Dark Power

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by Kristie Cook


  I grimaced, wishing we weren’t having this conversation. This was Owen, not Julia or Armand or anyone else I could never trust. I just hoped when he finished flirting with Sheree he’d return and give me good reason to believe in him again. To trust that he remained on our side.

  But when he finally returned and found us back in the hallway where he’d left us, I didn’t get the warm-and-fuzzies. In fact, what he had to say only convinced me that perhaps Kali the sorceress and her antics had gotten to him. Somehow she’d made him think he wasn’t Amadis anymore and put him up to bat for our enemies.

  “So back to Vanessa’s sacrifice, as you put it,” Tristan said, picking up where we’d left off before Sheree’s interruption. “What does Vanessa want that doesn’t include killing her? What were you thinking, bringing her here?”

  Owen’s eyes squinted as he scrubbed his hand through his hair, then he heaved out a breath.

  “Why else do you bring the enemy to a safe house?” he finally asked. “What do they want when they come here?”

  I stared at him for a long moment as his words sunk in. Then I waited for him to clarify a different meaning or even to laugh and say, “Kidding.” But he just looked back at me with an even sapphire gaze.

  I snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve seriously fallen for that?”

  Tristan didn’t take it with such good humor. In a heartbeat, he had Owen by the collar and pinned against the wall. “You may have been right about Sheree, but Vanessa? You honestly expect us to believe her?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Owen said. “I believe her.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.” Tristan gave Owen a shove before letting go and turning to pace the hall. His hands clenched into fists, and the muscles of his forearms bulged against his rolled-up sleeves. “It’s a set-up. There’s absolutely no way that bitch would ever want—”

  “Then you can believe me,” Owen cut in.

  Tristan spun back toward Owen and roared, “Can we? Because you haven’t done a damn thing to prove it, Scarecrow. In fact, you’re doing a damn good job proving that you’ve changed sides. Because that—” His hand flicked in the general direction of Vanessa’s room. “That’s bullshit, and you know it!”

  “It’s not,” Owen yelled back, bowing up and leaning toward Tristan, his own hands in fists. I’d only ever seen him stand up to Tristan once and that was about me. This . . . this was unbelievable.

  I stepped in front of Owen and put my hands on his chest, trying to get him to back down.

  “Seriously, Owen,” I said, “I don’t know where this came from, what you’ve been doing all this time, and what you’ve gotten yourself into, but this . . . You can’t get any more Daemoni than her. I mean, we’re talking Vanessa, the biggest bitch of all Daemoni bitches.”

  A growling sound came from Owen’s throat as his eyes shot daggers at me. “You have no idea, princess. No idea about any of it. But I can tell you that I never would have asked for your help if I had a choice. I need you. Vanessa needs you, and you can’t, as an Amadis daughter, turn her down. Vanessa truly wants to be Amadis.”

  Chapter 14

  My head spun. Nothing made sense, and everything was so overwhelming. Owen’s sudden reappearance after being gone for so long. The arrival of the trunks containing body parts. Watching a vampire put herself back together from chunks. And then to see it was Vanessa . . . and, most astonishing of all, to hear she wanted to be converted? Never in a million years would I have expected this.

  I mean, when I envisioned the Daemoni, Vanessa took front and center in my mind, overshadowing the rest of them. Although I logically knew Lucas led the army, I had never met him, and Kali-slash-Martin had only represented the enemy for the short time in the trial room and had become a faceless entity since then. So to me, Vanessa was the face of the Daemoni. Because she’d always been in the lead, at least where Tristan and I were concerned. Always on the prowl, always on the attack.

  Except . . . the last couple of times I’d seen her, she didn’t attack. Others had, but not her personally. And besides those sightings, she’d been in hiding, pretty much the whole time since Owen had been gone.

  “You and Vanessa . . . you’ve been together all this time?” I asked Owen.

