Elixxir (The Brethren Series) Read online

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Elixxir

  Copyright © 2013 by Deena Remiel

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-494-2

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  Also by Deena Remiel

  Trinity

  Relic

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  Elixxir

  By

  Deena Remiel

  ~DEDICATION~

  To Lindsey and Jowanna, and all women out there who fall for the tortured soul.

  ~Acknowledgements~

  When I set out to write Elixxir, I had no idea the depth that Nathanael and Callie would go until they took me there. Addiction of any kind is a serious matter, and its insidious hold on a person can destroy lives. After meeting Nate in Brethren Beginnings, I knew I couldn’t deny his story being told. Callie’s hardened adulthood is a testament to her tragic childhood, marred by violence and death. This tough-as-nails woman would need a partner equally as alpha.

  The pair makes a dynamic couple, as evidenced by positive remarks from beta readers, friends, and family. I thank them all for their unflagging encouragement and love of my angels regardless how rough around the feathers they may be. I also thank Officer Gomez and a couple of Gilbert police officers standing in line at a Chipotle one evening, for teaching me more about guns. My editors, Rie, Kerry, and Meredith are a winning team that I love and appreciate dearly for teaching me something new with every incarnation of the story.

  My husband and children are a constant light in my life, and I couldn’t write these stories without their support. Angels really do exist. I live with them.

  Prologue

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Twenty years ago

  They wore masks, carried guns, and they weren’t leaving until they got what they came for. That was all Ariana needed to know to scurry silently to the hiding spot her parents had created for her, and her alone, in their bedroom. She considered it rather exciting, at the tender age of six, to have such a special place to play that no one else knew about. Now, at thirteen, it might have very well saved her life.

  She’d just gone up to bed, having fed the fish and kissed her parents good night. As the final part of her bedtime routine, she gazed out her window, looking out at the stars in the sky and their reflection on earth, the lights of the Las Vegas Strip a ways off in the distance. That was when an explosion of sound and mayhem erupted from down below. She scrambled to the banister and peered in between the spindles to find two masked men shooting really big guns at everything. And they shouted at her parents to freeze where they were, or they would be dead. One of the men forced her father to his knees, bound and gagged him, then kicked him ruthlessly to the floor. He did the same to her mother, and tied her to the foyer table leg. And all became quiet. Curious to know what these men wanted, she strained to hear over the blood whooshing in her ears as adrenaline coursed through her body.

  “Where is it, Joseph? Where’s the flask? Tell me now, and I’ll let you and your family live. If you don’t, I’ll start with your pretty wife, here. Shoot her right between the eyes. And if that doesn’t motivate you enough, then I’ll go looking for your daughter and see what other incentive I can offer you.”

  Having heard more than enough, she crawled back and hid in her hidey-hole, wondering what was to become of her parents. It seemed a lifetime crept by since she’d first locked herself away, and she needed to know if the masked men got what they were looking for and left. Just as she worked up the courage to open the secret door and investigate, hand on the latch, she heard two loud bangs like a backfiring car. She flinched and catapulted backward, landing deeper into the small space.

  At thirteen, there wasn’t much Ariana didn’t understand. She knew very well at this point that the bangs were not coming from a car, but guns going off right downstairs. She assumed immediately, too, that her parents were most likely dead, murdered by the masked men. What she didn’t understand was why. What had they said they wanted? A flask? And would they eventually find her and kill her as well?

  Ariana rocked herself while hot tears made a silent pilgrimage down her face. She didn’t know how long it finally took for help to find her, since she’d dozed off and on for a while, and had no idea if morning had come yet. At first, she thought the masked men had returned, when harsh banging penetrated her traumatized mind. Instead, official-looking people wearing blue uniforms spoke to her, reached out to her, and waved to her as if to usher her out of the safe haven. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t respond. With no other choice, they were forced to go in and extract her.

  It took days for her to be able to communicate again, during which time she buried her parents, and the family lawyer, Mr. Watkins, explained the inheritance. Among them were retirement funds, real estate holdings, jewelry, and bank accounts, all of which she had no desire to hear anything about. However, one item in particular piqued her curiosity: a flask. The masked men had come to her home looking for it. She never saw it. Rather, Mr. Watkins told her about it, its contents, and how to find its whereabouts should she ever need it. This part of the reading of the will occurred in private after the doctors released her from the hospital and social services placed her into the temporary care of a foster family. Only the lawyer and she met to go over the details.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how important it is that you keep this a private matter. Your father, with the type of business he ran, sometimes cam
e across nefarious…er…not-so-nice people. He acquired this flask from one of these types of people, and it’s probably what led to your parents’…uh, well, anyhow…. You know what it is, what it contains, and how to get it, should you need to do so.”

