Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1)

by H. M. Rutherford

  “I’ll be staying to attend the funeral,” Henry said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “To make sure myself that that disgusting man’s really dead.”

  Dorian felt enraged by the doctor’s coldness. You have no idea whose name you just besmirched, Jekyll, he growled in his head. You’ll pay for it.

  “I need to go, Dorian,” Henry spat. “They’re waiting for me.” Then the line went dead.

  Abraham listened as Dorian hung up his hotel phone. With a sigh, Abraham closed his computer and took out his earpiece. For a minute, he stared at the bare wall in front of him, numb. When everything he had overheard sank in, he sighed and slumped his head into his hands, feeling a tremendous weight evaporate off of his life. He bowed his head, thanking God for the relief—for the beginning of the end of years spent worrying and looking back over his shoulder. He felt a safety he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. The aftermath of the death of one of the Order’s precious leaders would be short and difficult, but Abraham was prepared for whatever they would send his way. And when the mourning had passed and the Order had moved on, they would forget about Abraham. A perfect opportunity to slip in and tie up some loose ends.

  Then he’d be free.

  —

  Watching the news was something that had never interested Suzette in the slightest—until this moment. Now, her eyes were glued to the screen. The serial killer having been a woman drew plenty of attention, but her having quickly confessed to everything made the story all the more unique. Then, topping it off with the revelation that she’d been someone who was reported missing for several weeks? The media had eaten it up. Over and over, they played the short, shaky footage of Hester being escorted into the police station. Even with the poor video, Suzette could see the anxious, frantic expression on the feeble woman’s face.

  Lord, what am I going to do? How can I help this poor woman, now?

  She drew her shaky hands up to her hair and paused, noticing the tremble. Almost on cue, her stomach growled. With a deep exhale to let loose her nerves, she flipped off the TV. Then she got up and threw open the blinds, letting the bright sunshine flood into the apartment. The warm rays soaked into her skin, reviving her. She stood there a moment, eyes closed, basking in the relaxing heat. If it weren’t for her stomach, she would have stood there all day, casting all of her cares away.

  A knock came.

  The disturbance made Suzette sigh. But she made her way over to the door and answered it.

  Abraham stood there, his face hard to read.

  She stepped aside and let him in. “Hey, Bram,” she greeted, half in jest, half in caution.

  He huffed and rolled his eyes as he walked past her. Stopping in the kitchen, he began, “So, I’ve been thinking…”

  Closing the door, she said, “Well, go ahead and sit down—think there.” She waved to the small kitchen table.

  He hesitated, almost confused by the offer, then awkwardly made his way over.

  Suzette walked over to the counter and paused. She took in his size and again wondered about his food intake. He must consume large amounts of food. But how did he get all of it, if he really was a nomad? As she busied herself setting out ingredients, her curiosity ate at her, but she didn’t want to pry. But I do want to feed him. Do I dare ask? “I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?” Trying to hide her tension, she paused and glanced over at him, curious to see if he’d reprimand her again.

  He stared at the tabletop for a several dragging seconds, heavy brows furrowed. “Sure,” he muttered under his breath.

  Suzette hesitantly turned back to the counter, a little surprised but pleased all the same. She made them each a sandwich, peeking over her shoulder every now and then to see Abraham squirm slightly in his seat, words never finding their way out. Wrapped around his hands was a little gold chain and he rubbed at whatever pendant sat in his grip. She couldn’t make it out but didn’t chance trying to steal a glance. When she finished with the food, she took their two plates over and sat across from him. Bowing her head, she said a short prayer then looked back up. “So, what’s up?” She started on her sandwich and let her gaze discreetly wander to his hands.

  He let a little gold cross slip out of his grip before wrapping up the chain and sticking it back in his pocket.

  The sight made her hesitate a moment, confused, but she continued eating.

