Lucky: Dorian Gray Novels Book 1 Read online

  I hope that I look as bashful as I’m trying to appear and say, “You caught me.”

  Wyatt picks me up in one of his bear hugs and says, “It’s okay Lucky, I’ll let you have some time to study.” While setting me back down he gives me a kiss on the cheek. He’s never done that before, and I’m so stunned I don’t even slap his arm for picking me up again.

  He continues on like nothing has changed and says, “Give me a call when you can hang out.”

  “Okay”, I respond. “Thank you…and thank you so much for the table – it’s so beautiful, I love it”

  Wyatt responds with a huge smile and says, “I’m glad.” He turns to head out of my room and looks back just before he gets to the door. “Bye Lucky, see you soon.” Then, he’s gone around the corner.

  I say “Bye!” and walk forward hoping to follow his movements out of the house. I want to run back to the quarry as soon as I can in hopes that Dorian will be there.

  The moment his car is out of sight, I run full speed toward the pasture. By the time I reach the rock, I’m completely out of breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have just run a half mile sprint over hills and rocks – I can’t imagine this looks very attractive. I sit down on the rock and try to focus on slowing down my breathing to a reasonable pace.

  My breathing is normal again, and I’m still waiting for a sign of Dorian. I look around constantly thinking that he could come from any direction.

  For the next few hours I am startled by every noise and hopeful each time as I look around for Dorian’s beautiful face.

  When the sky starts to darken with a setting sun, I’m still waiting for Dorian and I’m running through all the questions I have for him in my head.

  When it’s fully dark and my teeth are chattering, I start to realize that he’s not coming. In my disappointment, I decide that if he isn’t coming back that I’ll go read that book he talked about - The Picture of Dorian Gray. I know he said that it was mostly fiction but I’m out of other options and there is still so much more I want to know.

  My folks are in bed by the time I get back to the house, so I go straight to my room without any interruptions. I turn on my tablet and quickly find a website with free downloadable text of the Oscar Wilde book. I quickly throw on a t-shirt and shorts and put my hair up so that I’m ready for bed. I slip under the covers and begin reading.

  The book lines up with what Dorian said about himself in some spots, but by the time I’m half way through I don’t want to read anymore. The character Wilde describes isn’t the same Dorian I met. I know that I’ve never read this book before, but I think I’ve seen a different version of this story.

  I search the internet for Dorian Gray, and hundreds of sites with different stories appear. There are movies and TV shows and so many differing stories. In some he’s a dark brooding villain, and in others he’s a tortured hero. It seems like in all the stories he’s a beautiful immortal. Most of them talk about him being obsessed with a painting – a painting of himself that appears with all the marks of injury and age his own face would typically show. In these stories, the painting of Dorian ages while he remains unchanged. Dorian never mentioned any painting, and all those stories just don’t seem to make sense with what Dorian told me.

  None of those stories even mention the effect of Dorian’s touch on others, but I’ve seen that part to be true for myself.

  I reach the conclusion that looking at all these different versions of the Dorian Gray story is useless. There just isn’t a way to sort out any truth. It’s Dorian that I need to talk to if I’m going to get any answers about him, or about me. He made it obvious that he doesn’t think I’m normal, but he didn’t tell me why. Maybe I should have asked him to tell me the other story – about why he’s interested in me.

  When I see him next, I’m going to confront him about leaving me hanging like this. Maybe ‘Later’ means something different when you’re immortal, but when you’re talking with a mortal you should have the decency to not fill their head with half a riddle and then make them wait!

  I’m still yelling at Dorian in my mind when my alarm clock goes off. At least I can tell him that he caused me a night without sleep when I see him in class.

  I hurry to get ready and I grab the breakfast my mother made to go so that I can get to school early. I sit through my first class of the day and I can’t believe that I’m actually excited for biology class again. I know it’s all because of Dorian, but it still just seems wrong to be excited about being anywhere near Professor Kondy. I’m so anxious, I don’t even feel quite like myself, all because of an infuriating man that looks like a Greek god.

