Awaken: Book 1 of the Dark Paradise Trilogy

by Isadora Brown

  “Wow,” Jack said in a droll voice. “I’m glad you think I’m that superficial. And, just for the record, it is women.” He stopped, considering her question. “However, in response, I would say that at this moment, right now, the thing that makes me happy is you. Just you.”

  “No wonder you’re so popular with the ladies,” she said after clearing her throat. “You sure know how to deliver the lines.”

  He knitted his brow together. “They aren’t lines,” he said in a soft, firm voice.

  “Come on, Jack,” Andie said, her impatience getting the better of her. “You don’t have to put up a front with me.” She glanced at the long line of people still trying to get into the museum, despite the rain. “I just don’t get you. Sometimes I think you’re genuine and honest, and other times, I think you just want to sleep with me. It doesn’t matter because I’m not interested, but it would be nice to know who I’m talking to once in a while.” She was about to turn, ready to head back inside, when she was stopped by his fingers gently tugging her to him.

  “This whole thing,” he said. “The women, the parties, it’s not who I really am.”

  “You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” she said. Her eyes softened. “You know, Kant’s Categorical Imperative sounds tempting. If everyone treated everyone as an end rather than an end to a means, the world would be a beautiful place. But that’s not the world we live in. And as much as his three maxims sound great, they focus more on the motive of the action rather than the action itself. Follow every universal law, not because it’s right, but because it’s rational to do so. But we aren’t rational. We don’t judge someone based on their motives, we judge them on their actions. It’s your actions that define you.”

  Jack opened his mouth, about to respond, but before he could, people began to run out of the museum, screaming.

  20

  Keirah started getting ready a half an hour before she was supposed to be at the museum. After discussing it with Commissioner Jarrett, they both decided it would be best if she arrived late since the press wanted nothing more than to talk to her about being Noir’s only survivor. They wanted to know why Noir allowed her to live.

  After she finished getting dressed, she glanced at her phone and found she had a few minutes before Jarrett showed up. Her eyes found her reflection in the bathroom mirror and she was surprised at how pretty she looked. The chiffon gown she had picked out with her mother was a midnight blue with a deep diamond cut in the front. Since her breasts were small, she got away with the plunging neckline, and since she had long legs, the slit that teased her left leg just made them look longer. There was a beaded belt around her waist that matched the beaded straps that held the dress up and she wore silver high heels. She braided a portion of her dark hair and wrapped it around her head like a crown while leaving the rest of it down. Her makeup was light but earthy—pink lips and brown eyes.

  A knock on her door interrupted Keirah’s thoughts and she turned just as her mother opened it. Surprise registered on her face, as though Judith had never seen her daughter look this way before. An approving glint in her dark eyes made Keirah’s face break out into a smile.

  “The commissioner’s here,” she stated. “Keirah, I still don’t approve of you going. If something happened to you …”

  “Nothing will happen to me,” Keirah assured her. “I’ll be with Commissioner Jarrett the entire night. Mom, with the way you’ve been treating Andie this month, there’s a good chance you’ll lose her.”

  “I’m not going to pretend that what happened to you wasn’t her fault,” she said in a firm voice.

  Keirah refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to get into an argument right before the party. Instead, she pulled her mother into a tight hug and the two went out to greet the commissioner. He too seemed taken aback by her appearance which made her blush before he smoothed it over with, “You might want to grab a coat. It looks like rain tonight.”

  The couple arrived an hour into the party and entered through the back as to avoid the paparazzi. Nobody noticed as they headed to the main hall where the dance floor was already filled and the deejay was playing mainstream club hits. Keirah tried to keep an eye out for Andie but she couldn’t find her, so she allowed Jarrett to lead her around and introduce her to various important people she didn’t pay attention to. After a half an hour, she was already bored. She couldn’t find Andie, didn’t like to dance, and couldn’t pretend to be interested in the conversations Jarrett went out of his way to make sure she was a part of.

