by Kristie Cook
Mom’s face moved over me. “Shh. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“How are you feeling, Alexis?” Rina asked.
“I don’t know. Scared.” I tried to take an assessment, but I couldn’t feel much. Every part of me felt heavy and deadened, like my body had died but forgot to tell my brain. “Kind of numb, actually.”
“Do you feel hot or cold?”
“No, nothing. Nothing at all. Am I okay? I feel almost dead.”
I could hear and talk and see, and I could sense something was wrong. It seemed as though I had no sense of touch anymore, no feeling. I consciously focused on trying to lift my hand but if it even twitched, I felt nothing. Am I paralyzed? I wondered if and how such a thing could have happened.
“I think your body is just resting, preparing for the next wave,” Rina said.
I blacked out again.
When I came to, I first noticed the variety of intense smells. Freesia, lemon, and vanilla first. Mom’s natural scent. Then orange blossoms and fresh rain. Rina. From farther away came pine and sea air—Owen. And then mangos, papayas, lime, and sage. I smiled inside, knowing Tristan was still here. The smells of coconuts, salt water, and stale sex also lingered on the air.
Next, I noticed all the sounds. The blood and energy pounding and whirring through my head came loudest. I heard the whispers of fabric rubbing against itself and two heartbeats, besides my own, in the room. From the background came a low, rumbling growl, like a faraway train, and heavy breathing from somewhere else. And from even farther away, came the waves on the beach.
I briefly opened my eyes. The dim light in the room made me think the shades were drawn against a sunny day outside. Then the light became painfully bright, as if a strobe light hit my face. For one surreal moment, I thought someone had taken a picture with a flash to commemorate this horror I suffered. I squeezed my eyes shut. The reverse images of Mom and Rina’s heads glowed on the backs of my eyelids.
The sense of touch and feeling came last. My skin burned, everything against it feeling arctic, even the air. I felt each thread of wet terrycloth and each droplet of cold water on my arms, around my neck, across my face and forehead as Mom sponged me. Rina’s hands felt like blocks of ice on my chest. Her breath came cool on my face.
The energy traveling through my body earlier began to build and separate at the same time. My muscles felt on fire, and the nerves twitched under my skin. Electricity charged through my veins, currents jumping from cell to cell. The gradual coming on of my senses escalated to a high crescendo, everything—the smells, the sounds, the touches—intensifying to an unbearable level. My ears rang and throbbed. My heart pounded. My breathing became shallow. My body trembled from the onslaught.
“Something’s happening,” I gasped.
Every single muscle, every tissue fiber tensed at once, pulling at each other in opposite directions. My body convulsed, every muscle pulled taut. Lightning shot through my veins, and I felt as though I was being electrocuted from within.
An angry, moaning sound ripped through the room. It came from me.
Rina’s icy hands pressed harder, and I thought my skin would freeze and crack under them.
Then I felt the two streams of power—fire and ice—flow up through my limbs and course through my body, both rushing to my chest. Two angry rivers raging toward each other. Agonizing pain exploded through my chest cavity as the two energetic powers crashed against each other. I screamed with the pain. My back arched uncontrollably, throwing Rina back. The two forces twisted and pushed at each other, tearing through my lungs, ribs, and muscles as if splintering them into pieces. A warmth surrounded my heart, like a shield, while the energies clashed ferociously. The Amadis mark seared and blistered painfully.
“Oh my god, it hurts so much,” I cried. “Make it stop!”
“What’s happening?” Mom gasped.
“It seems the two forces are battling,” Rina answered. She sounded like she stood at the other end of a long tunnel. “We have to let this happen. There is nothing we can do.”
And then the bedroom vanished.
Perhaps I passed out again. I didn’t know what happened. I just knew I was no longer in the back bedroom. Not in mind and spirit anyway.
I felt a sense of both familiarity and disorientation at my new surroundings. Where am I? I sat up and found myself in that strange meadow again, surrounded by mountains, and the lake in front of me. But the place looked and felt different once again. Not a warm, happy place, nor steel-blue-gray and desolate. I slowly rose to my feet as I focused on the tree with the constantly falling leaves.
