by Kristie Cook
"I don't get it, Owen. I thought the Amadis were all good."
"We are good. We find good, and we protect it. But it doesn't mean we're all perfect, that we don't screw up." He shifted, turned toward me. "Listen. We'll find out what's going on and take care of this mess, and I'll bet you the truly good people will be proven right … including you and Tristan and Rina. Remember what I keep telling you … in the end, good always wins. We always win." He patted my knee. "Have some faith, Alexis."
That was the second time I'd been told to have faith tonight. But my faith was waning.
***
After Tristan strapped a sleeping Dorian into his seat, Owen rubbed then thrust his hands at the airplane's propeller to start the engine, at which point I had no choice but to at least have faith in him … because we were going to fly with magic as our fuel.
As I walked through the house one more time to make sure we left nothing behind, Tristan came jogging in.
"Thought I should leave a note, tell them where their plane is," he explained, finding a scrap of paper and a pencil nub in a drawer.
"Um, I could be wrong–I usually am anymore–but I really don't think they're coming back," I said.
He shrugged. "With these people, you never know. They're kind of like that."
He wrote a one-sentence note detailing the town and country where the plane would be and then paused before signing it–as Seth. I lifted an eyebrow, trying to ignore the tingling down my spine. He grimaced.
"Trust me–that was harder for me to write than for you to see. But that's all they know me as."
I nodded silently then flashed to the plane, trying not to think about it. But I couldn't help it, especially since Owen and I had just been discussing Seth. I held an entire, silent conversation with myself, trying to convince myself that it meant nothing more than he knew the owners a long time ago. But the paranoia gnawed at me for most of the flight. He wouldn't … would he?
He looked back at me from the front seat right then, as if he'd heard me ask myself that question, but our minds weren't connected. I mentally slapped myself when I looked into his eyes. He loved me. The look in his hazel eyes, all over his face, made it perfectly clear. I smiled warmly at him, and he grinned and winked. I forgot my doubts.
When we landed at the tiny airport, I realized we weren't even in the same country Tristan had left in his note, and he immediately arranged for the plane to be flown to the location where he'd said it would be. A mental slap wasn't enough. I deserved to be physically punched. What is wrong with me? I can't doubt him! We have to stick together. I couldn't let other people's ignorance and prejudices get to me. That would only make things worse for us.
Two days later, we arrived on U.S. soil without incident, and if it weren't the L.A. airport, I might have dropped to my knees and kissed that soil. Until we'd left the Keys for Greece, I'd never been out of the United States. My publicist had wanted me to do an international signing tour when my books became popular overseas, but I refused–the U.S. tours were difficult enough. Though California was one of the few states I'd never lived, I felt as though I was home. Just hearing (mostly) English with American accents gave me a sense of normalcy. And to make it better, no one looked at me with an ounce of recognition.
"Are we almost home?" Dorian asked while we studied the departure boards, trying to decide where to go next–where to start our search.
Hmm … home? I wasn't quite sure where "home" was yet.
"We can't go to your old home," Tristan said. "We talked about that, remember?"
"I know we can't live there anymore, but can we go visit? I want to show Joey and everyone else at school that you're real and not a shithead."
I fought the urge to laugh. Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Watch your mouth, little man," I warned, hiding my smile.
"But that's what Joey called Dad, and it's not true!" He lifted his chin and stuck his lower lip out in a defiant pout. "Maybe Dad can beat up their dads. They're the real shitheads."
I couldn't help it. This time I full-out laughed, and Tristan and Owen joined me. We all had a hard spot in our hearts for the publicity and rumors about Dorian's father abandoning me when I was pregnant.
"We're going to do the right thing and leave them alone," I finally said. "If there's something you miss from home, though, we can get another one."
"Naw. I got Dad now." He took Tristan's hand and grinned. "And I'll be getting my dog soon."
He apparently hadn't forgotten about that birthday present.
