by Kristie Cook
She smiled brightly. "You will be splendid. Ours is an inner beauty that radiates outward. It is part of who we are. And you have so much love, hope and faith within you already—you will outshine all of us."
I figured that's what all Amadis moms told their daughters, because I surely didn't feel much love, hope and faith. In fact, they seemed to be buried under despair and distrust…mostly distrust of myself.
"As for Tristan," Mom continued, "he was made to be exceedingly attractive, another tool in his toolbox—or bait in his tackle box would be more accurate. I do have to say, though, his outer beauty has improved since the first time I met him and, I admit, he's become even more exquisite over the last several months."
I thought I was the only one who noticed. Great. He's getting even more attractive and I'm still plain me.
***
The night following my last final exam, Tristan and I met some of my classmates at Mario's to celebrate surviving the semester. Carlie from communications had been in one of my spring classes, too. She'd invited us to join her, along with her roommate and another friend and a couple of guys from our class, since they were coming to the Cape. Neither Tristan nor I really wanted to be there, but it was something to do to avoid being alone.
Not particularly enjoying the conversation, I slipped into observation mode. Carlie's roommate and friend were a lot like her—pretty in an all-American, girl-next-door kind of way. I noticed they were quite flirtatious with Tristan and, for someone who didn't want to be there, he was exceptionally warm toward them.
After seeing the engagement ring on my finger, Carlie had mentioned once that maybe she'd been wrong about Tristan. I wondered now if she'd noticed what Mom and I had and decided he wasn't so scary after all. She'd been right in the beginning that there was a dangerous side to him, but…she missed the part of how exceptionally loving and generous he was, too. He was an unbelievably rare and beautiful creature, inside and out, and I was doing a pretty good job of completely blowing it with him. I sighed.
His head snapped up and he looked at me with an odd expression, then his eyes darted to something behind me. I couldn't tell if anger or interest flickered in his eyes as they narrowed. He pursed his lips, then went back to the conversation with the girls. I was so used to being the center of his attention, I even noticed how he hadn't looked back at me, but focused immediately and directly on Carlie and her friends.
Trying not to be too obvious, I snuck a peak over my shoulder to see what caught his attention. Mostly men lined the bar—except for one leather-clad, long-legged female who took a seat at the end closest to the door. Her long hair was almost as white as the silk, low-cut blouse she wore. Her skin was nearly as pale, smooth as a porcelain doll. The black leather mini-skirt and knee-high boots contrasted starkly with the rest of her. She was absolutely gorgeous. All the men at the bar agreed—they stared at her with their mouths hanging open.
I sighed again. Yep, I'm really blowing it.
My self-esteem plummeted right through my feet and into the floor. I bit my lip and stared at my lap, my right hand turning the engagement ring on my finger round and round. How can he love me when he can have that? Why would he want to be with me? I definitely don't deserve him.
Disgusted with myself, I mumbled something about needing to get home for something stupid, nearly knocked my chair over as I hurriedly stood up and made a beeline for the door. I didn't even wait to see if Tristan followed. I was close enough to walk home and almost welcomed the idea. As I passed the bar, though, a rough-looking man stepped away from it, directly in my path.
Evil! Stay away! Bad! Danger! Evil!
"They're cute," he said, nodding at Carlie and her friends, "but you, lassie, you're a pistol. There's fire in your eyes."
My alarms sounded loudly but I stood frozen in place. I stared at the man in astonishment. He might have been attractive at some point in his life, but his face was rough, weathered, threatening. He looked like an ugly, overgrown leprechaun.
What are you doing?! Run now! Evil!
I inhaled sharply—the smells of booze, cigarettes, rotten meat and, strangely, sweet citrus poured off him—and eyed the path to the door. As soon as I shifted toward an opening, he shifted that way, too, grinning maliciously, exposing crooked, yellow teeth. Not a leprechaun…an ogre.