  When she couldn’t take it anymore, she excused herself to go to the restroom.

  “Do you need—” Jarrett asked, but Keirah cut him off.

  “I don’t need an escort to the bathroom,” she snapped. Guilt instantly spread through her and her eyes softened. Jarrett was only trying to keep her safe. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  He looked like he was going to say more but finally nodded his head. She beamed in return and turned, but instead of walking to the bathroom, she slipped out of the main room and through the Greek mythology section. Next to the exhibit that housed Apollo’s lyre was a staircase that led to the roof. Andie told her whenever she needed a moment to herself, she always went up to the roof. Nobody would be there; she’d be completely alone for the first time in a month.

  The sky was black, grey, and purple, and already had opened up, so soft droplets of water fell sporadically to the earth. She ignored the cold as she walked over to the bannister. Onyx did have such a beautiful view at night, the city sparkling against the dark. As she rested her palms on the surface of the banister, her eyes caught sight of a couple sneaking off into the night from the party. A soft smile touched her lips and she felt herself slowly start to relax.

  “You’re not thinking about jumping off, are you, my dear?” a familiar voice asked from behind her. “And here I was ah attempting to, uh, well, to sweep you off your feet. Seems you would rather hum … fly. Well-ah, I think I can help you with that.”

  Keirah spun around so quickly she nearly slipped on the wet surface. Noir giggled at this, amusement twinkling in his hazel orbs. As she straightened, she studied him, so casually standing in front of her. His dark blond hair was pushed from his face, mostly covered by a black fedora. His outfit was straight out of the nineteen twenties; he wore a black blazer and matching black slacks with white pinstripes running up and down the material. A bright red vest covered the majority of the silk white collared shirt, which was tucked in pants held up by black suspenders.

  She was baffled by how utterly attractive he looked, and this time, she didn’t scold herself for it. She knew she was blatantly staring, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him if she tried. While he had looked reasonable in his orange jumpsuit, this brought things to a whole new level Keirah wasn’t expecting. He could tell that she found him attractive too because he smirked and started to move closer to her, his red Converses lighting up the dark night. His smile was splattered across his face, a look of determination, amusement, and something territorial tainting his marred features. Instead of being afraid, however, she felt intrigued.

  “Oh,” he murmured when he was a couple of feet from her. “I for-got. You’ve never seen me in my hum … garb-ah, have you, my love? I can, uh, well, I can tell by the way you are checking me out that you approve. Not that I care, really, but I particularly love the way you’re looking at me … right now.” He moved in closer, now fully taking over Keirah’s personal space. She actually had to walk back a couple of steps to keep from making contact with him; her lower back pressed against the banister. If he wanted to, Noir could push her off right now. Instead, he placed both gloved hands on the surface of the banister, locking her between his arms. Tilting his head down so he grazed his forehead with hers, he locked eyes with her, a lazy grin on his face. “You look as ugh-mazing as ever, my own Helen of Troy.”

  “Save your compliments,” Keirah growled, narrowing her eyes. She suddenly reme
mbered why she was in this particular situation. “Don’t tell me you forgot that you stabbed me.”

  Noir let out his howling cackle. He was muffled by the city noise but Keirah heard it as clearly as crystal. Only then did a shiver of fear spread through her body.

  “That’s ri-iii-ight,” he said as though he had forgotten. His eyes shifted downwards, staring intensely as though he could see through the material of her dress. Shifting his face only slightly so their cheeks were now brushing, he said, “And my friend, well, he had such a great time with your side that he wanted to hum … see you again. Now …” He repositioned his head so his forehead once again rested on hers. He released the banister and grabbed the opening of the slit of her dress with his fingertips. She watched in pure fascination, completely paralyzed as he slowly dragged the slit up so it revealed her stomach. “I want to see my mark on you.”