  “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided that Hester is best where she is right now,” Abraham concluded. “She’s safer where she is right now. She’s so public, Dorian and Jekyll wouldn’t dare touch that. They’re probably too busy trying to build an alibi just in case Hester tries to drag them out into the light, which I’m confident she will. Her hearing is about a month and a half away. If she freaks out and causes any unexplainable trouble, they’ll more than likely move her to some high-security cell in a psych ward, which just means double protection. I propose we keep an eye on her and make sure things go smoothly for the authorities; once that’s under control, our focus needs to shift to other things. Perhaps you can busy yourself with your mobsters.”

  Suzette stopped chewing mid-bite, displeased by the idea. Setting down her half-eaten sandwich, she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Then she leaned her elbows on the table and propped her head on her hand. “I just wish…” But she couldn’t finish.

  “You can’t always help,” he replied. His rough voice softened a bit, maybe sensing her struggle. She glanced up at him and straightened, surprised to see his eyes shut, his head bowed over his sandwich. He remained silent for a few seconds before he picked up his sandwich and got to work.

  Curious, she watched him eat, his suggestion ping-ponging around uncomfortably in her head as she did. But the harder she stared at the mysterious, big man, sitting in the bright, warm evening sun in front of her, the more she started to notice the small details she didn’t get to see before. She had only seen him out of his trench coat in the elevator the night of the charity event and once in the van, but she hadn’t exactly been looking to figure him out in those moments. Now, he sat in a dingy, black t-shirt and dark, stained cargo pants. His eyes looked tired and worn, like he hadn’t slept in ages. A few worry-lines adorned his eyes and the spot between his eyebrows. His tightened jaw muscles flexed under his short facial hair as he chewed, and Suzette took stock of the rest of his large, tense muscles, intrigued. He had endured much, and his damaged skin showed it—rough and tan, with a few faint scars on his face and a big one across his cheek. His arms and hands seemed bad as well. Gouges here, scratches there. No doubt the rest of him was covered in battle wounds. Maybe others saw his scars and were intimidated, but when Suzette saw them, she saw a past that had tried to strangle the life out of him. She saw a survivor. As Bram wiped the crumbs of his sandwich from his mouth, she couldn’t help but finally trust her gut wholeheartedly. Something was definitely different about him.

  Abraham’s eyes abruptly met hers. They were a deep, rich light brown that held more character and life than she had noticed before—more than maybe he even knew. A story tumbled around in the melted-caramel color, trying to hide and yet peeking through to her nonetheless. “Seen enough?” he breathed.

  “Are you a Christian?” she wondered.

  There was a long pause as he stared, seemingly unfazed. And then: “Yes,” he said quietly. He quickly glanced down at her half-eaten sandwich, scooped it up, and began eating it.

  Suzette smirked and then bit down on her lip, stifling her laughter. “How long?”

  He paused between bites. “About five years, I think.”

  “You think?”

  He shoved the last bite in his mouth. Suzette waited patiently as he chewed and chewed, his reluctance obvious. Finally, he swallowed the remains, took a moment, and slacked his jaw as he tried to find adequate words. “I-I’ve never really told anyone,” he said, almost inaudibly. “Had no one to tell.”

  She was quiet a moment. Then she smiled, surprising him. “I figured there wa
s something other than your exuberant, delightful demeanor that drew me in.”

  He chuckled a little and looked down, though his shoulders were taut with discomfort.

  “Well, I’m glad you were able to finally tell someone. Five years is a long time to keep quiet. To…be on your own.” Her heart sank at the realization. Five years with no one to even tell? Sounds a lot lonelier than he lets on.

  He glanced up at her hesitation.

  His curious gaze made her force a polite grin. “Thank you for telling me. Really, I feel very honored. I think this will make becoming friends a lot easier for us.”

  “Friends?” he repeated.

  “Yes, Bram, friends.” She saw his face start to morph at the mention of his alias and quickly added, “And friends are allowed to give all sorts of nicknames, by the way.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his seat, but he didn’t argue.

