by Kristie Cook
"In the normal world, I would just tell them to go to hell."
"Yes, but in our world, they are already there. And that still doesn't stop them."
We sat in silence, eating cheese and crackers and grapes, and watched the boats pass by far out on the water. I munched on a cracker and traced the mark on his chest—it fascinated me—when there was a knock on the front door. We stiffened and looked at each other.
"Hmm…Stefan," Tristan said.
I hurried into the bedroom to dress while Tristan answered the door. I felt like he minimized the danger besieging us, so I rushed, not wanting to miss anything. They were just sitting down outside when I came out and joined them.
"I was just telling Tristan what a superlative estate this is," Stefan said, as I took a seat at the back of the table, folding my legs underneath me. "Beautiful, private, easy to shield. A better safe house than Tristan's place because no one even knows you are here."
"That was the idea," Tristan said.
Stefan told us the Daemoni still didn't know about our marriage, but said they were unusually quiet, unlike their normal, boastful behavior. Tristan told him what he'd told me the night before—the sooner they knew, the better. Stefan said he thought it fine for us to stay, but he'd discuss it with the council and let us know.
"I would highly recommend…well, insist… you stay out of Key West," Stefan said as he stood to leave. "You well know that is a prime hunting area for the Daemoni."
"Yes, it's a favorite stomping ground for them," Tristan said, making my spine tingle unpleasantly. "Don't worry. I'd rather they don't know we're even in the vicinity."
We walked Stefan outside and after saying good-bye, he walked off into a mess of trees and brush. I had no idea where he went from there. While we were outside, Tristan showed me around the three-acre property, complete with its own small, private beach. He said our property shared the tiny key with four other homes. Most people driving through wouldn't even know there were homes at all—it looked like a wild jumble of overgrown vegetation from the highway.
The house was a big square, raised on stilts, with the ground level intended for storage. It had a light gray metal roof and darker bluish-gray stucco siding with white trim. The screened balcony off the family room and Caribbean room stretched across the full west side of the house. I hadn't yet explored the two other bedrooms and bathroom on the east side.
"This wasn't one of your models," I pointed out.
"No, this is just a beach house. Those models were dream homes."
"I can't imagine anything better than this," I said. "When did you do it? I never even knew."
"Hmm…I did the drawings last August…when I met you." He smiled down at me. "They broke ground in March…after you said 'yes.' I had to push hard to get it done in time since we kept moving the date up, but they did it. The important stuff, anyway. There are a few things they need to finish up."
"Whoever they are, you'll have to thank them for me." I slid my arm around his waist and pressed against him as we walked up the stairs. "And you…well, I'll never be able to thank you enough."
"You already have, my love. More than you can ever know." He gave me a squeeze and kissed the top of my head.
"So what are we doing today?" I asked as we entered the cool house, a relief from the heat outside.
Tristan glanced at the clock. "In about two hours, we need to go sign some papers to make this house officially the property of Katie Andrews' trust."
"So…we have two hours?" I asked, smiling mischievously.
"Hmm…that's what I'm talking about." He returned the smile and I led him to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes.
We drove back to Islamorada to an attorney's office to sign papers, Tristan supplying an array of documentation giving us both different names, his as the seller, Katie Andrews as the buyer. Afterward, Tristan took me to a couple boutiques to buy clothes. They were a little too showy for my style, so I let him pick them out as I tried them on. He seemed to enjoy himself as much as a guy could and selected several sundresses. He bought a few things for himself, too, and we stopped for groceries.
Time passed strangely—sometimes charging forward, bringing us toward reality way too quickly, and other times seeming to stand still and it was just the two of us in our own world with no cares. We did what we wanted. We sat on our beach and swam, sometimes skinny dipping. Tristan disappeared for a few minutes one day and came back with snorkeling gear, so we snorkeled around our little beach. Well, I snorkeled; Tristan could hold his breath apparently for hours. We prepared new recipes every night, taking turns choosing what to make. We made love…I lost count how many times, but a lot. We stayed in bed as long as we wanted, just talking.
"When we do have children, how many do you want?" I asked him one morning as we snuggled in bed.
"If it were possible, I'd love to have twenty with you, my love," he said. "Making them is a lot of fun."
"Twenty? I'd be barefoot and pregnant forever…or at least until the Ang'dora. I was thinking maybe three or four."
He chuckled. "Whatever would make you happy would make me happy. However, Amadis daughters usually only have one baby—a daughter. That is all that is needed."
"Really? Just one?" My heart sunk. "I want a boy…who is just like you."
Tristan's brows furrowed. "Wouldn't be a good idea."
"What do you mean? You're perfect!" I kissed his chin.
He smiled. "You are perfect, ma lykita. And I hope our daughter will be just like you. Although, there'll be problems when she gets older, since her old man and her mom seem to have anger issues."
"Yeah, we'll have to make Stefan or Owen her bodyguard to keep her out of trouble and to keep us from killing any poor, innocent boys."
"There's no such thing as an innocent boy and that's what I'd be worried about."
I laughed. "So…you said we usually have only one baby. Is there any chance I can have a boy?"
"There's a possibility. Boy/girl twins run in your family."