But only half of it possessed actual leaves. Golden petals filled the branches on the right. They sparkled and glinted as some fluttered to the ground. The branches on the left half, however, were barren of any leaves, any life. Instead, that half looked as if an ice storm had come through, wrapping every branch and twig in a coating of crystal. Snowflakes, rather than leaves, floated to the ground, as if falling from those branches.
My vision pulled out, and I realized I aligned perfectly with the center line splitting the tree between ice and gold. And I realized the whole scene before me was split in half. To my right, the tall grass waved in a warm breeze that caressed my right leg, right arm, right half of my face. Green pines covered the mountain, and the sun shone in the sky, reflecting off the lake. Blue and yellow wild flowers bloomed and turned their faces toward the sun. Birds chirped from their hiding places in the tree branches, and I heard soft footsteps of wildlife on the forest floor.
To my left, the moon shone in a starlit sky, and snow blanketed a field and trees that climbed the side of the mountain. The left side of the lake had the pseudo-transparent look of water frozen solid. A lone white wolf sat near the base of the tree, watching me carefully, though I didn’t feel afraid and it didn’t look concerned. The left half of my own body felt cold, but not uncomfortable. In fact, there was nothing chilling at all about any of the scene. It was a beautiful, wintry landscape at night, just as lovely as the other side, but in a different way.
I considered the strangeness of my environment. How did I get here? What am I doing here?
“You need to decide,” said a familiar, accented voice. Unlike last time, when it had sounded flat, it now resonated across the field like soothing music. I peered to my right and saw Rina and Mom standing far off, near the base of the mountain.
“Decide what?” I asked. I didn’t yell, not feeling the need to, although they were several hundred yards away. I somehow knew they would have heard me even if I whispered.
“Which way you want to go,” said another voice, this one unfamiliar. A male voice with a different kind of accent. With surprise, my head twisted to my left. A man, perhaps in his late twenties, stood almost directly across from Mom and Rina, at the base of his mountain. His hair and goatee were snow-white and his eyes ice-blue, the same face I’d seen earlier in my mind. But now it came attached to a body, clothed in black slacks and a tight-fitting black shirt that emphasized his powerful build. He smiled, but his teeth now looked bright but normal, not icicles as I’d imagined. In fact, the beauty of his smile stunned me. “You can come with us . . .”
“Or with us,” Mom said from the other side.
“Well, that’s a no-brainer,” I muttered. I took a step to the right, toward Mom and Rina. As if in response, the warm, yellow tone of the right side shifted more to the left, taking over part of the winter scene . . . increasing its area.
“Such a quick decision for an intelligent person such as yourself, Alexis,” the man said, halting me in mid-stride as I started to take another step. “There is much for you over here, too. There’s much beauty in the darkness, too.”
He swept his hand through the air, and the snow sparkled in the silver moonlight as if he’d just scattered diamonds over it. I shifted my weight, and when my foot finally came down, it landed back to the left. The wintry side regained the ground it had lost from my first step.
“You can rule the world,” the man said. He waved his hand again, and like the slideshow of my earlier dreams, pictures hung in the air between him and me, but these were different—pictures of palaces and wealth and servants catering to me . . . and to Tristan and Dorian. I moved another step toward that side to get a better look. The scenes changed to even more people following us, worshipping us, then to Tristan and me standing at the top of stone steps, waving at a crowd of people that stretched farther than the eye could see.
“Power or love, Alexis?” Rina called from the other side. I turned toward her and Mom. They waved their hands, and more pictures hung in the air, of Dorian and Tristan, of Mom, Rina, and Owen. They moved their hands again, and warmth flowed over me. Again, the decision came easily. I had little use for power, but I needed love. I took several steps in their direction.
“You can have it all over here,” the man called out. “Power, love, wealth . . . everything you ever wanted. Everything.”
