Turning, Evaine found Curtis looming over her, his hand pressed to the glass, watching Cami disappear with Victor. He looked pained. She put her hand up to where his rested. Curtis looked down at her hand with sad eyes, then threw his head back and let out a terrible cry. It was a pitiful sound, full of sorrow and longing. When he finished he slumped onto his mattress and stared at the blank wall.
How could someone do this to another human being? What could possibly make them be so cruel? To go to such scientific extremes? Evaine’s rage began to build. She wanted to kill them. To do to them what they had done to her and Luca and Curtis and everyone. If only she hadn’t called the number on that stupid piece of paper.
Her head snapped up. A piece of paper. Someone had given her a piece of paper with a number to call because she had needed money. But where? Where had she gotten the paper? She had to remember!
“Evaine! Are you all right?” Ronan dropped the bag he had been carrying on the floor and rushed over to her. She hadn’t realized that she had been pounding on her head.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Does your head hurt? Should I get Aron?”
She sucked in a deep breath and put on a fake smile. “No, no, really, I’m fine. I’m so frustrated I can’t remember anything. I’m sure it’s in there.”
“You can’t rush it. It will—”
“Come back or it won’t. I know.”
Ronan chuckled. “You’re so hell-bent on figuring out who you were instead of realizing what a great person you are now and what you could be. I don’t think you realize the abilities you’ve been given. You’ve helped already in so many ways. I don’t mean your telekinetic ability, I mean your presence. It’s awakened all of us.” He stopped suddenly. Evaine got the feeling that if he could’ve blushed, he would’ve. “Hey. You haven’t been topside in a while. You want to go walk the grounds with me? I have to drop this bag off in the barn.”
“Absolutely.” She was flooded with a rush of anticipation.
“Great.” Ronan smiled and picked up the bag.
She followed him to the elevator feeling better than she had in week.
Chapter Fifteen
Tristan awoke to a wet nose in his face. He’d fallen asleep at his computer again. The time flashed midnight on his monitor. He groaned. He had forgotten to take Kale out…again.
He sat up and yawned. “Leash.” When he looked down Kale hadn’t moved; the leash was already in Tristan’s lap. Man, he was becoming so unreliable, he couldn’t even take care of a dog. Good thing Zolma was coming back. Tomorrow the apartment would be cleaned and his clothes washed, real food would be in the house and Kale would get a longer walk.
In the elevator Tristan’s mind drifted to his latest conversations with Jannie and his grandfather. He had to get into the office and show his face. He wouldn’t stay long, but he had to see Collin and say hello at least. Then he would need to get the new client list and go over the Martz Pharmaceutical proposal. He shook his head. What was he thinking? He couldn’t go in and do all that. He needed to stay home.
Maybe he didn’t. Even the police lieutenant had told him to move on. Maybe this would be where it all started. With him making the decision to go out and do something, anything.
The elevator opened. Kale whined and tugged on the leash, forcing Tristan forward through the lobby. Tristan didn’t want to move on; he wanted to live the life he had dreamed of. The life with kids and PTA and Christmases with his grandparents. Summers at the lake house and winters skiing. But most of all, a life with Evaine.
When he had gone off to college and she had tried to break up with him, he hadn’t been able to manage to go out with a girl for more than one date. None of them measured up to her. Their smile, their walk, ideas, philosophies, ambitions. Every event he took one to, every show, every opening of a gallery, every society thing that he was required to attend on his grandparents behalf, had been empty when he had taken someone else. Like a horse show, where he was the stud being appraised, fawned over and prized, but never truly valued. Evaine had been the only woman who had ever made him feel worth something more than his family’s fortune.
The park, a couple blocks from Tristan’s apartment, was oddly quiet. Kale begged to be let off the leash. Tristan glanced around. The hairs on his neck prickled like he was being watched. Kale growled and woofed at the small group of trees about fifteen yards away. A rustle of leaves caught Tristan’s attention.
