by Kristie Cook
"Okay," I finally said, throwing my hands in the air with defeat. "I'll do my best. But I make no promises."
Chapter 2
Rina inclined her head in appreciation and Mom gave my shoulder another squeeze, then Rina asked me to tell the men we were ready. Either more practice or another test–one I wasn't sure I could pass. I had never reached out to multiple people at once or someone so far away before. Not on purpose, anyway. In fact, the other person had always been only a few feet away. I concentrated on the image of a black cloud in my head and pushed it outward. I extended it beyond the confines of my skull, while keeping it from enshrouding Mom or Rina–I would hear the thoughts of whoever came "within" the cloud. I continued pushing it out, beyond the room to search for Tristan, but the force was too much. My wall fell and I heard a jumble of everyone's thoughts. I sucked the cloud right back into my head and raised the wall.
"Sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head.
Rina's brows furrowed for an instant, reminding me of the look she'd given me at breakfast, then calm returned to her face.
"Do not worry, dear," she said, "you will learn. Right now, however, we do not have time."
She fell silent while she "called" for Tristan, Solomon and Owen.
"How far out can you go?" I asked her while we waited for them.
"If it is to pick up any random thoughts from anyone, a few kilometers, though without proper control, it can be quite painful if it is a crowded area. If it is to communicate directly with someone in particular, much farther, especially if I am very familiar with them. You can identify your mother, Dorian or Tristan across a large, crowded room simply from a laugh or a single spoken word, yes? It is easier because you are attuned to their voices."
I nodded with understanding. Then I thought I must have been using my gift all wrong, with the visual of the cloud–it wasn't a good enough analogy. I sighed with frustration. This was the worst time to be confounded.
"Rina, I don't think I can do this yet. I have too much to learn."
"You can do this, Alexis," she said. "You were able to save Tristan, even with all the Daemoni and Amadis soldiers there. You blocked them out and focused only on him, no?"
Only a few days ago, I'd protected Tristan from a Daemoni attack on his soul, partially by talking him through it telepathically. I had no clue how I pulled it off so well, though, how I was able to keep out everyone else and only talk to him, without anyone but Rina, Mom and Owen aware of what I was doing.
"That is all you need to do during the meeting," Rina said. "Hold your wall and focus on one mind at a time. Just listen. That is all."
There was no more time to argue. Mom opened the door right as the men reached it. Tristan took my hand and "led" me for the flash–all I had to concentrate on was going where he was, since I'd never been to the destination before. There were other ways to flash somewhere new, but I hadn't learned them yet.
I was starting to feel like an alien, learning the ways of a whole new world.
We appeared next to Rina and Solomon in a small area that must have been a holding chamber and had been empty until we arrived. The room reminded me a little of the green rooms when I did television interviews, though the stone walls indicated the building pre-dated television by millennia. The chilly air–no fire in these grates–might have caused a mage or a Norman to shiver, but no one here noticed. Mom sent Owen out to see if all the council members had arrived.
I stepped over to the single window and was surprised to see a whole village outside below us. We were at the top of a hill, at one end of a main road that ended with a pier jutting out over the sea. Between here and the beach, people bustled in and out of an eclectic collection of shops and other buildings lining each side of the road, many with brightly colored awnings, others blank and austere. The rooftops of houses–some steep and pointed, some flat and others rounded, all in various shades from white to blue to fuchsia–spread out beyond them.
"Where are we?" I wondered aloud. We had to still be on the Amadis Island since it was shielded–we could only flash within shields, but not through them.
"The Council Hall in the island village," Tristan said from right behind me. "All those people out there are Amadis."
"You mean … witches and wizards and vampires and everything?" I asked with awe.
"Yes, your very characters."
Of course, they weren't the exact characters in the books I'd written about witches, werewolves, vampires and various other supernaturals. I thought I'd been writing all fiction, not knowing these creatures actually existed, but my fiction came somewhat close to reality, which I'd learned just last week. Seeing the people out there–my people, the Amadis–was like seeing my characters come to life.
