“Excuse me, miss,” one of the men said. “You’re not allowed to be up here. You need to leave.”
Keirah smiled innocently, and before the security guards could react, she grabbed one of her Glocks and fired two shots into the guard’s chest. The other, the one who had not spoken, simply dropped his mouth and raised his hands up.
“Do you want to live?” she asked him, her voice sounding foreign even to her. He nodded without hesitation. “Type in the code to release the prisoner in this cage.”
The security guard didn’t need to be told twice. When he had finished what he was asked, the door popped open and he dashed off. This left Keirah with five minutes or less before the whole security team was alerted.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice drawled upon seeing Keirah enter the room, completely decked out in her costume. “Look who comes crawwwling back.”
“I’m going to take that as a thank you,” she murmured, walking over to him—sauntering was more like it—and offering him a small smirk.
“Don’t you look simply…uh…edible,” he said, his eyes sizing her up as he licked his lips with his tongue.
“I’ll let you take a bite of me once I get you out of here,” she said, glancing at just how locked up he was. The asylum must have assumed that the two guards were enough security, at least for tonight, because he only had on handcuffs, nothing else. She bent down, lifted her skirt in order to grab the other gun and handed it to him.
“Oh,” he said, looking pointedly at the revealed flesh of her thigh. “How I’ve missed you. If we didn’t have time restraints-ah, I would, well, I would take you right here.”
“Take me when we get out of here,” she said, turning around to look at the door.
Noir followed her, reaching out and cupping her backside with a territorial squeeze. “Well, doll,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I, uh, hate to see you leave, but I love, well, I love to watch. You. Go.” They turned, and Noir quickly grabbed the ring of keys off of the dead guard’s body before they both headed down the hall and reached the staircase. As they descended the stairs, Noir released his wrists from their confines. Keirah could have sworn she heard footsteps hurrying after them, but they pushed open the doors and, as before, were free once more. Before Keirah could react, Noir grabbed Keirah roughly on her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. “Don’t…you…ever leave me.”
Keirah nodded, her eyes locked into his. Then, without warning, he placed his lips hungrily against hers. She matched his passion with her own, but for whatever reason, he cut the kiss short. That was when she heard the shouting, the warnings, saw the guns. It was like time slowed down, and for the first time in her life, Keirah saw everything crystal clear. She watched as Noir used his left arm to push her behind him. He didn’t even use his gun. He didn’t even fire back. He wasn’t focused on retaliating, only keeping Keirah safe, positioning his body in front of hers. And then she saw the bullet from one of the guards—she wasn’t sure which one—hit him straight in the heart—where his heart would be if he was human. And then, right before her eyes, she watched as her soul mate, the only man she ever loved in every sense of the word, disappeared with a sickening pop right before her wide eyes.
He was gone. Vanished. Into thin air.
But where?
Keirah wasn’t allowed time to think. The earth started spinning again and everything resumed its normal speed. She turned in the direction of where she parked the car and sprinted with all her might. She needed to survive if she was going to get him back.
She had to get him back, if it was the last thing she did.
Reese
It had been two weeks, and they were still gone.
Reese hadn’t gone to school. She barely showered. She picked at her food.
The funeral had come and gone. She barely remembered it. When her friends visited, she didn’t talk. She inherited everything—assets, property, money, and barely any debt—and she couldn’t muster up feeling relieved. Ollo took care of everything, took care of her, and she couldn’t even thank him.
She just was.
She was a void. She was numb. And in that bleak despair, she was content.
“All right, this is ridiculous,” Ollo said, barging through the bedroom door. “You’re moping around, taking everyone and everything for granted. You’re probably the richest seventeen-year-old girl in the nation, and you’ve been wearing the same pair of pajamas for the past week. And you smell.”
Before Reese could do anything, let alone react, Ollo scooped her into his arms bridal-style, and took her over to the bathroom. It was then that Reese could hear the familiar sound of the shower, feel the heat of the steam opening up her pores.
God, her skin must look atrocious.
And then, surprising her even more, Ollo stepped into the shower with Reese, both fully clothed, and kneeled down until he was sitting with her in his lap. The water was hot, and she screeched in surprise at the shift in temperature. Normally she didn’t mind hot showers, so it wasn’t long until she got used to it. Her clothes were clinging to her body, her hair was matted to her face, but she felt…good. Relaxed. And that’s when the tears began. Ollo was patient and rubbed her back, because, really, there wasn’t much else he could do but he wanted to at least attempt to soothe her. It was only when her tears were reduced to hiccups and the water began to turn lukewarm did Ollo finally speak.
“Do you feel better?” he asked. “And before you remind me that your entire family died and you might never feel better again, you know that’s not—”
“Yes,” Reese said, her voice small. “I do.”
Her response took Ollo by surprise, and he needed a moment before he asked, “What happened, darl? That first day, I thought you were going to be okay. And then you just gave up. Why?”
