by Kristie Cook
I led her into the kitchen so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Something’s come up. Owen’s back—”
She let out a squeal, but I held my hand up.
“Shh. I don’t want Dorian to know yet. I don’t know how long he’s staying.” I waited for Blossom to nod her understanding. “Anyway, Owen brought us, um, some information that we need to check out. If all goes well, we should be home tomorrow night, but it might not be until the next day. Can you—?”
“Of course I’ll take care of Dorian.”
She watched me as I began pulling out sandwich makings for an early lunch. I wasn’t really hungry myself, but having lunch together gave me a reason to pull Dorian away from the game and spend time with me. And if I could manage to get anything down, it’d probably be good—I’d need the energy.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Blossom said, and I didn’t miss the careful way she spoke. I looked up from the bread I’d been smearing with mustard. “Dorian’s been talking about his ability to fly a lot lately, and I had an idea. Actually, part of it was his.”
“Uh-oh,” I muttered as I went back to my task.
“Wait. It’s a good one, actually. He said he thought you were unfair to not let him practice—these are his words, not mine—because if the bad guys ever tried to get him, he’d be able to get away.”
I nearly dropped the knife with shock. We’d warned him once that bad men might want to take him, but I didn’t know we’d actually scared him this much—enough that he’d been thinking about how to defend himself. Crap. Had I gone too far? Well, a little fear was good. You couldn’t have courage without it. No fear, especially for the Daemoni, was just plain stupid.
“So you think it’s a good idea?” Blossom asked, and she saw on my face that I’d missed something she said. “A cloak. I’m able to cloak him—I’ve done it before, remember? Then he could practice right outside. I know you’re teaching him Aikido and other ways to defend himself, but if he could fly away, no one could even get him in the first place.”
“Um . . . I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll talk to Tristan about it.”
“I’m strong enough to cloak and even shield him, if that’s your concern. I mean, mine aren’t a level five like Owen’s, and I can’t leave a permanent shield or cloak, even if there are other mages around to keep it up, I have to be close by for my temporary ones to stay in effect, but they aren’t bad at all. Good enough to where I’ve done a level—”
“Hold up,” I interrupted. Something she said in her rambling caught my attention. “Do we have any mages in the colony who can do a permanent shield?”
“Only Owen, now that he’s back. The colony’s never needed one before, though. But honestly, I’m not sure if the other mages would share their power with Owen to keep a permanent shield up. They’re all pretty wary of him. They’re finally coming around to you and Tristan, especially knowing there’s a safe house they can flee to if necessary, but they’re not sure what to think about Owen, since you know, his dad and everything . . .”
She finally trailed off and took in my expression. What my face said, I had no idea, but it had probably paled. The safe house really needed a permanent shield, especially with its new VIP occupant. Perhaps the colony hadn’t attracted Daemoni attention before, but Vanessa’s disappearance might have them searching everywhere, including here. And if Owen took off again . . .
“Surely the local mages would keep a permanent shield up over the safe house, even if Owen was the one who put it up in the first place. Wouldn’t they?” I asked. “Whatever they think about Owen, we’d only need them if he wasn’t here anyway. And it’s a safe house, after all. If they want to feel safe there, they have to help.”
“Oh, they’d do the right thing when it came down to it,” Blossom said quickly. “I was only saying that some people have lost a little trust in Owen. I’m sure they just need to see him again, be reminded of what a great guy he is.”
I harrumphed at that. Owen was a great guy, but I wasn’t so sure about his intentions anymore. One thing was for sure—he needed to stick around at least long enough for his little present to fully convert. We needed his shield.
Blossom gave me a questioning look. I waved it off as I took the sandwiches and a bag of chips out to the family room, made Dorian turn off the game, and we all sat on the floor for a picnic. He complained that it was too early for lunch—he’d eaten breakfast only an hour ago—but when I told him Tristan and I were leaving for a couple of nights, he agreed to at least sit with us. Being a boy with food in front of him, he quickly forgot he’d said he was stuffed full of cereal and dug into a ham sandwich.