  Biology starts, and Dorian isn’t there. Later on, he doesn’t make an appearance in English Lit either.

  By Wednesday, I’ve grudgingly realized that Dorian might not come back, and I should get into a routine that doesn’t include him. I’m not sure what I did, but I must have scared him off somehow. On Thursday, I work for a few hours through the temp company packing up baskets of samples for a napkin company. It does nothing to distract me from thinking of Dorian.

  On Friday I hang out for a while with Wyatt. He mentions that I don’t quite seem myself, and I pass it off as being stressed about school. He seems to accept that and move on.

  At school, I’m starting to remember people’s names and learning more about them. The girl that was sitting on Dorian’s desk, trying to hit on him is called Jenni. I felt bad for her and her friend Brooke that first day, but I no longer do. They act like they’re trying to be the real-life incarnations of mean girls depicted in movies. In my small-town elementary school, I never had to deal with people like that, so seeing how they act seems so cliché to me that it’s almost comical.

  I’ve met a lot of really nice people too, and a lot of people that I met at the party with Emily have been really talkative this week. I can already tell that some of the first week awkwardness is fading, and everyone is starting to feel more comfortable.

  After the second week of school, most of my professors are starting to remember everyone’s names too - except for professor Kondy, but I don’t think he remembers student’s names as a matter of principle.

  Already I can see how the pattern for my next four years will be developing without the presence of Dorian. Two weeks ago, I would have been happy with this pattern, but since Dorian shocked my world to life, seeing it now without him makes everything seem like a gray shell. Besides seeing the world with a glimpse of magic, I had felt passion and desire for the first time and now I’m left searching for a way to get it back and coming up short.

  I wonder if it would have been better to never have seen Dorian at all; to never have experienced the pull I felt toward him, but I know that I would never give up the memory of the day we spent sitting side by side surrounded by rock and trees. He was so open with his story, I feel like I got to see a little glimpse of the amazing person he is. The solace he seemed to find by holding my hand made me feel like I was able to ease some of his pain- I would not give that up no matter how boring my life seems now. Thinking about that Sunday still gives me chills.

  Another two weeks pass in the same way. I spend some time with friends, some time working, some time studying, and some time sleeping – all without any sign of Dorian. I haven’t gone back to the quarry in the last three weeks because I’ve been trying to keep myself busy as an excuse. Thinking of that day still gives me a thrill. Part of me worries that if I go back to that spot it will somehow diminish those feelings, or worse yet, I will feel them so strongly that it will make my now normal life harder to live.

  Chapter 8

  Here it is, Saturday morning. I don’t have anywhere to be, and I have a surprising lack of homework. I decided to spend some time with Mary, so I’m with her out in the pasture, but I’m trying to keep her away from the gravel quarry.

  The bull survived Dorian’s touch, but when I’m out here I don’t feel like I have to watch out for him quite the same way that I used to. He stays
with the herd, but he doesn’t seem to have any fight left in him – he’s almost more docile than most of the cows.

  Mary already ate the marshmallows that I brought for her and now she’s lying down next to the pond where the grass is short from grazing. I’m lying up against her side and we’re both enjoying the unusually warm weather. Fall has arrived and some of the trees have already turned, but today was one of those special days that had the smell and look of fall but was still warm enough to enjoy. The sun is pleasantly warming against my skin and my shoes are stacked next to me, so I can enjoy the feel of the grass against my feet for probably the last time this year. Still unable to go very long without thinking of Dorian, I remember that this is how I was laying with Mary when the bull charged, and my life changed.

  I feel the movement of Mary suddenly picking up her head. I open my eyes and turn so that I’m looking in the same direction. All I see is the pasture, but something is definitely spooking her, and she makes a move to stand. I quickly get out of the way and stand with her and now I can see bright orange grass moving differently than the rest.

