Did anyone know who they were fucking with?
He clenched his teeth together, feeling his anger start to bubble up once again. This time, he couldn’t help himself, and he pressed his chapped lips on hers, needing to feel her warmth, even if she was unconscious. His tongue slid out of his lips and caressed her bottom lip lightly. His eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the taste of her; the blood on her lips meshed with her own sweet taste caused a slight, sweet euphoria to slide throughout his body.
Keirah’s eyes opened at that moment, but she wasn’t surprised to see Noir, to feel him. In fact, it brought a sense of security to her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her as she sighed in content. She put pressure against his own lips, but she couldn’t get too passionate. Everything in her hurt and she was still incredibly exhausted, but at that moment, she was purely happy to be back into his arms, with him in the house.
When he broke apart, he didn’t immediately pull away from her. Instead, he grazed his forehead against hers and started tracing her jaw line. His golden irises had her own brown eyes locked into a gaze so she had no means to escape, but she didn’t really need one. She was perfectly fine being entwined with Noir forever this way. She closed her eyes again, relaxing her arms that still currently held him, and basked in the attention he was giving her. Everything about this just felt right …
“I’m glad you’re back with me, love,” he murmured in a silk tone, his voice sending shivers down her spine as his hot breath caressed the side of her face.
“Me too,” she replied in the same, soft voice, only her words were mumbled because her lips had been pressed into his shoulder. She almost felt like a child.
“I have a, hum … suggestion,” he said, tilting his head farther back so he could look at her, but not far enough for her to have to break her hold on him. “Let’s go downstairs and see what they have to report on the news.”
Keirah nodded weakly and allowed Noir to reach over and slip his arms underneath her tired frame in order to carry her downstairs so they could watch television together. She didn’t seem to weigh that much, or, at least, it didn’t feel that way when he held her. She buried her face into his chest; no matter what position she was in, she was always comfortable with him holding her, or any sort of physical contact really.
When they reached the living room, Noir set her down after taking a seat on the couch himself, resting her head gently in his lap. Keirah shifted her body so she could watch the news in a comfortable position, and flipped on the television. The first thing both of them noticed was Commissioner Jarrett on the screen, giving some sort of press conference.
“Now, we join Commissioner Jarrett of the Onyx City Police Department,” the reporter said before taking a step out of the shot. The camera zoomed in so Jarrett could be seen more clearly, and just as Keirah had seen him previously, he looked tired and slightly disheveled.
“Commissioner!” a quick journalist said. And before Jarrett could call on him, jumped up and asked, “What happened to the downtown police facilities?”
Commissioner Jarrett cleared his throat. “At eleven thirty-one, a portion of the downtown police department exploded,” he explained, and even though he appeared tired, his voice was firm and resolute. There was a reason why he got this job, after all. “We don’t know why it happened, nor do we know who was behind it.”
“Did any of the people being held there escape?” another journalist cried, not caring to stop and wait to be called on.
“Yes,” Jarrett said, nodding his head cryptically. “Those that were not injured or killed in the explosion managed to escape.”
“Is it true that Noir is responsible for the explosion in an attempt to rescue Bombshell?”
This question caused everyone to quiet, and Noir smacked his lips jovially together as he ran his fingers through Keirah’s hair.
“I cannot answer that question,” Jarrett replied, and if Keirah wasn’t mistaken, she thought she detected a tremor of annoyance in the usually-friendly police commissioner. “We have no idea who Bombshell is or who her alliances are, if she has any. In the whole time she was at the station, being thoroughly interrogated by highly skilled and trained professionals, she did not utter one word. One word.”
“Is it true Bombshell’s identity is that of Keirah Shepherd, Noir’s old lover?” another journalist asked. Again, the response to such a question was pitch silence.
It took Jarrett a long time to finally answer, though nobody could understand why. “We cannot come to that conclusion at present,” he said, though his voice was not as confident as it had once been. “But I have met Keirah Shepherd, and I highly doubt she would align herself with a man who has caused her so much pain in the past. If it is Miss Shepherd, I highly doubt she is doing it because she wants to. More likely Noir is forcing her against her will.”
At that moment, Noir pressed his tongue against the side of his teeth and turned the television off. “Yanno,” he began, his eyes looking downward at Keirah. “I really don’t like that guy. I think … well, I think that I’m going to kill him.”
Noir spoke as though he was talking about the weather, and though Keirah didn’t believe he would actually do such a thing, she felt a cold shiver slide down her spine.
29
Of course Ollo was the right choice for her. That was never even a question. He frustrated her, refused to baby her, and pissed her off to the point of insanity, but he made her a better, stronger person because of it. She wouldn’t go out of her way to agree with his methods, and there was no way she would ever tell him that, but they worked.
The question was whether or not she could be with him now. And the more and more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t rationalize starting anything romantic with Ollo—let alone anyone—right this minute. There was too much on her plate, and she wasn’t good at handling stress. Granted, she didn’t spazz out like Andie, but she had her moments.