  Suzette fell into silence for a few seconds, the fiasco with dinner the night before still heavy on her heart. She still didn’t know what she had done wrong, but the fact that he accepted a sandwich today gave her confidence to bring it up again. “Hey,” she said seriously, “I really am sorry if I offended you last night. I was just trying to be nice, but it clearly didn’t come off that way.”

  “You don’t need to apologize.” He shook his head.

  “No, I do,” she insisted. “I upset you somehow. Please, forgive me.”

  Abraham’s eyes widened a bit, stunned. He looked so stumped that Suzette began to question herself. Abruptly, he stood up and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Suzette noticed the sweat on his skin and looked over at the low, beaming sun through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She hurried over and shut the blinds, hoping it would help. Maybe it’s his power? But when she looked back, he still seemed perplexed, like a short-circuiting robot.

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  He shook his head and shuffled closer to the entryway. “I’m just… I’m not used to apologies. At least not…genuine ones.” His words almost didn’t seem like they were meant for Suzette.

  She grinned, comforted in the fact that he at least knew she was sincere.

  “Um, I… Yeah.” He nodded decidedly and looked up at her. “I… I do—forgive you, that is,” he muttered awkwardly.

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  He looked down, still uncomfortable, the sweat on his forehead still fresh. “And I, uh… I should also say…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I was just overwhelmed,” he said boldly, staring her square in the face. “Last night, when you made me food, when you prayed over the meal, when you apologized then for something you didn’t even do wrong.”

  She blinked, taken aback. Shaking her head, she tried to open her mouth to reply.

  “I’m not used to someone like you. Someone who genuinely wants to help people for no reason other than it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “My whole life, I’ve grown up around people who put on a face. Anything they did, there was a selfish motive behind it. I was that way for the longest time. It’s just…hard to get used to trusting someone. So…” His confidence failed once more and his eyes retreated to the floor. “So, I’m… I know I haven’t been very…”

  “Nice?” she poked.

  He rolled his eyes and let them fall again. “Yeah, nice,” he mumbled. “And I’m sure I’ve been difficult to work wi—”

  “You have.” She grinned.

  He let out a low growl. “So… I’m…” He huffed. Then he grunted. And finally, after releasing a sigh of defeat, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.”

  Confused, he looked up at her.

  She smirked at him and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s it?” She raised a brow.

  He ran his hand across his sweaty forehead again and let out a groan. “Fine. I’m sorry. Will you…forgive me?”

  With the simple words, Suzette beamed. “Of course, I forgive you, Bram.” She waltzed over to him and let her hand dangle in the air between them. “Now, let’s start fresh. Deal?”

  Abraham eyed the gesture warily but shook her hand, his rough, calloused grip giving her a light shake before letting go. As he took a step back, he stifled a yawn. He appeared to rock back a bit before straightening and giving her a nod. “Thank you for the sandwich.” With that, he turned and flung open the door.

  Suzette followed and leaned against the door frame as he stepped away, watching his sluggish movements. “You get some sleep, alright?” she said, trying to hide her sudden concern.

  He stopped in front of Jack’s door and gave her a puzzled look. “We’ll see. Why?”

  She shuffled her feet, thinking back on the short stays he’s spent at Jack’s apartment. “You just look tired. That’s all.” With a shrug, she added, “Just make sure you get some sleep.”

  His brown eyes stared hard at her. A haunted look nearly screamed at her, making her shudder a little, but it begged for her attention. “I don’t really sleep often.” Leaving her with only that, he turned and opened the door to Jack’s place, shutting it deafly behind him.

  Suzette stared at the door, trying to form words that could help him. If only she knew what to say. She sighed, knowing it was useless. She bit down her worry and returned to her apartment.

  Abraham leaned against the closed door of Jack’s apartment, feeling his balance teeter.

  “Hey, Bram.” The smile was evident in Jack’s voice from where he sat at the dining room table, tapping away at his computer.

  Abraham groaned. “You too, huh?”

  Jack turned in his chair, flashing his pearly white smile. “What can I say? It fits.” His smile faded. “You look beat. You okay?”