We still didn't have a real plan, but traveling was obviously a necessity. Whether we'd establish a home base first or tow Dorian around with us on our search, we hadn't yet decided. Now that we were at least in the States and hadn't been detected by Daemoni so far, Tristan should be able to concentrate on a plan. But first, we had to get out of L.A., which held a certain attraction for Daemoni, and it was only a matter of time before someone sighted us. We decided to fly to Salt Lake City first–it was safe, convenient and one of the first flights available after we passed through customs.
Salt Lake was convenient because Tristan happened to have the key to the safety deposit box he had there, one key of only a few he picked up before we left Miami. Along with a nice stash of cash, the box held a false ID for him, so we could check into a hotel under a different name. It was also convenient because "one of his guys," who created false identification, lived nearby. Leave it to Tristan to know the one guy who was probably the only shady character in the whole state of Utah.
While Tristan focused on our plan, Owen and I taught Dorian the rules of the game–if anyone asked, he was to give them his pretend name and say he was Tristan's brother and I was his brother's girlfriend. Owen was their cousin. We helped him memorize everyone's fake names, and he practiced calling me "Angela" instead of "Mom." I felt bad for him–just as he would grow used to this game, we'd have to create a new one, with different names and relationships. At least he was intelligent.
"How's it coming?" I asked Tristan a while later, sitting behind him on the bed and rubbing his shoulders. Owen had left to retrieve dinner, and Dorian sat in front of the television, engrossed in a cartoon.
"I've considered the options, and the best one for Dorian's safety and protection is to give him a home. Our search might be dangerous–too risky to have him with us. We should also be near a colony, for extra protection."
"A colony? Is that what you call a village in the New World?"
He chuckled. "No, silly. A village is only Amadis, living together, usually under a shield. A colony is where many Amadis have settled in close proximity to each other, but among Normans."
"A Chinatown for Amadis?"
"Exactly, but not so obvious. Normans don't see anything unusual."
"Do Daemoni?"
"Some. But colonies aren't isolated or cloaked like villages, so the Daemoni would be stupid to attack in front of so many Norman witnesses, if they even found us. And there are a lot more colonies in the U.S. than there are villages. So … where would you like to live, my love?"
I stopped kneading his shoulders in mid-motion. I hadn't expected to be able to choose where we lived. I was happy to be in the U.S. "Anywhere?"
"Pick a place and I'll tell you if it's an option."
"Hmm …" I moved my hands down his back as I considered. I thought about the many places Mom and I had lived over the years and the many more where we hadn't, but at this point, I sought comfort and familiarity. My first choice probably wasn't possible, so I hesitated before finally blurting it out. "Florida?"
"We can do Florida. If the girl's been hidden under your noses, I think she's in the Southeast, so Florida works." He paused. "But not the Keys. Not the beach house."
"Okay."
"And not Miami. In fact, probably not the east coast at all."
I smiled. "Even better. Because I really liked Cape Heron, but I know we can't go there."
"No, but …" He grinned.
"But?" I asked, excited by his smile and the promise in his tone.
"There's a colony near Fort Myers."
I bounced into his lap. "Really? We can really go that close?"
"It's not all that close to Cape Heron." He kissed me on the forehead, his eyes sparkling brightly. "And you will love it."
"Close to the beach?"
"On the beach."
I threw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"My pleasure." His mouth found mine, and I wouldn't let him go, at least, not until Owen returned with the perfect welcome-home meal: cheeseburgers and fries.
Our conversation with Mom later that night killed my buzz. After a series of ring signals, we called her from a pre-paid cell phone Owen picked up at the drugstore, set on speaker so we could all three participate in the conversation. She delivered good news first: we lost the Daemoni after leaving Kuckaroo, and they had no idea where we were. But the Daemoni staked out the Amadis villages worldwide–they couldn't see them, but they knew their general locations and stood guard in case we tried to seek their protection.