It was the next day, just after one in the afternoon, and they were already heading back to her home. Ollo never commented about her confession once the conversation had withered out on its own, nor had things gotten tense or awkward between them. In fact, everything remained exactly the same, and to be quite honest, Reese wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Shouldn’t he be upset or anxious? Shouldn’t he demand an answer from her, or, at the very least, ask when she might have that answer? Shouldn’t he ask about her pro and con list about him—which she didn’t make because the con list would be too long and she already knew how she felt about him and that the list wouldn’t matter. Instead, she chose to ignore it, which meant she was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window, overthinking something that should be so simple.
Why was love so effing complicated?
It’s not, Ollo’s voice—occupying her head much more than she wanted to allow—pointed out, his tone lathered in cheekiness. You’re just making it that way.
She frowned, hating when he was right. And—this was another thing she would never tell him—he tended to err on being right a lot.
“Tell me about the First War,” she said, turning to face him. His profile was a marble statue located somewhere near a fountain in Rome, and the lower half of his face was more scraggly than ever because he hadn’t shaved in the past three days. That didn’t take away from any attractiveness on his part, however. He was still breathtaking. But she couldn’t—shouldn’t—be thinking about that. She needed something else to focus on. She needed a break. That way, she could come back to this conundrum with a fresh mind.
He raised an eyebrow at her, taking his eyes off the road for only a fraction of a second to give her a quizzical look. “The First War?” he asked. “What do you want to know about the First War?”
“I don’t know,” she said, more defensively than she originally intended. She was sounding more and more like a petulant child. “How did it start? Why did it start? How did it end? Why did it end? You know, things along that
nature.” She was also starting to sound like a babbling fool, too, and the look on his face said he knew it.
“You’re familiar with the myth of Hades and Persephone, yes?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” she replied, and this time, she made sure she didn’t snap at him.
“It’s actually one of the truest myths those Greeks got right about us,” he said. His posture was at ease, as though he was completely comfortable talking about a war he had been a part of. But there was a dark glimmer in his eye that Reese recognized as something hard. Regret, maybe, but also something distant.
“The thing is, Hades wasn’t always a recluse. He was somewhat of a charmer, in fact, and while Zeus was tall and lean, Hades was on the short side—for gods that is—coming in at six feet. Zeus was a typical beauty—cheekbones, soulful eyes, grace—but Hades was rough, with the same cheekbones, but mysterious eyes and broad muscles. All three brothers were popular in their own way, but Zeus was, and still is, a jealous god. He’s the oldest among his brothers, but his maturity level leaves a lot wanting because he’s more worried about being worshipped than being an actual god.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Reese said, furrowing her brow. “Tell me again how this infusion of Greek myths and religion make sense in the world we know now.”
“Think of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades as archangels,” Ollo explained. He was driving a steady 65 mph on the highway, and so far, Reese had only seen one car. “Royalty among angels.”
“Wait, royalty?” Reese paused, her mind continuing to turn too fast for her to catch up. “Isn’t Black Wing some kind of royalty up in Heaven? He was goofing off instead of taking his position of importance seriously. And, as a result, his father banished him down to earth as a guardian angel—the lowest task for angels—until he learned his lesson?”
“You’re correct about almost everything. To those raised by individuals who looked at battle as something that was necessary and preparing for battle as honorable, guardian angels were looked at as a lowly position because they weren’t on an actual battlefield, physically fighting for a cause. However, when God appoints a guardian angel, He does so because that angel will fight for that person. Remember the conversation we had about free will? Well, there are logistics a guardian angel must follow in terms of interference, but what humans call gut instincts is actually their guardian angel whispering in their ear. It’s only when a human’s mind starts overthinking things does it drown out the voice of their angel. As I was saying, guardian angels are looked at as lowly positions by certain warrior angels, but God Himself believes that that position is the hardest and most honorable position of all. Remember how much He loves His children. He always takes great care when assigning guardian angels, and He does so personally. Anyone can be taught how to fight, but it is so much harder to love, to guide, to have patience with a human.”
Reese took a moment to let that sink in, then, “So who’s Black Wing’s father?”
“Zeus.” Ollo didn’t miss a beat. “Black Wing is one of the many gods the Greeks don’t have a story for and the Bible doesn’t mention, so no one really knows who he is. The same goes for a lot of women who get regulated to stereotypes if they’re remembered at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know about Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. And you know about Adam and Eve. But did you know that Eve is the sister of the Golden Trio? Did you know that before God created Eve, he created Lilith for his beloved Adam, but the two had a volatile relationship, ended not by Adam but by Lilith? And she ended it because, more than anything, she just wanted to be loved. But Eve is painted as a temptress—the reason for the fall of man—and Lilith is painted as a jealous, evil bitch.”
“I need a minute,” Reese said, dazed. “You just blew my mind again, and it’s kind of on overload, so hang on.” A minute, then two. “Okay, ready.”
