Dorian's Destiny: Altered

by Amanda Long

  “May I help you, sir?” The owner gawked at Thomas, obviously taken aback by Thomas’ lack of clothing.

  “Yes, you may!” Thomas spat, jabbing his pointer finger on the counter with each word. “My friend,” he glanced over his should at Dorian, who had just entered the lobby, “and I are horribly dissatisfied with the service at this establishment!”

  “What seems to be the problem?” The owner trembled slightly, his nerves reacting to Thomas' harsh tone.

  “Well, we have yet to be provided with any refreshments,” Thomas responded, after winking at Dorian, who now stood to his left, a few feet away from the counter.

  “I am sincerely sorry, sir, but we do not provide refreshments to our customers,” the owner replied, hoping his statement solved the problem.

  “Oh, but you can,” Thomas sneered. His fangs elongated and his eyes flashed red.

  The man stepped back, but Thomas seized him by the collar of his branded polo shirt before he could bolt toward his office. With little more than a flick of his wrist, he sent the man sailing through the air.

  The sound of bones snapping filled the lobby as he collided with the wall opposite the counter. A slight moan escaped his lips as his broken body slumped to the floor.

  “Help yourself Dorian, but please refrain from draining him completely. I still have much in store for him,” Thomas instructed, swinging himself up and over the counter. “I'm going to see what goodies our friend has hiding in the back office.”

  Returning his attention back to the owner of the range, Dorian felt a twinge of guilt. Before that emotion could completely blossom, he concentrated on channeling the instinct he felt with his first taste of blood.

  I am not going to allow the conflict I felt in the alley emerge again. I am going to do what I was made to do.

  Envisioning the man as no more than a rabbit, Dorian played his part of the fox. Bringing the man's wrist up to his hungry mouth, he took only a fraction of what he needed, but it still induced the same urges he felt in the alley. Luckily, he knew what to expect and suppressed his impulse for physical contact before Thomas reappeared.

  When Thomas returned, his arms were loaded with cash. “Found my money and a whole lot more. Don't look at me like that, Dorian. It's not like he needs it anymore.” He frowned while laying his bounty on the counter. “You didn't kill him, did you?”

  “No, Thomas, he's all your,” Dorian responded, moving away from the body.

  “Well then, step back and enjoy the show,” Thomas announced while cracking his knuckles like a musician prepping for a performance.

  Enjoyment was not a word Dorian would choose to describe how he felt about what he witnessed over the next few minutes. The brutality showcased forced him to turn away. Unfortunately, not having a visual of the massacre only slightly lessened the revulsion welling up inside him. Thanks to his heightened sense of sound, he still heard flesh ripping, bones snapping, blood splattering, and agonizing screams so loud, he feared his eardrums would burst. With every sound, he dug his nails deeper into the wooden counter until finally, when silence returned, he struggled to pull himself free. He turned back to Thomas and the results of the show. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. Nothing discernible remained of the proprietor of the shooting range, just remnants from an apparent wild animal attack.

  Wild animal is a pretty good description of Thomas.

  Thomas rose from the carnage, licking the blood from his fingertips as he swaggered back to the counter. “How did you like the show?” He asked but instantly added, “Don't bother answering. I saw you turn away seconds after I began disemboweling my meal. I'm not bothered by your obvious disgust, even though what I just did wasn't much worse than your treatment of the four legged variety back in the forest.”

  That statement had Dorian speechless.

  He speaks the truth. I'm a hypocrite. I mutilated scores of animals in the forest. The only justification for those atrocities is, they were committed out of anger and revenge not pleasure or sport. I never killed any of them but I left them for dead. Although I can't see myself ever murdering so viciously for pleasure, my past misdeeds are almost as bad.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens.

  “Here come the police!” Thomas emerged from a nearby restroom, clean and fully clothed.

  “Police?! Why? How would they even know?” Dorian sputtered, confusion and panic obvious in his voice.

  “Because I tripped the silent alarm before I redecorated,” Thomas answered nonchalantly.

  “Why would you do that?!” Dorian demanded.

