by Kristie Cook
I spun out of another’s grip, and faced a female with fangs bared. I stifled a cry when their sharp points pierced into my shoulder, and zapped her with an electric charge, sending her backward several yards. Only to have another lock me into a chokehold as someone else charged at us.
My hands latched onto the iron-like forearm against my throat as I brought my knees to my chest, then kicked out at the charger. He flew back, too. With a forward lunge, I bent forward, flipping the vampire over my shoulders. He landed on his knees, and I swept my foot up, kicking him in the underside of his chin. His head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.
I couldn’t even catch a breath as two more vampires grabbed me. Fangs dug deep this time, right into my neck, and I couldn’t contain the scream. I wailed out loud as I pushed both electricity and Amadis power out of my body before the vamp had a chance to suck. They screamed louder than me and disappeared. I shot electricity at the last one in my sight, and he flashed away, too.
Hands out and ready, I spun toward Tristan to help him.
He just stood there. Just stood there.
Had he already fought his share off? He sure didn’t look as though he’d been fighting. In fact, he didn’t look like he had moved from the spot I’d left him in when we were attacked. Did they go after him? But even if they were too scared of him and left him alone, surely he would have helped me. Right?
His eyes, still bright with fire, stared down the alley, not even noticing me. His face twisted and contorted as though he fought something invisible, though his body didn’t move at all. In his head, I found . . . chaos. A red haze enshrouded his warring mind, garbling his thoughts into a hot mess. I caught only a few coherent words such as “hate” and “kill,” and louder than the rest, “NO!”
“Tristan?” I said warily as I swiped my fingers against the tingling sensation at my neck. They came away wet. I looked at them, surprised to find them coated in crimson. My hand flew to the wound and pressed down to staunch the flow. “Tristan! Let’s get out of here!”
I needed him to snap out of it so we could flash. But he ignored me.
“More! Be ready,” Cassandra warned again.
The smell of my blood must have been a beacon. Every vamp in the vicinity must have picked up the scent. They blurred at me down the alley, from the rooftops, from God knew where. A dozen of them, at least.
I hoped the wound would close on its own because I needed my hands to fight. Again.
Tristan! I screamed in his head as I fought off the attackers.
I kicked, hit, and lunged again, but my movements were slow compared to theirs. Their hands were on me, their fangs slicing across whatever skin they could reach. My head collided with someone else’s, sending stars across my eyes. I turned and cartwheeled, swinging my blade out, returning every gash they gave me.
Tristan, I yelled again. I need you!
His head finally snapped toward me. His eyes lit up brighter, as if he just now realized what was going on right in front of him.
A little help, please?
He leaned forward as if to lunge, as if to finally fight. But then he stopped. Frozen in place again. Rage swept over his face, and again he seemed to be fighting something unseen without actually moving. It looked as though he couldn’t move.
I didn’t have time to figure out his problem. I was already losing my ground. The wounds left by the vampires’ fangs bled freely, sending them into a shark-like frenzy.
“Keep going, Alexis,” Cassandra said. “You can do this.”
The only thing I had left, though, was to pull on all the Amadis power I had within me and blast it outward.
The energy exploded from me like a bomb.
Vampires shot through the air and landed with sickening thuds. When they didn’t move, I seized the opportunity. I tried to run to Tristan, but it was more like I stumbled. I hurt all over. My head throbbed, and my pulse thundered in my ears. But I had to get us out of there.
“Come on,” I said, latching onto his arm. Rather than embracing me, he simply glared at me with flame-filled eyes. “Tristan, come on. Get us out of here!”
He still didn’t move. I wanted to flash away, to go home, and let him help me heal. But he couldn’t have been more uncooperative. He may as well have been in a different world. I didn’t know if he’d follow my flash, and I certainly wouldn’t leave him. So I tugged on his arm, pulling him toward Collins Avenue, with no idea where to go from there. At least he moved. Not smoothly. Definitely not normally. But he didn’t resist.
After we rounded the corner and made it half a block, my body gave out.
“Tristan, please,” I begged. “Snap out of it.”
I fell into the doorway of a clothing store, pulling him down with me. He looked at me with eyes as blank as the mannequins’ faces in the windows. His thoughts remained elusive. I slapped him across the face. His eyes tightened a hair.
“Help me, damn it!”
But it was too late. A blue light flashed at us, shattering the glass door we leaned against. Magic. Mages were coming for us this round.
Chapter 10
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I had no strength left to fight them, and who knew what was wrong with Tristan, but he sure couldn’t do anything to help us.
“Tristan, we have to flash away. Can you at least do that? Please?” I begged.
His face remained vacant. Another light, this one red, shot at us from a different direction. Barely missing Tristan’s leg, it blasted a chunk off the concrete block of the store’s wall.
“We have to get out of here. Flash with me. Now!” I threw my arms around him in a bear hug and held on, but he didn’t flash.
“You take him,” not-Cassandra said, and now I knew it couldn’t be her. The idea was impossible. No one could flash with another person except Tristan. I’d disappear without him, and in his state of mind, who knew what would happen to him?
