Awaken: Book 1 of the Dark Paradise Trilogy

by Isadora Brown

  “Where do Excoms go?” Reese asked.

  “There’s no other place for them to go but Earth,” Henry replied, slowing the car as they hit a red light. “God made sure they’re put somewhere where the population is nonexistent. The desert. The souls may not be able to die, but they cannot escape the desert without assistance.”

  “So in order to start this war, Satan took Noir from the desert and put him in Onyx,” Reese said, remembering her conversation with Henry from last Saturday. “But I thought Noir didn’t want to be ruled by either Heaven or Hell.”

  “He didn’t. Still doesn’t.” He pulled in front of Bacchus’s Brewery. “Luckily for them, they both want the same thing; they both want Noir terrorizing Onyx. Of course, Satan has motives for that, but since they’re on the same side, Noir doesn’t mind.”

  “Then where did Kane come from?” Reese asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “That’s the question,” Henry said, tilting his head so he was finally looking at her. “Noir’s focus has shifted from solely corrupting the citizens of Onyx to this girl. Keirah, was it? Noir will still terrorize the city, but it’s different now. This young woman is different. He hasn’t killed her yet. He’s getting distracted. Satan, to ensure his investment is maintained, plucked Kane from the desert and let him loose on Onyx. It’s fascinating what the desert can do to Excoms. It breaks them down, but not enough to die. Kane wanted out and would do anything to get out, even if it means serving the devil.”

  “But if Noir can’t die …” Reese felt her voice drift off and her face paled. “Is Kane here to kill Keirah? To rid Noir of his distraction?” Henry’s silence was confirmation enough. “That’s Andie’s sister. We have to stop him!”

  “You can do nothing,” Henry said, his voice firm. “And you can tell no one. Kane doesn’t have her yet and you can barely shoot an arrow. Wait until the right moment.” His eyes hardened, emphasizing his point. More gently, he repeated, “Wait.” He leaned back in his chair and loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “Go on. You’re going to be late.”

  Just as Reese hopped out of the car, he called her name. She paused, looking at him expectantly, ready to shut the door. “Try his apartment,” Henry advised. “He doesn’t lock the door.”

  Reese had no idea why she was taking the steps up to Ollo’s apartment rather than the stairs down to the basement in the bar. When her fingers curled around the doorknob, she hesitated. She never barged into a room without knocking first unless the occupant of said room knew she’d be making an appearance.

  “Technically speaking,” she murmured to herself, “he is expecting me for training.”

  With that thought, she opened the door, bracing herself for she didn’t know what. Why was Ollo still in his apartment? The first and most obvious idea was that he was passed out from being drunk. Or he could be conscious and drunk, completely breaking his promise to her. Maybe it had nothing to do with alcohol. Maybe he just overslept. Maybe he was with a girl. The thought caused Reese to snort. Ollo with a girl? Not that he wasn’t attractive in a disheveled bloke from the wild forest way, but his personality was downright insulting. Although she’d be quick to admit that there were girls who liked that, especially the kind who just wanted to do the deed and didn’t care about romantic stuff.

  That might be more his speed, she allowed.

  When she stepped into the dimly-lit apartment, her nostrils were assaulted with the strong scent of alcohol. Alcohol and something else, something that made her brow furrow, her nose wrinkle, her gag reflex to react—

  Vomit. She smelled vomit. And judging by its potency, it was ripe.

  And then, the sound of gagging pierced her ears. It was coming from the bathroom.

  Maybe her first thought was right. Maybe Ollo was still drunk.

  As he threw up, Reese felt her blood begin to boil. How dare he? He promised he would try and stay sober enough to train her. Apparently it was too much for him to lay off the bottle for one day. If she was supposed to save her parents, she needed to know how to fight. Hell, if she was supposed to help save Keirah, she needed to know how to fight. Ollo was the way to achieve her goal, but he didn’t care about anything except his booze. This was the very reason she dumped Harvey back when she was a freshman in high school; he drank too much and tried to feel her up at a party. She considered those three weeks a huge waste of her time, and she wasn’t going to repeat the mistake by spending any more time with drunk assholes, especially lying drunk assholes.

  In fact, just to show him how furious she was, she planned to dump out all of his alcohol. Sure, he lived above and worked at a bar and could get more at any time, but this would make her feel better and hopefully teach him a lesson.

  Reese whipped the fridge door open and paused. There was no alcohol in the fridge. Furrowing her brow, she stood on her toes and reached up to open the cabinets where his liquor was stored. Except there was none. The more Reese’s eyes scoured the apartment, the more she realized there was no actual alcohol in the apartment. Unless she counted the empty beer bottles.

  Interesting. He didn’t favor cans.

  Ollo’s puking interrupted Reese’s train of thought and guilt started gnawing at her. Why was he puking then? Food poisoning? It wasn’t likely Ollo was a huge eater, given the empty fridge. Which meant—

  Her eyes sprung open and she dashed to the bathroom. He was going through withdrawal.

