by Kristie Cook
“Maybe you need some time away,” she said when I returned. “A change of scenery . . .”
“And where do you suggest I go? The demons are inside my head. I can’t get away from them.”
She cringed. The words had come out of my mouth before I even knew what I said.
“Actually, that’s what concerns me,” she said, shocking me.
Then I realized the truth—and accuracy—of her meaning. I instantly became irate, with an overwhelming urge to throw it all in her face—letting her know exactly what she’d produced with her little romp in the sack with the evil sperm donor. Her intentions may have been to save him, but she lost him . . . and now she might possibly be losing me.
“Oh, are you afraid the Daemoni inside of me is finally coming out?” I sneered. “Maybe your little miracle isn’t so good after all.”
“Alexis—”
“What does it matter anyway? They’ve totally mind-fucked us. The Daemoni . . . even the Amadis. They use us! And now look. They’ve destroyed us instead. Him. Me. We’re useless.”
“Alexis Katerina! You really need to get yourself under control. I will not talk to you until you become rational.”
I burst into laughter.
“Rational?” I chortled. “That’s a good one!”
She narrowed her eyes, turned on her heel, and stomped away. The urge to run—run away from it all—came over me. So I did. I threw on my new clothes and shoes and ran for miles. I didn’t know how my body survived. Just a few days ago it was a lump of old, tired lard that hadn’t moved more than necessary from bed to chair to bed again. Now, on such little sleep and no food—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten—it felt strong and wired with energy.
But I couldn’t run far enough. I couldn’t run far enough away from my shitty life. I couldn’t run far enough to reach my husband . . . to know for sure.
As I ran, I decided Mom was right. I needed to get away for a while. Really be by myself and try to straighten my head out. And if I couldn’t straighten it out, couldn’t fix myself, couldn’t overcome whatever was building in my system, at least I wouldn’t be around Dorian and my family when I truly lost it. Went over the deep end. Became one of them. My son had been through too much to have to deal with that, too.
Like so many irrational ideas, this one made perfect sense right now. I ran home, showered, and packed.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked from my bedroom doorway.
“Packing. I’m going away, like you said.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I do need time away.”
She came in and sat on my bed, watching me as I purposefully moved between closet, bathroom, and bed, where my suitcase lay open.
“Where are you going?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you when I get there.” I dumped an armful of clothes into the suitcase.
“Alexis . . .”
I stopped and looked at her. “Just take care of Dorian for me, please.”
“Of course. But I really don’t think you should be alone right now, especially after seeing—”
“That’s exactly why—” I cut myself off. I realized the video caused this pull to leave, creating a more intense need than ever to feel his physical presence. But she wouldn’t understand, or, if she did, she’d never let me go. Not that I’d really be alone anyway. She’d never allow it. I took a different direction with her. “I think being alone is exactly what I need. I haven’t been alone for . . . forever. I’ve felt alone. But there’s always been someone nearby, keeping me from completely letting it all out. Maybe being alone and facing these demons by myself . . . getting it all out once and for all . . . is what I need. I don’t know, Mom. I just know I need to go.”
I didn’t wait for her response, although she didn’t try to stop me. She must have known I was right—I needed to get away, be by myself, and until I could get my head on straight, stay away from Dorian. I went into my office and packed my laptop and chargers and anything else I would need. Then I went to say goodbye to my son.
“Are you going with Dad?” he asked.
“What?” I stared at him in shock.
“His car is outside,” he explained with his six-year-old logic. He glanced out his bedroom window at the Ferrari parked in the driveway.
“Oh, no, honey,” I said, hugging him. “I’m just driving his car. Daddy is still not home.”
“Oh.” His face crumpled with disappointment.
“Will you be good for Mimi while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just on a little trip to do some Mommy things. Sometimes Moms need to do this.”
“Sounds girly.” He made a face. “Yeah, I’ll be good.”
“Thank you, little man.” I gave him another squeeze. “I’ll call you later. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Have fun.”
Fun? Yeah, right. I gave him a smile but as soon as I left his room, I had to choke back a sob. I’d never left him overnight before, not even while on book tours. He’d always traveled with me. But I had to do this alone, and I had to get out of here. Now. Before I completely lost my sanity.
I grabbed my laptop bag, my suitcase, and the duffle bag full of clothes and papers. I didn’t know why I felt the need to bring it but I did. Maybe I’ll just burn everything and be done with it. Maybe that would bring the closure I need. No, I could never do such a thing. I didn’t want closure. I just wanted, no, needed that physical connection.
“Are you sure about this?” Mom asked, following me outside. I threw the bags into the Ferrari’s passenger seat.
“As sure as I can be. The most sure I’ve felt in the last couple of days.” I paused and gave her a pointed look. “What do you feel as the truth? Do you have any reason to think it’s a bad idea?”
Her mouth twisted. “No.” She sighed. “It’s probably a good idea, especially for Dorian’s sake.”
I nodded. “Exactly. And it’s the first real idea I’ve had, one with purpose, anyway.”
“But what kind of purpose? Maybe you ought to think this through a little more. You don’t even know where you’re going.”
