31. Frankie

"Dorian!"My voice rebounds off the deserted hallway walls, mixing fear with mounting frustration. I wrench my hand from his unyielding grip, struggling to glimpse what lurks beyond him. Each time I shift, he mirrors me, a steadfast guardian obscuring the ominous glass door. "I'm certain I saw something..." The words dissolve on my tongue as the chilling silhouette of the creature flashes in my mind, rooting me in a moment of raw terror.

What the hell was that?

A lion? A bear? A wolf?

The air is charged with a sinister silence that amplifies our isolated breaths and the distant, echoing howls that aren't quite human or animal. Dorian's gaze pierces through me, a storm of conflict and secrets swirling in his eyes. Suddenly, the dense shadows at the end of the corridor churn with an ancient, malevolent energy, coalescing into a towering beast draped in darkness. Its eyes, burning a deep, hellish red, lock onto mine, and its form flickers erratically, as if it's struggling to maintain its presence in our world, hinting at its otherworldly origin.

A shrill, terrifying scream slices through the air like a sharp blade.

"What the hell is that?" I rush toward the door, desperation fueling my movements, only for Dorian to lift me up and toss me over his shoulder. For a moment, I'm utterly shocked because I didn't think he was capable of such physical strength. "Dorian!" I yell at him, my voice muffled against his back. "Tori is out there!"

"One day you will thank me for this," he mutters as he moves deeper into the school. His grip is unrelenting, secure and firm as if I were a child again, helpless and needing protection.

Except, I'm not completely without the ability to fight back. I have shadows. As I glance back at the door, I watch as one of my shadows I haven't even named yet—a wolf—slowly rises from the floor and begins to follow us. She leaps from wall to wall, her movements silent and fluid in the periphery of my vision.

Confusion and awe swirl within me. My heart races with burning curiosity. My shadow wolf moves with a purpose, a deliberate grace that feels both eerie and familiar as it follows us, then she jumps into the wall, disappearing.

If she's out, then I'm out.

"Dorian, put me down!" I demand. Reluctantly, he sets me on my feet in a darkened corridor, far from the front doors and the chaos that erupted outside.

He turns to face me, his expression a mask of urgency and concern. The dim light flickers above, casting his features in stark relief. "Frankie, you have to trust me right now. We're not safe."

"Not safe from what? Dorian, that thing—what's going on?" My voice rises with my temper, a fierce need to understand pushing me to confront him.

Dorian looks torn, his mouth opening then closing as he battles with his conscience. With a pained expression, he manages to whisper, "Frankie, there's more at play here than I can safely explain right now. This creature, it's not just a random threat—they are tied to the secrets this school was built upon. Please, just trust me for now."

"Are you telling me there are more than... beasts out there?" I ask, my voice steadying as I find my footing in this surreal reality.

"More than you know," he whispers, tugging me deeper into the school. Under his breath, he adds, "Foolish girl. Leo or Bishop would be better at protecting you."

Protect me? The realization that Dorian has been guarding me from unseen dangers all this time is both terrifying and infuriating. Why can't he just tell me everything? What binds him to secrecy?

My mind races, trying to piece together the snippets of abnormality I've witnessed. The creature outside, my autonomously moving shadow, Dorian's cryptic comments—all of it begins to formulate into a story in my head too complex to ignore.

"Dorian!" I insist, pulling my hand from his grasp, my fingers cold with fear and determination. Each time I try to peer around him, he shifts, deliberately shielding me from whatever lies beyond the glass door. "I am pretty sure I saw a big..."

"What?" His voice is a low murmur, more to himself than to me, as his eyes scan the looming shadows, searching for signs of danger.

"Dorian, I... I saw that beast," I admit. I feel as though I'm on the precipice of something monumental, something life changing.

"It's... complicated and dangerous," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "For now, I need you to stay close and trust me."

He leads me through the school, his hand a firm presence in mine. He turns on every light we pass. The fluorescent bulbs flicker to life, casting shadows against the walls that seem to play tricks on my eyes.

"Dorian, where are we going?" I attempt to yank my hand away, but his grip is unrelenting. His eyes dart around every corner as we move through unfamiliar halls, his senses heightened and alert.

"A safe room," he answers, pausing to pull out his phone. He unlocks it swiftly, his fingers flying over an app, then he resumes leading me forward while texting someone with his free hand.

"A safe room?" I echo, my confusion growing as his phone rings, the sound sharp and sudden in the quiet corridor.

