Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  The Angels’ army . . . the phrase bounced around my skull. It should sound empowering, but all I could think about was the fighting. The blood and pain. The deaths. My hands pressed against my belly as I tried to draw hope from the tiny lives inside. But I only felt despair. What kind of world am I bringing them into? What kind of lives would they lead?

  Mom and Rina had been right all along. I was not ready for this. The Ang’dora would make me more like them and better able to comprehend and accept. I hoped. Right now, my feeble human mind could not relate.

  I had to focus on something that made more sense—that was more within my grasp of understanding.

  “Is this why we moved all the time?” I finally asked Mom. “I always thought it was the men. Were we being hunted and I just didn’t know it?”

  Mom sighed. “No, honey. The Daemoni never bothered us until they discovered you and Tristan together.”

  “Oh. So, then, why did Owen come into the picture? He was around almost a year before the Daemoni knew anything.”

  Mom didn’t answer at first. She pursed her lips and stared at the concrete wall for several moments. “Remember how I knew Tristan was close before you ever brought him to the store?”

  It only took a moment to understand. “Owen didn’t come to protect me from the Daemoni. He came to protect me from Tristan.”

  Mom nodded. “At the time, I thought you needed it.”

  I chuckled darkly. “And I thought you tried to set us up.”

  Mom chuckled, too. “Actually, I’ll admit I thought he was a better choice for you. But I was obviously mistaken. That weekend I went away, I went to see Rina and she was still adamant the two of you belonged together. I guess I knew it all along somewhere in my heart. I didn’t try as hard as I could have to convince you or Tristan to stay apart. Of course, my power wouldn’t have worked anyway. It can’t be used to change what’s meant to be.”

  “I do not know why you tried so hard to prevent it, Sophia,” Rina said. “But at least it brought you to me for a personal visit, after so many years of your absence.”

  “You know we stayed away for Alexis’s good,” Mom said. “But now it looks like we will stay close. Today will not be the end.”

  “No, it will not,” Rina murmured.

  Thick silence filled the small room.

  “So why didn’t the Daemoni bother us all those years?” I asked Mom to keep the conversation going. I needed a distraction.

  She shrugged. “They don’t fare well with me and they gave up coming near me.”

  “Why?”

  “Tristan isn’t the only one I brought over to the Amadis. In fact, Lucas is the only one I didn’t convert, given the opportunity.” Despair colored her tone. For some reason, she still grieved over him. I hadn’t realized the extent of her power of persuasion—or why she had been given that gift.

  “We moved so much for many reasons,” she continued. “We wouldn’t have been able to stay in one place for too long anyway—people would notice I don’t age. But that never became an issue. Sometimes, it was just because of who we are—like when you fell off the slide when you were in kindergarten and the cuts that should’ve needed stitches healed on their own, or the fleabag who tried to molest you and I nearly killed him, or the boy you sent sailing across the yard. Other times, though, you’re right, it was the men.”

  “I never understood that. How come you always left them?”

  “Well . . . normal, human men can’t handle our love. I think you’ve experienced the results of our passion?” She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Bruises, broken furniture . . . I’m surprised the whole house didn’t fall down with you two.”

  I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, even in my distress.

  “You don’t even have your full power or strength—you don’t have a small fraction of it. Imagine what could happen to a normal man with me.”

  “Oh,” I said, considering the potential injuries.

  “Add that to the extreme love I feel for everyone—the same love you’ll feel after the Ang’dora,” she continued. “We can’t help who we are. Unfortunately, sometimes the ones we love just aren’t capable of handling it. I had to leave before I hurt them, emotionally or physically. It was always after they became too persistent about sex or when they proposed.”

  “Wow, I had it wrong.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “Of course you did. I could never tell you what was really going on. I’m just happy you have a relationship where you never have to worry about it.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. It reminded me my love was gone . . . and I didn’t know when I would see him again. Tears streamed down my cheeks as we sat in silence for what felt like hours.