After a few moments of silence as we all chewed, Heather reached for a handful of chips and somehow a piece broke off, flew in the air, and hit Dorian square in the forehead. They stared at each other for a long moment, but Heather couldn’t keep her face straight, so Dorian picked up a whole chip and threw it at her head. Another moment of silence passed before they both busted out laughing, and the next thing I knew, chips were flying across the room. At least, until Sasha started catching them in her mouth in mid-air, then their game became how high they could toss a chip and Sasha could jump to catch it.
“Lex, we really need to go,” Tristan said from the doorway, grimacing at the mess.
I’d been so engrossed in watching the kids play, I hadn’t heard his approach or even noticed Blossom had gone to the kitchen after her cake. With dread, I rose to my feet and called Dorian over to me.
“I’ll see you in a couple days, okay, little man?” I said as I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly.
“And then we’ll talk about Universal again?”
Wow. He really wasn’t letting that one go.
“We’ll see.” I squeezed him tighter and kissed him on the head, which I couldn’t help but notice came up to my chin now. “You guys clean up this mess. Don’t leave it for Blossom.”
“Sure, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you, too, little man.” I picked up the lykora next and nuzzled my nose into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. Then I whispered in her ear, “Take care of him, Sasha.”
Heather followed us to the door, obviously having something to say. “Thank you for letting me talk to Sonya today. It meant the world to me.”
I forced a smile for her. “Thank you for being such a good friend to Dorian.”
She gave me a real grin. “You sound like it’s a chore—”
“Well, he’s not exactly your age.”
“No, but he’s awesome. More mature than most kids his age and a lot more fun. Those Norman kids are so boring to me now.” She managed to pull a small, but real smile from me. “So, um, do you think I’ll get to see Sonya soon?”
I frowned. “I’d hoped so, but . . . uh . . .” I looked up at Tristan, lost at what to say. Sonya would surely be telling her that we’d considered an actual visit. With Vanessa in the house and no telling how this could turn out and how long she’d be there, I wasn’t about to make any promises.
“We told Sonya it might be possible soon,” Tristan said, “but we don’t know how soon. Alexis and I have some important Amadis business to take care of, but we want to be there. Just in case.”
Heather’s eyes widened at the implication, and she nodded with understanding.
“Thanks again,” she whispered, lifting her arms from her sides awkwardly, then she scrambled off, back to Dorian and their mess.
Once we returned to the safe house, I made a stop in my office to retrieve my dagger. Wearing it 24/7 felt over the top and a little ridiculous with my typical attire of shorts and tank tops, but I did try to keep it close by in case of emergencies, so in my office when I was at the safe house, or under the mattress when I was home. I wanted it on me now, though, if anything, for Cassandra’s extra power.
“You can do this,” she whispered in my mind, sounding like Rina. “You will be fine.”
I strapped the hol
ster around my waist, then rubbed the amethyst to make the dagger disappear. The weight felt funny on the elastic waistband of my shorts, but I’d have to deal with it. I hoped Cassandra was right. I certainly felt comforted about the foreboding task ahead with Cassandra’s presence within me.
Chapter 15
As I left my office, I mentally called out for Sheree.
Can you hold the fort down here for the next day or two? I asked her when she responded. Tristan, Owen, and I have a mission we need to do for Rina.
I hated lying to her, but I had no choice. And in the end, it was for Rina and the Amadis, because I was simply serving my purpose and adding to our army. At least, if everything went the way I hoped it would.
“Of course. Going out of town? Does this have to do with the trunks?”
Um . . . no and yes. I’ll tell you all about it later.
“Don’t worry about a thing here. But I can’t wait to hear. Are we going to have a new patient? I’m getting a little bored . . .”
Heh. Her wish would be answered, but if she knew whom our new patient was, she’d be eating her words, I was sure. At least she wouldn’t be bored anymore.
