His Favorite Sin

2.2: ROSE PRICKLES

Present

Liquid wine spilled into the glass, sloshing in a circular motion until it was half full. The bottle was then withdrawn as the waiter moved away. It was red, like blood. Red, like the blood of a man who had his brains blown out in that dark, wet woods, leaving the watered earth to soak up the thick red liquid, red like Cora's would be when it’s spilled on the earth too. That was all she could think about since he walked in. That gruesome crime that drove her to run from the Dvorak’s mansion like her life depended on it, because it had.

The table was already packed with food; Tammy had ordered for her friend when she noticed the change in Cora's expression and how quiet she had become.

‘I’m glad we are able to do this,’ said the publisher, Isabel, as she had introduced herself. ‘Usually, we meet authors at the company, but Young Mr. Dvorak thought it would be better to have a more informal meeting.’ Tammy said something in response, but Cora barely caught her words.

“Young Mr. Dvorak.” Cora hadn’t heard that name in a long while, and she had hoped never to come across someone bearing such a name, but what was the saying? Never hope for luck?

She thought she had been graced with luck and had successfully gotten away. It had been seven years, after all, since she ran away from that cursed house, away from its haunting atmosphere and the promise of her death.

Years later, she thought her dreams were finally coming to fruition by becoming a published author. But she hadn’t expected the publisher to walk in, leading along with her, the very being that tilted Dahlia’s world upside down. And he... he was calmly sitting across her in a dark suit, his dark brown hair now slightly longer and almost grazing his shoulders. He was seated directly opposite Tammy, and Cora saw him lean towards Tammy. His lips moved as he whispered something that made her editor laugh beside her. Her mind remained suspended in dazed wonder as the world around her faded for a few seconds.

He looked different, older, of course. His jaw was covered with stubble he had intentionally let grow out, and when he smiled, you got a glimpse of his perfectly arranged pearl-like teeth. But his eyes, oh, Cora was sure if he let his expensive shades down, those pools would still be as dark as the gateway to hell.

‘Why are you here?’

The table fell silent as three, well, two actually, pairs of eyes turned to Cora. She hadn’t meant to blurt out the question like that, but it just came out, and she needed an answer.

‘Cora.’ Tammy quietly reprimanded her, and Cora turned her attention to her editor, then to Isabel, who was directly opposite her, her drink paused halfway to her lips, her eyebrows lifted.

Cora suddenly remembered where they were and why they were there. Tammy knew nothing, maybe Isabel too, Cora couldn’t be sure, but she could guess she came off as rude and weird because of how silent she had been since their dinner started, and then suddenly blurting out that question. But she couldn’t help it. He was sitting right there, acting like everything was normal and that the last time she saw him, his hands weren’t stained with the blood of another man! Like, he wasn’t the reason she had her whole life taken away from her and had to be in hiding for so long.

‘Mr. Dvorak is an investor in Starling House,’ Isabel clarified, her tone frostier than it had been a minute ago. ‘And he was the one to pick up your manuscript and show an interest in it when no one else even gave it a second glance. He believes there is true potential in your horror short stories, and perhaps, after thorough revision from our editors, it might be a hit.’ Isabel’s condescending tone didn’t go unnoticed by Cora.

‘Cora didn’t mean to offend either of you. She has been looking forward to this and is just a little nervous. This is a really exciting opportunity for her, one she is grateful for, Mr. Dvorak.’ Tammy quickly tried to dispel the tension clinging to the air, and Cora felt her concerned palm on her shoulder.

‘Please, call me Lance,’ he said, and a look at the entranced smile on Tammy’s face, Cora could tell he had won her over. Tammy was already completely smitten by him, clinging to every word he said, giving him her full attention, and giggling nonstop at his compliments to her. But Cora knew it was all a facade; get people to like him so they never suspected the evil within. His father used to do the exact same thing.