"I want to go meet them!" I said, momentarily forgetting the whole reason we stood at this particular window in the first place.
Tristan chuckled. "You'll meet some today, don't worry."
Oh! The council members themselves aren't exactly human. The cold-water effect of this realization doused my elation. How can I possibly concentrate on my task now? I'd be too distracted, overcome with excitement of meeting real-life creatures I'd been so fascinated with since I was a kid. My stomach fluttered with anxiety–I was doomed for failure.
"Tristan," Rina said from the other side of the room and we both turned toward her. "I have just learned some of our members have been delayed with … a situation. You may take Alexis into the village to orient her."
"Alexis!" Why did she seem to be yelling my name all morning? I tilted my head, acknowledging her. "Please practice listening while in the village. It will give you the confidence you need before going into the meeting."
I nodded as Tristan took my hand. He led me out of the large, stone building and down a path to the main road through town. As we meandered through the business district, I gaped with amazement at everything, keeping Tristan quite amused. The many shops sold a wide variety of goods. In one window, dried herbs hung from the ceiling and shelves contained jars of other reagents, some unidentifiable and others I wished I hadn't been able to identify (lizard eyeballs!), for the mages. Others displayed bottles of thick, red liquid with pretty labels similar to wine bottles, but instead of "pinot noir," "cabernet" or "merlot," they advertised "O+" and "B-"–donated blood for the vamps. Live animals roamed one window display, imitating a pet shop, but these weren't pets. Rather, chickens, rats and hogs waited to be selected for were-creatures' meals. One shop sold wands and another enchanted armor for the warriors. People, dressed in a variety of fashions, present-day and not, frequently appeared and disappeared, flashing around the village.
I couldn't help but wonder what my fellow fantasy authors would think if they ever saw this place. Many had described similar villages in their works, but what would they do if they actually saw it in person? Probably be like me … ambling about with their mouths hanging open.
"Are they scared of you?" I whispered to Tristan at one point, as we walked down a residential street by ourselves. "Everybody bows their heads and no one looks us in the eye."
"Maybe," he said with a chuckle, "but that's not why they do it. You're royalty, my love. We both are. They do it out of respect."
"Oh, right. I wish they wouldn't. It makes me feel … weird. I thought this would be the last place I'd feel unusual, surrounded by all these mythical creatures that aren't really mythical."
He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. "Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks."
"Easy for you to say. You've been beautiful and you forever. You're used to it."
"And you've been beautiful and you forever, too. Your forever is shorter than mine, but you should be used to it by now."
"I've only been beautiful and royalty for a few days and I don't think I'll ever get used to it." In fact, every time I caught my reflection in the mirror since the Ang'dora, I had to stop for a moment, making sure it was really me. So I stayed away from mirrors as much as possible. It
was too much to accept.
Tristan kissed the top of my head. "You've become self-conscious on me again. You remind me of when I first met you."
I remembered how uncomfortable I'd been with him, torn between wanting him to know the real me and trying to be "normal" because I thought he was. It felt like several lifetimes ago.
"Sorry. I just feel so out of place here," I said as I contemplated the odd assortment of houses lining the street.
Some were painted in vibrant colors or with wild patterns, and others appeared to be from the ancient Greek era, perfectly preserved. The mish-mash looked as though houses from Whoville were picked up by a tornado and randomly dropped into a neighborhood of Parthenon-like buildings. Various odors carried on the air, some pleasant, some not so much, making me wonder what kinds of concoctions were being created in some of the more eccentric homes. A few people were outside–one cutting herbs from a garden, another walking a pet tarantula the size of my head on a leash, making me shudder–and they all inclined their heads as we passed by.
"I'm the alien but they all treat me like …"
"Royalty?" Tristan finished for me.
