by Kristie Cook
“Um . . . what?” I asked, bewildered. I took her hand, ignoring her usual flinch. That lingering bit of Daemoni power still made her scared of me.
“Bat shit sparkles,” she explained. “And their make-up is so bad, they could be poster children for a rehab center. Especially that one.” She pointed at the screen. “After all those shots of ripped wolf-boy, he looks sickly. Makes even this vampire swing for the other team.”
I stared at her for a long moment, surprised at how lucid she was. Only days ago she’d been little more than a zombie, and now she ranted and cracked jokes. Inappropriate ones, perhaps, but jokes nonetheless.
“Well, at least you don’t fry in an inferno, either,” I managed to say, trying to keep her talking.
“True,” she admitted. “Funny how all the books and movies get some things right, but can be way off base with others.” She squinted her eyes at me. “Except yours.”
“Yeah, well, I had help by someone close to the source, my mom. She slipped me suggestions when she read, correcting the few things I had wrong, making them sound like really good ideas to me. All those other writers were only given bits and pieces, or went off others’ canon.”
“Funny how the truth makes your stories so much more believable. You seriously didn’t know you were practically writing non-fiction?”
“The stories are still fiction,” I corrected her. “Just the characters were truer-to-life than I knew at the time.”
“Well, I love your books,” Sonya said. She looked over my shoulder, as if noticing Tristan for the first time, and if vampires could blush, I’d swear she did. When she didn’t look away for a long moment, Tristan cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“We have a question for you,” he said, “if you’re up to it.”
Her mouth tugged as if she fought a smile, though nothing funny had been said. I knew how she felt—the man had that effect on everyone of the female persuasion. Thankfully, he still had that effect on me.
“About Vanessa,” Sonya said, and she smiled for real now. “My physical strength may be weak, but I still hear extraordinarily well.”
“Do you know where she is?” I asked.
She finally tore her blue eyes away from Tristan and looked back at me. “South Beach, as Sheree said. I’ve overheard you talking about her, so I guess it’s been on my mind. I’ve always had a problem talking in my sleep. Anyway, last I heard, Vanessa was in South Beach.”
Tristan shook his head, doubt filling his eyes. “That was a few months ago, though.”
“The day you confronted me,” Sonya said, “and brought me here. She’d been at our nest the night before, and our leader—that guy in the parking lot?—he said she wanted some of us to go to South Beach to serve her.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Tristan said. “Vanessa seeks the limelight. She’d never purposely go to a place filled with models and celebrities. The same reason she avoids New York and Hollywood.”
“Unless she was put in charge of a new nest,” Sonya said.
Tristan stroked his chin as he peered at the vamp. “That would feed her ego. But why another nest? There are several already in Miami.”
“Lucas wanted to grow the Daemoni presence over there. It’s part of his big plan. Miami, especially South Beach, has lots of prime candidates for turning, and with all that gourmet food there, they taste extra special,” Sonya added with longing. As soon as she realized what she’d said, she covered her face with her free hand. “I’m not supposed to think that way anymore, am I?”
“It takes time,” I said, pushing more power into her.
The vamp clenched her jaw—I’d never realized she’d still be in such pain from the goodness—and breathed through it until she could speak again.
“So Vanessa actually wanted to be the one to start this nest?” Tristan asked.
“She has clout in the Daemoni for some reason, and she probably wanted South Beach because it’s close to you guys.”
“So why doesn’t anyone claim to have seen her?” I asked.
Sonya sighed, our questions wearing on her limited patience. “Look, I’m just telling you what I knew three months ago. But if one of your most wanted was scheming something, would you have her out in the open all the time or kept hidden? I don’t see you out there fighting.”
The girl—vamp, whatever—had a point. Tristan nodded again, confirming this was a good possibility.
“So when do I get to see my sister?” Sonya asked.
“When you stop flinching every time I touch you,” I replied. As long as she had the reaction to goodness that she still did, I wasn’t risking Heather’s life.