"Speak," Dorian commands into the phone. I catch only murmurs from the other end. He's laser focused, scanning our surroundings with an intensity that makes him seem more distant than ever. "I knew this was a risk," he snaps into the phone, his hand tightening around mine. "The dorms."

I've spent every lunch this semester with Dorian, yet right now, I'm seeing sides of him he's never shown. Despite the crisis, his casual attire—a simple jeans and T-shirt ensemble—somehow makes him look incredibly... hot.

The murmuring continues as he propels us through the aging halls of the school, each echoing our hurried footsteps. Then, a scream slices through the phone call, making me gasp. Dorian freezes in the dimly lit hallway, his nostrils flaring as he processes the sound.

"Now, Bishop," he mutters, disconnecting the call.

"Why did you call Bishop?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"Francesca, I need you to listen to me," he says, his gaze locked on the empty hall ahead. He's not just looking, he's plotting, calculating. "When I say run." He finally turns to look at me, his eyes intense. "Run."

The urgency in his voice and the grave expression on his face tell me more than any explanation could. Whatever is happening, it's bigger and more dangerous than I could have imagined.

His eyes remain fixed on the dark corridor, the tension in his body palpable. I feel the danger pulsating through the air, a silent, sinister rhythm that seems to beckon from the shadows.

"Dorian, what are we waiting for?" My voice is a mix of fear and frustration. Every nerve in my body is alert, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

He doesn't answer, his gaze never wavering from the darkness ahead. The silence stretches, heavy and thick, until it's abruptly shattered by the distant sound of footsteps approaching rapidly. Dorian's body tenses further, and his hand tightens around mine, a silent promise that he won't let go.

"Get ready," he whispers, the words barely audible.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. I can almost sense the threat heading toward us, a palpable force of malevolence that makes my heart race. This is no ordinary danger—it's something otherworldly, something that belongs in the shadows.

Suddenly, Dorian pulls me behind him, positioning himself between me and the approaching threat. His other hand reaches into his jacket, pulling out what looks like a small, metallic device. It's sleek and unlike anything I've seen before, humming with a strange energy.

"Run on my mark," he says, his voice low and urgent.

Before I can respond, the shadows at the end of the corridor shift and twist, coalescing into a tall, menacing figure. The creature's eyes glow a deep red, its form flickering like a bad television signal. It lets out a growl that chills me to the bone, a sound that speaks of hunger and rage.

Dorian steps forward, the device in his hand coming to life with a bright, pulsating light. "Now, Frankie, run!"

Instead of running, I'm rooted to the spot, transfixed by the scene unfolding before me. Dorian moves with a precision and confidence that belies the danger, his device emitting a beam of light that strikes the creature. The beast howls in pain, recoiling from the light, but it doesn't retreat. It regroups, preparing to attack again.

"Frankie, I mean it—run!" Dorian shouts over his shoulder, his voice a desperate command that cuts through the chaos. His attention is split between me and the shadow creature, his body tense and ready for conflict.

This time, his tone brooks no argument. The fear in his voice, more than the creature itself, spurs me into action. My heart hammers as I turn and sprint down the corridor, my footsteps echoing loudly in the empty school. Behind me, the sounds of a fierce struggle fill the air—a symphony of growls and the strange, electrical hum of Dorian's device.

As I run, the weight of what's happening crashes down on me. Dorian is back there, fighting a creature that defies all logic, to protect me, and in this moment, as fear and adrenaline pump through my veins, I realize that nothing will ever be the same again.

My breath catches in my throat with every step, fear and determination mingling in my pounding heart. The corridor ahead spills out into the night, the open doors framing the moonlit courtyard that stands between me and the dorms—the supposed haven Dorian is so desperate for us to reach.

Emerging into the chilly night air, I hesitate for just a moment, my skin prickling with the sudden drop in temperature. I glance back to see if Dorian is behind me, but that moment of hesitation costs me as I feel a powerful grip encircle my wrist, pulling me backward. A surge of relief floods through me when I see its Dorian, not the creature. His expression is fierce, his eyes burning with an intensity I've never seen before.

"Keep moving, Frankie!" he orders, his voice a harsh whisper that slices through the night. We sprint together across the courtyard, our footsteps loud on the cobblestones, the ancient stones cold and unyielding beneath my shoes.