“When I thought of my family as being dead, I didn’t cry,” she replied, her grey eyes stormy in thought. “I tried to force myself to cry, because that’s the normal thing you do when someone in your family you’re close to dies. When I found out they were murdered—and I do hear your conversations with Henry, even though you shut the door, so I know the fire wasn’t an accident—I fainted, yes, but I didn’t cry. I only seem to cry when something or someone reminds me they’re gone. Like the theme song to my brother’s favorite video game; like looking down at my nails and thinking that if Mom were here, she’d practically drag me to get a manicure because I haven’t been taking care of them; like watching football with my dad every Sunday while my mom went shopping with Brody. That’s when I start to cry. I didn’t think that was normal, so I started punishing myself, forcing myself to be depressed, not eating, staying in bed, not showering. That was how I thought it should be.”
“Everyone grieves differently, darl,” Ollo said, his voice gentle and safe. Reese felt herself lean into him so she could feel the low vibrations through his chest as he spoke. “And not everyone is healthy about it. When Pythia died, I threw myself into drinking. You’re the one who showed me that that wasn’t living. Now, it’s my turn to return the favor.” He paused, waiting for Reese to say something, but when she remained quiet, he cautiously pressed on. “Listen, darl, there’s something we need to discuss. Actually, several things. Some might be too hard for you to handle and if, at any point, it becomes too much, just tell me to stop, and I will. But you need to know these things.”
Reese nodded her head, but still said nothing. She kept her head on Ollo’s chest as the water continued to fall on them.
“First thing: after we get out of this shower, I’m going to feed you breakfast, and then you need to start training again. To be blunt, you are nowhere near ready to assume your role, and you need to be. This war could happen at any moment, and I need to know that you can take care of yourself on the battlefield. And right now, you can’t.”
“You’re right.” She nodded her head in agreement. “I need to start training again. I will. Today.”
“Good.” A beat.
“Second thing: as you’ve overheard, the fire was not accidental. Henry and I have been going back and forth as to who would do something like that, and we’ve concluded it has to be someone with ties to this war, someone who knows your role in it, and wants to force you to side with the demons. Our number one suspect is Lucas Burr, but we’re still trying to rationalize why he'd stepped in so directly.”
This time, Reese picked her head up, pulling her eyes away from his long fingers and the water that dripped gracefully down the length of them, so she could look him in the eyes. She was caught by surprise by the blue and brown mixture, their beauty thrust in her face like an alarm going off. Feelings she had pushed to the side and forced herself to ignore came back as she looked at him, and she wondered how she let herself be without him for so long.
“I don’t think it’s Burr,” she said, after remembering why she needed to speak in the first place. “He had my mom create the Vigilante Registration Act. She was the lead on the project. Yeah, he probably had his motives as to why he chose her in the first place, but he needed her in case Black Wing either registered or was arrested.”
“This changes everything,” Ollo muttered more to himself than to her. “Who would want to harm your family, then? Who else has ties to the war?”
“Someone who knew we wouldn’t be home, obviously,” Reese said, her mind turning. Ollo grinned at the saucy response. “Someone who wanted to hurt me but couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do it directly. Someone who has knowledge about fire and how to handle it…” Reese’s voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed. “Daphne.”
“What?” Ollo asked.
“Daphne,” she said again. “That bitch knew where we were and when we’d return home. She set an entire forest on fire in order to assist me with my training when all she wanted to do was burn my hair off. Oh, and she hates me because she thinks you’re in love with me.” Ollo opened his mouth to say something, but Reese continued to talk, oblivious of his intentions. “I’m not sure if she killed them because she was jealous and wanted to hurt me, or if she somehow honestly believed that she was doing something for the greater good and the war.” Without warning, Reese stood up.
“Where are you going?” Ollo asked, clamoring up to follow her.
“I’m going to shove donuts in my face and then I’m going to train,” she said, grabbing an old towel. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but Daphne’s responsible for my family’s deaths. I don’t care what side she’s on, either. I’m going to make her pay.”
A pleased smirk touched Ollo’s features as he took her in. She reminded him of a wet dog, but she had never looked more beautiful to him. “Brush your teeth while you’re at it, darl,” he told her. “Your breath reeks.”
The feel of the bow in her hands reminded her of seeing an old friend for the first time in a long while and pulling them into a hug. She was below Bacchus’, in the storage room. Ollo had set everything up for her while she was chowing down the best breakfast she’d had in ages, but when she finished, she asked him for time alone. She wanted to do this her way, by herself.
She grabbed an arrow from the collection and nocked it to the bow. She pulled the string back, and then one, two, three, released the arrow until it flew into the corner of the paper target she had been aiming for. She was definitely rusty, but she would make up for lost time. She had to. It was her destiny.
In a week, Reese did many things. She got back in touch with her friends and thanked them for everything they'd done for her. She also made sure she apologized for how poorly she had treated them. They all forgave her, including Piper, and she was suddenly so overwhelmed with appreciation for the people in her life that she actually had to fight back tears.
