by Kristie Cook
“Well, Sasha,” I said to the puppy at my feet, “here goes nothing.”
She cocked her head as I pinched my nose and pulled in a large gulp. And immediately sprayed it everywhere.
Not only because it tasted worse than it smelled. But also because two people had suddenly appeared in my kitchen. Sasha instantly became the size of a Saint Bernard, her stripes, wings and fangs all on display. She growled at the intruders—Mom and Charlotte.
“What the hell?” I sputtered, wiping the tea from my shirt. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Didn’t Owen tell you we were coming?” Char asked as she started purposefully walking around the house, pulling all the window blinds shut.
“No. I haven’t seen Owen today.”
“He met us at the airport,” Mom said. “He must not be back yet.”
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, still annoyed at their literally popping in with no notice.
“Where’s Tristan?” Char called from the living room.
Something about her tone, about the way she asked the question struck me like a mallet, rattling my bones. Shaking my soul. I knew why they were here. My stomach rolled then fell to my knees. My chest tightened, and I gasped for air. The cup slid from my trembling hands, shattering against the tile floor. How could Owen do this to us? He knew they were coming, even retrieved their luggage because they couldn’t flash with it.
“You’re . . . here . . . to take . . . him?” I squeaked out between breaths. “Oh, my God. You’re really . . .”
I sank to the floor, unable to finish the sentence, my hand over my gaping mouth.
“You can’t have him,” I whispered, shaking my head violently. “You can’t do this to us. Our time isn’t up.”
The image of Owen coming to the safe house and announcing Tristan’s disappearance nearly eight years ago wavered in my mind, and now I felt the loss, the emptiness, the half-existence all over again. My body began to quake. Mom took a step toward me. Sasha growled again, louder this time.
“It’s okay, Sasha. You know my intentions,” Mom said to the Lykora. Sasha snuffed and stepped out of Mom’s way. Mom dropped to her knees next to me. “Alexis, honey, no. Shh. Calm down. That’s not why we’re here.”
She wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair as I inhaled jagged breaths.
“Then why are you? Why the big ambush?”
Char, now back in the kitchen, chuckled. “Sorry about that. We didn’t mean to make it look like an ambush. Owen was supposed to warn you last night that we were on our way.”
“What’s going on? Are you here for another investigation? More ultimatums to give us?”
“No, honey,” Mom said softly. “We’re here because . . . well, I guess you could say I ran away.”
“More like we escaped,” Char said. “Escaped the crazies.”
“The who?” I asked.
“The crazies. More than half the council have lost their minds. Martin and Solomon are trying to hold everything together, but even Rina’s messed up. We’re hoping Tristan can help us with a plan because the whole council is going down fast and ugly.”
I wiped the tears that had gathered in my eyes. Sasha shrank to her normal, toy-dog size and nudged her nose against my hand. I let her on my lap and dug my fingers into her silky fur.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“When we came here in July,” Mom said, “I told Char about how different I felt after leaving the island, but we’d forgotten about it when we returned. We’d been back a few weeks when I started feeling . . . off again.”
“She was saying and doing things completely unlike her,” Char said. “Martin had often talked about how the Daemoni found ways to mess with people’s minds, and it seems that someone on the island is doing the same. Martin hasn’t left there in weeks, working with Solomon to try to figure it out. It took some doing, but I convinced Sophia to get off the island. She’s finally starting to get back to herself.”
I hugged Mom. “Are you okay now?”
“Yes, I think so. I’m not so sure about Rina, though . . .”
“You think someone’s messing with everyone’s minds? Is that why they’re all crazy?”
Mom shrugged. Char shook her head. “There aren’t any mages powerful enough to affect everyone at once. But someone does seem to be messing with a few of the key people—Sophia, Rina, Julia . . ..”
I snorted. “Julia’s in on it. If she’s acting crazy, she’s just acting.”