‘Lance. Forgive me, but you look so young.’ Tammy tried to keep the conversation going and the atmosphere light, while Cora felt Tammy squeeze her hand under the table in encouragement as she remained stiff in her seat.

Lance sipped from his glass, feeling Cora bore holes into his head with her eyes. He could barely contain his smile. ‘Well, I did just graduate from college with a bachelor’s degree in business administration. Hopefully, I will have time soon to start my Master's. My family primarily operates in agribusiness, but I believe in branching out and exploring more fascinating ventures to add to the family business. I am a lover of literature, poetry being my favorite. It helps with the imagination, since that is all the visuals my condition affords me.’ Tammy tilted her head sympathetically, and Cora couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. Oh, please! The “poor-blind-kid” card. Lance Dvorak was the last person on earth deserving of sympathy, not when one knew what he was capable of.

‘Literature helped me in my darkest times, and I know the right story can be a great source of help for many, too. There are a lot of beautiful stories out there being written, but many will never be found on our shelves. It’s sad when you think of it. I couldn’t help but invest in a publishing company and help get as many untold stories out there as possible. Joining Starling House seemed like the best way to go, and maybe soon, I could be more than just an investor.’

‘Oh, do you wish to work in the company?’ Tammy curiously asked.

He chuckled and shook his head, ‘No. I was talking about purchasing the company and then expanding it so we can accommodate more authors instead of just picking a lucky few to work with yearly.’

‘And once my book is signed to the company, you would own its publishing rights.’ Cora slowly concluded, her eyebrows furrowed in thought as realization dawned on her. If he acquired the publishing house, he would own the best part of her life.

Lance c****d his head in her direction as she glared back into his dark shades. Tammy’s bewildering stare beside her was almost impossible to ignore.

His lips pulled up as he comfortably leaned back into his seat. ‘I was instantly lured in by your manuscripts when Isabel read them to me at first. Your short stories resonate with me, the ghastly scenes you paint... You have a way of connecting with your readers. A particular story, “Graveyard Castle,” caught me off guard. Perhaps it’s because I identify with the character since we both share the same disability. Tell me, what inspired you to write a story about a blind boy who lives alone with his butler in an enchanting castle that entices visitors in with its beautiful design, only to have the boy feast on the hearts of anyone who steps into his house?’

Cora's fists were curled under the table, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Beside her, Tammy, oblivious to the enmity between Lance and her, was encouraging her with a nod to go ahead and talk more about the short story.

What inspired her? He knew damn well what “inspired” her to write that story. Most of the short stories in Cora’s manuscript were brought to life based on her experience in that mansion, things she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. She hadn’t realized the evil that was Lance Dvorak until that faithful night that led to her running as far as she could from that house. It was then she realized what he truly was, what the whole family truly was. The hideous rumors that were being spread about them in the town were all true, but she hadn’t believed those stories until it was almost too late for her.

Hot, searing anger bubbled inside her as she stared at the boy opposite her and the annoying smirk playing on his lips. He was purposefully toying with her, enjoying watching her squirm. Cora gritted her teeth and abruptly stood up, almost knocking over her chair behind.

‘No!’ She spat out, unconcerned that her action was garnering the attention of the whole restaurant.

The amused expression on his face remained as he tilted his head up at her, ‘Excuse me?’

‘I’m no longer interested in having Starling House publish my manuscript,’ she snarled. ‘Sorry, you came to this dinner for nothing. Have a good day. Tammy, let’s go.’ Tammy shook her head frantically, attempting to apologize to Isabel and Lance, but Cora was already reaching for her coat. She heard Tammy apologizing profusely to Isabel and Lance, but didn’t once look back.

‘Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! The opportunity you’re passing?’ Cora heard Isabel behind her, but she kept walking towards the door, ignoring the stares she was receiving. ‘There won’t be a second chance!’ Isabel warned.

The cool night’s air gently fanned her skin as she stepped out of the restaurant and began looking for a cab. She just needed to get away from this place.