  We’d gone through several rounds of Tristan saying the vamp tried to fool us all to get in close for the kill, and Owen swearing up one side and down the other that she was sincere. They’d get so loud in their arguing, I was surprised Sheree didn’t come running, but realized Owen must have magically muffled us, just as he had Vanessa. But the arguments took us nowhere. None of us had even said a word for the last ten minutes. We needed to get off the stupid merry-go-round and uncover the truth.

  “Not the whole time, but . . . yeah, for a while,” Owen said.

  “And what? You think she’s so in love with you, she’d really give up the only life she knows?” Tristan asked, sarcasm dripping off each word.

  “Well,” I said, with a thought, “that could actually be her motivator. She does go to any lengths to get what she wants.”

  Tristan shook his head. “She lives for the Daemoni. She’d die for them.”

  “You don’t know her like you think you do,” Owen said quietly, and once again, the one-eighty of his allegiance felt like a slap in the face.

  Tristan’s expression turned to stone, and I worried he’d get in Owen’s face again. But he simply narrowed his eyes and rocked back on his heels. “I knew her for over two centuries.”

  “You didn’t know her,” Owen countered. “You never took the time to. You ignored her as much as possible, treating her like nothing more than a pesky wasp.”

  “So now you’ve been around her for a few months and think you know her so well? What about the past decades witnessing the carnage she left? What about what she did to Sheree, who would have died if you hadn’t rescued her? What she’s done to Alexis? Have you forgotten all that so quickly?”

  Owen broke his gaze from Tristan and looked at the wall. His lips pursed together, and his brows drew down, creating three lines between them.

  “No, I haven’t forgotten that,” he said in a near whisper. But then his eyes hardened as he turned them back to Tristan. “But I also haven’t forgotten how you used to be, either. She can change. Like you did.”

  “You’re so gullible,” Tristan snapped.

  “And you’re so arrogant! What makes you think you’re the only one who can change?” Owen demanded. “We get new converts all the time. You’re not some unique specimen. Not in that way anyway.”

  “I already admitted I was wrong about Sheree. I’d been suspicious then because of everything going on at the time. But Vanessa? She’s the poster girl for the Daemoni!”

  “Just as you were once the poster boy!”

  With that, the merry-go-round wound up again as they went in circles about Vanessa pulling the same scheme Lucas and Tristan had with my mom, back when he’d been Seth, and Owen defending Vanessa and her desire to change. Although I couldn’t help but agree with Tristan, I stayed off the ride. But finally I could take no more.

  “All right, all right!” I nearly yelled to be heard over their debate. They both shut up. “This is stupid, and it’s getting us nowhere. She has to proclaim her desire to change as part of the process, and I’ll be able to read her mind to know if she’s telling the truth. If not, we’ll have plenty of protection to overcome whatever scheme she has in mind. So you two . . . just stop, okay?”

  Neither of them responded, too proud to give in.

  “Okay?” I insisted.

  Finally, Tristan barely lifted his chin to me in subtle agreement.

  “I don’t like it, you being that close to her,” he growled, “but I’ll be there if you need me. And so will your protector. Right, Owen?” He bumped Owen’s shoulder with his own as he came to stand by me. “Right, Owen?”

  Owen gave us both a hard glare before heading for the door. “You won’t need me,” he muttered.

  My jaw dropped,
and tears pricked my eyes. He may as well have stabbed a knife in my heart and left me for dead. What’s happened to him?

  Tristan shook his head slowly. “He’s right. We don’t need him. Charlotte will be here if we need a warlock.”

  Owen stopped in mid-stride and spun around. “No. Mum can’t be here.”

  “But she’ll be so pleased to see you,” I said, my tone burning with acid, “especially like this.” I flipped my hand at him and all his un-Owen-ness.

  “She can’t be here,” Owen repeated, nearly pleading. “None of the council. Not Sophia or Rina, either. Nobody can know Vanessa is here. Not even Sheree or Sonya or anyone else.”

  I cocked my head. “Owen, I can’t convert her by myself.”

  “You have to. She’s too high-profile for anyone to know what she’s doing. No one can find out until it’s done, after it’s too late. Why do you think I brought her here? To you?”