I glanced over there, his side much smaller now after the steps I’d taken to the right.
“Lies, Alexis,” Rina said. “Remember that they deceive. They do not know love.”
The man shrugged. “But isn’t this what you want?”
More pictures appeared, all filled with Tristan, Dorian, and me, involved in different activities, all of us looking blissfully happy.
“Only with us can you all be together, can you have it all,” the man said. “Otherwise, you lose.”
He snapped his hand back, as if snatching something from the air. A small boy suddenly appeared in the crook of his left arm. Dorian.
“No!” I started running toward them, feeling the cold side taking over the warmth, creeping closer to Mom and Rina. Every step pushed a ripple of frozen ground into their space, like a loose carpet being pushed back with the force of my feet. But I didn’t care. He had my son.
“Dorian is safe, Alexis,” Mom yelled. “He’s with us. He’s safe. Don’t believe their deception.”
“They lie, too, Alexis,” the man said. “They can’t give you everything you want.”
“We give life and love,” Rina countered.
“We give power and wealth and everything the heart desires,” the man said.
I continued running toward him as Dorian struggled in his clutch. Rina and Mom spoke of love, life, and goodness . . . all those things I believed in so strongly. But I had to ignore them. Something told me that if I went to them, I would lose Dorian forever.
“That’s right,” the man said, as if reading my mind. “Come with us, and you can have those most important to you.”
Tristan suddenly appeared on his knees, in front of the man. He struggled, too, as if bound by something unseen.
“No, Alexis! Come back to us,” Mom cried out.
“That’s it, young one, come to us. We’ll take care of you. You’ll have it all,” the man taunted.
Though I kept running, I never reached them. It was like those dreams, where you keep running and running toward a door at the end of a hall, but the hallway grows longer with each step, so you never make it. I glanced over my shoulder. The snow had crept more than halfway to the other mountain, the darkness of night covering more of the sky. Mom and Rina stood their ground, though, waving their hands, trying to push warmth toward me. I felt just a slight movement of air. Their power was not enough.
“They’re pathetic,” the man said. “They can’t stand up to us. You’re making the right decision. The best decision.”
Dorian and Tristan stopped struggling. In fact, now they suddenly seemed to be perfectly fine, happy even, on that side, smiling and waving me toward them. It can’t be that bad. It’s the best decision. I had no problem believing this to be true. I saw a glorious life with the three of us together, safe, because no one hunted us now. They already had us. Why had that seemed like such a bad thing before? Knowing they had us and what we could do for them, they would treat us like royalty. We wouldn’t be prisoners. They wouldn’t even care about another daughter. We could live life the way we wanted, spending our days together doing whatever we felt like. No more fear. No running from danger. If we were with them, we would have peace. We would be together forever. We would be happy. Everything I ever wanted. It made all the sense in the world. Right?
Then another figure appeared next to the man. This one made my blood turn to ice. For the first time since arriving in the strange field, I felt cold. Freezing. And hateful.
Vanessa. Daemoni, my mind reminded me, as if I’d forgotten. Evil. They are Demons.
The urge to kill her overcame me. I envisioned lunging at her, wrapping my hands around her throat, even clawing and biting at it. I imagined tearing her to shreds and her blood spraying me. The taste of it filled my mouth, and I liked it. I ran at her, my hands in front of me, already curled like claws in anticipation. I will kill you.
The ground around me suddenly gave way to empty blackness, as if I’d stepped off the edge of the world. Air whipped and roared, spinning into a tornado, but instead of debris, pictures of faces swirled around me. Tristan. Dorian. Mom. Rina. The icy man. Vanessa. Owen. Sheree. Vampires. Werewolves. Other frightening creatures.
“You want to kill?” the man’s voice called. “We’ll let you.”
“No, Alexis! You want love!” Rina yelled.
Their words dwindled into chants of “kill” and “love” as visions of fighting, embracing, killing, and loving whirled around me. Fire and ice filled my body again. Churning. Swirling. Clashing. Battling.