Sonya nodded and then sighed again, this time with sadness rather than frustration. “Probably a good idea.”
“You guys are always going somewhere and leaving me on this stupid island,” Dorian complained that evening when I mentioned a trip to South Beach to Tristan. I thought our son had been too engrossed in his video game in the other room to have heard me, but he’d suddenly appeared in the kitchen with us. “When do I get to go somewhere?”
“Where do you want to go, little man?” I asked.
His eyes lit up. “Busch Gardens! No, wait . . . Universal Studios and Harry Potter World. Heather says the roller coasters are scary, but I don’t believe her.”
I looked at Tristan, and he shrugged. “Daemoni hate the whole vibe of family, love, and wholesome fun at amusement parks,” he said silently. “As long as we stay with him the whole time, I don’t see why not.” He turned to Dorian. “How about next weekend?”
Dorian fist-pumped the air. “Yes! Can Heather come? I can’t wait to see her scream her head off.”
Before we could answer, he bounded to his room, and the door rattled in its jamb as he slammed it with a little too much enthusiasm. I shook my head. His one and only friend was a teenaged girl. I didn’t know who I felt more sorry for—Dorian or Heather.
I looked up at Tristan. “And South Beach?”
His grin dissipated. “I don’t know, ma lykita. Sonya’s answers made sense, but what I know about the Daemoni—”
“What you knew,” I corrected. “They’re initiating war now. Things have changed.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “Then what I know about Vanessa—she couldn’t stand to lay low for so long.”
“Maybe she hasn’t. Maybe our people haven’t seen her because we don’t go to South Beach—”
“For good reason. The Daemoni have always been in control there.”
“If we want to find Vanessa, we’re going to have to take the risk. I don’t think we have a choice, Tristan.”
“I don’t like it. You would have heard something from someone about this already. We’ve been all over the state.”
“But if she’s in Miami, why would anyone anywhere else be thinking about her? Or maybe they sense my presence and keep their minds focused on other things, knowing I’d be listening. I mean, since Kali is definitely still alive, I’m sure she’s told them all about my telepathy.”
Tristan paced the area between the kitchen table and the island. “And the way she messed with the council members’ minds . . . she may have found a way to make others block their thoughts from you, at least temporarily.”
“Or . . . maybe Kali’s even been around, working the magic for them.” Which meant maybe I could catch her and meet the faeries’ demands.
Tristan stopped in front of me and leaned against the counter. “Okay, we’ll go. But only on reconnaissance. Not only about Vanessa, but to see if Kali’s there and up to something.”
“I’d sure like to catch her, though. Not just for the faeries, but maybe it would bring Owen home.” I sighed, missing my protector even more than usual when we were planning a mission. “I guess we’re going by ourselves again?”
He took my hands and pulled me to him. “I’ve said before that we can call on other Amadis. I’m sure Trevor would come for you.”
I grimaced. Trevor the werewolf
might come for me—he did respect that I’d fought for his wolf-pack and said he’d fight for me any time—but I really didn’t trust anyone besides Owen enough for these clandestine missions. Although I preferred to have my protector with us, Tristan and I had done fine so far on our own. Besides, we didn’t need a shifter with us. We needed a powerful mage.
“And I’ve told you before how I feel.”
“Then it’s only you and me again. Which is why we’re only getting close enough to listen. It’s a big colony there, and we’re not starting anything with them. Not even if we see Vanessa.” He lifted my chin with his thumb and forefinger and pierced me with his gaze. “Understand?”
I nodded.
“No fighting,” he said. “Promise?”
Sheesh. Was I really so compulsive that everyone required my sworn word? Wait. I already knew that answer.
“Promise,” I mumbled under his stare.
“And I promise, if we do find Vanessa, you will get to fight her—just not when we’re by ourselves and outnumbered.” He leaned forward and planted his lips on mine, sealing our promises with a luscious kiss.