They'd given up watch on my Atlanta house, so Mom and Charlotte were planning a trip to retrieve a few things and convert it to a permanent safe house. Then Mom said they had Amadis business to watch over in the States, so they'd be here for a while. She was concerned about leaving Rina, though, and that was the bad news: the situation among the council had only worsened.
"I never fully understood Rina anyway, but she's acting very strange," Mom said. "When she's alone with Solomon and me, she's normal. Concerned about all of you, wanting to send protectors out for you, missing you. But when she's with the council members–which is a lot, they've been holding so many meetings lately–she's completely different. She doubts herself and even agrees with some of their points about you two not being entirely trustworthy. She's been spending a lot of time with Julia, and I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"Of course it's not! Julia and her little group are the problem," I said. "They're obviously a negative influence on her."
"Julia's always been supportive, though," Owen said. "She and Rina have been close almost since the day she came over to the Amadis."
"I think Solomon is the only vampire you can fully trust, though," Mom said.
"Very true," Owen admitted, and Tristan nodded in agreement.
"I've never been able to lock onto any truths with Julia," Mom said, "which tells me her loyalty changes with her best interests."
"That's exactly what I get from her," I said. "You knew that and still doubted me?"
"At the time, yes, and I'm sorry, honey. Rina's always trusted Julia so much. Even if I didn't trust her completely, I never thought she would betray Rina so blatantly. I'm still not so sure …"
"I am," I said firmly. I had no doubts at all about Julia. "Has she told anyone about Dorian yet?"
"Is it true? Does Dorian really have powers?"
"We don't know, actually," Tristan said, glancing at Dorian's sleeping lump under the covers of one of the beds. "He revealed a couple things when we were on the island, but hasn't since then. We were hoping the magic of the island was boosting what little bit he had, and he'd lose it after we left."
"Hmm … hold on." She kept silent for a few seconds. "I'm not feeling that truth."
Mine and Tristan's eyes locked with dreadful understanding.
"Keep an eye on him," Mom said. "You'll be in even more danger if anyone finds out. There are already nasty debates about providing you protection at all. Many of the village mayors say they won't take you in. People are scared, and it will only be worse if Dorian has powers. The Daemoni's hunt will intensify."
"So Julia and the others still have two threats they're holding against Rina–Dorian and our daughter," Tristan said.
Mom started to say something–another denial–but I interrupted her. "Did you ever find out who else was with Julia and Rina in the Council Hall, right before we left?"
"There was no one else," Mom said. "None of us sensed anyone and, in private, when Rina is more herself, more honest and direct, she still says there was no one else there–not in body or in mind. She didn't detect any other thoughts."
I looked at Owen and Tristan, and they both shook their heads.
"She's a powerful blocker, then. I heard someone else in that room. Or at least in the building."
"Things are such a mess here, I honestly don't know what to believe," Mom admitted. "But I do know you misunderstood at least one thing. Rina is not hiding your daughter from you."
"She may not be hiding her. She may not be aware of her location," Tristan said, "but it sounds like she knew the girl exists."
"No, you have it all wrong. If you heard right, Alexis, if they're even blackmailing Rina in the first place, that's not the secret she's been keeping–" Mom paused. "Someone's coming. I have to go. I don't want anyone knowing I've talked to you. It's not … stable enough here."
The line went dead.
"Son of a witch!" I pounded the table, cracking it in half. "What the hell was she saying?"
"Rina's not part of the conspiracy," Owen said with an I-told-you-so tone. He thrust his hands at the table and fixed the damage.
"But she is hiding something," Tristan said. "Something about our daughter."
Chapter 14
Trees, rocks and land blurred into streaks of green, brown and gray beyond the rental car's window as we raced along the highway pointed southeast. Once our identification documents were finished in Utah, we flew to Nashville, and now we headed toward Chattanooga. Tristan wanted to make a stop before heading south to Florida.
"We all need to be on alert," he said as we began climbing into the foothills. He kept his voice low enough so only Owen and I could hear–too low for Dorian's still-human hearing. "You can't trust faeries."