  “Where are they?” I finally asked, jumping to my feet as irritation sprang every nerve. “When will they be back? What’s taking so long?”

  “Patience, darling,” Rina said. “They will return when it is safe.”

  I paced the small room, gripping my pendant and sliding it back-and-forth on the chain, pushing the little key with it. What may have been more hours, or possibly just minutes, passed. Then Rina suddenly stood up.

  “Owen is back. The shield is replaced.”

  I bounced on the balls of my feet as she and Mom unbarred and slid back the concrete door. They grabbed me and sped up the stairs. We stopped in the foyer as soon as Owen burst through the front door. He stumbled inside, his face stark white.

  “Owen!” Mom cried with relief. He stood there stiffly, his eyes wild.

  I flew into his arms, standing on my toes to look over his shoulder for the others. I knew immediately something was dreadfully wrong. This was not laid-back Owen. His back was rigid. His face twisted in pain or grief or . . . horror.

  “Where’s Tristan?” I asked, searching the empty space behind him, panic already rising. He didn’t answer or even look at me, his arms stiff around my shoulders.

  “Where are the others?” Rina asked.

  “There were just too many,” he finally said, his arms falling limply to his side. “They kept coming. Too many to fight at once. Stefan . . .” He couldn’t finish, a mix of defeat and grief on his face.

  “No!” Rina and Mom gasped. He nodded.

  “Sheffie?” I whispered, tears springing to my eyes.

  “He’s . . . dead,” Owen confirmed darkly. Oh, no! God, no!

  “Tristan?” I cried. He didn’t answer.

  “We never made it to the meeting place. They mobbed us. Only three of us got away,” Owen said bleakly. “Solomon, me and . . .”

  I didn’t hear the last person, already screaming the name I needed to hear. I grabbed his shirt and shook him. “Where is he? Where is Tristan?”

  He just shook his head, not looking at me, not saying anything.

  “WHERE IS HE, DAMN IT?!” I yelled, panic and hysteria gripping my heart.

  “I-I d-don’t know,” he finally whispered. “There were dozens on him. I think he’s . . .”

  His voice trailed off.

  And the earth stood still. It stopped spinning on its axis and just hung in dead space as I stared at Owen and tried to comprehend what he was saying. The meaning was right there, stuck in midair between Owen and me, but my mind wouldn’t, couldn’t, refused to grasp it. Then the realization crashed down on me like a semi-load of concrete blocks. And the world lurched into motion again, spinning way too fast, swirling around me in dizzying blurs.

  “NO!” I cried. My chest caved in and my stomach heaved like it had been punched, sending my heart into my throat. I choked on it, sobbing. “NO! NO! NO!”

  I beat Owen with my fists. Mom pulled me off, into her arms.

  “NO!” I screamed again as loud as I could and it echoed around the two-story foyer. “Oh, God, no! Not my Tristan . . .”

  I collapsed to the floor and cried, refusing to believe it. I pounded the stone floor until my fists bled. I felt like I could die. Like my heart had bee
n crushed into pulp and twisted out of my chest. I wanted to die. Babies or no babies, I wanted to be with my Tristan. I could not do this without him.

  Mom tried to comfort me. I pushed her off.

  “He can’t die!” I yelled at her. “He’s supposed to be invincible. Immortal!”

  “Honey,” she said softly, “there is only one way to immortality and it is not here on Earth.”

  “What do you feel?” I cried. She didn’t answer. “Rina?”

  Rina shook her head, tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, God, noooo . . .” I sobbed into the floor.

  Tristan’s beautiful face swam in front of my eyes, his sublime smile, his love-filled, hazel eyes looking into mine, the green shining and the gold flecks sparkling. I heard his lovely voice murmur, “I love you, ma lykita,” as if his lips were right against my ear. And my heart shattered into pieces, knowing I couldn’t reach out and touch him although he felt so close. So close. Right here, with me.

  “He’s not dead,” I cried into the floor. “He’ll come back.”

  And I had to believe that because there was just no other option. I had to hold onto it. He promised.