"Where ya going, lassie?" he asked with an Irish accent. "I just got here. Don't leave already. Lemme buy ya—"
Someone grabbed my left hand from behind me and pulled me back. My heart jumped as the thought he had an accomplice flashed through my mind, but Tristan stepped in front of me, holding my hand at the small of his back. He stared angrily at the vulgar man, stopping him in midsentence. I was pretty sure Tristan couldn't kill with just a look, but if he could, this man would have dropped to the floor dead.
"Ah, Seth," the man said. They glared at each other and then the ogre nodded at me. "This one yours, huh? 'Bout time ya took advantage of what ya got. Nice catch."
I looked at Tristan, confused. The ogre acted like he knew Tristan.
"Back off," Tristan growled.
"Ah, come now, I was just having a little fun. Got your name on her, huh?"
"I don't even know her. Just leave her alone." He squeezed my hand, I thought to send me a message. I took it to mean to go along with it or keep my mouth shut. I did both.
"Ah, just a play toy, then?" The fiend sneered. "Why don't ya share?"
"I said to back off!" Tristan took a half-step forward.
The ogre laughed throatily. "I think we need to have a little visit. It's been a while."
"Not here. My place."
"Ha! Ya think I'm stupid? Nah. We stay in public, where there's witnesses. O'Shea's, by the beach." The ogre drained his full glass of amber-colored booze the bartender had just set down, threw money on the bar and started for the door before we even moved. He glanced over his shoulder. "And don't even think about letting her go. Bring the lass."
"Tristan, who is that?" I asked once the ogre left.
"Shh…he can still hear us," he whispered.
"Hey, Alexis, Tristan, you still leaving or did you change your minds?" Carlie asked from behind us.
Tristan swore under his breath, then said, "We have to go."
He pulled me toward the door, not letting go of my hand. I followed him to the car in silence, nearly jogging through the rain to keep up, narrowly avoiding big puddles from the day's downpours.
"Now?" I asked once we were in the car. He nodded. "So, who is he? He's wretched!"
"Yes, that he is." He stared forward out the windshield, his jaw muscle twitching as his teeth clenched. "Give me your ring."
I instinctively hid my hand far away from him and stared at him wide-eyed. He changed his mind? I already blew it?
He looked at me and his face softened, as did his voice. "Just for now, my love. He can't see it. They can't know, remember?"
"Who?"
"Who do you think?"
As I realized what Tristan meant, terror overcame me. My voice trembled. "Why can't you just take me home?"
"Because he'll follow me and I'll lead them right to you and Sophia." The anger had returned, but he stroked my face gently. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. Don't forget who I am. There's a reason he doesn't want to be alone with me."
He grinned, but it wasn't with humor. In fact, it was spine-chilling.
I pulled my ring off and reluctantly handed it to him, my hand shaking. He stuffed it in his jeans pocket, then reached over and tucked my necklace under my shirt. Then he drove us to O'Shea's, an Irish pub by the beach. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number as he drove.
"Ian's in town…Headed to O'Shea's…Yeah, she's with me…I know, but I don't have a choice. I can't take her home with him on my tail…. It's not necessary…I'll bring her home as soon as it's safe." He clapped the phone shut.
"Who was that?"
"Sophia. She needed to be warned."
I panicked
, making my voice screechy. "She's not coming, is she?"
"I don't know. She really needs to stay away for both of you."
"He's a…a Daemoni?" I asked, nearly choking on the word.
He nodded. "He is now. Wasn't always. Just as Sophia brought me to the Amadis, the Daemoni are sometimes successful in bringing your people to their side."
"Oh," I breathed. "Why did he call you 'Seth'?"
His face twisted in the light from the dash. "That was my Daemoni name. They refuse to use the name Tristan."
I reached out for his hand, needing to hold him, at least some part of him.
"Listen… He'll probably figure it out—your looks give it away anyway—but we need to try to not let him know who you are. And he definitely can't know about…us." He glanced at me. "Remember what I told you about my weakness?"
I nodded. Me.
"I'll probably have to say things I don't want to…just remember, it's just as hard for me to say as it is for you to hear. Remember, too, deception is his most powerful weapon. Don't believe any of it, okay?"
I swallowed hard and nodded. We turned into O'Shea's parking lot.