"Twins? Cool! I wonder what the chances are…."
"I hope not much." His eyes darkened. "Trust me—we really don't want a boy."
"That's not fair. You get your little girl. I just want a little Tristan."
He grunted. "If it does happen, we will not name him Tristan Junior."
"No, we won't," I agreed. "You are my Tristan. I just know he'll be like you. But what would you name him?"
He shrugged. "Never thought about it."
Of course, I had. "I've always liked Dorian. I used to use it in my stories a lot."
He hugged me. "If you like Dorian, then that will be his name."
"You're too easy," I said, returning his squeeze.
"I'm putty in your hands."
I rolled my eyes. "What about our daughter's name?"
"Hmm…we don't make that decision. Rina will likely name her. It must carry on the Amadis royalty's tradition."
I frowned. "That's not very fair either. We should get to name our own child."
"We can make suggestions. Alexis had been my idea for you."
I stared at him open-mouthed. "Seriously?"
He nodded, grinning.
"Okay, that's just weird. You named your future wife?"
He laughed. "We are weird, my love. Rina trusted me even then, had me sit in on council meetings. They asked me my opinion and I gave it to them. It fits you perfectly. It means protector or defender."
"Yeah, I looked it up once a long time ago and I thought it was an oxymoron for me. At least until I punched that guy in the face. I'm not proud I broke his nose, but no one calls my mom a whore."
Tristan chuckled and hugged me again. "Ma lykita. My fierce little protector."
"And you are my ultimate warrior."
"I'll fight for you until the end of my days."
"That would be forever."
"As long as you are by my side, I hope that is true."
***
We had many sim
ilar discussions about our future plans, keeping them on a happy note, avoiding the dark parts threatening our strange lives. It was easy to forget about our dangerous situation, because it felt like we lived in our own personal paradise. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden…before Satan's visit.
By the end of the second week, though, my mood shifted. Classes started soon and the legal wedding approached, too. Unless something changed our plans, we'd have to go home. I cherished our peaceful time at the beach house and didn't want it to end. On the other hand, we both grew a bit antsy, feeling somewhat confined.
"I wish we could go to Key West," I said at the end of that second week as we ate breakfast. "It looks like fun."
"You're not really missing much," Tristan said. "And it would definitely not be a good idea for us."
"I know. I guess I'm just starting to feel a little cooped up here. I don't want to leave, but I'd like to get out for a while." I pushed the remainder of my pancakes around my plate, the blueberries leaving purple swirls in the syrup.
"I should've brought the boat." He watched me for a while, and then finally said, "I have an idea. Get your bathing suit on."
He packed up my snorkeling gear and took us to a nearby marina, where he rented a speed boat.
"Are you sure it's safe?" I asked as we headed out.
"We'll be out in the middle of a big ocean. The worst things out there are sharks and I can handle them." He grinned. "In fact, that would be fun!"
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not serious, are you?"
"About fighting with sharks? Absolutely. Especially when they try to get away. You just hang on and let them take you for a ride. Better than the Waverunner."
I laughed. "You've seriously ridden a shark?"
"Yep."
"I don't believe you."
"I can show you. We'll go find some."
My eyes widened. "Okay, I believe you! Please don't go looking for sharks."
He laughed. "I thought you were bored."
"Not that bored. Just find some pretty fish to look at."
"How about lobsters? They just came in season."
I nodded. "If you get the lobsters, I'll cook them."
"Deal."
He took us south until we could no longer see land and only saw another boat every now and then and cut the engine. We lay in the sun, swam and snorkeled. I was amazed at all the beautiful life under the water—yellow, blue, pink and silver, solid, striped and polka-dotted fish, among other creatures. Tristan told me what we saw, but I couldn't keep track of what was what. There was much more to see here than there was at our beach. As promised, he caught a couple lobsters for dinner that night.
Toward the end of the day, I stretched out on the bow, letting the sun bake me dry. I lay on my stomach, about to doze off, when Tristan untied my top and started rubbing my back. The warm sun and his electric touches made my skin tingle.
"Tristan…" I protested when he rolled me onto my back.
"There's no one around for miles," he murmured, keeping me from rolling back over by kissing me. It wasn't long, though, before he cocked his head for a moment, and then turned me back over. "I'm sure they're just passing by."
I lay there and listened as the sound of another boat's engine grew louder as it came closer. It seemed to be approaching steadily, not fading out as it turned off.
"Or maybe not," Tristan said, tying my strings for me.
I sat up to see the boat pulling up to us. The driver was alone. He apparently had spent many years on the water in the sun, his face the color and texture of beef jerky and his man-boobs hanging like leather pouches over his browned beer gut. My sense told me he was bad.
"He feels wrong," I whispered to Tristan.
"It's okay. He's not them," he said under his breath. He pulled his shirt on and handed me my sundress as the man gave me a slow once-over, giving me the heebie-jeebies. I put the dress on, not that it covered much.
"Hey, man, just wonderin' if you saw any lobster down there," Leatherman called to us, his voice as rough as his face, but friendly.
"Yeah, we saw a few," Tristan answered, returning the genial tone. "Caught us a couple for dinner."