I don’t know. Which was true, because I didn’t know if I’d end up killing Vanessa instead of saving her. But even if the vampire survived, it’d be a while, probably a long while, before Sheree could learn the truth. I had no idea how we would keep that secret from her. But don’t get your hopes up. I don’t expect to be seeing Charlotte.
There. That should help. She knew I wasn’t to proceed with a conversion without Charlotte’s help, so she’d never suspect. I hoped.
The hallway that led to Vanessa’s room felt dark and ominous, as if we really did traverse the dungeons of an ancient European castle rather than a mansion on the beach in bright and sunny Florida. I projected my own fear into my surroundings, of course. The sense of impending doom shaded the walls and floor in a somber gray, although golden sunlight poured through the banks of windows at each end. The nearly non-existent shadows outside meant it was almost noon—we’d already wasted precious hours of sunlight and even the slightest bit of weakness in our patient would help.
The door to the vampire’s temporary accommodations was closed, probably to keep out said sunlight. She must have heard our approach, however, because it swung open from the other side. Owen hurried us in and closed the door quickly behind us. My eyes adjusted to the true darkness of the room immediately.
The heavy curtains were drawn tight, completely blocking out the sun. A single lamp was lit on the bedside table. Vanessa leaned limply against the wall, practically hanging from her shackled wrists. Owen had magically fashioned a tunic out of the tan blanket to cover her nakedness, for which I was grateful. I was almost surprised she wasn’t shrieking about its ugliness, as well as the braces on her limbs, but she’d apparently exhausted her energy. She had to know we’d entered the room, but her eyes remained closed, and her face had never looked so vulnerable.
“Vanessa,” I tried to say, but nothing came out except a croak. For some reason, it occurred to me that I’d never called her by name to her face. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Vanessa?”
“What?” she mumbled without opening her eyes.
My brain had such a hard time processing this scene—how soft and helpless my worst enemy was before me. How much she trusted me and didn’t even try to put up any kind of defense in case I attacked. We could have killed her with one swipe of my dagger and a fireball from Tristan’s palm, yet she showed no fear. No, she wasn’t fearless. She was without care. As if she wanted to die.
Don’t be a fool. It could all be part of her plan. My internal warning bells sounded. I couldn’t take her for granted, not for one moment.
I latched onto her mind signature and worked my way into her head before I prompted her thoughts. Her mind was open, relaxed, though I could feel a thread of fear in its deep recesses. But her prominent thought was discomfort.
“Owen says you want to convert,” I said to bring up the subject in her mind.
“Yes,” she murmured, and her face remained calm even as her thoughts ran wild. “He said she’d do it, but I don’t think so. How could she accept me as one of her own? She should have killed me by now. Why hasn’t she? If she doesn’t convert me and doesn’t kill me, Owen will have to. I can’t ever go back now. Never!”
Her thoughts sounded sincere, and I sensed nothing to contradict them, but I wouldn’t know the real truth until we began. I just didn’t want to begin.
“You’ll have to declare it,” I said as I made my way slowly around the room, running my fingers over the velour upholstery of the wingback chair Owen sat in, straightening the throw pillows on the unused bed, smoothing down the curtains as if to be sure not a crack of light came through. I didn’t have this time to waste, but the thought of touching the vampire made my insides squirm. Vanessa’s lips parted, as if to say something, but I stopped her. “Not now. Not yet. In a moment.”
I was within touching distance of her now. I only had to reach out with my arm and place my hand on her skin to begin. She sensed my closeness. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at me with a faraway look.
“Do what you need to do,” she said.
“It’s going to hurt,” I warned.
Her head moved slightly in a nod. “Owen told me it would be horrible. But this is what I want.”
“Are you sure?” Again, I was delaying. Her answer didn’t matter until I was feeding her Amadis power, when she’d actually feel in her soul everything her decision meant.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Her voice came out in a weak whisper. “I want to be loved. Not hated.”