  “What? You think someone’s going to tattle off to the Daemoni that Vanessa’s converting?” I asked.

  “That’s exactly what someone might do, and guess what happens next? Guess who shows up here to get her back?”

  I shook my head. “Owen, I can’t . . . I mean, I don’t have enough experience with the first phase, and I’ve never even done the second part.”

  “But you know what to do, right? What better way to learn than trial by fire?”

  My breath went out in a huff of exasperation. Owen had always enjoyed pressing me to my limits to see what I was capable of, but he really had no idea what he asked of me now. And if he did, then he didn’t care what happened to Vanessa or me. So much for being anyone’s protector.

  “Look,” I said, “I vowed to your mother I wouldn’t do anything without her. There’s a reason she made me make the promise. Owen, seriously, you can’t trust your own mom?”

  “Well, let’s see,” he said, his voice regaining that hard edge, “I trusted my own dad and look what happened there.”

  I opened my mouth to argue—as if Charlotte was anything like Martin or Kali—but decided not to. Part of me couldn’t blame him.

  “It’s a moot point,” Tristan said. “Alexis is not doing this on her own. The little bit of experience she has is with young ones. Vanessa is a whole different game—out of her league right now.”

  My hackles raised. “Her? Out of my league? Ha! You think I can’t handle the old hag? Well, I’m pretty sure I can take her on if she tried anything. In fact, I already have, just a little while ago, remember?”

  Tristan gave me a look. “That’s not what I mean. This is different, and you know it.”

  “But she has taken on you,” Owen said to Tristan. “And you were a lot worse than Vanessa ever was.”

  Tristan pursed his lips together. He wouldn’t argue this point because he credited me with saving him when he’d first returned to me with the Daemoni’s dark magic implanted in his soul. I kept my mouth shut. Mom had originally converted him, so what Owen referred to wasn’t really my doing. But what could be worse than what Tristan had fought then? Than what I had helped him beat? Surely, if I could handle him and all his power, I could handle the vampire-bitch who’d still managed to keep her soul for more than two centuries.

  I straightened my back and stuck out my chin. “Owen’s right. If I could do what I did with you, especially right after going through the Ang’dora, I can do this.”

  Tristan narrowed his hazel eyes at me. “And break your promise to Char?”

  My shoulders sagged as my puffed up manner deflated. That was the kicker. I sincerely didn’t want to break my promise to Charlotte, not again. I wanted her to trust me, but at this rate, she never would. I wanted Mom and Rina to trust me, too, to know they could count on me to do the right thing.

  But . . . wasn’t serving my purpose the right thing? Owen was certainly right about that—I couldn’t refuse Vanessa. If she honestly wanted to convert, I had to do this for her. And sooner rather than later. Although part of me enjoyed it a little bit, I knew keeping her chained up like that for long wasn’t the “right thing.” How much longer until Charlotte could finally get here? Six months had already passed since her last visit.

  I wished I had my dagger on me. I wanted to talk to Cassandra.

  “Well, while you sit there and contemplate the future of the world, I need to go check on the subject at hand,” Owen said as he once again headed for the door. “Don’t take too long to make up your mind, unless you want either a dried up corpse on your hands or a dead were-tiger.”

  My head snapped up. “What?”

  He stopped one more time, but barely turned. “I brought her to you weakened on purpose. I haven’t given her blood yet—on purpose. But she’s starving, and we can’t leave her like this forever. I won’t leave her like this for long at all. Understood?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, but strode down the hallway and around the corner to the wing where Vanessa probably still screamed bloody murder. I looked at Tristan.

  He leaned against the wall and explained. “If he feeds her, he’ll not only strengthen her, but since he’ll be giving her his own blood, he’ll be giving her magic, too. Powerful magic. She’ll be able to do things we probably don’t want her to do.”

  “But we have animal blood—oh. Sheree will notice.”