  And when he didn’t come, my life fell into a black pit of nothingness.

  Epilogue

  8 Months Later

  “CHOO-CHOO-CHOO” I panted through clenched teeth, keeping a train’s rhythm, just as Mom instructed.

  “Okay, honey,” she said from between my legs. “Get ready . . . almost . . . again! PUSH!”

  She didn’t have to tell me. I could feel the pressure on my lower belly, squeezing inside, and all I wanted to do was push. I heaved down, pushing with every bit of strength I had left.

  “I see the head. Almost there.”

  Yeah, no kidding. I felt the head, like a basketball wedged halfway inside me, ripping me apart. I’d been in labor for nearly two days. I’d been pushing for what seemed like hours. But I now felt too weak to keep going. The edges of my vision faltered. Pinpricks of light popped in front of my eyes.

  “You need to push harder than that, hon.” Her voice faded with each word.

  “Alexis?” Rina sounded so far away, she must have been in another world.

  Mom said something. It sounded like something about my blood pressure. But I couldn’t hear her anymore. I couldn’t see anything but grays. And then blackness.

  When I came to, Mom was tucking a tiny bundle into the crook of my arm and turning it toward my breast.

  “Your son, honey,” she said, aligning his mouth with my nipple. His eyes fluttered and he briefly looked up at me, the steel-blue of a newborn. The few strands of his hair were still wet and plastered to the side of his head. He latched on, his lips moving slowly, awkwardly as he drank for the first time.

  “Dorian Stefan,” I whispered through a groggy daze, tears brimming over and sliding down my face. One dropped onto his cheek. I gently wiped my finger across it, feeling the downy softness of his face. I fell right to sleep as he suckled.

  I awoke screaming. It was typical for me. The same nightmare every night ended my dreams with terror. But this time was different. Not the dreams. Just the panic gripping me.

  “My babies! Where are my babies?” I shrieked.

  “Rina’s changing Dorian,” Mom said from a chair beside my bed. She sounded tired and . . . something else.

  I calmed with the realization I was in my own bedroom. Well, it’d been my bedroom here at the safe house for eight months. It wouldn’t be much longer. We’d have to move, as soon as the babies and I were strong enough. Which meant I wouldn’t be able to stare out the window at the last place I saw Tristan, as I’d been doing since that dreadful day, waiting for his return. The last time I saw him was, of course, a horrendous memory . . . but my last memory of him, nonetheless.

  Now, he’d missed the birth of his babies. How much more would he miss? Nobody knew. As far as I knew, we’d heard nothing since his disappearance, though I lay in bed withdrawn into myself, just trying to stay healthy enough for the babies’ survival while my world fell apart around me. But if anyone knew anything, they didn’t tell me. Tears leaked from my eyes.

  “What about my daughter?” I whispered. “I haven’t even met her yet.”

  Mom moved from her chair to sit on the side of my bed. She took my hand in hers. Her expression was bleak.

  “Honey,” she said, her voice rough and thick. Something was wrong. “Honey . . . you don’t have a daughter.”

  I stared at her, uncomprehending. “Of course, I do. We have to have a daughter.”

  All Amadis daughters had baby girls. We didn’t even accept a male sperm unless a female embryo was already formed. This much I had learned. A girl was needed for the future of the Amadis. How could I not have a daughter? Mom and Rina had both sensed a girl in the womb.

  Mom shook her head slowly. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m sorry, honey. We were wrong. For some reason we don’t know right now . . . you just didn’t have one.”

  I swallowed hard. “No daughter? What happens to the Amadis now?”

  Mom shook her head slowly. Her words came out so quietly, I barely heard her. “We don’t know.”

  “Is there any hope at all? Can I still have a girl? I mean, when Tristan comes back?”

  “No Amadis daughter has been pregnant more than once.” The corner of Mom’s mouth lifted in a half-grimace-half-smile. “But that’s what we hope for. After all, you are unique.”

  Obviously. Always different. Never normal, not even with the weird stuff.