  It’s moving closer, and it’s not grass – its hair. Coming over the ridge closest to the road is a gangly teen with bright orange hair who’s dressed in overly tight jeans. Overtop of a t-shirt, he’s wearing a bright red fitted sport coat with the sleeves rolled up. There is a pair of glasses hanging from the collar of his t-shirt and bracelets on both of his wrists. A large faced watch is on one wrist and there is a large diamond stud in his ear. Everything about him screams that he’s not from around here.

  As he gets closer, Mary starts backing up. She must be able to tell that there’s something atypical about him too. He doesn’t even look old enough to drive, but he must have had car trouble – why else would he be this far out in the country on foot. What’s weird is that he’s walking straight for me and you can’t even see this spot from the road.

  I pick up my shoes and walk barefoot toward him. I figure the sooner I answer whatever question he has, the sooner I can get him out of the pasture. He doesn’t look like somebody that could handle himself around cattle.

  About ten feet from me he stops walking, so I stop too. Even though we’re at an odd distance away from each other, I can see that some of my initial impressions were wrong. He’s a little older than I originally thought, and I can see a few faint lines on his face. He might be my age or maybe a little older, not the 15-year-old I originally thought. He’s also quite a bit taller than I assumed at a distance. I’m not very good at judging height, but I can see he’s a lot taller than me. It’s his extra thin stature and awkward gait that made me initially judge him to be so young.

  He’s smiling like he knows me, but I know I’ve never seen him before.

  He speaks in a clear sure voice. “Ellie Rose, we need to go somewhere more private and talk through some things.”

  Stalker! Kidnapper! Creep! I hurl my shoes at his head with all my strength and run towards the house as fast as I can. Why didn’t I bring my cellphone with me!?! I feel my world drawing into sharp focus with one goal – get away.

  From behind me I hear him yell “Stop!”

  I have just enough time to think the words ‘yeah, right!’ in my head before I feel my foot catch something on the ground, and I start to fall. My elbows hit hard against the ground - it hurts but I immediately try to get up again. I don’t make any forward progress and looking down I can see that there is a vine wrapped around my ankle holding it tight. We don’t have vines like that in Wisconsin! Is this some kind of nightmare?

  Closer than before, I hear the stranger yell again. “Wait,” he says, “I’m with Dorian.” Looking from my ankle to the stranger, I see that he is running with my shoes in one hand and he is fast closing in on me. I try to tug my ankle free and I see him wave his hand as he starts to slow down now that he’s approaching me.

  I feel a movement on my ankle, and when I look down, I see that the vine is winding itself back into the ground.

  In a breathy voice he says, “I won’t hurt you. Wow, I do not like running.”

  Dorian’s name has my interest peaked, but that freaky thing that just happened with the vine isn’t very comforting.

  “Who are you?” I shout at him.

  “My name’s Coan. Sorry about scaring you – sometimes when I’ve been watching someone for a while, I feel like we know each other,” he said gesturing to indicate the two of us. “I just sometimes forget that the other person doesn’t know me.” He smiles apologetically and tosses my shoes down next to me.

  “Is Dorian here?” I say with a bit of panic coming through in my voice.

  “No, no, no. I’m not with him in the physical sense.” His tone is familiar and a little cocky. “Look, let’s just get our business over and done with. You’ll say yes, I’ll do a little spell and then you and Dorian can talk all you want.” His hands were flying all around him emphasizing words as he spoke.

  “Say yes to what?” I get the feeling that I’m not going to like what he wants, but the mention of Dorian means I’m going to find out. Besides, I don’t think it would do me much good to try running again when he can make vines appear and wind around my ankles.

  With one hand on his hip with his palm facing outward, he bends down and offers me his other hand to help me up. “We’ll get to all that, but first let’s go someplace a little more sheltered. How about that place where you and Dorian went to canoodle?” he said.