“Come home,” my own evil voice called above the pandemonium. “This is what you want!”
“No!” I said. “I don’t!”
I realized I could no longer hear the others. Their voices were gone, and I was left to myself. Images kept flashing in front of me, like the slideshows once again. I saw Tristan’s old memories, but his blood-covered hands in front of me shrunk into my own hands. I saw myself in the midst of battle, people falling, dying at my feet. Then Dorian’s face. Then Tristan’s face. Then me attacking Vanessa. And then she transformed into Tristan.
“No, no, NO!” I yelled. “I love!”
“You hate,” the evil voice said, and a flash of Vanessa’s face appeared.
“No. I refuse. This is not who I am. I am Amadis!”
“You are also Daemoni!”
“Fuck you!”
“See? You’re not them. You’ll never be perfect like them.”
“I don’t have to be perfect. But I am good.”
“You cannot deny the darkness within you.”
“Yes, I can. I’m supposed to choose. I can choose!”
“And?” the voice taunted.
“I choose Amadis. I choose the light, love . . . life.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” I sucked in a deep breath and yelled at the top of my lungs. “I. AM. AMADIS!”
The voice fell silent.
The bedroom returned.
And so did the physical pain.
I thrashed in the bed against the unseen pressure holding me there, my legs kicking and my arms flailing. My chest felt like it shattered open as the power violently pushed through and up, bursting outward, pulling my back off the bed with its force. Icy-hot energy charged painfully from the tips of my toes and fingers and the top of my head, through my body, and up and out of the crater-sized hole in my chest.
One horrified scream ripped through my throat.
An answering roar resonated from somewhere else.
My heart stopped beating.
My lungs stopped breathing.
My body hung in the air.
Then I was falling . . .
Falling . . .
Falling forever . . .
Until darkness overcame me.
Chapter 20
I lay perfectly still with my eyes closed for several minutes as I assessed myself.
No shivers. No burning. The air didn’t feel frozen around me. My body temperature finally
felt perfectly comfortable. The luxurious cotton sheets felt satiny against my bare skin, and I knew I was naked. I also knew I’d returned to the physical world, my world, not that eerie soul-sucking place. I prayed to never return there again.
My heart beat a normal, steady rhythm. The Amadis mark no longer burned, but the skin felt slightly taut. My chest and lungs felt good as I breathed naturally. I sucked in a deeper breath. No pain, no hole. The feeling of my chest ripping open had been so real, I was almost surprised I now felt no damage.
The scents came clearer than ever before, and I determined the people in the house hadn’t changed—Mom, Rina, Owen, and Tristan. Strange sound bites of conversations over the last—last what? I had no idea how long I’d been in that room—hours or days reverberated in my mind, reminding me of Tristan’s absence. But he didn’t leave. He’s still here. I comforted myself with that thought.
My hearing had greatly improved, too, but the sounds were not painfully loud. Footsteps paced against hard tile in the kitchen. The two hearts close by beat steadily, while one in the kitchen pounded harder. The other out there raced, as if pushed to its physical limits. What are they doing out there? I still heard what sounded like a rumbling train, too, but it was deeper and faster now. What is that?
I opened my eyes. The room seemed bright for an instant, but my eyes immediately adjusted. I stared at the ceiling, and I could see every little swirl and divot in the textured paint as if looking through a magnifying glass. I looked around, and the vibrant colors astounded me—colors I’d never seen before. Mom sat on the bed on my left, and I noticed how her hair was not simply auburn or chestnut, but a million different shades of browns and reds, each strand slightly different from all the others. It was breathtaking.
On the far wall behind her hung an African safari painting, keeping with the theme of the room’s décor. I saw each brush stroke and the tiny initials “TK” in the bottom corner. Tristan had painted it many years ago. Now I noticed all the little details he had captured—the different colors of the desert sand, the ridges of giraffes’ hooves, the pond’s ripples. Had I not noticed before because I hadn’t paid enough attention? Or because now I could see so much more clearly?