“Hey, you need something?” he called out.
There was no reply and no movement. He turned to leave when he heard another rustle. Kale went crazy, barking and pulling on his leash. It took all of Tristan’s strength to try to restrain the dog. In the end, Kale won the battle. The leash snapped and the dog surged toward the wooded area. He stopped just inside the trees, barking and growling. Tristan reached the tree, totally out of breath, and tried in vain to regain control of the dog.
“Kale…Kale, knock it off. There’s nothing up there you crazy dog, but—” Tristan looked up and saw the brightest orange, cat-like eyes set into the whitest face he had ever seen. “Uh, hey,” he stammered. “Do you need some help?”
The man jumped down from the limb on the tree, landing lightly on his feet, right in front of Tristan. Kale went mad barking and lunging, but the man glared back and growled, and Kale fell silent. Tristan stepped away a pace, pulling the dog by his collar. The man had a good three to four inches on Tristan and at least thirty pounds of muscle. Decked out in all black clothing, a skull cap covered his head. A long white ponytail hung below. The way the man watched Tristan made him feel like…meat.
“Hey, man, there aren’t any raves or anything on this side of town, and I don’t carry any cash on me.” Slowly Tristan pulled Kale toward the street. It took everything inside of him for Tristan to turn his back and walk away. He swallowed a large lump in his throat as the hairs on his arms stand up like toy soldiers. When Tristan reached the edge of the park he turned. A chill skittered over his skin. The man hadn’t moved, but the menace wafting off of him made Tristan fear for his safety. Like he was looking into his own grave. His arms strained and flexed to keep Kale walking forward, and he was tiring quickly from the burden.
Tristan picked up the pace and half walked, half ran to his building. He felt eyes watching him the whole way.
“Oh, Kale, you broke your leash,” Zach, the doorman, scolded. “I bet you had a heck of a time getting him here.”
Tristan breathed hard, trying to catch his breath. “You could say that.” He was still shaken.
“Nice walk besides the broken leash?”
“No, not so much really.” Tristan looked over his shoulder.
“Did something happen, Mr. Atwater? Should I give the police a call?”
“No. No, it’s fine, Zach. Just some raver, probably high and looking to party, that’s all.”
“Well, you let me know if you have any more problems and I’ll call and get someone to sweep the area.”
“Sounds good.” Tristan relaxed a bit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, fumbled them with his shaky fingers, and dropped them on the pavement. “Dangit.”
Zach picked up the keys and handed them over.
“Thanks. I’m always losing these.”
“Me too. That’s why my wife bought me this.” Zach showed Tristan a chain attached to his belt loop.
“I should get one of those.” Tristan laughed. Someone moved down the block. Tristan looked up in time to see a black duster disappear around the edge of the building.
Back in his apartment, Tristan sat on his leather sofa, shaken by what had happened. The orange eyes burned into his memory. What the heck kind of contacts were those? The look on the man’s face had been one of pure hatred, but Tristan was sure he had never seen the guy before. The clock read close to 1:00 a.m. He needed to get some sleep; but if he was going into the office in the morning, he had to at least be somewhat up to spee
d on the Martz project. Reaching into his bag he pulled out his files. He hadn’t touched them since they’d fallen days before.
He spread the papers out on the floor and began putting them in the right files. When he got down to his last few pieces he noticed a bright green piece of paper sticking out. Picking it up, he unfolded it. His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard. It was a flier for medical testing, like the one he had seen in Mac Peters office. Tristan reached out and shuffled through the last papers. They were Evaine’s. A syllabus, some homework, and a few pages from a script. Tristan’s body went cold and his fingers shook. There was a number at the bottom of the flyer. Reaching for his cell phone he dialed it.
A female voice answered. “Orion’s answering service.”
Tristan wasn’t sure what to say.
“Hello?”
“Uh, ya,” Tristan said. “Uh, I got this flyer and—”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Orion Industries is closed right now. Can I take a message or would you like to call back in the morning?”