  He wasn’t looking at her thigh, at the strap of underwear. His eyes were solely focused on the scar. It was nothing to be proud of or ashamed of. It was a soft pink color now, a small horizontal sliver the somehow looked like a smile. She had no idea how he could see it in the darkness, but the look in his eyes as he gazed at her skin was pride and something territorial. He bit his lip and raised his finger. She felt the leather of the glove as it caressed the mark he had inflicted on her. She gasped softly in surprised and watched as he traced it.

  When he was done, he picked himself up and let the dress fall, leaning forward. A cheeky smile was on his face. “Have ya missed me, dear?” he purred, his eyes locking on hers with no intent of releasing them. “See, ‘cause I’ve missed you. A lot. I’ve missed your face. I’ve missed your wit. Your voice-ah.” He pressed his body against hers. “Your, uh …” His eyes dropped, studying her openly, hungrily. “Well, your body. I haven’t been sleeping without you. It would appear in the mere hours that we slept together, my body, well it craves the presence of yours.

  “Now, ya see, I like to play games. Big, explosive, fatal games with my friends, the population of Onyx. But I’m not the sharpest tack when I haven’t gotten my hum … beauty sleep. So I have taken it upon myself to steal. You. Back.” With that, he pressed his lips against hers, but not so he could kiss her. “You are mine now, my love. And you will be mine, in every sense of the word.” He cleared his throat and took a step back, offering her his hand. “Well-ah, princess, your castle awaits. Are you ready?” He perked his brow, a lazy but expectant look on his face.

  She paused, chewing the corner of her lip. All is wrong with this, she thought, and yet, she felt herself place her hand in his.

  “How exactly do you intend to escape?” Keirah asked as Noir curled his gloved fingers around her wrist. “There are bouncers, police, not to mention tons of people who all recognize you.”

  “Why,” he told her with a sickening smack of his lips, “we’re going to walk out the front door, of course.”

  Almost as if on cue, a police siren went off in the distance and the museum alarm began blaring. Noir seemed immune to any distress, however, because he led his prisoner back into the museum. Instead of encountering awaiting police officers and a SWAT team as Keirah originally anticipated, they were met with nothing. The second floor of the museum, filled with religious iconography rather than mythology, was eerily silent; no curious voyeurs or couples needing somewhere empty to make out could be found anywhere.

  “Funny thing about humans,” Noir said, “is you can pay them to do practically anything. Hum … there is no such thing as pricelessness. Anything can be bought. Anything can be purchased. Happiness and love, passion and hate, contrary to popular belief, can be bought.”

  “What does that have anything to do with …” Keirah let her voice trail off.

  “Why, I thought it was obvious, my dear,” he said, finally looking at her and flashing her those yellow chops. “Money has everything to do with hum … everything.” His tone lowered as he barked out the last word, and she noticed how jovial he looked. “Quite frankly, it’s the cops I don’t understand. They always take what, uh, well, what isn’t theirs. It took me a good half hour to get my collection of knives back. And they took you from me, didn’t they? Guarding you and whatnot, as though you were some sort of, well, princess.”

  “Yeah,” Keirah said, rolling her eyes as they continued to head down the stairs, “except instead of my prince, the court jester decides to rescue me.” Her ironic tone caused him to laugh.

  “I have missed your wit, my dear-ah. Now, as I was say-ing, cops unnerve me to no end.” This time, his hazel eyes had no amused sparkle in them. In fact, he looked downright scary. “It is always hum … amusing to me when I outsmart them; although, to be ah frank, it really isn’t all that difficult to do, really. You see, money will get you anything you want, especially amusement.”

  They continued on down to the first floor, and when they reached the stairwell door, Keirah held her breath. She was afraid that once these doors were open, officers and SWAT teams would be waiting for them with their weapons drawn. The fact that she was holding Noir’s hand in a seemingly intimate gesture probably wouldn’t help her innocence case.