  “For one thing, to see the look on your face when I told you,” Thomas glanced momentarily at Dorian puzzled expression, “priceless, and the other was just to make things more interesting. You must lighten up, Dorian,” Thomas joked, kneeling down to admire his masterpiece. Dorian opened his mouth to speak when Thomas suddenly yelled, “Catch!”

  Instinctively holding out his hands to the command, Dorian waited to receive the object thrown to him. Within seconds he held the bloody heart of Thomas' latest victim. Scanning the lobby for the jackass, he realized he was alone. He stood transfixed, clutching the heart, staring at the gruesome display created by his friend as the sirens grew louder and louder. He knew Thomas had abandoned him to take the blame for his transgressions.

  Why am I worried about a couple of human police officers who I could easily rip apart if I desired?

  Convinced his panic was unnecessary, he let the heart fall to the floor and ran into the bathroom to wash his hands. Not in the mood for more carnage, he grabbed his clothes and ran out the door, seconds before two police cars screeched to a stop in the parking lot. Thankful for not adding to the body count, Dorian darted down a nearby alley. A flash of silver in the corner of his eye gave him just enough warning to leap over the hood of Thomas' sports car instead of getting smeared into the pavement.

  “Nice jump!” Thomas yelled as he opened the passenger door. “Get in before we both get arrested.” Dorian obeyed and Thomas sped away.

  “Did you actually think I was going to leave you? Surely you don't think I'm that big an ass?” Dorian did not respond, choosing not to speak during the drive back to Thomas' house.

  *****

  With Dorian's silent treatment grating on his nerves, he decided perhaps a peace offering was in order. Finding him once again in the study, Thomas entered the room bearing gifts. “I thought it might be time for you to enter the world on your own, so I brought you some items to help you with that.” Thomas took the seat opposite Dorian in front of the fireplace.

  Dorian placed his book on the side table, fully engaging Thomas for the first time since almost being road kill days ago.

  The first item Thomas handed him was a brown leather wallet. “Have you ever owned a wallet before?” He asked as he watched Dorian caress the soft leather.

  “No, never had any need for one.” Dorian shook his head.

  “Well, if you look inside, you'll notice, you now have plenty of reasons to own one,” Thomas prompted. “You never mentioned a last name and anyway, I imagine you want to forget about your past life, so I picked one out for you.”

  Inspecting the inside of the finely crafted wallet, Dorian found a card with his picture and a name on it. “Dorian Gray?”

  “Have you heard of him?” Thomas asked, then continued when Dorian shook his head. “That surprises me with as much time as you spend in my library. Well, let me explain.” As he spoke, he searched the many bookshelves for the copy of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” he knew resided there. “Dorian Gray is a fictional character who stays forever young while a portrait of him ages. Now, of course, the story is far more complex than that brief description, but I will allow you to discover its intricacies on your own. Seeing as you will never age, the name seemed perfectly suited for you.”

  Finally laying hands on the hundred plus, year old book, Thomas placed it in the hands of its new owner. “I hope by reading this book, yo
u will be inspired to be more adventurous because from what I remember, your namesake enjoyed plenty of indulgences. Back to the contents of the wallet, along with the ID is some cash. You can ask for more when you run low. One last thing,” he announced, tossing Dorian a set of keys, “I am giving you the car from the other night. It seemed only right since I attempted to run you down with it. Of course, I should probably teach you how to drive, but that will have to wait until the sun goes down. For now, would you like me to show you how to fight, in case you meet another vamp that’s not quite as sociable as myself?”

  “Are there others?” Dorian asked on the edge of his chair.

  “Of course. You didn't think we were the only two?” Thomas blurted out before considering where his response would lead the conversation.

  “I haven't thought about the possibility of more of our kind, not since...” Dorian trailed off, back to the night he had asked about his maker. “Have you ever met another, besides the one who made you?”

  “Yes.” The word came out barely a whisper as Thomas rose from his seat. “Now, do you want me to teach you how to fight? If so, follow me.”