Cloaked figures came out of the shadows down the street to our left, their hands and wands pointed at us. And then more wearing Norman clothes came from the opposite direction. They also aimed at us.
I wiped what I thought was sweat from my forehead, but the back of my hand came away red. With this much blood leaking from various fang wounds, the mages would soon be joined by the vampires and probably shifters, too. The thought of fighting them all made my head swim. No. Injuries made my head swim.
My vision faltered. I was slipping away fast.
Tristan, I called out with my mind. Please, help me. If you don’t snap out of it, we’re going to die.
No response. I zapped him with electricity. His body jolted, but he finally looked at me with more awareness.
I’ll die here, Tristan. Help me!
His head tilted a notch. Did he hear me?
Please, baby, I begged, I need you.
The flames in his eyes darkened. Or maybe that was my vision.
“You can do this,” not-Cassandra said. “Trust in me. Trust in yourself.”
I had no other choice but to try. With every ounce of energy I had left, I squeezed Tristan tightly, concentrated, and flashed.
We appeared on the driveway in front of the garage of our own home, lying on our sides. The thud of our landing must have snapped Tristan out of his trance.
“Did you do that?” he asked with surprise, but I had no idea. And I couldn’t answer.
Help me, I whispered in his mind.
He finally looked at me, actually saw me, and horror filled his eyes.
He dragged me into his arms and held me tightly. “I’m sorry, ma lykita. I’m so sorry.”
“Just help me heal,” I croaked against his shoulder, barely hanging onto consciousness.
He went to work, using his mouth to close those wounds that weren’t closing fast enough on their own and apologizing between each healing kiss. Then he held me close again, rocking me like a child while we sat in the driveway. His guilt felt tangible, wrapping around my body, flooding into the cells of my skin, ne
arly suffocating me.
But when I asked him what happened, his mouth clamped shut, and he only shook his head. Whatever had overcome him in that alley, he wasn’t ready to talk about it. If I’d felt better, I would have demanded answers that very moment, but I was too tired to care. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten with dawn and after being awake for nearly twenty-four hours and surviving a brawl with the Daemoni, I needed sleep before answers.
I had many sleeps and still no answers.
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” I asked for at least the hundredth time over the last three days since the fight in South Beach.
A full moon shone through the window and bathed our bed in a silver glow, creating a contrast of light and shadows on Tristan’s face as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. I lay on my side and stared at him. Remorse flooded out of his being, as it always did when I raised the subject of that night. His jaw muscle twitched as he scowled silently.
I placed my hand on his shoulder. His body went rigid. I squirmed closer to him, snuggling against his side, and murmured in his ear, “You know I forgive you, right?”
He placed a stiff hand on my knee, though he still stared at the ceiling, unblinking. “You shouldn’t.”
“I’m your wife. I’ll forgive you if I want to. But I should know what happened, so we can be sure it doesn’t happen again.”
His jaw tightened once more. “It. Won’t. Happen. Again.”
“How do you know? How can I know?”
“Because I promise. I promise that you and I won’t be facing the Daemoni by ourselves again. I promise you won’t be leaving this island any time soon. I promise to keep you safe, which means finding you a better protector than myself.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “No one’s more powerful than you.”
“The most power doesn’t necessarily make one the best protector,” he said, and added with a tone of disgust, “as we have seen.”
“Tristan, that wasn’t about you. Something happened—”
In a flash, he stood at the bedroom door, a hand resting on the jamb.
“Even if you don’t value your own life, Alexis,” he growled, “I do. You mean too much to me, so drop it.”
And with that, he was gone.
I flopped onto my back with a groan and listened as Tristan made his way through the house, out the backdoor, and down the stairs to the beach. What does he mean, I don’t value my own life? And what does that have to do with anything? I sat up in bed and watched out the window as his moonlit silhouette moved through his Aikido routine. When it became apparent he wasn’t returning any time soon, I slid my hand between the mattress and box spring and pulled out my dagger.
In the moonlight, I studied the elegant lines of gold and silver that weaved around the hilt, and my finger caressed the intricate design cut into the blade’s center.
Cassandra? I felt silly as soon as I thought her name, and considered putting the dagger back and stuffing away this insane idea with it.
“I am with you,” the now familiar woman’s voice said.
I pressed my lips together. You’re really Cassandra? THE Cassandra?
She chuckled in my mind. “Yes, dear. It is me.”
How do I know? The dagger warmed in my hand. I almost snorted. Is that supposed to be some kind of ghostly sign?
“Call it what you like, but know that you and I are the only two daughters with the ability to wield this Angel’s dagger. It has been sitting in the Sacred Archives for two millennia, waiting for you to come along. Katerina knew this dagger would be yours and had it prepared for you even before anybody else knew the blade would be your best weapon. It is because you have the genuine power—the same power as me. We are connected, dear.”
I closed my eyes, wishing they could pull forth her image, but even when they couldn’t, I definitely felt her within me. Well, a warm power flowed in my chest that I assumed to be her.
Is that why I’ve been so good at fighting? Are you helping me?