Mom opened her mouth to say something, but then she stopped and sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
My face heated. “Sorry. It smells horrible. It’s an herbal tea I thought I’d—”
“No, I mean it’s familiar.” She sniffed again. Then she noticed the pool of greenish liquid on the floor with shards of my coffee mug in it. She swirled her fingers in the tea and lifted her fingertips to her nose. “I’ve had this before. A long time ago.” She paused, trying to remember, but I knew she was wrong. Mistaking it for something else. If she knew what it really was . . . “Yes. London. I’d visited a witch . . . we’d had tea. This tea. It’s when . . . when I was with Tristan and Lucas, actually.”
If I’d had the tea in my mouth, I would have sprayed it out all over again. “Seriously?”
“Yes. It tasted like gasoline but the witch said it would strengthen me, which I needed, to be able to handle Lucas.”
“Mom . . .” I hesitated, knowing she’d probably freak out that I’d even considered taking a concoction on purpose. But I didn’t have to make a decision.
Char blurted it out for me. “That’s a pregnancy potion, Sophia. No doubt, by the smell of it.”
The realization hit Mom and me at the same time, and we both sprang to our feet.
“Mom, it worked for you. That’s what did it!” My hope soared beyond the ceiling, beyond the trees, all the way to the sky. “If it worked for you . . . maybe . . .”
Mom looked at Charlotte. “Is it safe?”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Mom turned to me again, and her face reminded me of Dorian’s on Christmas morning—full of excitement and hope. “Did you drink it? All of it?”
“No, none of it. I spit out the first gulp and dropped the rest, remember?”
She grabbed the teapot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember this . . . that I didn’t realize . . .”
I noticed what Char must have on the island—a difference in Mom. I’d never seen her so hesitant, almost unsure of herself, as if she doubted her own memories or thoughts.
“It doesn’t sound like you knew exactly what you’d been drinking at the time,” Charlotte said.
“No, but . . . we never even thought about it. Alexis could have tried this months ago.”
“Actually, Minh and Galina had brought it up one time, but no one thought it would work on an Amadis daughter, and Rina didn’t want to take the chance,” Charlotte said. “No one knew it had been done before. Makes me wonder who this witch was who gave it to you. Why she hasn’t piped up about it, with everything going on.”
“Actually . . .” Mom paused again, and her face screwed up in a way I’d never seen before, as if she had to physically concentrate on making her brain work. “I think . . .”
She stopped, and Char and I both waited to hear what she thought. The teapot started whistling, steam rising from its spout. Mom picked it up and began fixing my tea and seemed as though she forgot what she’d been thinking. I looked at Charlotte who gave me a see-what-I-mean look. I hated seeing Mom like this. What had they done to her? Who? Why?
“Uh . . . Mom? The witch?”
She looked at me as if confused.
“The witch who gave you the tea?” I prompted.
“Oh. Right.” Her brows pushed together with deep concentration. “There was something about her . . . it bothered me at the time. I couldn’t feel the full truth in her intentions.
I felt she intended to do more for me . . . or for the Amadis . . . than I asked of her, which she had. Because of her, we have you. There was something else, though . . . I felt she wasn’t really a witch.” She paused for another long moment and cocked her head. “I think . . . I think she was really a faerie.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Char muttered. “But not everything. The faeries had an interest in you and Lucas having a child. Why?”
“Maybe they thought it would be fun to see what happened with a crossbreed,” I half-joked. “It’s definitely created all kinds of chaos.”
“Maybe,” Char said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she was really part of the Otherworld anymore.”
“What do you mean you don’t think? Don’t you know the truth?” I demanded.
“That’s part of my problem. I haven’t felt the real truth in things for a while. It’s so . . . disorienting. And my memories aren’t quite as clear as they usually are. Yes . . . I think she had lost some of her Otherworldliness.”
“You think she was ousted?” Char asked.