As soon as we appeared in the dark alley, I knew something was wrong. For 11 p.m. on a Friday night in South Beach, there weren’t nearly as many mind signatures as I’d expected, and those that were around were either holed up deep inside buildings or weren’t Norman. We crept down the alley that emptied onto Lincoln Road, which wasn’t really a road. The street was permanently blocked off for pedestrian traffic and gatherings, with trees, benches, and even bars where vehicles would normally be. Cafes and shops lined the sides of the street. All were empty.
Where is everyone? I asked Tristan. From what Blossom had told me, the area should have been bustling.
“Don’t you feel that?” he asked in return.
The dark magic? Yeah. Is it keeping everyone away?
“That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s go.” He took my hand and led me in a flash.
My boots sunk into soft sand, and the rush and crash of waves sounded from several yards behind me. Far in front of us but easy for my eyes to see was a street with three-story hotels and condos lining the far side, restaurants and bars on their ground floors facing the street and beach.
“Ocean Drive,” Tristan said. “People should be overflowing the restaurants and sidewalks.”
Blossom had explained that, too. In South Beach, people lived on a different clock. She’d told me about the restaurants on Ocean Drive with their outside seating and aspiring models standing at the entrances with menus, trying to get passersby to come in and eat dinner—at midnight. Her description had been so clear, I could actually see it now: colored lights brightened the art-deco buildings’ fronts; twinkling mini-lights illuminated the shapes of palm trees; neon signs glowed blue, green, and pink; and beautiful, tan women in stiletto heels and tight, colorful dresses that barely covered their goods draped over men handing them umbrella drinks. I could even hear their laughter and Latin music pumping from the clubs, and smell the exhaust of traffic.
But the image disappeared as quickly as it’d come. Tonight, there were no people. No traffic. No music. The only sound and smell came from the ocean behind us, the salty air filling my nose. Now I understood what the faeries had meant.
The place was a dead zone.
Tristan suddenly stiffened, and at the same time, I felt the waves of malevolence undulate over me. My head jerked to look up at him. Sparks flashed in his eyes. His face was hard as stone.
“This way,” he said between clenched teeth, taking my hand and leading me in another flash before I could say a thing.
He didn’t take us far. I could still smell salt on the air and hear the ocean in the distance, echoing down the streets and off the buildings in the otherwise eerie silence. We stood in the middle of a wide boulevard, and a street sign half-a-block down read Collins Avenue. More hotels and condos with the funky curves and lines of 1940s-era architecture surrounded us. Their first-floor nightclubs, though now empty, were illuminated in pastel colors, contrasting with the dark magic that pressed all around me, making my skin feel tight and my bones heavy.
I felt as though we’d stepped into another, surreal world of apocalyptic ghost towns.
A tingle ran up my spine, and I fought the shiver that wanted to throw it off. The hair on my arms stood on end. My lungs and heart held still, as if my body was afraid the slightest movement would bring Satan himself.
A rattling noise echoed down the road, making me jump. My heart had forgotten its need to stay silent and now raced loudly and painfully against my ribs. Though no wind blew, a plastic bag swept past my feet, the city’s version of a tumbleweed.
I slowly exhaled. My heart began to quiet—
HOOOONK!
The horn blared right behind me, and cars, taxis, and buses appeared from nowhere, congesting the street where we stood. Life suddenly teemed around us as people filled the sidewalks and loud music resonated out of nightclubs. A bus barreled right toward us, and Tristan and I leapt, hitting the curb at the last moment. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the way, into the mouth of another alley. When we turned toward the bustling street, it was once again deathly silent and empty.
“What the hell?” I whispered, taking a step forward and leaning out of the alley. I jumped back as the world filled again with sights and smells and a cacophony of noise, right in front of our eyes. And when it fell silent again, I saw it—a wavering in the air similar to those produced by cloaks. It was all just an image, projected by a faerie or a mage to feel real.