"Then why …?" I started to ask. "Wait–did you say faeries? We're going to see real-life faeries? They exist?"
Tristan chuckled, apparently finding it amusing that I could still be shocked at some things. I found it annoying.
"We'll only see one, maybe two, if they're there. They come to our world more than most faeries, but they're also in the Otherworld a lot."
"There were no faeries in my history book," I said, hoping no one else heard the growl in my tone. I'd been living in and studying our world for three months, and still I hadn't learned everything. Still I felt like an alien. Or, at least, like an idiot.
"Because they're neither Amadis nor Daemoni, and they haven't played a significant enough role in your life or history." Tristan peered at me. He probably heard the annoyed growl after all. "They're spirits, usually evil, but some are … not good, exactly, but more neutral. But even those enjoy wreaking havoc among humans."
"People are their playthings," Owen muttered from the backseat. "Good thing they spend most of their time in the Otherworld."
"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why do they prefer the Otherworld?"
"In the Otherworld," Tristan said, "they can be free spirits, not bound to physical bodies."
The Otherworld was a concept I found difficult to grasp. I imagined it as a different dimension–my history book called it the spiritual realm–occupied by Angels and Demons (and apparently faeries, too). From what I'd learned, those in the Otherworld could see right into our physical realm. Be close enough to touch us without our realizing they were there. To watch over us. To spy on us.
"So if they're not good and we can't trust them, why on earth are we going to see some? What if they bring the Daemoni?"
"Faeries, like most denizens of the Otherworld, tend to stay out of our earthly wars. Besides, these two lean toward our side and they might have answers, information from the Otherworld that can help us."
"If they want to share," Owen said. "Or tell us the truth."
I didn't know what, exactly, I expected. Admittedly, the images of a tiny, winged Tinkerbell-like creature and a ghostly, disembodied presence crossed my mind. But that
's not what we found.
Tristan turned the car into a driveway in the mountains and pulled to a stop at a cute little cottage hidden in the woods. Ferns and other plants hung in baskets on the front porch and wine-colored tulips lined the beds in front of it. The late afternoon sky hid behind tall pine and oak trees, and little lights twinkled among the greenery–I wasn't sure if they were lights or magic, because I couldn't actually see the source.
"Who's come to say may?" chimed a sweet voice from inside the cottage. She'd really said "see me"–her southern accent was heavy, and that was the first thing that caught me by surprise. Then she appeared in the doorway, and I stared at her stupidly as she bounded down the two steps toward us. "Oh, yay! Ah'm so happy to say ya'll!"
I barely noticed the glance Tristan and Owen exchanged, mesmerized by this … completely normal human. Or so she seemed, at first glance. She stood several inches taller than me, perhaps five-eight or five-nine, and had a body that belonged in bikini ads. Her blue hair hung in ringlets past her shoulders, and her silver eyes were bright and playful. But something about her was obviously different, besides the blue hair … I just couldn't pinpoint what it was. Something Otherworldly, I supposed. She looked normal, yet somehow you knew she wasn't.
"Say, I knew ya'll were comin' when I saw you leavin' Nashville. I was in the Otherworld, but it only made sense that you'd be comin' to say may. And it's about time." She eyed Tristan as she said this. "Last time you came, you had all kinds of questions I couldn't answer."
"Couldn't or wouldn't?" Tristan muttered.
She shrugged off the question. "Now I do have answers for you. So come on in, ya'll. I'll get you some sweet tay."
She turned and sauntered back into the cottage, long legs moving gracefully under a mini-skirt that swooshed side to side to the rhythm of her swinging hips. She obviously had no doubts we would follow.
When I looked at Tristan for guidance, amusement colored his face as he eyed Owen. "Maybe you should stay outside with Dorian, Scarecrow, before you get into any trouble."
I turned to Owen and had to suppress a giggle. His mouth hung open as he stared at the space where the faerie had stood only a moment ago.