Ollo grinned. “Now, to get back to the rivalry between Zeus and Hades,” he continued. “All three brothers were assigned a realm to rule by God. For Zeus, it was the sky; for Hades, it was the Underworld—or Purgatory, if you like—and Poseidon, the water. All three brothers held equal status among themselves, but Zeus was oldest, and that added something different to his position: authority. Nowhere does it say that the two younger brothers must adhere to Zeus’s command, but most of the time, they listened to him out of respect. For the most part, a lot of the orders, suggestions, whatever you want to call it, made sense.
“Now, gods and angels love celebrations. As long as work got done, parties were constantly being thrown at Zeus’s palace. This was long before he fell in love and married Hera—another thing the Greeks got wrong, and another stereotypically jealous woman, by the way.”
“So a party caused the First War,” Reese said, skeptical.
Ollo rolled his eyes. “Obviously not, darl,” he replied. “Not a party, a girl.”
“Persephone,” Reese said in awe as it dawned on her.
“Persephone,” he agreed. “Contrary to the myth, Hades did not steal her away from a meadow full of flowers. She bumped into him, actually, spilling her wine all over his suit. Not because she was drunk, but because she was—oh, how do you term it here?—because she was socially awkward.”
This caused Reese to grin. A socially awkward goddess? She never knew such a thing existed.
“Now, for all his charming ways, Hades never expected to fall for a girl like Persephone, but he later admitted to love at first sight.”
“Why didn’t he expect to fall for a girl like Persephone?” Reese asked.
“Her beauty is unique whereas someone like Aphrodite has a more obvious beauty,” Ollo explained. “Like I said, she’s socially awkward and tends to say things before thinking them through. Her brain, however, tends to rival Athena’s, especially subjects in architecture, that sort of thing. She’s clumsy and naïve and trusts people too willingly. She’s definitely not cool in any sense of the word, but her quirks endeared her to him even more. So they started seeing each other.
“When Persephone’s mother found out about them, she was furious. At first, she forbade her daughter from seeing him, but that didn’t work out, even in those times. When she found out Persephone had been sneaking out to see Hades, she went to Zeus, who promised to resolve it once and for all. But, of course, he had ulterior motives. His jealousy blinded him to rationality, and instead of talking to his brother or even talking to Hecate on behalf of his brother, he decided to tarnish Hades’s name and reputation.
“Zeus is quite cunning; there is a reason he’s such a decorated war hero. He orchestrated an official meeting between the two and happened to slip into the conversation how delicious the pomegranates were in the Underworld. That, darl, was the catalyst that triggered the First War.”
“That?” Reese said, furrowing her brow. “He just happened to mention that little tidbit of information, and a war breaks out.”
Ollo shook his head. “You misunderstand, darl,” he said. “A catalyst does not directly cause a war to break out. If anything, it is information or a small action that probably doesn’t even relate to the cause of war at all. It is how that information, how that action, is interpreted and acted upon that causes war.”
“So what happened, then?” Reese asked.
“What you probably already know,” Ollo replied. “During a tryst through the Underworld, and without Hades’s knowledge, Persephone eats a pomegranate. Under normal circumstances, this should condemn her to the Underworld for six months of the year.”
“Isn’t that what happened?”
“No. Zeus used Persephone’s innocence against Hades, saying he purposefully corrupted an innocent girl for sport. The duration of condemnation for Persephone was what everyone went to war for. Initially, Pythia and I sided with Zeus, but she started having visions that foretold what really happened. It only stopped when Hades agreed to remain in the Underworld unless summoned, and Persephone did not have to remain in the Underworld at all. Of course, th
e Greeks needed an explanation for the seasons, so they tinkered with the story.”
“What did Persephone want?” Reese asked. She had been so consumed with the story that she didn’t realize they had made in back to her gated community until the guard waved them through. Was it her imagination, or did the guard give her a look of pity?
“The irony of the entire situation was that no one thought to ask,” Ollo answered. “She disappeared, and no one knew where she went. Hades couldn’t even go look for her because he couldn’t leave …”
Ollo’s voice trailed off, but Reese didn’t notice. Her eyes were too focused on the lot that had once been her house. How the ashes from the wood were crumpled in a heap of dusty grey. How she could smell the strong, sulfuric air even with the windows rolled up in Ollo’s truck. How the swarm of cops, investigators, and fire fighters, all gave her that same pitiful look when they saw her pull up. She didn’t see any journalists, at least not yet, and for that, she was thankful.
She knew. Even before the lead investigators helped her out of the car and started to talk to her.
They were gone. Her family was gone.
“… trying to contact you for the past six hours,” the investigator said, “but we couldn’t reach you.” He had a dimple in his chin.
“We were camping at the woodlands,” Ollo said, coming to stand next to Reese. He put an arm around her waist, offering her sturdy support if she couldn’t carry her weight just now. “I’m her friend, Augustus Perseus Ollo. Do you know what caused it? The fire, I mean.”
The investigator—his name plate said Piazza—shook his head. “That’s what we’re looking into right now.” He turned his brown eyes to Reese, and they softened. “Do you have anyone you can stay with, Miss Lespoir?”
“She can stay with me,” Ollo answered for her, squeezing her side.
Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy Page 23