  Letting the brief answer go, knowing he wouldn't get more information, Dorian followed Thomas to a set of large double doors. Not noticing that he had stopped outside the doorway to this undiscovered room, Dorian proceeded to enter.

  “Dorian, wait!” Thomas yelled too late.

  “Aww!” Dorian screamed in agony.

  Thomas carefully opened one side of the double doors leading into the room just enough to reach in and yank Dorian back into the darkened hallway. He stared at the steam rising from Dorian's blistered arms. “Dorian, I am so sorry. I tried to stop you from going in when I realized I hadn't shielded the windows,” He assured through clenched teeth.

  “What the hell?!” Dorian shouted as he stared at his charred arms. “The sunlight has never done this to me before.”

  “Really?” Thomas asked with raised brows.

  “Yes, really! I would have noticed something like this!” Dorian shrieked as he held up both arms.

  “Sorry, what you said surprised me. Sunlight has always burned my skin.”

  Slowly calming down as the third degree burns on his skin healed, Dorian explained, “Sunlight or any bright light has always hurt my eyes, but as far as my skin, it was just uncomfortable.”

  “Interesting. Well, since you and sunlight appear to no longer be friends, I would avoid it, if I were you. I assume the reason for the change is your new diet.” Inspecting Dorian's arms Thomas added, “Looks like you're all healed up. Let’s go in.”

  Entering the room for the second time, Dorian noted its rectangular shape with an outside wall made entirely of windows – now thankfully blacked out. The wall opposite the windows was covered entirely with mirrors, minus the double door entry. The two shorter walls were lined with a vast array of weaponry.

  “Welcome to my dojo.” Thomas gushed, arms outstretched in the middle of the padded floor. “This is the room you will most likely grow to hate as I will be kicking your ass quite often in here.”

  Choosing not to respond to his jab, Dorian followed him silently to a pair of benches sitting just a few feet in front of the left wall. Thomas picked up one of the two neatly folded stacks of white clothes resting on the benches and handed it to Dorian.

  “When you're in a dojo, you have to wear a gi,” Thomas stated, as if it was common knowledge while slipping into his own.

  Dorian followed suit then accepted the long wooden stick offered him. He balanced the six-foot chestnut brown weapon in his hands, expecting it to be much heavier. Even after all these months, he was still amazed by how strong he had become.

  “I would have preferred starting with swords, but because of your lack of experience, I decided that might be messy. So, we will begin with staffs.” Thomas retrieved a matching staff for himself. “I have these specially made, making them far more durable against our enhanced strength. Just any old staff wouldn’t last five minutes. You ready? Just try to block my strikes. I promise to take it easy on you.” When Dorian responded with a nod, Thomas moved into position in front of him, flashing his signature wicked grin.

  Gripping the staff firmly in his hands, Dorian waited for the onslaught to begin. He knew Thomas was lying about taking it easy but the level of difficulty Thomas exacted didn't matter. Dorian had no idea how to defend himself with an oversized walking stick. He hoped some innate instinct would kick in. When that didn't happen, he was forced to watch helplessly as Thomas advanced, striking three times and landing each blow easily. Pain instantly erupted from shattered bones in his left leg, right arm and jaw.

  “Dorian, you were supposed to block those,” Thomas teased.

  Unable to respond immediately, Dorian endured Thomas' smirk in silence, forced to wait until the bones in his jaw fused themselves back together before answering. “I knew you were lying, you son of a bitch!” Dorian spat, still immobile.

  “Awe, don't be mad. It’s not as if you don't heal,” Thomas responded, unable to hide his amusement.

  “That doesn't mean it doesn't fucking hurt! Not everyone enjoys pain like you do.”

  “You're spewing out some exceptionally colorful language. I may blush, although I am quite pleased to have obviously had a hand in expanding your vocabulary. Since you think I didn't play fair, I'll give you a freebee.” After letting his staff fall to the floor, Thomas gestured to his left jaw. “Come on, Dorian. You know I deserve it.”

  Dorian knew striking him wouldn't punish him, but he was infuriated, so he did it anyway. Blood splattered the padded floor as the force of his revenge collided with Thomas' face.

