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Ali's response was a tight-lipped silence, his jaw clenched as he focused on his work. But Bel was relentless, her words sharp and cutting.
Finally, Ali snapped. He turned to Bel, his eyes flashing yellow for a brief moment. "Shut up, Bel. Just shut the fuck up."
Bel stopped mid-sentence, taken aback by his outburst. She looked at him, her expression a mix of shock and hurt, but she didn't seem to notice the change in his eyes.
I did, though. The yellow flash was unmistakable, a sign of the supernatural that we couldn't afford to ignore. I filed it away in my mind, a topic that needed to be addressed later, when we weren't in the middle of the lab with prying eyes all around us.
The rest of the day passed in a tense silence, the earlier altercation hanging over us like a dark cloud. We worked mechanically, each lost in our own thoughts, the lab's sterile environment a stark contrast to the complexity of our lives outside its walls.
As the day came to an end, we packed up our things, the mood somber and heavy. The walk back to the Metra station was quiet, each of us wrapped up in our own personal battles.
The train ride home was a mirror of the morning's journey, the fatigue and tension even more pronounced. I stared out the window, the city's lights flickering in the early evening darkness.
We needed to talk, to address the elephant in the room. Ali's eyes, Bel's anger, my own confusing encounter with Rayze – it was all building up, a pressure cooker ready to explode.
After the long, tension-filled day at Red Cell Labs, the three of us trudged back to our apartment, each lost in a fog of exhaustion and unspoken thoughts. Ali, looking particularly agitated, didn't waste any time. He headed straight to his room, changed quickly, and left the apartment without a word. The door closed with a soft click, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
Bel's reaction was immediate and fierce. "That fucking asshole!" she exploded, her voice echoing off the walls. She stormed to her room, slamming the door with a bang that made the windows rattle.
I stood there in the living room, feeling the residue of their anger and frustration hanging in the air. I needed a moment to myself, to wash away the day's events. I headed to the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, the steam enveloping me in a comforting embrace.
As the water ran over my body, my mind drifted back to the dream from the night before, to Rayze. The memory of his touch, even if it was just a figment of my imagination, stirred something within me. I found myself wanting to see him again, to confirm if what I felt was real or just a product of my overactive subconscious.
With a deep breath, I turned off the shower and dried myself off. My decision was made. I was going to La Societe de la Nuit. I needed to see Rayze.
I dressed quietly, choosing my outfit with a sense of purpose. I slipped into the night, the city's sounds a distant hum as I made my way to the club.
The streets were alive with the nightlife, the energy palpable in the air. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. As I approached the club, the neon sign of La Societe de la Nuit flickered in the darkness, a beacon in the night.
I reached the entrance, where a different bouncer stood guard. He eyed me with a mix of curiosity and indifference. "ID?" he grunted, extending his hand.
I handed it over, my stomach knotting with anticipation. Would he let me in? Would I see Rayze again?
The bouncer glanced at my ID, then back at me. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he nodded and handed back my ID. "Go ahead."
Relief washed over me as I stepped past the velvet rope, the thumping bass of the music welcoming me back into its fold. The club was a different world, a realm where the ordinary blended with the extraordinary.
I moved through the crowd, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of Rayze. The lights pulsed in time with the music, casting the dancers in a kaleidoscope of colors.
As I reached the bar, I felt a surge of anticipation. I was here, back in the place where I'd met him, where the lines between reality and fantasy had blurred.
I ordered a drink, my eyes still searching the crowd. Where was he? Did he even know I was here?
I turned, leaning back against the bar, my drink in hand. The club was a living entity, a whirlwind of sound and movement. And I was a part of it, a seeker in the night, looking for a ghost who had captivated my mind and haunted my dreams.
And then, just as I was about to give up hope, I saw him. Rayze, moving through the crowd like a shadow, his ethereal presence unmistakable.
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I knew. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I just didn’t know if I was here for Danny… or for me.
Chapter Four - Rayze
Last night, after the surreal experience of momentarily possessing Rowan, I retreated to the only place that felt like mine – the building next to La Societe de la Nuit, the remnants of the infamous Chicago "Murder Castle." This place, a haunting reminder of my past life and tragic end, was my sanctuary, where I could reflect and disappear into the shadows.
The building was a shell of its former self, the dark history seeping through its crumbling walls. I floated through the empty corridors, the echoes of the past whispering around me. This place, where I met my untimely death, held a morbid fascination for me. It was both a tomb and a home.
I remembered that night vividly, the details etched into my being. The year was 1893, the city alive with the buzz of the World's Fair. I was young, full of hope and excitement, drawn to the city by promises of opportunity. The owner of the hotel, H.H. Holmes, had seemed like a charismatic businessman, his hotel a modern marvel.