“Do you know anything about the drug trials?” Tristan’s throat tightened until he was barely able to speak.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t. If you would like to call back—”
“Thank you.” Tristan hung up quickly.
Tristan sat and stared at his phone, his head reeling. Evaine couldn’t have done it. She wouldn’t have called them. Tristan knew she’d been strapped for cash, but he had talked to her slum landlord Carl the month before and told him that if she was late with the rent, to let him know and he would wire the money over. Carl had called at 8:00 a.m. the morning of the fifth. Evaine hadn’t known.
Tristan got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Getting up he went to his computer and Googled Orion Industries. Their Web page was at the top of the list. Tristan clicked on the link, his hand shaking.
Chapter Sixteen
Ronan and Evaine went to the top floor and emerged out through the panel under the staircase. They walked out into a white living room area with white carpet and dark wooden floors. The furniture looked antique and was highly polished.
There was a couch and table with a vase of white flowers in the middle. Two plush chairs sat opposite the couch. A Tiffany lamp stood in the corner, a beautiful tall piece of wisteria. A brick fireplace, covered in photos of the old Nate and Abbey, was flanked by two bookcases filled with old books. The room looked like something out of Better Homes and Gardens.
“Come on.” Ronan led the way. Evaine followed him down the short hallway, tiptoeing in the almost silent house.
Ronan walked to the front door and pulled it open. Evaine stepped out and breathed in deeply. She sighed and stepped out further. The night sky hung above her. The stars twinkled and sparkled like fireflies. The air was sweet and a bit salty.
A broad smile spread across Evaine’s face as she took the night into all of her senses. All of the confinement she had felt below in her cell melted away; she wanted to run, cartwheel, and dance on the green lawn.
“Hey, Evaine.” Bobby Lee came around the corner of the house, pulling her out of her reverie.
“Hey, Bobby.”
“First time topside in a few weeks, huh?” John Casey following behind.
“I think I would go bonkers if I didn’t get to come out here every day,” Bobby Lee said.
“It isn’t easy being down there all the time,” Evaine said.
“You—”
“Get used to it.” Evaine finished Ronan’s thought.
He looked at her, chagrined.
“Let us walk you to the barn.” Bobby Lee nodded toward the building.
The group headed toward the rear of the property. The side of the house had a wonderful and aromatic garden. Rows of neatly pruned vegetables were fenced off from the rest of the lawn. The freshness of the tomatoes, the sweetness of the pea pods, and the earthiness of the root vegetables made her gut clench. She could no longer have any of them.
Ronan stopped outside the barn. “Guys, why don’t you show Evaine around a bit and I’ll meet you out front.”
“Madame, your tour awaits.” John Casey made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
Evaine laughed.
Ronan met them on the side of the house where Bobby Lee and John Casey had been introducing Evaine to the six dogs in the kennel. When the group headed to the front Evaine noticed a car in the drive that hadn’t been there earlier.
“Luca must be back.” Bobby Lee peered into the darkness.
A flutter ran through Evaine. She wanted to run into the house to see him. She stopped. Memory of their last meeting slapped her with force. Who cared if he was back? She was having a good time outside with Ronan and the twins. But telling herself that and believing it were two different things.
Chapter Seventeen
Evaine stood in the kitchen staring down the hallway toward the bedrooms. The desire to speak with Luca pulled at her constantly. Finally she gave in. She spotted Cami on the way to the pool with Victor and asked her which room was Luca’s. Cami pointed and wished her luck before bouncing off.
Evaine listened at his door, her hand raised to knock. She could feel him sleeping. Her heart sank.
A door opened to her left and Karen emerged. Her eyes flicked from Evaine to Luca’s door and back. Evaine lowered her hand. Karen approached, her mouth twisted into a scowl.
“He’s sleeping.” She stopped and crossed her arms.
“I’m aware of that.” Her temper flared. She pictured flinging Karen down the hall.