“Not exactly, dear. The power is all in you.”
Even bringing Tristan with me when I flashed?
“The power is in you.”
Did she know how to say anything else?
Then why are you here? Why are you talking to me?
“Because sometimes you need encouragement. Sometimes you need guidance to accomplish your purpose for the greater good. I come when you need me.”
Thank you? I said. I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but part of me still doubted the reality of this exchange.
“Sleep well, Alexis.” Her presence receded, although I wasn’t done with the conversation.
I knew better than to push her, though. If our connection was anything like the matriarch’s with the Angels, she would communicate only when necessary. Too bad. She could have answered a ton of questions, such as what was wrong with my husband. But I supposed I had to figure that out myself.
I slipped the dagger under the mattress, and looked out the window. Tristan was still outside, working off his guilt. With a sigh, I lay down and tried to sleep.
Another week passed with no progress. Tristan’s guilt only grew, and as it did, he became quieter and quieter. I felt him drifting away from me, on a tiny raft in the immense ocean of his regret. Nothing I said broke through to him, and the urge to invade his thoughts had grown into a looming monster, although I’d sworn to him many times I’d never do so without his permission. I was this close to breaking that promise.
One October morning I finally slammed my coffee mug on the table. The sharp crack reverberated around the kitchen, and Tristan’s head snapped up, his attention diverted from the business website on his laptop.
“I’ve had enough!” I declared. “This is ridiculous. We have a mission, and we can’t accomplish it if you won’t let me leave the island.”
“Find your protector and you can go,” Tristan said, his tone dismissive.
I wasn’t about to let him blow me off, though. Not this time. “You know damn well that I’ve been trying to find Owen, regardless of your stupid ultimatum, but that’s beside the point. You and I need to work together, so you need to get over this. I’m alive. I’m fine.”
“No thanks to me.”
I groaned. “Tristan, we were in a bad fight. Things aren’t always going to go our way, but we can’t let it stop us if we’re to serve our purpose, do our duty, all that jazz you and the rest of the Amadis are always talking about. We made it home, and that’s all that matters. Besides I am alive thanks to you. You healed me, remember?”
He flipped a switch, going from blasé to an explosion of anger in a blink. He shoved the laptop to the side.
“You should have never been that hurt!” he bellowed. “I should be able to protect you. I should have fought by your side, but I didn’t.”
My voice rose to match his. “And why not? If we can figure out what happened—”
“There’s nothing to figure out, Alexis.”
“So you know what happened?”
His eyes glanced at me then narrowed as he stared at the wall in front of him. His voice dropped to a low growl. “I know what I felt, and that’s enough.”
I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “And? What did you feel?” I pressed.
No answer. Seconds ticked by.
“Damn it, Tristan, tell me already! Do I have to go in and find out myself?” I threatened, tapping my temple with a finger. He looked at me with a challenge in his eyes. “Well, what do you expect when you won’t tell me—share with your wife, your partner—what happened? You were a statue, surrounded by Daemoni but not fighting, and flames filled your eyes like before, when the monster inside you was trying to take over. But that monster’s supposed to be dead. So you need to tell me—is it still there? Have they found a way to revive the monster? Because if so, we need to figure out—”
“It’s not the monster,” he finally said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Whew. That was a relief. And more information than I’d been able to pull out of him for weeks.
“Okay, then what is it?”
“Worse.”
“How can it be worse? If we beat that thing, we surely can beat this . . . whatever it is.”
He shook his head. Then he rose from his chair, as if to leave. “I’m not—”
My eyes grew wide. Anger overcame every rational thought. I lunged across the two yards separating us and shoved my hands into his chest. Hard. He fell over his chair and landed on his butt. He looked up at me, his mouth twitching with either his own anger or a smile. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
“The only thing you’re not doing is leaving,” I seethed. “Or bowing out of this discussion like a coward anymore. You’re going to tell me what happened. Or what you felt. Whatever it is that you do know.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as he stood once again. He leaned close to me, all traces of any smile gone. His voice came out low and deadly. “You don’t want to know.”
I leaned forward, too, and looked up, our noses only inches apart. “Yes. I. Do.”
He rocked backward on his heels and crossed his own arms. His eyes narrowed. “Fine. You want to know what I felt? I felt hatred, Alexis. Murderous hatred.”
I sucked in a breath, more at his icy tone than his words. Very slowly, I exhaled and tried to relax my shoulders. I already knew this; I’d seen the anger in his mind that night. “Okay. Well, the Daemoni were there. Of course you did. Why is that such a big deal?”
He spun away from me, and his arms flew out with exasperation, one hand barely missing my jaw. He let out a groan and grabbed his hair in his fists. He turned back to me with a peculiar wildness in his eyes. I didn’t understand the problem. Did he really think I’d judge him for hating our enemy? I mean, sure, Amadis weren’t supposed to hate, but I really doubted he felt true hatred. He was beyond that. We both might feel intense anger and extreme dislike to the point that it could almost be hatred, especially during a fight, except . . . he wasn’t fighting …