  I take his hand and he pulls me up. His eyebrows are raised high and his head is slightly cocked to the side waiting for my answer.

  “How long have you been watching me?” I ask slightly embarrassed that he may have been watching Dorian and I together.

  “Oh sweetie, don’t you be embarrassed about anything. The whole time I’ve been watching you’ve been completely boring. Now let’s go.” His playful teasing tone makes me feel a little more at ease, but I still don’t think I’m going to like where this is going. Only for Dorian, I slip on my shoes and start walking in the direction of the old gravel quarry.

  “Are you a Witch?” I say.

  “Save the insults until after you know a person,” Coan says, obviously offended by being called a Witch. I briefly think about asking why he would be offended but decide that I probably don’t want to annoy him more than I need to.

  He seems in a hurry and smiles again as he says, “No more questions or you’ll be beyond the point where you can choose. Dorian tried to keep enough from you to avoid this, but you really can’t blame him – he doesn’t have any practice.”

  Coan really seems to like talking, but I wish I knew what he was talking about. It seems like he shares Dorian’s tendency to leave a person with a thousand questions.

  Walking down the stony path into the quarry we walk through a grove of black walnut trees showing their bright yellow fall coloring. Getting closer to the stone bench where I sat with Dorian, we’re again surrounded by green poplar trees that have yet to change color, but the scent of fall is all around us. The first grasses are dried out and there is a slight crunch for every step that we take.

  We’re standing in front of the stone outcropping that Dorian and I used as a bench and Coan is looking all around us at the trees. He says, “Which one of these is the tree that Dorian climbed?”

  I point over toward the poplar that Dorian used which is standing tall and green among all the others. Coan looks it over from top to bottom and then looks back to me before saying “Are you sure it wasn’t one of those trees back there?” pointing to the grouping of walnut trees already dropping their leaves.

  I nod and point to the group of rocks below the tree. “That’s where he landed,” I say.

  “Huh, I guess Dorian might be right about you not being quite as boring as I thought.”

  “Thanks, I guess?” I say not knowing how else to respond to such a backhanded compliment. At least it’s nice to hear that Dorian doesn’t think I’m boring.

  Obviously intending to
switch topics, Coan says, “Okay, let’s do this thing.” He sits down lavishly on the stone and pats the stone next to himself inviting me to have a seat. “It’ll only take a minute, and then you can go right back to asking questions.”

  I nervously take the seat next to him and he gently picks up both of my hands by placing his thumb and middle finger delicately around my wrists until their tips touch – it’s like his fingers are forming bony handcuffs. I don’t feel comfortable with this arrangement, but I feel better about having hands around my wrists than creepy vines.

  Looking straight into my eyes very seriously, Coan asks, “If you could have information on the condition that you physically wouldn’t be able to share it, would you choose to have that information, or would you prefer to never know there was information you couldn’t have. There are consequences to your answer, so think about your choice.”

  “I want to know the information” I say, blurting it out without much thought at all. What I’ve been wanting this whole time since I first saw Dorian was the chance to know more.

  Transitioning back into his more natural sardonic expression, Coan says, “I told him so. Now, hold still.” I can feel Coan’s fingers getting warm and I look down and see bright light streaming out from under them. I try to pull my wrists away, but the effort doesn’t even jostle his hold. His eyes are closed, and his mouth appears to be trembling, but then I notice that his lips aren’t trembling – their mouthing words in a language I don’t know.

  His eyes open and I feel a burning around my right pinky finger like someone is holding it on a hot pan. The warm light is quickly dimming and there is a delicate gold ring around my pinky – that’s what’s burning me. I struggle against his hold, but even against all my force, his hands don’t move at all. At the instant when the light is gone, Coan releases my wrists and I immediately try to take off the burning ring. I can’t make it budge, and it doesn’t feel hot to my other hand as I try to remove it. The pain from the burn is quickly dissolving but I have just enough time to hold up my hand and yell “Ow!” before it’s gone.