Something happened in my chest. To my heart. A tiny crack opened. For her, for this vampire who’d always tried to kill me, who I’d sworn to kill by my own hands. An opening to allow my innate enemy in. A lump formed in my throat as the warmth of Amadis love and power flowed through my body. For some reason, this one statement from Vanessa affected my natural instincts more than anyone I’d worked with before, except Tristan. More love and goodness than I could hold built within my core, about to explode its way out. If I didn’t maintain control, this could be disastrous.
Well, I might just love you to death. Then we’d both get our way.
I almost chuckled at my own thought, until I saw the look on Vanessa’s face. She showed more fear at this moment than I’d ever seen in her before. More than when I’d almost fried her in Australia. More than when Tristan turned his power on her. She sensed the energy I was about to unleash and feared it.
But she also showed resolve. At this moment, she exemplified the definition of courage.
“Do it,” she whispered.
I pulled in a deep breath, braced myself for the immense pain I knew would come, and lifted my hand to her.
Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. Please, Angels, I beg for strength.
The thought of touching Vanessa—Vanessa!—in any way besides a punch or a kick scared the crap out of me. Or perhaps it was the growing power that scared me so much. I’d never felt this way before. As though something within my core wanted to reach into her soul and grab it, heal it, change her to be more like me. My heart jackhammered against my ribs. My chest swelled with so much power . . . so much love! And I didn’t understand it.
Why? Why did she, of all people, make me feel as though this really was my purpose? Why did something within me want this so badly when a big part of me wasn’t even positive she wanted it? When my brain screamed trap, trap, trap?
My hand shook in midair, following my brain’s orders to stay away. Don’t do it, my mind said. Love thy enemy, my heart countered.
“Reach out to those who need you most,” Cassandra added.
But I didn’t have to reach out to Vanessa.
No longer able to contain the power within the confines of my corporeality, my body exploded. At least, that’s how it felt. The energy of love and goodness erupted like a volcano,
shooting out of me and pouring directly over Vanessa, a soft light bathing her as the lava of my power drenched her body.
Her ice-blue eyes popped open wide and so did her mouth, but no noise issued forth. She looked more shocked than anything, and I probably mirrored her expression. Where was the pain, for either of us? Why didn’t she spasm and convulse as the others had? Why didn’t I feel . . . anything? The only sensation I had was that of Tristan’s and Owen’s eyes staring at us in awe.
“Vanessa,” I whispered hoarsely. Her stunned gaze fluttered toward me. “Say it now. Declare your motives.”
Her eyes locked on mine. “I want this. I want to be Amadis.”
“Why?”
“I want love,” she said flatly, as if nothing could be more obvious. As if the words didn’t come out of the most hateful mouth I’d ever heard speak. But somehow what she said made as much sense to me as it obviously did to her. “I want to love others. I want to be loved. I want to be the person I am meant to be. Not who everyone else thinks I am.” She whimpered, but still, not in pain. Not physical pain, anyway. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her head dropped, and her gaze broke from mine. “Nobody knows the real me. Only Owen has seen through my façade.”
I shook my head. “God knows. He sees your heart.”
“Not Satan,” she moaned. “He’s caused all this. His deceit, his lies . . . he caused all this pain I’ve suffered for so long.”
“No, not Satan. The true God. You must accept our God as yours.”
She lifted her head and looked at me again. Conviction swirled in her eyes as they held mine.
“I do,” she whispered, and I didn’t have to read her mind to know she meant it. Her desire for light and love to enter her heart was palpable.
Without any warning, my body launched itself at her. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly against me.
And with the collision of good and evil energies finally came the intense pain.
The dark energy within her was so much greater and so much more powerful than I’d ever felt before, even with Tristan. Our high-pitched screams tangled together into an eerie song. I hung onto her in a death-grip as our bodies convulsed against each other’s in a freakish dance. Tristan or Owen must have released her arms from their shackles, because they were suddenly around me, holding on as if I were her life preserver. Which, at this point, I probably was.