  “Mr. Watkins, I’m sorry, but what does it contain again?” she asked, shaking her head to remove the sticky cobwebs from her mind.

  “The Elixxir of Life, dear.” His kind, soothing voice demonstrated the patience she required since suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Loud noises and crowds of people sent her into full-blown panic attacks. Therapy and behavioral conditioning had only just begun, but the doctors promised her it would help. “It is said the flask contains the Elixxir of Life. Anyone who drinks it will supposedly not age any further than they already have, and have amazing strength.”

  “Where did my dad get this thing, and why do you know so much about it if it’s such a secret?”

  “It was acquired during one of his trips to the Ukraine. He picked up other items as well, but this item, in particular, had many bidders. Your father offered the highest bid. When he brought it back, it was supposed to go on display in his curiosity shop, but that didn’t happen. I guess he believed it too hot an item and it would put the whole shop at risk. So he hid it, well, you know where. As for me, your father has told me many things in confidence over the years. I am…was his attorney, handling all of his personal and business affairs, and now I’m yours, for the time being. So you can confide in me as well. I’m here for you with whatever you need.” He paused and smiled, tapping her hand in a very fatherly way.

  “Listen, I know the FBI hasn’t found your parents’ killers yet. They may have a mind to take you out of the home you’re in now, and put you in the Witness Protection Program until they do and can bring them to trial. If they offer it to you, I think you should take it and forget everything. The farther away you get from this whole situation and the Elixxir, the better.”

  “Yes, I guess you’re right.” She peered absently out the office window and sighed. “Good thing Daddy left his half of the business to Uncle Eddie. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.”

  “Understand you must give up all connections to any family and friends you have right now. But, let’s see if that is indeed what the police plan on doing.”

  “I have no other family. I mean, Uncle Eddie isn’t really my uncle. He’s just Daddy’s partner in the business. But friends? I…I don’t know if I can do that.” She wrung her hands, remembered to take another breath, and continued. “But if it will keep me alive long enough to see those men brought to justice, then I guess I’m going to have to. You’re the boss, Mr. Watkins. But, wait, what about you? Will I not be allowed to know you anymore, either?”

  “I’ll be available for a time, if you need. Once you’ve been placed, they’ll make sure your name disappears from public records, and you will become someone new.”

  She frowned and bit her bottom lip. How would she feel not being Ariana Kupi anymore? No more real family picnics, no more real friends who knew all of her deepest secrets and desires. A new name, a new life. Would she be able to carry off a whole new image? Would she feel new on the inside? She had no idea.

  But she wanted to live.

  The day after their meeting, she discovered that Mr. Watkins had become her champion. The FBI wouldn’t offer her the Witness Protection Program while they worked on the case. He, however, took it upon himself to set things up to appear that way for her safety. He protected her assets until such time that the suspects were found, brought to justice, and she could return to her normal life. He found a reputable family to take her in, secured legal documentation from a judge to change her name, and had the records sealed.

  She graciously accepted these terms and said goodbye to the life she’d known for thirteen years. She forfeited everything familiar—everything but the knowledge of the Elixxir.

  Chapter One

  Sedona, Arizona

  Present day

  “So you’re going out with Richie again tonight, huh?” Serena teased. She kicked her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair.

  “Yes, I’m going out with Richie again. One more date and I’ll be on to the next sorry sucker,” Callie said nonchalantly, looking into her tiny mirror to fix her lipstick. She heard a tsk and looked up. “Oh, now don’t start. You know Rule Number One: three dates and out, my friend.” She plopped herself down on the chair across from her boss.

  A desk piled high with maps and brochures for Serena’s Jeep Tour company separated the two, and luckily so, Callie mused, because she wanted to throttle her best friend. The last thing she needed to hear was another lecture on safe sex and her lack of commitment to any lasting relationship. “It’s not like I sleep with every guy I date, you know.”

  “I know, I know. But why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Ever since Kemuel left, you’ve been acting like this. He’s been gone for what, nearly a year now? What on earth happened between you two to make you change into this cold-hearted woman?”