I sighed. "Yeah. At this rate, I'll be ready to get back to normal life sooner than I thought. At least in the normal world, I know how to behave, what to do."
He gave me a squeeze. "We'll be leaving soon enough, I'm sure. But first you have a lot to learn. You need to train. Have you been practicing at all, or just gawking?"
"Pretty much just gawking," I admitted and then I frowned. I hated listening to people's thoughts, and it felt especially intrusive when the people close by thought they were in the privacy of their own homes. At least on the main street, people would be thinking fewer intimate thoughts and more about their business at hand. "Let's go back downtown, or whatever you call it, so I can be with more people."
As we walked, I pushed my cloud out to people we passed long enough to hear a brief thought, then quickly pulled the cloud in as soon as I'd succeeded. I kept to only one person at a time, afraid I'd lose control if I tried more. Fortunately, what I heard was mostly mundane, except …
"Can't stop thinking of him as Seth. Look at him, walking around as though he owns the place, his hands all over the real royalty, as though he owns her. He's such a traitor. He'll be the downfall of the Amadis."
As we walked by, the man–I picked up the thought he was a were-animal of some sort–inclined his blond head like everyone else, and hurried past us.
"Wow, he's not quite a fan of yours," I muttered to Tristan. "He thinks you're a traitor."
"Yes," Tristan said with a hint of steel in his voice, "there are some who think I shouldn't be here … and especially shouldn't be with you."
Before I could say what those people could physically do to themselves, my brain rattled with an agitation that exceeded my own. Somehow my mind followed the disturbance to pick up the disjointed thoughts.
"This meeting … a farce! … What to believe! … Another daughter? … And the boy?... Martin ruling?... Is it possible? … Tristan–a traitor!... Something needs to be done…the Amadis … Decimated!"
I peered over my shoulder, sensing the owner of such mental chaos behind me, but no one was there. Whoever had been so upset had disappeared.
My own mind spun. The fragmented thoughts made no sense. Were his thoughts really so disjointed or did the telepathy cut in and out like a poor cell phone signal? Did he mean my future daughter? And Dorian? Who was Martin? And, most importantly, how many people thought Tristan would betray us and how could they possibly still believe that after everything he's done for the Amadis?
I opened my mouth to tell Tristan what I heard, but he cut me off. "Rina's asking for our return."
"She told you? But not me?"
Tristan shrugged, took my hand and led me back to the big white building at the top of the hill, the Council Hall. I wondered briefly why Rina had only spoken to Tristan as if I was inferior, but my mind quickly returned to the commotion I'd heard.
The man had mentioned the meeting being a farce, but didn't specify which meeting. The council meeting that was about to begin or another one? Thinking he might possibly be a council member, I knew I needed to gather my wits and courage and do a damn good job of "listening" for Rina. Something was definitely going on.
***
"You can't go in there!" Owen's bark came from the other side of the door to the little room where we waited with Mom and Rina once again for the council meeting to begin.
"Owen, I am your mother. You let me in right now," commanded a stern female voice. The door burst open. "Sophia!"
"Sorry," Owen muttered, following the woman in.
Mom grinned widely. "It's okay, Owen. I doubt your mother is trying anything sneaky with us."
The woman slid out of her leather jacket and tossed it to Owen as she strode over to Mom and embraced her. She wore black leather from head to toe–a bustier, pants and combat boots–and though her build was slight, the confident way she moved and held herself would make a bully cower. She appeared to be in her mid- to late-thirties, but she had to be nearly three times older: Owen appeared to be twenty-five, but was actually sixty-eight and this woman, apparently, had given birth to him. With shoulder-length, straight hair the same shade of blond as Owen's and eyes the same sapphire blue, the resemblance was obvious.
"I know I'm breaking protocol, but I couldn't wait a minute longer to see you or to meet Alexis," she said, already advancing on me. She didn't wait for introductions. "Ah, yes, you are as beautiful as I've heard. Hello, Alexis, I am Charlotte Allbright."