“Not exactly. I felt then she was helping the Amadis, and faeries, as a group, don’t get involved in our affairs. Not to this extent. She’d gone through such lengths to disguise herself and make sure I drank that potion. I thought her intent was about converting Lucas, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.”
Mom stopped again, and her expression bothered me. She looked so lost, not like herself at all. I was about to ask if she really was okay, but both the front and back doors burst open at the same time. Owen dropped Mom and Char’s luggage in the foyer and rushed into the kitchen just as Tristan pulled Dorian through the rear door.
“Mimi,” Dorian squealed, and he ran into Mom’s arms. “I missed you!”
“Did you get my text?” Owen asked Tristan.
“Sure did,” Tristan said, holding his phone up. “Let’s move.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I finally got word about the Okeechobee wolf pack,” Owen said. “They’re gathering tonight, and I know exactly where.”
“We’re going for a bike ride,” Tristan said. “Get dressed.”
I moved for the doorway but Char grabbed my wrist. She held the mug out to me. “Drink up. Then Sophia and I have something for you.”
I pinched my nose and swallowed the foul tea in three large gulps. A shudder ran up my spine, and I fought my stomach’s desire to expel the liquid back the way it came.
“A little early to be drinking hard stuff, don’t you think?” Owen asked.
“Come on,” Char said, ignoring her son. She took my wrist again and pulled me toward their luggage in the foyer.
“Can’t this wait?” Tristan asked. “It’s not exactly a short ride.”
“I don’t like this idea one bit, Tristan,” Mom said, sounding like my mother again, at least for a moment, “but . . . you will at least have as much protection as possible. Especially Alexis.”
Tristan threw me a questioning look. He saw the changes in Mom, too. Before, she would have been adamant about trying to stop us, saying it was an absurd idea. I returned his gaze with one that said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Char opened one of the suitcases, grabbed something black, examined it, and tossed it to Owen. She picked up something else and tossed it to Tristan. She continued throwing things at them and finally started tossing stuff to me. First, a black leather jacket. It wasn’t heavy; in fact, the leather was thin and supple, and it reminded me of the one Char herself wore. Second, a bustier made of black leather and adorned with purple-dyed suede and silver embellishments. Third, pants made of the same kind of leather as the jacket and a belt with several loops hanging from it, and, finally, a pair of combat boots.
“Are we going to a bike rally? Is this supposed to make me fit in?” I asked, not quite understanding why Char and Mom brought me leathers. Not that I had any—we weren’t the rally kind of bikers, and I didn’t need them to protect my skin from road burn.
“These are warrior clothes,” Char said. “What we all wear out in the field. The leather’s enchanted for maximum protection.”
Warrior clothes. Of course. We could no longer leave home without being prepared for a fight.
“And your weapons,” Char said, waving her hand over the suitcase. She lifted what had appeared to be the bottom of it, exposing a hidden section. She handed me a small knife that flipped in and out of its own hilt, much like a pocket knife, but bigger. “This is your back-up weapon.”
I took it and examined it, flipping it a few times to get used to it. Then she pulled out something longer, nearly as long as my forearm. A silver vine with leaves wound around the gold hilt, circling to the center, where it ended with an amethyst the size of a nickel. The blade hid in a black and purple sheath that matched my bustier.
“Your dagger, Ms. Alexis,” Char said with a bow of her head as she held the hilt toward me.
I took the dagger and pulled it out of its sheath. The sun coming through the window shone through an intricate design of vines and leaves that was cut out of the center of the blade.
“It’s a hand-me-down,” Mom said. “The same dagger Andrew gave to Cassandra.”
Wow. I actually held Cassandra’s dagger. Andrew’s dagger. Specially made in the Otherworld. My earliest ancestors had once wielded this same weapon.
“Of course, Ferrer enchanted it to take your powers,” Char said.
“You remember how to use it?” Tristan asked.
I stepped back and made a few moves. Then Char showed me how swiping my thumb over the amethyst could make the dagger disappear and appear again.