Again, the world came to life, but I saw through it this time. The colors, the sounds, the smells were no longer as vibrant now that I knew they weren’t real.
“Something’s wrong. Let’s get out of here,” Tristan said as he moved toward the street, but a streak of silver in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A white-blonde head ducked around the rear of a building at the other end of the alley. I grabbed the hilt of my dagger and prepared to run.
“Be ready to fight!” possibly-Cassandra warned, which I didn’t understand. Although I’d promised Tristan no fighting, if I caught up with Vanessa, I didn’t plan on having tea and a chat. I was already prepared to fight, so why the pep talk? I swept my thumb over the amethyst in my dagger and unsheathed it.
“Alexis!” Tristan growled, but I didn’t wait and took off running, swinging my dagger at my side.
Vanessa’s mind signature disappeared, though, and at the same time, a big, burly man dressed all in navy blue stepped out of a dark pool of shadows and into my path. I skidded to a halt, surprised to find a Norman out after all we’d seen, and annoyed that I’d once again lost the vampire-bitch.
“What are you doing down here?” his booming voice demanded as he swung his Billy club in one hand, his other hand on the butt of his gun.
Is he real? I asked Tristan, cloaking and sheathing my dagger, in case he was. The cop certainly looked and sounded and felt real. Tristan didn’t say anything, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He stood where I’d left him, thirty yards away.
“This is no place for tourists,” the cop said as he came closer. He lifted the club to point at the street behind us. “Get on your way now. The party’s that way.”
He was real. Real and Norman, and he saw what the Daemoni wanted him to see—his city bustling with partiers as usual.
As I began to back up, closing the distance between Tristan and me, a woman appeared right next to the cop and grabbed him in a chokehold.
“That’s all right, officer,” she drawled against his ear, “we’ll take care of this.”
Her mouth clamped onto his neck. I’d never forget his blood-curdling screams.
As if those shrieks called them like a siren’s song, several Daemoni vampires came out of the dark nooks and crannies of the alley. I blurred to Tristan’s side, but we were surrounded.
The cop’s body sagged to the ground, already drained.
“We can’
t exactly advertise that there’s any trouble in this fabulous playground,” one of the vampires said, waving his white, long-boned hand in the air to indicate the city. He was shirtless and wore skinny jeans, showing off the lean muscles that wrapped his thin frame. His narrow hips swung with a feminine stride as they all sauntered toward us. “Glamor, dark magic, visions . . . whatever you want to call it . . . keeps the norms happily oblivious. Of course, you two can see right through it.”
“So glad of you to join our fun,” another said.
We’re flashing, right? I asked Tristan, though the answer seemed pretty obvious. Unless he’d changed his mind about fighting, we had no other choice but to leave.
Good thing I didn’t immediately flash without waiting for an answer, because he didn’t reply. Again. With annoyance, I peeked up at him out of the corner of my eye, while still trying to keep as many of the Daemoni in my line of sight as possible.
What n—? I started to ask, but his eyes silenced me.
Flames filled them. Just as they had in the past when evil had been trying to overtake him.
I dipped into his mind, but his thoughts were an incoherent ball of anger. I couldn’t make sense of them, but hoped he was ready to fight so we could get the heck out of here. Because the Daemoni had come too close—close enough to follow our flash trails.
Using my greatest advantage, I opened my mind to hear everyone’s thoughts. Vanessa and Kali were the last things on their minds. The taste of my blood was first. I bent my knees, leaned onto the balls of my feet, and slid the silver blade out of its sheath once again right as the first vampire made her move.
So much for no fighting.
“I’m here with you!” possibly-Cassandra said, her voice full of inhuman strength.
They all rushed at me at once. I punched and kicked, twisted and flipped, knocking two out instantly. Hands grabbed at me, and I swiped my blade out. Someone hissed as the silver made contact with skin. Their numerous thoughts became too frenzied for me to keep track, and I had to rely on my other senses and fighting ability. And more power than I’d ever felt before.