She found out that Andie and Jack Phillip were dating again, and that around the time her family had been killed, she had suffered a trauma of her own. She apologized profusely for not being there for her and sent her flowers as a way of expressing her regret. Andie had waved aside Reese’s concern, telling her she didn’t want to think about it because she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Reese also went back to school, and by the end of the week, managed to strike a balance between maintaining a social life, improving her archery skills, and catching up with all the schoolwork she missed. Her life would never be the same again, but it was getting back to normal.
After her first week back at school, Reese and Ollo settled down on the couch in order to watch some television. She had just gotten out of the shower and was wearing the fluffy pink robe her mother had gotten her for her fourteenth birthday. It was already over here due to her training sessions from a couple of months ago. She used to shower when she finished so she didn’t come home sweaty and smelly and cause any suspicion in her family. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a towel.
It was odd living with a man she was in love with, especially considering he slept on the couch they were sitting on so she could sleep in his bed. He would take her shopping for new clothes after school despite his hatred of malls. He stocked the fridge with her favorite foods. On a particularly rough day, he had drawn her a bath so she could relax and be alone.
How could she ever doubt wanting to be with him? How could it have taken her this long to figure it out?
“Ollo,” she said, turning to face him. She briefly entertained the thought of changing into a cuter outfit before she said anything, but on second thought, decided to get this out now since too much time had already passed. “I wanted to talk to you about—”
Except something interrupted her. Something important.
“—the person responsible for the bomb at Underwood Mental Institution is none other than Bombshell, Noir’s partner,” a reporter said over shaky footage of an explosion, probably taken off a phone. “As you can see, the bomb goes off…now, killing three people and injuring several others.
“But that’s not even the most interesting part. See the standoff here?” The video was fast-forwarded to cops surrounding Noir and Bombshell at gunpoint. “Officers begin to fire, and in the blink of an eye—Horace, slow this down, would you?—you see Noir sacrifice himself for Bombshell. Now, the minute the bullet hits him where his heart should be, he’s gone. Disappeared.” Reese watched the surprised look on Keirah’s face before using the moment to her advantage and running before getting caught by the gob smacked officers. “Is Noir gone from Onyx? Is his reign of terror finally at an end, or is this one of his games? And who is Bombshell? We don’t know—”
Ollo turned off the television before the reporter had a chance to finish her thought. “That’s it,” he said.
“What’s it?” Reese asked, turning to face him.
“Noir just sacrificed himself for Keirah,” Ollo replied. “An Excom chose Purgatory over a human’s probable death. For a human.”
“So…” Reese quirked her head to the side, still not understanding the significance.
“So that’s it,” Ollo said. “That was the start of the war. The catalyst.”
Epilogue
White. No, not white. Nothing.
Nothingness expanded as far as the eye could see.
It would seem he was…stuck.
He turned to explore his new surroundings and saw a mirror. He hadn’t seen his own reflection in…well, he couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter what he looked like, it only mattered what everyone saw.
He craned his neck to the side, at his usual forty-five degree angle, and hunched his shoulders, eyeing the mirror as though it was his prey. He took a step toward it, and then slid his other foot forward, following the first. One movement after another until he was directly in front of the mirror. But instead of his marred face, he saw….
Her.
The woman who haunted his dreams.
The woman he died for.
The woman he hated and loved simultaneously.
She looked perfect, too perfect for his taste, but his ‘J’ stained her cheek like her fingerprints stained his heart—if he had had a heart. He
r deep chestnut brown hair was up in a bun, errant strands framing her full, square face. Her deep-set brown eyes were looking directly at him, penetrating his very existence so even he —a demon, Satan’s creation—believed in the prospect of souls. Because she certainly was looking at his if she looked at him in such a way. Her neck was long and sloped and his lips yearned to place brutal kisses along it, marking his territory, making her moan. Her shoulders were bare and ripe, a peachy-pale color he now believed was the definition of perfection.
And that was it. That was all he saw. The mirror curved out, preventing him from seeing anything more.
“You desire her.”
“Wha-t?” Noir drawled, slowly turning back around and positioning himself in front of the mirror, as though protecting Keirah’s image from everyone else’s eyes.
“This mirror reveals your heart’s true desire.” A man walked through the door in a sharp gray suit tailored to fit his body. “And your desire is that woman in the mirror.” He nodded his head at the silver-framed mirror. “She’ll be the one to save your soul.”
“Hummm…I don’t have a sssoul,” Noir said before smacking his lips together. He hardened his gold eyes, taking the man before him in. Copper-colored hair, midnight blue eyes, stocky and strong, but shorter than Noir. Handsome, sure, but nothing special.
“Ah.” The man nodded as though he understood. “No wonder you’re here, then. I don’t get a lot of you. Normally, you just die and then pfffft, gone. You don’t exist anymore. But you, you’re here.” He pointed at Noir. “You’ve got a savior, my friend. Thank your lucky stars. I’ve never heard of one of your kind having a personal savior.”
Noir narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to the side once more. “Um, who are you?” he asked.
Catalyst: Book 2 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles Page 30