  “You’re really going to bring him up to me right now? Before my date? You know how I feel about even hearing his name! Thanks. Now you’ve put me in a mood.” She gathered her purse and stood, annoyed. “We’re done here. This lovely discussion is over. I’ve clocked out, so I think I’ll go wait for Richie out front. Don’t say another word. Just…good night.”

  Callie didn’t wait for a response as she stomped out of the office in her fuck-me pumps, shutting the door with all the restraint she could muster. She strode to the front of the shop and outside to stand under the Sikes and Sounds of Sedona Jeep Tours sign. Fussing with her watch, she noted Richie hadn’t arrived yet. She worried the pleats of her skirt. Yeah, this one was a little on the trampy side. So what? It went with her trampy shoes. And she had the curvaceous body to flaunt it, so…. She flicked her long, pin-straight hair behind one spaghetti-strapped shoulder, then the other, as she tapped her foot impatiently. Her latest color came from a box of Sexy Hair. Flaming Red, to be exact. But tonight she didn’t quite measure up to the sexiness the brand promised on the box. And her trampy clothes weren’t cutting it, either. Since she’d dressed, her disposition had soured, and now she regretted the suggestive outfit. That last conversation shifted her all out of sorts, too, and she actually contemplated going home to change.

  Where is the bastard, damn it?

  Richie screamed into the parking lot in a red Mustang convertible, right as she decided to call her date a bust. He parked in one of the handicapped spots by the front of the shop.

  “Hey lady, looks like someone could use a ride.”

  He flashed his pearly whites as he dragged his hand through his overgrown, curly brown locks. Those curls made him irresistible to women. It was fact. Just the other day, in the grocery store where he worked, she’d overheard three women tell each other so.

  “It’s about time you showed up, mister.” She sauntered over to the curb. “I was about ready to head on home. What’s the deal with keeping a lady waiting?”

  “Sorry, closing my register gave me grief, so until I figured out the problem, I had to stay. But it’s all good. Got us a reservation at Oak Creek Tavern and Grill. Hop in before we’re late.” Richie shot her a GQ smile, leaned over to open her door, and checked his bad self out in the rearview mirror on the way back.

  “Sounds great, Richie, thanks.”

  “You can thank me later, hot lips.” He pulled away from the curb.

  She said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. Maybe two dates is enough with this one.

  ***

  Dinner turned out to be better than Callie predicted. Richie and she found a lot to talk about, and two hours flew by in the blink of an eye. He drove them back to the store since her car was still there.

  “Why don’t I follow you back to your place? We’ve had such a good time, I think. We could continue over some wine.”

  “I’ll follow you back to yours.
My place is a mess right now. Redecorating.” Rule Number Two: never bring a guy back to the apartment. He’ll want to stay over, which leads to Rule Number Three: never let a man sleep over. Go to his place so you can leave when you want.

  Richie didn’t have a problem with her offer, so within ten minutes they were at his apartment, over a convenience store. The décor surprised her. She expected early bachelor pad, but instead was greeted with a very clean, minimalist, modern design.

  “I’m impressed, Richie. Your place isn’t at all what I expected. Mind if I take off my shoes? These heels are killing me!”

  “Sure, leave them by the front door. Yeah, I like clean lines and no clutter. Here, try this. I think you’ll like it. It complements your hair. The color, I mean.” He winked at her, putting a glass of merlot in her hand.

  She thanked him, and he casually lumbered over to his stereo to put on some mood music. He dimmed the lights and settled in on the couch. She eased herself down next to him.

  “So, have you personally given any Jeep tours?”

  “Yeah, I’ve given a couple, but only when we’re overbooked, which doesn’t happen often since I’m the one in charge of scheduling. What about you? Are you interested in management at the supermarket?”

  “Yeah, I’m going for my MBA while I work there.” He paused and took her glass. “You know, I think we’ve done enough talking for now. I know enough about you and you know enough about me. I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  Richie leaned in, grabbed her face with both hands and locked his lips on hers like a slimy, wet suckerfish. His tentacles—for that’s the image his arms produced in her mind—wrapped feverishly around her, his hands groped her ass and back around at her breasts, and she knew there would be marks left behind as souvenirs. After the initial shock, she regained her senses and shoved at his chest to disengage from the jerk.