by Kristie Cook
“I need to go to Galveston,” she said, reappearing only a few minutes later.
The urgency in her voice rang my alarms. “What happened?”
“Daemoni went on a rampage. Our people were able to take in some of the bitten and turned, but too many for them to handle alone.”
“Anything I can do?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. Still too much of a novice, I was pretty useless.
“Hmph. Someday soon, it’ll be your job to take care of these things, but for now, it’s mine. You just worry about Sonya here.” She ran her hands over our patient’s arm and then her forehead. “You feel that?”
I nodded. “There’s still a trace of Daemoni power.”
“Right, and there will be for a while, probably months, maybe longer. It takes time and faith-healing to eradicate it all.”
“And she won’t be completely good until then, right?”
Charlotte cocked her head, her sapphire eyes piercing into me. “Alexis, after last fall, you know as well as anyone that not anybody’s completely good, including the Amadis. We’re all basically human, after all. We all have good and bad within us. Has Owen ever told you the Legend of Uri and Duff?”
I shook my head.
“Well, I don’t have time to give you the children’s version I used to tell Owen. I’ll have to keep this short, and then I need to go.” She returned to her chair by Sonya’s bed and leaned toward me on the other side. “According to history, a few generations after the Ancients created the sorcerers and sorceresses, one of the younger mages decided she wanted to experience sex with a human, so she seduced one and became pregnant. The child obviously didn’t have the same amount of magic as she did, but he was still quite powerful. Other members of the youngest generation saw opportunity in this child—they could create a whole new race that could serve them while never being powerful enough to overcome them. Power breeds paranoia, and the mages were extremely paranoid, especially when the Ancients created the vampires. The mages decided their new race needed to be physically strong and fearless, even against the vampires if ever needed, so they agreed they would only mate with the stoutest, toughest, and meanest human warriors.”
“The race they created was the warlocks,” I said.
“That’s right. With powerful magic and the bodies and aggressiveness of warriors, we were bred to fight, although at the time, there wasn’t much fighting going on except with each other or to pick on Normans. So I guess in their boredom, the warlocks mated with humans and over time the weaker witches and wizards became a third mage sub-race.
“Anyway, Cassandra came along and created the Amadis, and now we get into the Legend of Uri and Duff. Cassandra and her group had stumbled upon Uri and Duff in the bluffs of Scotland, arguing with each other. They had been seeking out the Amadis to be converted, but only Uri was completely committed. Duff was tired of being a slave to the sorcerers, but he wasn’t quite sold on going over to the other side. After all, he said, the Amadis were created to fight the Daemoni, and if he converted, he would lose many of those qualities that made him a strong fighter—such as anger, aggression, and bravery. He thought becoming Amadis would make him weaker.
“Cassandra tried to convince him otherwise, but Duff wouldn’t believe her. So she said to him, ‘Fight one of my warlocks, and we shall see who is weak.’ And he said, ‘I do not know the strength of your warlocks, so this may not be a fair test. Uri here is an equal match to me, so after you convert him, I will fight him and prove that I am right.’ Duff hung around during Uri’s conversion—he really didn’t want to go back to the Daemoni—and a few months later, Uri was ready for the match.
“All of the Amadis gathered around to watch. You have to remember, Uri and Duff were among the first generations of warlocks. We’ve lost the ability now, but at that time, they could pull some energy from their immediate surroundings to feed their power, like the sorcerers do. Uri had the Amadis surrounding him, feeding him their positive power, but Duff had no dark power to draw on.”
“So Uri won and Duff converted,” I guessed.
“Yes and no. Uri won, but, unfortunately, Duff’s energy had been so drained that Uri basically one-shot him, and he dropped dead.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “What a horrible children’s story!”
Charlotte chuckled. “It’s a fabulous story. It’s become legend among the Amadis warlocks. But that’s not the best part.” She leaned farther over the bed, practically laying on Sonya’s sleeping form. “Afterward, Cassandra made a speech to all of the Amadis and said, ‘We all must remember that there is a Uri and a Duff inside each of us, battling for domination of our souls. The one who will win is the one you give your energy to. It is your choice. May you choose well.’”
I nodded with understanding. “So does that mean there will always be a trace of Daemoni power in the converted? Is Sonya as close as she’s going to get?”
“No. There’s a difference between the Daemoni’s evil power and the darker side that’s in all of us. The Daemoni energy must be eradicated. We’re not talking about norms who do bad things here. Supernatural creatures with even a shade of that power are too dangerous for humanity’s sake—and for their own.” Charlotte glanced at her phone, stood, and looked down at Sonya’s still body. “I need to get going. She’ll probably be out of it for a while, so you have time to get some rest. Then, keep sharing your power regularly and let Sheree do her thing.”
The were-tiger appeared in the doorway at the mention of her name.
“You have blood?” Charlotte asked Sheree, and the shifter nodded. “That’s the first thing she’ll need when she wakes up. Alexis, you need to always have blood ready when you’re working with a vamp.”
“Try not to use blood from another vamp or shifter, though,” Sheree added. Her face scrunched as if she’d sucked on a rotten lemon. “Bad side effects.”