I didn’t answer her, but deep down inside, I did know my destination. When she didn’t press me further, she probably realized it, too.
After filling up with gas, the direction came automatically. Without a thought, I jumped on I-75 and sped south, then east, and then south again. As far south as the highway would go, as fast as I could go.
Driving the Ferrari induced a rush of adrenaline through my veins. It purred at 120 miles per hour, and it felt like no more than seventy. My senses were so highly tuned, I couldn’t even believe the possibility of losing control. I would come up behind someone creeping along at eighty in the left lane, and I’d smoothly move to the right, then slip back to the left. We danced, the car as my partner, gracefully gliding around the other couples. Instead of the blur of green and brown streaming by, I could see each pine tree, palm, and palmetto bush individually. Possibly every needle and palm frond. I even had some kind of sense for cops, because I automatically slowed down long before I saw the marked cars. I felt so liberated. Others might have said insane, perhaps a little maniacal . . . but I tried to ignore those theories.
The farther I put Atlanta behind me, the more this decision felt absolutely right. Perhaps because I felt a sense of release with the idea of being free—free to do what I wanted to do, without watching, measuring eyes. Or maybe it felt right because I headed for a place where we had once been as a couple, a place with real memories, a place with his presence. Then again, there was the idea Mom had pretty much confirmed—I needed to remove myself from the people I loved before I hurt them any more than I already had.
That thought brought Dorian’s face to mind, and the urge to turn around and run back to him. But I needed to do this for him, for all of us. Whate
ver was going on with me right now surely couldn’t last forever. Mom said things would get better, even if they became worse first. And Dorian didn’t need to be around if and when things got worse. I needed to protect him. From me.
The drive should have taken over twelve hours. I approached Miami within five. By 8:30 in the evening, I came to the turnoff to our little key. I slowed down, but . . . although I’d made this trip specifically to face the beach house and its memories . . . I couldn’t bring myself to make the turn. Not tonight. Can’t handle it yet. I drove fifty miles farther, to the end, to Key West.
My hotel suite’s window looked down on Duval Street, crowded with tourists hopping from bar to bar. I envied their normal lives and their ability to relax and have fun. I wanted to let go of my screwed up life and pretend I was one of them. I only ventured as far as the hotel’s bar and sipped some kind of frozen, fruity concoction. The outdoor bar faced the street, and the passing crowds provided limitless opportunities for people-watching. I felt bad vibes off some of the revelers. And a few set off my evil alarms. Stefan had once said this was one of the Daemoni’s favorite stomping grounds.
I felt their eyes on me. They surely had to recognize me. They could capture me if they wanted. I tried to ignore my sense’s command to run, telling myself I wasn’t the frightened young girl I used to be. What’s the worst they could do to me? I wondered as I stirred the pixie straw around my slushy drink. Would they torture me or just outright kill me? Maybe they’ll bring me to my love. Would they take me to him and let us at least be together? Or did they even have him? Apparently, enough doubt about the video lingered. And then I wondered if they would decapitate me, too, and send the video to the Amadis. My stomach clenched.
And then I saw Owen across the bar, keeping an eye on me. Protecting me. Probably just as much from myself as from the Daemoni. I’d given him a job to do again. Actually, I realized, he was not alone. I felt the presence of several Amadis, all on guard for me. Just in case. I had been right—Mom would never let me be completely alone.
I wondered how these innate enemies seemed to coexist. I’d seen the carnage both sides could produce during that bloody battle nearly eight years ago. Rina had said the Amadis only fight when necessary. But why wouldn’t the Daemoni be instigating something with them? Were even they able to control themselves when so immersed in the human world? Or did they have no reason to fight? No orders to attack?
Why should we attack when you are so close to coming to us on your own? You’ll soon realize exactly where you belong.
I stiffened on the barstool. That voice again. The internal voice that was mine, but not mine. The voice of Evil Alexis that scared the shit out of me.
I ordered another drink. Then another one. I hoped to drown the voice away, along with all my other thoughts. I’d never been truly drunk before. I’d been buzzed, but never falling-down, blacking-out drunk. Why not now? I had protectors to ensure nothing bad happened, so why not allow myself that numbness? After three drinks, which should have inebriated me, I felt little effect. Probably overpriced, watered-down drinks the bartender served. In fact, Owen had probably slipped him a larger-than-necessary tip to make my drinks extra-weak. I gave up and headed back to my room, feeling defeated. At least Owen and the others didn’t bother me, for which I felt grateful.
The front room of the suite contained a sitting area with a couch, a chair, and a walnut armoire, which housed a television. A desk sat by one of the windows, with a view of a small courtyard two stories below. A tall, walnut sleigh-bed and another armoire with a second TV furnished the bedroom, the bed made with luxurious linens and a fluffy duvet. The marble-and-walnut bathroom contained boutique-brand toiletries. The hotel was the epitome of luxury. It should have been, for the rate I paid. This would have been a nice place for a vacation . . . or a honeymoon. But not better than where mine had been. The place I would have to face tomorrow.