  “Feel better?” Thomas spit out blood.

  Dorian smiled widely. “I do. I should smack you in the face with a big stick more often.”

  “Sorry, but that was a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Thomas promised him as he reacquired his staff. “Enough fooling around. Time for me to instruct you properly.”

  Thomas was an adept and tolerant teacher, much to Dorian's surprise. More surprising was how steadily he improved under his expert instruction. He never considered himself athletic, always feeling awkward and uncoordinated. Since evolving, as Thomas would say, those feelings were fading.

  Sparring with Thomas soon became Dorian’s second favorite pastime, even with frequent broken bones and bloodied noses.

  Over the next few months, Dorian spent his days either sparring with Thomas or in the study reading. His nights were spent in the city, tagging along behind Thomas, except on the rare occasion when he braved the city alone. He witnessed much brutality as Thomas' shadow, and although he never participated, he did enjoy the spoils.

  *****

  Sipping his favorite drink, content from an exceptionally invigorating and fulfilling trip into the city, Thomas was primed to discuss another stall in Dorian's evolution. Months had passed since his attempt to induce a leap in his companion's progression. Although Dorian's initial reaction was dismal, the end result showed promise. Now Thomas hoped to bring him deeper into the fold.

  “We're friends, aren't we, Dorian?” He inquired from his seat opposite Dorian.

  “Yes, of course, Thomas,” Dorian answered without pulling himself from his latest adventure.

  “Well...as your friend...I am concerned about your reluctance to kill your victims.”

  The side table shook as Dorian slammed down his book. “I do not understand why my decision on whether or not to spare my 'victims' would concern you. It's none of your business!” He spat harshly. “Besides, it's rather foolish to eradicate one's food source,” he added calmly, trying hard to sound convincing, hoping a plausible excuse would end the conversation.

  “Do you now?” Thomas responded with a smug grin. “You expect me to swallow that rubbish? There are billions of humans for us to enjoy. I seriously doubt you believe by killing when we feed that we would somehow drive them to extinction.”

  “Well I suppose t
here is a surplus of humans to feed upon, but it just seems wasteful to kill them when leaving them alive provides us with more blood.”

  “Why do you insist on making pointless excuses?” Slamming his arms against the armrests of his chair, Thomas grabbed his long since abandoned Scotch, flinging the half full glass into the fireplace in an effort not to knock out some of Dorian's teeth. Still tasting the need for violence, he rose from his chair and paced in front of the fireplace. “The fact is, we are predators, you and I. It's in our nature to kill. Does a lion attack a gazelle, take a quick nibble, say thanks, and then let it go? No, it kills the damn thing and eats its fill.”

  “Please, stop trying to dictate my life, Thomas,” Dorian pleaded, desperate to end the uncomfortable conversation.

  Sitting again, he placed his hands on top of Dorian's resting in his lap. “I don't intend to, Dorian, and I am sorry you feel like I am. My intention is only for you to embrace what you are, to live up to your full potential, and you won't fully do that until you have taken a life.” He squeezed Dorian's hands as he tried to pull them away, showing his intent to be heard. “Just hear me out before you interrupt me with more excuses.”

  “Fine,” Dorian sighed.

  Releasing him so that he could be more animated, Thomas continued. “I want you to experience the sensation of taking in that last drop of blood – to have someone's life in your hands. We have the power to take any life we choose. That makes us like God.”

  Dorian leaped from his chair at the mention of God's Name – a name he had not heard or spoken in ages, and longed to forget. “I want nothing to do with God! He turned His Back on me and I returned the favor! So why the hell would I want to emulate Him?! No, if being godlike is the final step in my evolution, I want no part of it!” He ranted, pacing back forth before the fireplace.

  “Comparing us to God wasn't the best strategy, I take it,” Thomas whispered more to himself than Dorian.

  “Not at all,” Dorian huffed before halting his pacing directly in front of Thomas. “So, since you and I are friends and you have my best interests at heart, will you please stop asking me to do things I don't want to do?”