“Their first several feedings after the conversion should really be normal animal blood,” Char said as she made her way to the door with me on her heels. “Anything else could be too strong, and you really want to bring them back gradually. Eventually, they can handle donated mage blood. But, well, when it’s an emergency, you use what you have on hand.” Char turned to look at me over her shoulder. “Even your own, Alexis.”
I hurried up to her side. “Mine? Yeah, probably not a good idea, from what I’ve heard. Not if we’re going for a slow recovery.”
Char shrugged. “Sometimes you do what you have to do. Just be prepared if you ever have to, especially the first time. Your mother’s had a few horror stories, so I can only imagine what your stronger blood will do.” When we reached the front door of the mansion, she turned to me. “You’ll be fine. Whatever you do, no more conversions until I return. Sonya is young in vampire years, so she’s relatively easy. A good start for both you and Sheree. Neither of you are ready for someone stronger, though. Not on your own. If you get in a similar situation, call me before you do anything. Okay?”
“Of course,” I said, already convinced I wasn’t ready to fly solo.
She glared at me, and I could see her thoughts on her face without tapping into her mind: I know you, and you’re your mother’s daughter. I don’t trust you one bit. I couldn’t blame her after I’d abandoned her in Key West. And brought Sonya here with no warning. Oh, and ditched her son on another occasion to face the Daemoni. Then there was the fight to protect the werewolf pack, too, which I kind of jumped into without thinking, bringing her son into it with me. Sheesh. No wonder she didn’t trust me.
“Promise?” she demanded. “No matter what. Stay out of trouble, okay?”
“I promise,” I said as sincerely as possible.
“Why do I bother asking for it?” She shook her head. “I’ve always admired your spirit, Alexis. We need it. Just remember—there’s a line between moxie and recklessness.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll be gathering a team to bring here, too, so it may be a few weeks. Don�
��t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine,” I said, hoping it was true.
As exhausted as I felt, I couldn’t fathom how she had the energy to go straight to Texas and do everything all over again, only with more people. I could sleep for days.
“My son. My bed. You. That’s all I want right now,” I said as I leaned against Tristan’s side. Sheree had assured me the vampire would be unconscious for quite a while and they would be fine at the safe house, so I flashed home to find Tristan waiting up for me. He’d come home a few hours ago, after Sonya had survived the worst of it.
“My pleasure,” Tristan murmured as he tightened his arm around me and led me down the hall to our room.
But first, I went into Dorian’s room and lay down with him. I curled my body around his, my heart aching at how long his body was now, at how big he was getting, but loving the moment of being able to still hold him against me. It didn’t last long, though, not long enough for me anyway.
“Mom, go to your own bed,” he complained sleepily as he rolled over. “I’m too big to sleep with you now.”
What happened to my little boy? I watched him sleep for a few more minutes, appreciating that his face remained round and youthful, at least in sleep. As my mind started drifting to dark thoughts of what his growing up meant, I forced myself to go to my own room, where I snuggled with the man who would never push me out of his bed, though he already breathed evenly, fast asleep.
I tossed and turned. My mind kept tumbling over Charlotte’s story about Cassandra’s parable, my dagger that once belonged to the first daughter, and the voice that talked to me—claiming to be Cassandra herself—encouraging me in every dangerous situation I’d encountered recently. But why, if the voice really was hers, would she talk to me now? Of course, I’d been safe on the Amadis Island for several months, never finding myself in a dangerous situation, never putting on my leathers or using my dagger. So was that it?
Did we have some kind of connection through the dagger? I’d only had it for a few days before tucking it away in the closet for so long. Had actually wielded it only twice—while fighting on behalf of the wolf-pack when the Daemoni attacked their campground and during the trial. Neither time had I been frightened of the risk.
So was Cassandra really talking to me, trying to reassure me when I needed it, or was it only my own inner voice? Or was I losing my mind?
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my phone, and went down the hall to the reading nook, where I curled up in the window seat and called Mom. It was mid-morning on Amadis Island, so I didn’t have to worry about waking her up.
“I don’t mean to be rude, honey, but I’m about to meet with a few of our remaining council members,” she said.
“I just have a quick question for you,” I said, not wanting to go into detail anyway, in case I sounded crazy. “Have the Angels ever talked to a daughter besides the matriarch?”
“No, never. They keep their involvement in our world to a minimum. Why?”
“Um, nothing. Sorry to bother you.”
“Wait a minute.” She paused, and I sighed. She was feeling out for the truth. “Cassandra, huh? Well, keep in mind a couple of things. One, we don’t know if Cassandra—or any of the ascended daughters—actually became Angels. They might serve the Angels or work with them, but we have no proof that we become a full-fledged Angel when we leave this realm. That’s an Otherworld secret, and not even I can determine the truth about it. Second, you are unique, Alexis. Precedence means little when it comes to you. And third, you’re not crazy. You are brave and incredibly powerful, and maybe you’re still discovering exactly what that means.”
“You can tell me all that, but can’t feel the truth about the voice in my head?”