  Tristan nodded. “But if we wait too long to feed Vanessa, she won’t make it through the conversion. She’ll either die or dry up, and it’ll take our whole supply of blood to refill her. But it’s Vanessa we’re talking about. She has too much self-preservation to simply let herself die.”

  Crap. I understood now and knew that we really didn’t have much time. Because Vanessa wouldn’t simply lie back and take the conversion if she was starving. She was still evil. She’d attack. I had the best blood for her and probably Tristan did, too. But if she was too scared or weak to fight us, she’d go for Owen or, worse, Sheree. And from Owen’s comment, he seemed pretty confident she wouldn’t attack him. Once she drank, she’d be a lot more difficult to contain for the conversion. Worse yet, if this was a trick and she attacked and strengthened herself, the whole village, the whole island and Sanibel, too, would be at risk.

  I cursed Owen for putting me in this situation, but, at the same time, I understood the lengths he’d gone through. He’d carefully planned this to ensure I’d say yes and to force me to move quickly and on their terms, but he’d also done what he could to make it as safe as possible for me. Right? Well . . . unless this was all part of the set-up . . . unless he was part of the set-up and they were reviewing their plan of attack right this very minute.

  I turned to Tristan and he opened his arms. I walked into his embrace and drew on his love and strength.

  “You knew the best solution all along,” I mumbled against his chest. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. “So why did you insist on arguing?”

  “Just because I know the best answer doesn’t mean I like it,” he said. He paused for a long moment, then added, “Besides, this is a decision you need to make. You deserve a choice in the matter.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really have a choice. As much as I want to hate her, as much as I have in the past, I’m Amadis and can’t turn her away. I won’t let her suffer any longer than she already has. This really is the best time for all of us.”

  “If they’re even telling the truth. You know what you need to do.”

  I hated invading people’s private thoughts, and Rina had taught me to use my gift responsibly, which meant only when necessary. But I had to know, and, really, this was necessary, not simple curiosity. So I found Owen’s mind signature in the next wing and took a quick peek into his thoughts.

  Get out of my head, Alexis, he silently growled at me. I cringed as I immediately let go of his mind.

  “Owen’s telling the truth,” I said to Tristan. If Vanessa was tricking us, Owen was completely unaware. I gathered that much before he kicked me out.

  “And Vanessa?”

  I soug
ht out for her mind signature, but it was distorted, and I couldn’t hear her thoughts. Only muted screams. The shield Owen put up to block out the noise apparently muffled her thoughts, as well. Either that or her mind was completely focused on yelling her head off.

  I shook my head. “Won’t know until I get in there with her. But first, I want to see Dorian. Just in case . . . you know.”

  “You can’t think that way, my love.”

  My shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I can’t help it.”

  “You’re running out of sunlight.”

  “I only need a few minutes. An hour. Then . . . we’ll do this.”

  We found Dorian in the family room at home, sitting on the floor and playing some kind of war video game with Heather. Sasha sat between them, closely watching the screen and growling every time Dorian groaned when his character died, as if he himself had been hit. Tristan slipped away to his man-cave to check on a few financial things before we “disappeared” for the next day or so, but I stayed in the family room and watched the kids for a few minutes, basking in their normalcy after this morning’s surreal events, until Blossom sauntered out of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked with surprise, and my nose twitched with the sweet smell of a cake baking.

  She wiped her hands on a dishcloth before giving me her usual hello hug. “I was kind of lonely, and we were supposed to hang out this weekend, so I came over a little early.” I sagged in her embrace. “You have something going on, don’t you?”

  Guilt curled its fingers around my heart. “A, um, mission, yes.”

  “No worries. We’ll do it another time.”

  I hugged her tighter before pulling back and giving her an appreciative smile. “What kind are you baking today?”

  “Your favorite,” she said with a teasing grin.

  “Chocolate and raspberry?” I licked my lips. “Is it done yet?”

  She laughed. “You’ll have to wait until after you eat your dinner tonight, young lady.” When I made a face, she said, “You won’t even be home for dinner?”

 

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