  When she pushed the bathroom door open, the scent of puke overrode the scent of alcohol and she had to place her hand over her mouth to keep from gagging. Her grey eyes found Ollo’s crumpled form clinging onto the toilet bowl for dear life. His head hung forward, seemingly done vomiting for now. Groaning, his eyes were closed, obviously in pain. He was wearing another pair of brown slacks and his brown jacket. His dark brown hair was tangled and greasy, gathering at the base of his neck, his feet bare.

  She had to help him.

  Sliding down to kneel, she reached out, hesitating only a second before she placed her hand gently on his back. Faster than she could blink, she found herself on her back with the majority of Ollo’s weight on her frame, his big hand squeezing her throat.

  “It’s me,” she got out. “Reese.”

  His eyes softened, now more blue than brown. He released his hold on her throat but couldn’t get up. His head fell forward so his forehead hit her shoulder. He smelled awful and he looked worse.

  “What are you doing here, darl?” he murmured.

  “I’m here to help,” she told him, and was surprised her voice was genuine.

  “You’re here to help me?” She couldn’t fault him for the disbelieving tone.

  “Someone has to,” she said. Reaching up, she patted his shoulder. “You have to get up, Ollo.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” His voice was raw, honest.

  It took a moment for her to weasel out from under him—he groaned when his head almost hit the floor—and once she was free, stood up. His skin was pallid, and she realized if she hadn’t shown up, there was a good chance he might have died, if he even could. And if not, he’d be suffering for who knew how long.

  At least he didn’t have to do it alone.

  She bent down and grabbed his arm, tugging him upward. “I know you can barely walk,” she said over his groaning, “but we need to get you to bed. Come on, you can lean on me.”

  It took a minute, but he managed to get to his feet. His arm, along with most of his weight, was thrown over her shoulder but she led him to his bed. He all but collapsed on the mattress, and Reese grabbed the only blanket he seemed to possess and wrapped it around his shivering frame. She could feel his eyes on her, always on her, even when she crossed the room to grab a dish towel, wet it, and ring it out. She snatched an unused mixing bowl just in case he started throwing up again. His eyes never wavered as she took a seat on the side of his bed, craning her body toward him and with gentle precision, began to dab his skin with the towel. He was still shaking.

  It
was only then she realized he wasn’t wearing anything underneath his jacket. The blanket came to his under arms, revealing the beginning of a surprisingly commendable chest. She felt herself flush at the sight and forced her eyes back to his face. Those perfectly shaped lips curled into a tired smirk which only increased her blush.

  “Why are you helping me?” he mumbled. She saw the way his body relaxed under the touch of the cloth even though he continued to shake.

  Reese shrugged, her eyes focused on the task at hand. “I didn’t know you were just going to quit,” she said. “I thought you were going to ease up.”

  “People drink to forget,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning deeper into the pillow. “I forgot. Then you made me remember. I don’t want to forget again.” He paused and slowly raised his eyes at half-mast. “It seems like you know exactly what you’re doing, darl. Personal experience?”

  “A guy I dated back in LA drank a lot,” she replied. “I got over it real fast. I promised myself I wouldn’t be with a guy who couldn’t take care of himself because he certainly couldn’t take care of me.”

  “And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” His eyes were closed, but he was grinning to the point where his prominent cheekbones swelled. She knew if his eyes were open, he’d have a sparkle in the contrasting irises.

  “You’re different,” she said in a whisper.

  “It’s nice to see you care, darl,” he drawled.

  Reese rolled her eyes and dropped her hand in her lap. “Go to sleep,” she told him. “You’ll be better—”

  His soft snores interrupted her.

  She stood, making a mental checklist of everything she had to do: call Piper and tell her she was okay while simultaneously dropping hints about how great Henry was; call her mother and tell her she’d be spending the night at Piper’s, which was unusual on a school night but Reese had a feeling her mother would be ecstatic that she was returning to “normal”; call Henry and tell him she wouldn’t be needing a ride home although she had a feeling he’d somehow already know; clean Ollo’s apartment; and finish her homework.

  Rolling her shoulders back, Reese inhaled deeply, slowly, giving herself a moment before she started on the tasks. Tonight was going to be a long night.

  28

  The weekend went by for Andie. She managed to pick up the things she needed without much hassle because her mother was either out or napping. Jack was busy a lot of the time and for whatever reason, scheduled a lot of international meetings late at night, leaving Andie either alone or with Beverly. Andie didn’t mind the solitude and used it to explore the manor—including Jack’s twice-the-size-of-her-apartment library—and spend some time with his aunt. Beverly was eccentric in the best way; she never wore shoes, she loved to garden both vegetables and flowers, and she showed Andie a bunch of secret passageways in hopes to help get her mind off Keirah. It worked only temporarily, but Andie appreciated the attempt.

  By the time Monday rolled around, Andie felt comfortable at the manor, which was good since Carey’s parents were too busy to take her in until around Thanksgiving and she didn’t know Reese well enough to ask for temporary boarding. In class, Andie told her friends what happened over the weekend and was surprised how relieved she felt afterwards. Carey hadn’t given her a hard time for moving in with Jack, and Reese had an idea on how to help find Keirah: find out who robbed Onyx First National.