The shadow beast emerges from the building, its form more terrifying in the moonlight. It's massive, much larger than I realized inside, its body a swirling mass of darkness that seems to suck in the light around it. Its red eyes fixate on us, malevolent intelligence shining within them.

Dorian pulls me behind a large, gnarled oak tree in the center of the courtyard. He releases my hand briefly to pull out the metallic device again, which now seems to vibrate with an urgent, whirring energy. "When I say now, run straight for the dormitory door. It's unlocked," he instructs, his gaze not leaving the beast.

I nod, unable to form words, my entire body tensed for the run. Dorian steps away from the tree, positioning himself between me and the beast as it begins to move toward us, each deliberate step causing the air to tremble with its power.

"Now, Frankie! Go!" Dorian shouts, thrusting the device forward. A brilliant beam of white light shoots from it, striking the beast. It lets out an agonized howl that seems to shake the leaves on the trees.

I turn and run as fast as I can toward the dormitory, my heart hammering in my chest, the beast's enraged howls echoing behind me. The sounds of their confrontation—a terrifying symphony of growls, shrieks, and the eerie buzz of Dorian's device—propel me forward.

As I reach the door, I glance back and see Dorian dodging a swipe from one of the beast's massive shadowy limbs. He rolls to the ground, narrowly avoiding the attack, and jumps back to his feet, the device still in hand. He's fighting with a desperation that's both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Fumbling with the handle, I finally manage to throw open the door and rush inside. The relative safety of the dormitory hallway does little to calm my racing heart. I can't leave him out there alone. He might be strong and mysterious, but he's still just one person.

"Dorian!" I shout from the doorway, not caring about the danger anymore. I can't just run and hide while he battles for our lives.

Dorian glances at me, his expression one of fierce determination. "Stay inside, Frankie!" he yells just as the creature launches another attack. This time, Dorian meets the beast head-on, the device in his hand glowing even brighter as he thrusts it toward the creature.

The light seems to solidify, forming a barrier between him and the beast. It recoils, its form flickering as if the light is tearing it apart, but it doesn't retreat. Instead, it gathers the shadows around it, growing larger and more formidable. Its eyes, glowing fiercely with a malevolent fire, reflect its undying resolve.

Taking a deep breath, I step back inside and slam the door shut, the sound thundering in my ears. My eyes remain fixed on the scene outside the glass. Dorian maneuvers around the beast, his movements a blur of speed and precision. He's fighting not just with physical strength, but with tactics, always keeping just out of reach of the beast's deadly strikes.

Finally, with a roar that echoes through the night like a clap of thunder, the creature dissipates into a cloud of shadow, retreating into the darkness from which it came. Dorian stands alone in the courtyard, his chest heaving, the device still held out in front of him—a lone warrior against the night.

After a moment to ensure the beast has truly gone, he rushes toward the dormitory. I yank the door open, and he stumbles inside, looking every bit the warrior yet visibly shaken. His hair is tousled, and his breathing is ragged, a reminder of the mortal danger we just escaped.

"We need to get to the safe room, now," he says, grabbing my hand again and pulling me down the hall. His grip is firm. "It won't hold back for long. We have a small window before it regroups and comes back stronger."

I nod, my mind racing as we navigate through the dimly lit hallways of the dormitory. Each step takes us deeper into the building, away from the immediate danger, but the shadow of the night's events hangs over us, heavy and oppressive. The air feels thicker here, charged with the echo of our desperate escape.

As we reach the safe room, Dorian punches in a code on a keypad beside the door. It swings open to reveal a room that looks more like a fortress than anything in a school dorm. The walls are lined with monitors, and the recycled air is stale. He ushers me inside, his hand finally leaving mine as he starts to secure the door.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly from adrenaline and concern.

Dorian doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans against the door, closing his eyes briefly, as if gathering his strength. When he opens them again, there's a softness there I hadn't seen before, a vulnerability that belies his usual stoicism.

"I will be now that we're here. You're safe," he assures me, but his voice holds a tremor, and there is a haunted look in his eyes.

"Firefly!" Bishop yells from across the room.

I don't want to look away from Dorian—he just saved me, after all—but the draw to Bishop is undeniable. When I look over at him, I know I've lost Dorian's focus.

"Bishop," he says flatly. "I'm heading out. Keep her safe."

When I turn around, Dorian is already slipping through the doorway and back out into the dark corridor, leaving me with a chilling sense of abandonment.

What the fuck just happened?