  “Right now, you have this beautiful little babe,” Rina said, entering the room with Dorian cradled in her arms.

  I hadn’t really seen her since shortly after that fateful day. She had to return home to attend to business as matriarch of the Amadis. By the time she arrived for the birth, I was deep in labor and barely aware of her presence.

  Rina looked at me now and smiled, but despite how hard she tried to hide it, I saw the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. She placed Dorian in my arms and left the room. Guilt overcame me. I really screwed up. Why do I have to be so messed up? Though I had no control of it, it was my fault the Amadis would collapse.

  I looked down at the precious bundle in my arms. His hair was dry and fluffy now. He didn’t have much of it, but what was there was a shocking light blond, almost white. I could see his dad in his features already. He opened his eyes and I was surprised they already changed colors. They were no longer newborn-blue. They had wide, emerald-green rings on the outside of the irises and brown around the pupils. And yes, tiny gold flecks that sparkled.

  Tears streamed down my face, happy and sad tears mixed together. Dorian was the greatest gift I’d ever received from Tristan and from God. He was a little bit of his father I could finally hold again. I felt so blessed to have him, but the despair of no daughter weighed heavily. As did Tristan’s absence.

  Nearly two years ago, I thought I knew what I wanted: a career as a writer, a family, true love and an explanation of the quirks that made me weird. Now I was about to become a published author, my first book due out in six months. I didn’t yet have a full explanation of who I really was, but I knew I would one day lead the Angels’ army, fighting real-life demons, though I was half-Daemoni myself. But, without another daughter, the Amadis would end when I did.

  Only two things mattered now: family and true love. I was a mother now, a single-mother in most ways, but I refused to believe I was a widow. Nobody knew if my true love was dead or alive, but I knew. I could still feel him. I knew he would return to me. He promised. I had to hold onto that promise and to Dorian. Otherwise, I could feel an abyss not far away—a darkness I could easily slip into, letting the evil blood within my veins consume me if I wasn’t careful.

  Dorian started crying and I held him against my chest, sobbing with him. His tiny hand flailed, then latched onto my pendant. He quieted immediately. I wrapped my own hand around his to keep him from yanking on it. Warmth radiated from the p
endant, through Dorian’s hand and into mine.

  “That’s our link to Daddy, Dorian,” I whispered against his cheek. “He can’t be here, but he’ll be back soon. Right now, you be my light, okay? Keep me out of the darkness.”

  His little fingers released the pendant and grasped my finger. And I swore I felt a squeeze of affirmation. A second promise to hold onto . . . but not all promises can be kept.

  Find Kristie at …

  WEBSITE

  Redemption

  by

  RK Ryals

  In the beginning . . .

  The dark suffocated me, the inky surroundings full of monsters I couldn’t see. I was supposed to be sleeping but the television was turned up too loud downstairs, and I tossed and turned instead. Mrs. Cavendish was a big fan of Tru TV, and she was laughing appallingly loud as I glanced at the glowing heart-shaped clock next to my bed. The digital numbers stood out too bright in the pitch black room. Midnight. Shouldn’t Mom and Dad be home already?

  My bedroom door creaked open, and I dove beneath my sheet.

  A small voice whispered, “Dayton?”

  Pulling the cover down, I found my sister’s silhouette framed against my bedroom door.

  She took a hesitant step forward. “You okay?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. Amber knew I didn’t like the dark, but our sitter felt I was too old for a nightlight.

  “You’re ten now, Dayton. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Mrs. Cavendish always said. She claimed my parents were discouraging my growth. I didn’t care one whit what she thought! I simply did not like the dark.

  “Dayton?” Amber asked again.

  I whimpered. “Will Mom and Dad be home soon?”

  She slid beneath the sheet next to me, tugging it over our heads before switching on a small Disney Princess flashlight.

  “It won’t be long, I bet,” Amber assured me.

  She flicked the flashlight off and then on, watching the way our faces disappeared and reappeared over and over again. It made me dizzy.