  A chill shook Abraham and he shivered, feeling the exhaustion rushing over him. If he actually looked tired, it was bad and he knew it. “I’ll be fine,” he grumbled. He made his way over to the couch and plopped down, his teeth beginning to chatter. Why am I so cold? he wondered frustratingly.

  He heard Jack shuffle out of his chair. The footsteps moved around the back of the couch for a brief moment before a thick blanket was thrown over Abraham. Grateful, he wrapped his arms around himself before he stopped, cautious. “Did you just read my mind?”

  “Sorry,” Jack said, walking around to the front of the couch. “I’m sure the idea of someone reading your mind is creepy. Sometimes, I have to really focus to make it work.” He shrugged. “But sometimes it just happens.”

  Abraham huffed. “I’ll just have to think in another language, then.”

  “It would probably make things less awkward,” Jack agreed.

  Suddenly, the world around Abraham began to rock back and forth ever so slightly. He closed his eyes and gripped at his head.

  “You’re welcome to sleep on the couch.”

  Everything in Abraham wanted to reject the offer, but he nodded. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Suzette tried to insist on me getting you your own bed, but I think she was just being nice.”

  Abraham opened his eyes and tried to focus on Jack. “Why do think that?”

  Jack looked down, a disparaging look flashing across his features before it died away. “She knows neither of us will be here long. We’re not…” He planned his words carefully. “We’re not on the same frequency as her. I’m going to find a way to make Jekyll pay, take my life back, and leave. You’re going to use her to get whatever you need and leave. She knows it.”

  Abraham closed his eyes again, trying to digest the words. “You read her mind?”

  “She thinks louder than she talks, if you can believe it,” Jack said snidely.

  “And she really thinks that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Interesting.” But the thought perplexed Abraham. “Use her”? That sounded like such a selfish thing to do. She really thought that about him? But isn’t that what the plan was anyway? he asked himself, careful to think in Dutch. She was a mere convenience that I wanted to take advanta
ge of. Never once, until the moment she had apologized, did Abraham really ever think of Suzette as a human being with her own motives, feelings, and insights. Of course, he’d known, but he hadn’t really stopped to consider it. Had never really stopped to consider anyone, really. He easily blamed it on his upbringing, but it still made him feel rotten. After all that talk about trust and selfish people… He cringed, but he couldn’t really blame her, knowing it was most likely the impression he had given.

  Have I really changed, God? It was a question he constantly asked himself, but he dared not linger on it too long. The thought that he hadn’t changed, that he was still the same machine of a person he once was, haunted him. He waited quietly for an answer to his prayer, but all that came was the plucky urge to stay longer than Suzette anticipated. Maybe that would show her—or himself. He opened his eyes to Jack, but the world spun. Dizzy, Abraham toppled over onto the pillow of the couch. Shutting his eyes closed, he groaned and said, “Maybe we should think about that bed.”

  Jack hesitated. “Alright,” he said, surprised but willing.

  The admittance of his own commitment startled Abraham. He knew better than to stick around for too long. “A small one,” he added hastily. “A cot, maybe.”

  Jack chuckled. “Sure, sure. Goodnight, Bram.”

  Abraham sighed and closed his eyes, determined just to let his body rest for a moment. No sleeping, though. No, he didn’t want that. As he lay there, Jack went back to typing at a steady pace. The clicking settled peacefully in Abraham’s ears. Slowly, his breathing relaxed and all the tension in his body fell away. Before he knew it, he had drifted off, granted a moment of peace before being plunged back into a world he longed to escape, screams once again ringing in his ears.

  Canto XIX

  Jekyll sat at the open window of his bedroom, still uneasy about his new house but trying to make himself comfortable. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock on the wall and his barely audible whispers as he rummaged through his thoughts. City life had been much harder to adapt to than he had thought, even after two months of it, and he’d found it exhausting. Hyde, on the other hand, had found it liberating.