  Was she innocent? She had mulled over that question a lot this past month. She hadn’t done anything wrong, per se, and she felt as though these looming feelings she was starting to feel weren’t exactly innocent either. A small but growing part of her sympathized with the man. A large, unabashed part of her was fascinated by him. Another small part of her was attracted to him. And another, more persistent part of her was afraid. Afraid for him. Afraid for his life. Maybe her hands weren’t exactly as clean in this as she would have liked.

  “And what kind of amusement did your money get you?” she asked, a slight suspicious undertone in her voice.

  With his free hand, Noir opened the door and Keirah held her breath. However, instead of coming in contact with any people, she was met with silence. The lobby was completely empty.

  Noir howled at her reaction and he ruffled her hair. “The building has, uh, well, it’s been e-va-cu-ay-ted,” he told her as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “due to a sighting of me. Safety first and all that.” He began to walk toward the front door. Keirah had no choice but to follow.

  “If they evacuated because someone saw you, why isn’t anyone in here looking for you?” she asked, still confused.

  “I never said they were looking for me,” he told her as they walked out the front doors of the museum. He quickly popped the collar of his shirt and tilted his fedora down in hopes to mask his identifying features while continuing to lead Keirah through the large crowd of people, all murmuring to themselves, trying to get shelter from the rain, and staring dumbly at the museum. “I merely said someone thought they saw me.”

  Keirah’s brow pushed up as she recognized what he meant. She was so consumed in the unraveling of Noir’s twisted escape plan, she didn’t realize she was in a car until she heard it start up. She blinked once, and then, without thinking, buckled her seatbelt. She looked out the window in the backseat and for a glimmer of a moment, she thought she saw Andie in the crowd. When she blinked, the image was gone.

  “The whole conversation about money was for a reason,” Keirah said, turning to look at him. A man dressed in all black was driving the car with another man in the passenger seat. “You paid someone to dress up as you and cause a diversion while you came and got me. Then, while everyone evacuated and worked themselves up, we could slip away without any notice.” She paused and pursed her lips before nodding once. “I must say, that was pretty ingenious, except …” She shrugged. “I just didn’t expect you to go through so much trouble for me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, my sweet,” he said. “With today’s economy, I, uh, well, I didn’t pay the guy that much. Ya see, crime thrives on shitty economies. Everything is a whole hell of a lot hum … cheaper than normal. It’s simple really, you are mine and I returrrned for what is mine. You are a pet, a plaything, a source of amusement. When
I get tired of you, you can easily be, uh, replaced.” He grinned as a thought entered his mind. “All is right in the world so long as cops stay fickle. I will continue to thrive as long as cops stay fickle. Cops will always be fickle, so, well, I will always thrive.”

  “What are you going to do when you get bored of Onyx?” Keirah asked. “Of the Black Wing?”

  “What I always do when I ah get bored of things,” he replied, lifting his shoulders nonchalantly. He faced her, his eyes going over every inch of her skin. “Replace them.”

  21

  When the alarm went off, Reese was in the bathroom touching up her makeup and brushing out the frizz that always tainted her hair whenever she broke a sweat. Besides soccer, she never really had to worry about it. Though she loved dancing, she knew she was bad at it and therefore rarely participated in the activity, especially in public, but she was at a party and her friends insisted.

  As she began to apply another coat of mascara, her vision turned black and goose bumps sprung up on the back of her neck. She only had this feeling one other time, and that was when— The Accident. She barely remembered that vision. There was a man, but she couldn’t make out much of him except gold buttons on a wrinkled self-made brown jacket and scruff on his face. He was holding her, her face pressed in his chest like she fit him perfectly. His hand was pressed flat against the bare skin of the small of her back. It was rough, like he had worked more than she had ever known, but provided her with more comfort and security than she believed could be found in a single touch.

  It was the first thing she thought of when she woke up from the coma.

  This vision was much worse. She smelled the itchy scent of smoke, heard the snaps of the flickering flames, felt the impending heat as they pressed closer to her.