  Jack didn’t treat her any different at work and neither did her coworkers, which meant he hadn’t told anyone about their unprecedented living arrangement. She refused to let Jack get in trouble on her part so she withheld the information, even from Miranda. If Miranda noticed a change in Andie, she didn’t mention it. Besides taking Andie out for limitless ice cream after hearing about Keirah, Miranda was focused on wooing new investors for Jack’s company.

  Because Miranda was so distracted, Andie was able to browse the internet for any footage of the bank robbery. She was met with little success. Nobody took credit for it and the police didn’t have any leads. Andie wasn’t having much luck either. There were a couple of cell phone videos posted, but the quality was subpar.

  That all changed the following Tuesday.

  After her usual morning shower and a quick bowl of cereal, Andie had a few minutes to flip on the news. It was a trait she had picked up this past week, hoping for some information on the whereabouts of her sister and yet relieved when Keirah was never mentioned. She was clinging to the adage that no news was good news, even though with each passing day the likelihood that Keirah was going to turn up alive—

  Andie forced herself to focus on the television. She wouldn’t let herself believe that Keirah was gone, especially when there was no evidence. The news was in the middle of showing a video, and Andie knew this was new footage, better footage, of the robbery last week. She turned up the volume enough so that she could hear the commentary without waking Jack and Beverly, even though that was all but impossible anyway, given the placement of their rooms.

  “… know where the young woman is,” the reporter said over the video. “Watch as we play it again. Keep your eyes on the red head. We see her wrists tied together with telephone cord and we see her used as a hostage. We don’t know where she is now. Nobody has turned up and no missing person with that description has been filed. It was as though she vanished into thin air. If you have any information …”

  Andie didn’t hear the rest of what the reporter said. Her eyes were locked on the red head. That was Keirah. She could tell from the square-shaped jaw, the long legs, the round lips. That was Keirah. A week ago, she had been alive. From there, Andie concluded that the bank robbery was orchestrated by Noir. He had killed his other accomplices though. Their bodies had been tagged and bagged as soon as the police got to the scene. Where was Keirah?

  By the time she got to work that afternoon, Andie decided she needed to go to the bank herself and explore. She knew she should have gone to Jarrett and told him about Keirah being at the bank during the robbery, but something stopped her and she couldn’t pinpoint what that was. If Keirah was in the bank—obviously used as some sort of distraction, given her attire—seemingly alone, why didn’t she go to someone for help? Why didn’t she just leave? Unless she had, and no one noticed. Maybe she left a note somewhere, telling the recipient she was being held against her will. Maybe she left a message only Andie would recognize. In all likelihood, the chances of that were slim at best, but she had to at least try. She got off of work at five, so if she rushed, she could probably get to the bank just before it closed. She would probably have to shake Jack, who had made it mandatory that all women were escorted to their cars if they got off at five or later, thanks to the arrival of Onyx’s newest villain, Kane. The man attempted to spring all the criminals locked in holding cells waiting to be transferred to the prison outside city limits by way of explosion. Miraculously, no one was hurt, but seven dangerous criminals escaped and still hadn’t been recaptured. It was all anyone could talk about, especially considering the Black Wing had been seen flying around Onyx searching for them.

  Please.

  What about her sister? Just because new criminals were popping up did not mean Keirah was not still missing.

  When Andie walked into the office, Miranda was in the middle of a phone call.

  “… yeah, I’m really looking forward to meeting you as well,” Miranda said, her voice sincere. She smiled at Andie and held up a finger. “Okay, so seven o’clock at the Bohemian tonight? Great, I’ll see you then, Mr. Bernal.” She hung up the phone and plopped back down in her seat.

  “Mr. Bernal?” Andie arched a brow. “The guy who runs the—”

  “Bank that was robbed last week?” Miranda asked. “Yeah. Well, yes and no. He’s the son of Randy Bernal, Bill. Bill actually runs it now, and he’s more than a little interested in investing in Phillip Enterprises.”

  “Can I come?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and blushed at her bluntness. “I jus
t, I’d like to learn how to build relationships with potential clients.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Miranda nodded her head, her bouncy curls following her swift movement. “I’ll just run it by Jack to make sure it’s okay, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. But Andie, dress nice, okay? Not business nice, but nice-nice.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Andie asked as she took her seat. She couldn’t keep the grin off of her face if she tried. Her plan was slowly starting to come together. If that meant she had to wear a dress in order to woo Bill Bernal, then she would.

  Miranda’s mouth was closed, but the look on her face said everything.

  Andie got out of the taxi after paying the driver and glanced around. She decided to leave her car at the manor and politely declined a ride from Beverly. She wanted Bill to offer her a ride to the bank and that meant she couldn’t have her car with her. It was hard to resist a damsel in distress. At least Andie hoped it was.

  Bill Bernal was supposed to be dressed in a midnight blue Armani suit. She had Googled him in order to find out what he looked like and was surprised to see he was the same guy who had hit on her at Jack’s party and demanded a dance. At least she knew he found her somewhat attractive, though she couldn’t suppress a small shiver down her spine. He was relatively attractive too, with his jet-black hair and dark blue eyes. Apparently, he was twenty-four with a body more narrow than Jack’s, but for his five foot ten frame, there was an admirable amount of muscle.