“Luca doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s sleeping. Except by close, personal friends.” Karen inspected her fingernails.
Evaine had to keep calm. She couldn’t afford to lose it again. No matter how much she wanted to gouge out Karen’s heavily mascaraed eyes.
“I’ll try to remember that.” Evaine’s mouth went dry.
“You do that.” Karen planted herself in front of Luca’s door and stared at Evaine.
Evaine swallowed her pride and the lump in her throat and walked out to the family room. Her head pounded in anger. She threw herself onto the sofa trying to calm herself. The more she tried, the more she thought of Luca. He was the one who helped her calm down. No. Not this time. This time she had to do it herself.
She took several long deep breathes and pictured someplace nice. A safe place. Laying down she meditated on the place that she felt most safe.
Thirty minutes in, she fell asleep, thinking about Luca.
* * *
Evaine drifted in a foggy dream state. Slowly, as if finding her focus, she arrived in the front room of a small apartment. It wasn’t posh, but it was comfortable with a big, squishy couch and a wooden bookcase full of books and CDs. An artist’s easel waited in the corner in a makeshift art studio. Paints, brushes, a palette, and other artist things lay scattered across a table. Water cups and sketch pads littered the floor. The smell of bacon drew her toward the breakfast nook. Giggles and a shriek of delight floated from down the hall, catching her attention. Evaine headed down a cramped hallway adjacent to the studio area.
At the end of the hall a door stood slightly ajar. She crept closer, listening to the voices coming from behind it. She peered through the crack in the door. A man with long brown hair, tied back with a leather strap, stood between the legs of a woman, perched on a dresser, as she knotted his tie. A short curly bob framed the woman’s round face. With her pretty smile and freckled nose she looked like a model for the girl next door.
The girl chatted and laughed; he tickled her on the side, trying to distract her from the tie.
Evaine stepped into the room quietly and looked around. The messy bed was strewn with discarded clothing, as if the man had tried on several different outfits before deciding on the French blue shirt and tan slacks. Three beautiful paintings hung on the walls. One was an intricate portrait of a city, done down to the smallest detail. The colors were so realistic that it was like looking out a window at the street, instead
of at a painting.
A picture of a circus was equally as amazing. Done in muted tones, it looked like an antique poster from the nineteen hundreds. The three rings each had their own show going on. A third painting was a portrait of the woman sitting on the dresser.
“Babe, you’re going to be great. You’ve been working on these pieces for months. If they don’t like your work enough to give you your own show, then they don’t know what art is.” Pride and affection warmed the girl’s voice.
The man laughed nervously.
“Now, don’t sell yourself short. Don’t let them pick you apart. If they ask you to tell your inspiration for the pieces or what you were trying to do with them, be honest. Your art comes from your heart, Luca, and no one can judge that.”
Suddenly Evaine didn’t want to be there anymore. A gnawing in her stomach told her she should leave. She reached for the door that she had come through and felt the knob. It was stuck. Not wanting them to see her, she backed into the corner of the room.
“Mya, what would I ever do without you? No one has ever believed in me the way that you do.” Leaning forward Luca kissed her full on the mouth. Mya responded, throwing her arms around his neck. The kissing became more intense, and Evaine had to avert her eyes. Jealousy bubbled inside of her. She swallowed to keep down a scream that had begun to grow in her throat. The girl’s legs wrapped around Luca’s waist and he carried her to the bed. He laid her down and kissed her over and over, the same way he had with Evaine.
Evaine’s breathing became more rapid. Her eyes darted around the room. There had to be a way for her to get out. She wracked her brain, trying to find a thread that would pull her back to her own mind. She couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Standing slowly she tried not to make any noise. She felt for the handle behind her. Twisting the knob over and over she willed it to open. To her relief it clicked open. She eased out the door, her eyes still on Luca and the girl on the bed. His nice shirt was getting wrinkled. So much for the business meeting.
Dead Awakenings Page 13