His voice softened to nearly a whisper. "I love you more than life, Alexis. Always remember that."
"I love you, too, Tristan. Please believe that," I whispered. He squeezed my hand and nodded.
"He can hear us now." We pulled into a parking space and a motorcycle parked next to us. The rain apparently didn't bother the ogre.
Keeping his own body between mine and Ian's, Tristan gently pushed me in front of him, as Ian followed us into the pub. I'd never been inside before and when we walked in, I was sure I wasn't even allowed to be there. I was underage and this was no restaurant. It was dark and kind of dingy, the odor of beer and harder liquor strong in the air.
I smelled a familiar scent and noticed Owen sitting at the bar. Oh, no! I looked away before I caught his eye, afraid he'd see the fear in my face. I definitely didn't want to drag him into this mess. I briefly wondered what he was doing in a place like this; it didn't seem his kind of hang-out.
Tristan directed me to a table, where we sat next to each other and Ian took a chair across from us. I started to reach for my pendant until I saw Tristan just barely shake his head, knowing that playing with it had become a nervous habit. There had been a reason he'd tucked it under my shirt. Needing something to do with my hands, I yanked and twisted my hair instead, trying not to rip it out from fear.
As a waitress took our drink orders, the gorgeous blonde from Mario's entered the bar. That surprised me even more than Owen being there—it definitely didn't seem like her kind of place. Owen moved around the bar to sit next to her. She didn't look happy at all about it, but let him pull her into a conversation—from what I could tell, a strained conversation. I hoped they could keep each other company, or, at least, busy. I didn't exactly want her attention on Tristan. And I definitely didn't want Owen's attention on any of us.
Ian kept his pale blue eyes on us as he sat back in his chair, scrubbing his hand through his untidy, dull red hair, then folding his arms across his chest. He lifted his chin in my direction.
"Another toy for your collection?" His voice was calm, cool, but I could hear the menace in the tone.
"I told you, I don't know her. She's just a girl at the restaurant." Tristan was a smooth liar…except his actions spoke too loudly.
Ian smirked. "Yeah, see, I don't quite believe that. You're too protective of her."
"Only because she's an innocent girl, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just let her go and you and I can…visit."
Ian chuckled, a disgusting rattle, and leaned forward in his chair. "Protecting the innocent these days, huh? Well, if she means nothing to ya…then why don't ya lemme play?"
Tristan leaned forward, too, and I could see his muscles tighten against his shirt.
"No!" he growled.
"Hmph…yeah, what I thought." Ian looked smug, still peering at me.
"What do you want, Ian? What are you doing here?" Tristan tried to distract the ogre, but Ian stared at me harder.
"Well, I heard ya were around and I was in the neighborhood, so thought I'd drop in to say hullo, catch up, you know. But looks like I found an interesting situation." Ian leaned almost all the way across the table, his fumes nauseating me. He studied me closely in the dim light. "Ah-ha. Yeah…I thought I heard blondie call ya Alexis. Wouldn't happen to be Sophia's Alexis, would ya, lassie?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Tristan said.
"The looks are right. The name is right." He reached his hand out to touch my face and I jerked my head back in revulsion. In a flash, Tristan was on his feet and lifting Ian by the collar. Several people turned to look in our direction. Ian laughed quietly. "Just a girl, heh?"
"Don't touch her," Tristan snarled.
Ian held his hands up in surrender. "All right, all right. I get it."
Tristan let him go and they both picked up their fallen chairs and sat back down. The staring bar patrons finally looked away. I understood why Ian wanted witnesses—Tristan couldn't do anything…unusual…here.
The ogre grinned wretchedly and his voice returned to its coolness. "Ya know, Seth, ya play with fire, you'll get burned. Even you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Amadis royalty? The worst of all evils. Not even you, the ultimate warrior, can handle that. They'll take ya down."
A moment of silence hung around us as the waitress set our drinks on the table then scurried away.
"You've never been the clever one, have you, Ian?" Tristan said. "You never could tell your ass from your head."
