Onyx Shirt Novels & Stories

To my right, Hakeem flashed me a curious look, which I returned with a devious grin. Oliver clasped his hands together and rested them on the surface of the table. He looked almost regal in that suit of his, broad shouldered and hair speckled with grey. Nox embodied the youth his father no longer had, only minus the suit. Nox had always preferred a simple t-shirt and torn jeans, another thing that hadn’t really changed.

Still nothing. Onyx growled. “It’s odorless.” A frown crept up on my face. “You sure?” “Positive,” he said with certainty. That wasn’t helping. Onyx could identify hundreds of scents. Poisons. Plants. Blood. Illness. Most things left traces. Whatever had been mixed into these drinks apparently didn’t. “There’s no smell,” Onyx muttered. “Wonderful.” My sarcasm wasn’t appreciated. I set the glass back onto the table and looked toward Kael. “Have the contents examined.”