed the message. Dorian Gray, the actor? Working with a scientist? Nibbling her bottom lip, she tried to form a conne
ction. Dorian was supposed to be a philanthropic celebrity, according to social media. And if she remembered, Dante had said something about Henry also being involved in such fields. They could very well be working on some charity work together. Still weird, though… Henry Jekyll isn’t even a big name in science. The idea of them partnering up proved weird enough to follow up on. Either way, if she found Dorian Gray she would find Henry Jekyll, the supposed root of where it all began. She could get some serious answers that the hunter in the other room wouldn’t give her. Had Jekyll injected people against their will, like Jack Blevins had claimed in the papers? Was Jack really some loon? Does the alleged experiment connect to the Stein tragedies somehow?
Maybe all of this superhero stuff won’t become a total flop. She smiled to herself.
—
Liza Stein’s skin was pale and dirty, peeling away where it had worn thin from rotting. Her corpse wore a silky nightgown, stained in blood and dirt. It clung to her, showing a misshapen torso. Her knotted, mangled blonde hair fell over her face in strings. Her pale eyes sat wide open, locked on the ceiling, and her jaw slacked sideways. Flies circled around her and maggots wriggled in the crevices of her face. She must have been there for days.
Abraham sighed. Lowering his weapon, he made his way over and kneeled down next to her.
“She’s dead.” Suzette’s voice barely squeaked behind him.
Normally, he would have hidden the body to make sure no one else saw it. But if this girl was as innocent and harmless as she put on, she needed to wake up. Hopefully, she would give up on her vigilante endeavors and settle back into a normal life—away from him. So he shifted over for her to see it. “Yep. By the looks of it, her rib cage was crushed.”
“How long has she been dead?” Her voice was cool and quiet.
“A few days,” he answered. “A victim of the monster, no doubt. The right side of her rib cage is the part that’s mostly crushed. He probably grabbed her and just squeezed the life out of her.” He turned to see Suzette’s reaction.
Her face showed no sign of amusement, and especially not strength. But she seemed steady. She replied quietly, “You can tell all of that?”
Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1) Page 26