"Oh, right." Ian nodded. "I almost forgot. You think the Amadis are good, perfect. I spent two centuries with 'em, lived with all their damn rules, under their control. And I'm the one who's ignorant?"
"Your lustful advances were rejected. You were out of line."
"Don't matter. I found my true family. Your real family, Seth. Ya think the Amadis are going to like this?" He waved his hand toward me. "Ya think you're just one of them now? You're the one who's mistaken. They'll stomp all over ya and throw ya out with the bleedin' rubbish…if they don' kill ya first. I'm surprised they haven't done it yet…."
Ian's voice trailed off as his eyes widened. He nodded slowly, as if a realization had just dawned on him. He smirked again, his pale eyes moving back and forth between Tristan and me.
"Ahhh. That's right. They're still using ya, aren't they? Have a little assignment for ya to do?" Ian's voice was mocking. Tristan stiffened.
The question dinged in my head like an alarm or a reminder. I couldn't grasp at the thought trying to come forward from the back of my mind.
"You're wrong," Tristan said.
"Oh, I don't think so. They let ya have a little taste of royalty arse here—" Ian flicked his hand toward me again "— they get what they want and ya get to walk free. Nice little assignment, ya lucky bastard."
"Lies, Alexis, remember what I told you," Tristan warned me. Instead, I remembered that thought I had tried to grasp…Tristan saying something about an assignment he had when we first met. Is that what Ian's talking about?
"Ha!" the ogre barked. "I was there, there when all the plans were made. Remember? Lil' Alexis, just a babe then, and they had it all planned for ya."
"Remember, Alexis, he's a deceiver." Tristan's voice had that steely undertone to it.
"No, this is the truth, lassie." Ian looked at me with glee in his eyes. "You were just a tiny bundle when the Amadis planned everything. You and Tristan here…"
"Shut the hell up, Ian!" Tristan nearly jumped out of his seat. Several people glanced over at us again.
My throat closed in and my stomach knotted as I realized what Ian said. Is it true? I tried to believe what Tristan had told me, repeating it to myself. Deception is his most powerful weapon. Ian carried on in a mocking tone and it was too hard to block out.
"Oh, yes…Princess Alexis and King Tristan, the perfe
ct combination, making the most powerful Amadis baby ever." Ian bounced in his seat with excitement as he watched my reaction.
"What?" I choked.
"Don't listen," Tristan whispered. "He's just trying to take advantage of the situation, turning things around."
He stood up and leaned threateningly over the table toward Ian. His voice was low, but no longer a whisper. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I will make it so you can never talk again. Witnesses or not."
"You two got a problem, take it outta here," the bartender called over in our direction.
Tristan held his hand out to me. "Come on, Alexis, we're done here."
I started to move.
"Ah, so ya don't know yet," Ian said to me, stopping me, somehow mesmerizing me with his voice. Or maybe it was those pale blue eyes, like shallow pools of water, just deep enough to pull me under. "Looks like Seth's the one who's been doing the deceiving. What'd he do? Pretend to fall in love with you? He's the best liar, I'm sure ya believed every last word…every kiss. Did he feed ya the Amadis lie? Did he tell ya that you're meant to be together when he don't even believe it?"
The air caught in my throat as I tried to breathe. My chest squeezed and my pulse throbbed in my ears. I looked up at Tristan, my eyes wide and burning. With no air, my voice was small. "Tristan?"
He turned stiffly to look at me. Muscles in his neck bulged and his fists clenched, veins popping out.
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he said flatly. Then he turned back to Ian, his eyes hard as marbles, his voice cold as ice. "She means nothing to me. Leave her alone and deal with me."
The air I'd been holding in my lungs came out in a whoosh. I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes.
"So you did lie to her. Back to your old ways, huh?"
Too fast to even see, Tristan had Ian pinned face down on the table, his arm twisted sickly behind him. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW!"
I trembled on the rickety wooden chair as everything inside me plummeted to the darkness of hell. It is true. Tristan's been lying. I heard a choking sound and thought it was Ian but realized it was me, my chest heaving, my throat squeezing. He doesn't really love me. Tristan. Doesn't. Love. Me.