It took me a moment to recover from her straightforwardness. "Um, nice to meet you, Ms. Allbright."
She laughed. "You can call me Charlotte or Char."
"Or Charred or Charcoal," Mom said.
"You'll never let me live that one down, will you?" Charlotte gave Mom a mischievous smile at some private joke.
"Alexis, this is Owen's mother, as you've figured out," Mom said. "And, I have to admit, a long-time friend of mine."
"I apologize for my son's irresponsibility while he was supposed to be protecting you. Sometimes I wonder why Sophia insists on him having the job. He should really–"
"Oh, no, please don't blame him," I quickly interrupted. "That was totally my fault. Owen's great at his job–when I let him do it."
Charlotte eyed me. "Hmm … well, I suppose I can understand, if you're anything like your mother."
"Worse," Mom muttered. I tilted my head in question. "Charlotte has been my protector from time to time and she thinks I'm hard-headed and rebellious."
"Of course you are! I wouldn't love you if you weren't," Charlotte said with a laugh.
Mom shrugged. "So, maybe I am."
"You think I'm hard-headed and rebellious … worse than you?" I asked, not sure what I thought about that.
"Of course you are. And I wouldn't love you if you weren't," Tristan said from behind me as he placed his hands on my hips. Mom and Charlotte chuckled.
"Alexis, we will have our hands full with you," Mom said.
I frowned. Charlotte placed her hands on each side of my face and looked me directly in the eye, an impish gleam in hers.
"These are admirable traits, Alexis. There are dark days ahead and we'll need your spunk and spirit. Martin says we all need to be prepared, especially you." With that cryptic message–there was that name Martin again–she planted a kiss on my forehead. What did she mean by dark days ahead? And why especially me? I didn't get a chance to ask as she turned away. "I suppose I should let Owen kick me out. I'll see you soon. We have some catching up to do, Sophia."
Charlotte held her arm out to Owen and he took her elbow, pretending to forcefully escort her out of the room. She hooked her boot around the door, pulling it shut behind them.
"She's a handful herself," I muttered and her laugh echoed from another part of the building.
Mom laughed, too. "Yes, she is. But she's a great friend to me, a powerfu
l warlock and an excellent addition to the council."
"She's on the council?" I asked. She acted as though she hadn't seen Mom for a long time, but Mom had been at the island for nearly a week. She and Rina returned before us so they could debrief the council on the recent events in the Florida Keys–my Ang'dora, Tristan's escape, the Daemoni's attack ... and everything else.
"She is now. Martin, her husband, took Stefan's place, but Char is a new addition. She's been fighting in the Middle East and returned last night," Mom explained. "Rina will swear her in this morning."
So Martin was Char's husband and Owen's dad, and their family was apparently close to ours. Which made everything I'd already "heard" today much more confusing. This meeting may or may not be a farce, but it seemed as though it would certainly be intense, just as Tristan had predicted. I pressed my hands against my stomach, which twisted and turned with anxiety over Rina's request.
"We're ready to begin," announced a low, booming voice.
Solomon stood at the door, beckoning all of us. I tried not to stare at him, but it was nearly impossible. After all, he was a real, live (or real, dead?) vampire. Now that I knew what to watch for, I realized he did look like a vamp, something I hadn't noticed the other times I'd seen him. His complexion was an exotic ash color–the vampire paleness of someone who'd originally been dark-skinned. His features were broad and beautiful, his hair in cornrows, the front pulled back into a ponytail, and he had an accent I was sure originated somewhere in the Caribbean. He smiled at us and his fangs were short, barely longer than a Norman's eyeteeth, much less threatening than Vanessa's and the other vampires' fangs had been.
Solomon wasn't the first vampire I'd seen in person, but he was the first good one I knew. Yet, as he continued smiling, my stomach tightened more with fear.