“Not even metal detectors will sense it,” she said.
“It would have been nice to have this all before,” I said. “Like when we first left and had to fight Vanessa all the time.”
“It wasn’t ready yet,” Char said.
“Then they wouldn’t let us bring it to you the first time we came,” Mom added.
“They didn’t exactly let us bring it this time either,” Char said.
“We were always good at covert operations,” Mom said with a smile.
“Thanks to Martin and his help, too,” Char added, and Mom nodded.
Owen looked at his phone. “We need to get out of here, big guy. I’ll be back in a few.”
He disappeared with a pop. Tristan and I quickly changed into our new gear. I expected the leather to be difficult to pull on and uncomfortable to wear, but it came on easily and molded itself to my body, like a second skin. I moved around in it, and after a few minutes, I felt both naked, as if nothing impeded me, yet protected at the same time. I thought I might have found clothes I liked almost as much as shorts and T-shirts.
I was never one who found guys in leather pants sexy, but Tristan changed my mind. At least, for him. The leather didn’t cling to him as it did me, but fit him like jeans, accentuating the curve of his perfect ass, but not in a porn-star kind of way. He showed me how to secure my weapons in my belt loops for easiest retrieval, and he filled his with his own dagger, knives, and discs. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught our reflections as we strode past the bedroom mirror for the door. We looked as though we belonged on the set of some post-apocalyptic movie where the characters were armed up to fight zombies. Of course, we fought vampires, mages, and shape-shifters, not zombies. I didn’t think.
“Do zombies exist?” I asked Tristan.
“Only if the Daemoni want to create them. Which they might, if we really do go to war.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Mom said standing in front of the back door, blocking our way, and I thought maybe she’d returned to herself. But then she moved to the side. “But I realize you’re going to anyway. Who am I to stop you now? I don’t even know the truth anymore.”
“That’s what we’re looking for, Mom. The truth.”
She nodded. “I know.”
> Char took my hand and rubbed my thumb over the dagger’s hilt, making the weapon disappear. “No need for that hanging off your waist as you’re driving down the highway.”
That’s when I realized how dangerous this trip really was. The Weres didn’t pose the real threat. Although they’d been avoiding us, they would fight for us if they had to. The true danger came from the exposure. Owen couldn’t cloak us, otherwise other drivers wouldn’t see us on the road.
“Why are we taking the bikes?” I asked as Tristan and I headed out to the garage.
“We’re going to a bike rally.”
I ignored his obvious point. “I mean, a car’s safer, isn’t it? We could do it how we did when we went to Daytona.”
“Owen can’t get a hold of Blossom, who probably can’t drop everything for us anyway. Sophia’s in no shape to go, Char has to stay with her, and they both have to stay with Dorian. Besides, if we’re going to put our lives in danger, we may as well have fun doing it.” He grinned and winked at me, and I forgot my concerns.
At least until we merged onto I-75 and the lights of magic spells and curses bombarded us.
Chapter 18
Although he couldn’t cloak us for our own driving safety, Owen had shielded us before we left, so the red and blue lights coming from the truck behind us bounced off the invisible bubbles protecting us. One collided with a car, sending it careening into another lane and causing an accident.
“This isn’t good,” I shouted out to Tristan over the screech of scraping metal and the roar of the bike.
“No shit,” he muttered.
“Alexis!” Owen called to my mind. “I have to cloak us, or they won’t stop.”
I still couldn’t open my mind between two other people, not even Tristan and Owen, so I had to relay between them. Owen pulled up next to us, lifted both hands from the handlebars, and thrust them out at us several times, then did the same to himself, and he disappeared. I could no longer see Owen or his motorcycle, or Tristan or ours, for that matter. Without any kind of structure enclosing us, he had to cloak the bikes and each of us individually. I clung to Tristan, though, and felt the rumble underneath me. Brakes squealed and the acrid smell of hot rubber burned my nose as drivers around us panicked at our disappearance.