As comfortable as the bed looked, I knew the threat of nightmares—more replays of that video—wouldn’t allow me to sleep. So I sat down to write for the first time in days, pounding on the keyboard for hours, and eventually fell asleep at the desk. The nightmare came, and I awoke with a start, his scream still echoing in my head.
I wished I had gone straight to the beach house. I needed to feel him, to remember him, to keep hold of that thread of hope. Then I thought of his bag, with his few pieces of clothes still in there—his things I could touch and feel and hold close. I started to stand.
Daemoni! Evil! Run!
“Do not move, Alexis.” The deep, gravelly voice of the vampire again. My heart jumped against my chest. “Settle yourself down. You don’t want to excite me.”
I took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, but not because the detestable voice told me to. I needed to be able to focus and figure this one out. Because I was pretty sure I was awake, sitting at the desk, thinking about my husband. But maybe not. Maybe one nightmare had slipped into another.
“Good girl. Nice and slow.”
Yeah, whatever. I found it difficult to control my heart and my breathing because now I just wanted to scream and wake myself up. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that either.
“You did not listen to me. You are still writing.”
I swallowed, not answering. Real fear crept in, poking black fingers into the edge of my mind.
The vampire stood only five feet away, his red, glowing eyes glaring fiercely at me. His arms were crossed against his chest, his marble-white skin contrasting starkly with the black silk shirt, tucked into tailored, black slacks. This was the first time he’d appeared in the light, and he looked very similar to the descriptions in my books. Except . . . not exactly. His lips were wrong.
I had always pictured my worst villain with full, dark-red lips, as if permanently stained with blood. This creature had white, hard lips that looked chiseled into a stone face. And he appeared much thinner, lankier, even weaker-looking than the image in my head. Finally, he wasn’t exactly good looking. Most authors of vampire lore, including myself, always described the extreme attractiveness of the vampire’s face as part of their lure. This creature could possibly be appealing, if he weren’t so downright frightening.
“I am not here to attract you as my prey,” he said, as if reading my mind. His lips pulled back from his razor-sharp teeth and pointed fangs. “You apparently are not taking me seriously enough, so my goal is to scare you. Am I doing a good job?”
Yes, very much so. I stared at him wide-eyed, frozen in place. The Daemoni alarms still rang in my head.
“Are y-you D-Daemoni?” I finally managed to ask.
He smiled—it looked stunning and wretched at the same time. “Ah, so you are not so stupid after all. If I answer yes, will you take me more seriously?”
I ignored his question, needing answers to my own. Even if this was just a dream. “Do you have my husband? Is he still alive? Do you know where he is?”
He glowered at me, the red eyes burning brightly, and then hissed. “You have no husband! Your baby’s father abandoned you. Wants nothing to do with you!”
I cringed at the words although they weren’t new. He’d given the public’s story. Anyone could have said that.
“You’re not real. You’re just a dream,” I muttered.
“Stupid, STUPID WOMAN!” he growled, suddenly right in front of me, leaning over me. His eyes changed with the burst of anger, to the deepest, darkest black of death. Just the edges of the iris still glowed red.
I could see my horrified expression in those deep-black eyes. This nightmare felt even more real than my memory-dreams. I could hear his ragged breathing, feel it on my face, smell the unexpectedly pleasant, sweet scent: strawberries covered in sugar and cream. Is this really a dream? My heart raced even faster. I thought my ribs would break from the pressure and my heart would just fly out, right into his hands.
“Stop it!” he hissed, stiffening, and with a blur of movement too fast to even see, he stood on the
other side of the room. “Down to business, Alexis. You are almost done with your book, and I need to stop you from finishing. You have exposed enough of our truths.”
How would he know? “You have to be a dream. Only a few people know how this last book is going and that it’s almost done.”
“Think about it, foolish one. There are some of us who can fool humans, immerse ourselves into their world. You have met a few. So even you can see we could have someone working at a certain publishing company?”
I stared at him, shaking my head, trying to make it all go away. This was nonsense, Swirly screwing with my dreams now. Wake up!
“This is my last warning, Alexis. Our last warning. Not one more word. Do you understand?”
I shook my head slightly. I didn’t really mean to contradict him. The movement was more about denying this whole . . . situation.
“You’re not real,” I whispered. Again, not to challenge him. I was trying to convince myself. With barely a sound, I added, “Go away.”
Of course, he didn’t obey. Instead, he let out a dreadful, harsh bark, a humorless laugh.
“Go away? Yes, you would want that. I would, too, you know. I would much rather be spending my time on something I could have. But, for now, anyway, I can only play. You must know there are many ways my nest and I can torture you . . . ways to hurt you without ever providing the relief of death. You are, after all, telling the entire human race about us.”
“But I’m off limits,” I blurted nonsensically, my dream-self confusing vampires with the real monsters of my life. Daemoni were prohibited from killing Amadis royalty unless Provoked, as in official Provocation with a capitol P.
“Hmm. And you are supposed to be so intelligent.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at me in silence for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and his words came slowly and deliberately, as if I were too stupid to understand basic concepts. “It is simple, Alexis. Exposing us makes anything justifiable. One more page, one more paragraph, one more word in that damn book of yours and play time will be over. Do you understand now?”