“I would say that’s something the Angels want you to figure out for yourself because I’m not feeling anything, one way or the other.” The sound of something covering the microphone on Mom’s end followed by muffled voices came through the line. “I’m sorry, honey, but I have to go. Trust your instincts. Maybe that’s what you’re supposed to learn from this.”
I hung up feeling more lost than ever. I considered the idea of retrieving my dagger and trying to reach out to Cassandra, but I didn’t think that would give me answers now. After all, if my subconscious wanted me to believe I heard Cassandra when I needed a spirit boost, it certainly would be trying now. I couldn’t trust myself.
And in that case, how would I ever know for sure?
Chapter 8
“Everything fixed. Your bedroom and everything in it look brand new,” Blossom announced as she came into the bare living room.
Although she’d been coming over to repair our bedroom nearly every morning for three months, I still blushed as I smoothed the last piece of blue tape across the windowsill.
“Thank you,” I said as I rose to my feet, my face burning. “Again.”
“Why are you so embarrassed? If I had a sex life like yours, I’d be telling the world. Of course, I’d have to do it from my phone or some other way since I wouldn’t be able to walk. He must be amazing, to get so crazy almost every night.”
I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips. “Better than amazing.”
She shook her head. “Intelligent, powerful, gorgeous, and a sex god? So not fair you get it all in one.”
“I know, right?” I said, loosening up, then I struck a silly diva pose. “But so does he. There’s a reason they say we’re made for each other.”
She laughed, then eyed the two jugs of paint on the floor near her feet. “So were you planning to do this by yourself?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Tristan’s busy wiring toys over at the safe house, but I’m ready to work on our own house. It’s time to make it a real home.”
“Toys?”
“Yeah, networks, entertainment systems, intercoms, that kind of stuff.” I rolled my eyes. “I guess it’ll all be convenient, but the boy is way into his toys.”
“Ah. Well, need some help?” the witch asked, glancing around the room. “I mean, I could have this done in no time with a few flicks of my wand.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, but I need something to do before I go stir crazy. Using magic won’t solve that problem.”
Blossom nodded. “I so get that. I could use something to do myself.”
“Then if you don’t mind doing it the Norman way, it’d be fun to have your help.” I picked up a drop cloth, shook it out, and let it fall over the floor. Blossom followed my lead, and in a few minutes we had the floor covered.
“So now what?” Blossom asked after she brought the rest of the paint and supplies from my car while I retrieved a ladder and set it up.
I recalled the instructions the guy at the hardware store had given me. “The paint goes in those pans, then you roll the roller in it until it’s covered. You paint a big M on the wall and then go across it to fill it in.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
We each set about filling our own pans and painting our first Ms into big squares of a pale aqua blue.
“Pretty color,” Blossom said as she worked.
“Tristan wouldn’t let me paint it purple, so I thought I’d go with airy, beachy colors.” I looked over at Blossom to see how she was doing—about as well as I was, which wasn’t saying much. She stopped and tilted her head to the side as she stared at the wall.
“I don’t think these rollers will reach the edges,” she said.
I smacked my forehead, wet paint smudging from my hand to my head. Great. By the time this was over, I’d probably have more paint on me than on the walls. “Oh, crap. I forgot. The guy said something about cutting in with a paintbrush first.”
“What guy?”
“The guy at the hardware store who taught me how to paint.”
Blossom turned to look at me, her mouth open. “Wait. You’ve never painted before? Not even your own room?”
“I’ve never lived anywhere long enough to bother. Ha
ve you?
“Yeah, but not this way.” Blossom burst into laughter. “We’re the blind leading the blind. This is going to be so much fun!”
“Well, how hard can it be?” Worst case scenario: the room turned out looking as though a two-year-old painted it, but Blossom would be able to fix it, and hopefully before Tristan saw. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of his teases.
“So why do you need something to do?” I asked from the top of the ladder as I did the cutting-in while Blossom rolled the paint. The witch usually kept busy baking cakes, creating new spells, and spending time with the vampire-barista on Captiva.
“With the tourists and snowbirds gone for the summer, there’s not much business for my cakes. It’ll pick up in the next couple months as they start coming down, but I haven’t decided if I’m really up for making all those cakes this year.” As usual, Blossom’s mind and mouth were speeding along. “I guess I’m getting a little bored with it. And I haven’t come up with any spells or potions lately. I feel like I should be working on my magic with everything going on, but I can’t focus.”
“And would that have anything to do with Eduardo?” I teased.
“Ugh. Eduardo can bite my ass. Well, not really. I don’t want him biting any part of me anymore.” Blossom shuddered. “I’m so not talking about him. We’ll leave it that he’s quite lacking when it comes to treating women well. So, anyway, I’ve just been feeling antsy. Jittery. Maybe because of all that stuff going on with the Daemoni, and I feel as if I’m being a big coward by sitting here on this beautiful island, doing nothing. Maybe it will get better when we have a real safe house with more than one measly occupant. How’s Sonya doing anyway? Have you heard anything from Charlotte yet? Any news on when she’ll be coming back? It’s been a couple months already. Is that why you’re so antsy?”