‘Cora! What are you doing?’ Tammy charged after her in her heels, stepping out of the restaurant as well, and meeting up with her by the road. ‘What the hell? Have you finally lost it? What is wrong with you?! Do you know how long we have been searching for a publisher to take your manuscript, how hard we worked for this, how hard I worked for this? Hey, are you even listening to me?’

‘Look, I’m sorry, Tammy, okay? I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I just... I wish I could explain, but I can’t. I’m sorry.’ Cora kept on apologizing as a cab stopped, and she got in. Tammy made no attempt to join her, only staring at her in stunned silence, so she told the driver her address.

‘Cora?!’ Tammy still called after her as the car rolled away.

Her eyes suddenly blurred with tears that she refused to let fall. She couldn’t tell Tammy the truth, not without putting her editor’s life in danger. The truth was what had set her on this lonely path; she had witnessed it, and her life had never been the same... would never be the same. And no one could help her.

It was then, in the back of the cab, that her anger began to slowly dissipate, and the reality of things started to settle in. Fear seeped into her bones, and her hands trembled in her lap.

She had to pack. She had to get out of here. This city, this state, maybe the country, or even the continent. And she had to do that as quickly as possible, perhaps tonight. No, tonight, she would look for a secret hideout, and from there, plan her next move.

On the way home, she thought about different cities and countries she could move to and start afresh. The first time she ran and moved away, she had enough money saved up from working for the Dvoraks, so it hadn't been that hard. All of it was gone now, and it had been hard getting a good job as a college dropout, but she still had some cash from ghostwriting and other little jobs she had picked up. Hopefully, it would be enough.

The instant the cab stopped at her apartment building, she rushed to pay and then dashed out. The building had a broken elevator, with numerous stairs, and her apartment was located near the top floor. Halfway up, she pulled off her heels as it was slowing her down. When she got to her door, she struggled with getting the keys into the lock with her shaky hands, but stopped halfway when the door creaked open.

Had she not locked it? She couldn’t remember. Everything was blurry now. It had all happened so fast; the three of them leaving home together. Perhaps with all the excitement, she had forgotten to?

Hopefully, she wasn’t wrong.

She took a cautious step into the room, her eyes searching through the darkness as she closed the door. It was dead silent and appeared empty. Her pounding heart was the only sound she could hear until she found the light switch. Just as she flipped it on, she heard a rattling sound from somewhere in the apartment, and then it went silent again. She wasn’t sure where it came from, but her eyes zeroed in on the kitchen.

She forced her feet forward, making her way to the kitchen. She tried turning on the light, but the room remained dark no matter how many times she flipped the switch off and on. The hell...

Her eyes caught something in the dark on the kitchen counter, and the blood drained from her face.

With no light on, its petals appeared gray, but she knew its true color was white. The lone rose sat on a thick piece of paper neatly folded. When she picked up the flower, a sharp hiss escaped her as she let it drop to the floor. Its untrimmed stem had pricked her thumb. Blood oozed out of the spot, and she sucked on the finger before picking up the paper to read its contents.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the words written in clear calligraphy with red ink. It was from a poem, one she had memorized after reciting it many times for a boy long ago.

‘...For the cruel one whose blows

Break the heart by which I live....’

It ended there, but she knew the next lines that followed by heart, and she whispered them out.

‘...Thistle nor thorn do I give:

For him, too, I have a white rose.’

It was a message she instantly understood, the white rose with its prickles, the long, old poem about friends and enemies...

When Cora used to receive white roses in the past from Lance, they were always pruned of their prickles. He never made the mistake of leaving a single prickle. He had been that thoughtful when it came to her.

Another clattering sound came again from somewhere in the silent apartment, and she whipped around at the sound. More than ever, she was certain she wasn’t alone in that house.

Luck runs out; the words suddenly came to her like a light flicked on in a dark room. That was the saying about luck she had been trying to recall earlier.