They exchanged small talk as I watched the man suspiciously. I was surprised when Tristan invited him over to our boat, but I figured when you're the "ultimate warrior" and it's not a Daemoni trying to abduct your wife, you could be as friendly as you wanted to be. It can still bite you in the butt, though.
"You two look pretty young to be out here alone," Leatherman said after a while.
"Looks can be deceiving," Tristan answered with a small smile.
Misunderstanding, the man looked around. "You're certainly alone for now."
He was right. We couldn't see land or another boat at all.
He suddenly jumped up and grabbed me with one hand. He held a knife in his other. "Just give me whatever money you got and everyone'll be okay."
Damn it! One day out and this son of a witch has to ruin it! Tristan looked at the man's hand roughly gripping my arm. He shook his head and smirked. We caught each other's eyes and mine narrowed in anger. He nodded his head once. I shoved my elbow into Leatherman's fat gut and spit flew out of his mouth as he doubled-over. Tristan grabbed and twisted his arm, the bone snapping audibly. He heaved the man back over to his boat. Rattling off every cuss word imaginable, Leatherman quickly took off.
"That was unpleasant," Tristan said after he was gone.
"I told you I didn't like him." I scowled.
He chuckled. "Nice job."
"You, too. But you didn't have to break his arm."
"Sorry, didn't mean to. Do you forgive me?"
I nodded. I'd rather Leatherman's arm be broken than my neck be slit. I hoped that didn't make me a bad person. "Maybe he'll learn his lesson. We make a good team, huh?"
"Yes, we do. I knew there was a good reason I married you." He winked. I gazed at him while he started the engine and we headed back to cook lobster.
Chapter 25
Tristan's cell phone woke us up a couple mornings later.
"Hi, honey, sorry to bother you, I know you're having a great time," Mom babbled.
"It's okay." It was actually good to hear her voice. I realized how much I missed her.
"Well, I just couldn't wait to tell you. Someone from a publisher called today and she wants to read your first three chapters!"
"Really? Already?"
"Yeah, it helps when you know peop—" She cut herself off, as if she let something slip in her excitement.
I was too excited myself to ask what she meant. "You know where to find the file, right?"
"Yes, I'll take care of it. This is great news, honey! Whoa!"
"Mom? Are you still there?" She didn't answer. "Mom, what's going on?"
"I don't know," she finally said. "It almost felt like a small earthquake."
"You're in Florida, Mom."
"I know. There was something, though. Oh, Owen's here. I need to go. I'll call you back." She hung up before I could even say good-bye.
"A publisher might be interested," I told Tristan, nearly jumping up and down on the bed. "Can you believe it?"
He grinned and gave me a bear hug. "Of course I can. I told you, you're very talented."
Tristan's phone rang again a while later. After looking at the number, he handed it to me. I barely had a chance to say "hello."
"Put Tristan on the phone. Hurry!" Mom didn't sound right at all.
I handed the phone back to him. "I'm here."
A long pause. Then he sat bolt upright.
"Shit! Motherfuckers!" More silence as Mom spoke. "No, we'll stay here for now…I'll call them…I know…I will."
He snapped the phone shut. Something's wrong. Terribly wrong. I stared at him expectantly as he just sat there in silence. His jaw twitched.
"Tristan…?" I said quietly. He didn't look at me, but stared at the wall.
"My house—our house—is gone," he said flatly, distantly.
"It exploded. Owen said it's just burning rubble."
"What?" I gasped, not comprehending.
He paced the room with angry strides. My eyes followed him, back and forth, as my mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Is that what shook the ground all the way at Mom's house? It had to have been a major explosion to reach that far.
"FUCK!" He yelled, slamming his fists against his thighs and making me jump. My heart hammered against my chest as I continued to stare at him wide-eyed. "The fucking bastards!"
He was serious. His house is gone. Everything…gone.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice small, frightened. I knew the answer, but didn't want to say it.
"I'm not exactly sure, but I have a pretty damn good guess," he seethed. He also didn't want to say it.
After he calmed down about an hour later, he called the authorities. He held his head in his hands as he listened to them, barely saying anything on his end. He snapped the phone shut and jerked his hand as if to throw it against the wall, but he held onto it.
His voice was frighteningly calm when he explained. "Their initial assessment is something ignited fumes from the generator. They said it wasn't properly shut off after the storm."
I stared at him in disbelief and terror. "Tristan…we didn't use the generator."
"I know." He paced the room again.
The vision of his sleek house on the beach…the motorcycles and other toys…all he owned…everything exploding in flames filled my head.
"I can't believe…your house…everything?"
He stopped pacing in front of me and lifted me in a hug. "It's just stuff, my love. At least we weren't there."
"Do you think they knew we weren't there?"
He held me tighter and said grimly, "Yes. I think it was a message."
My stomach clenched. I thought I would be sick if I had anything in it. They know. We held each other in silence for several minutes. A pounding on the front door made us both jump.
"Stefan," Tristan said, letting me go.
"Tristan, you have to get out of here. Immediately," Stefan said, bursting through the door as soon as Tristan unlocked it.
"But, we can't—," Tristan started, but Stefan interrupted.