Devotion

by Kristie Cook

  He leaned his forehead against mine. "And I love you."

  "Some anniversary, huh?"

  "At least we're together."

  "Forever?"

  "If it's up to me, yes."

  I sighed. Unfortunately, not everything was up to us, but I would take what I could get. He kissed me, then took my hand as we walked slowly back to the house. It was farther than I thought–I'd run half a mile in the twenty seconds before he'd stopped me.

  We entered the house through the rear door right as Owen walked through the front door.

  "That was a mistake," Owen said darkly. "We have a problem."

  Mom and Charlotte appeared in the hallway, halfway between Owen and us.

  "Where's Dorian?" I asked.

  "Come outside and see for yourself. See what he did in front of everyone. Thank God there weren't any Normans around."

  We all followed him out the front door and down the steps. When we reached the ground, Owen turned and looked up. I followed his gaze, and my heart jumped in my chest. Dorian stood on the edge of the second-floor roof.

  "Dorian! What are you doing?" I yelled.

  "Watch, Mom. I can fly. Like Ironman!"

  "No, you can't!" The scream tore through my throat as he launched himself off the roof before any of us could flash up there to get him.

  Like any other young boy disillusioned by superheroes, his body plummeted toward the ground, my stomach plunging with him. Tristan reached out for him, but when he was just out of reach, Dorian suddenly swooped upward and hovered over the roof for several seconds before slowly descending and landing next to me on his feet, exactly as he'd done on the Amadis Island. By that point, we all stood there, staring at him with our mouths open.

  "Yeah, I can," he said with an I-just-showed-you tone.

  Part of me wanted to scream at him to never do that again, and another part wanted to pull him into my arms, relieved he was safe. But the biggest part of me fought to simply stay upright because the weight of what this meant was enough to crush an elephant.

  "Well … bloody hell," Mom said, and we all turned our heads, mouths still gaping, to stare at her. Mom never cussed. She looked around at us and quickly dismissed it, taking on her normal tone of control. "Get him inside. Now."

  Tristan scooped Dorian into one arm, and we all rushed inside.

  "Did I do something bad?" Dorian asked, looking up at us as he sat on the couch, all five of us adults standing in front of him, again staring at him as if he were from another planet.

  "He did that on Captiva?" Mom asked, her voice tight.

  "Yeah, right in the middle of town," Owen said. "Blossom saw. And a couple others, I think."

  I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight to hold the tears back. So not good. Shit, shit, SHIT.

  "What's the matter, Mom?" Dorian asked, but I couldn't answer, knowing my voice would break.

  "Dorian, didn't we tell you not to do any tricks in front of other people?" Tristan asked.

  "I didn't mean to. The balloon the scary white lady gave to me flew away, and I was trying to catch it."

  Dorian didn't frighten easily, which meant he'd sensed the white lady as more than a mere Norman. I peeked into his mind to see the vampire who gave him the balloon. I didn't recognize her, which gave me a slice of relief. For a moment, I was afraid it was Julia or Vanessa.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," Dorian said, his voice tiny.

  I finally opened my eyes and pulled him into my arms. Don't cry. Be strong for him. Sobs stuck in my throat, choking me and making my chest heave. I fell to the floor with him locked in my arms, silently rocking him. All I could think was, They're going to take him … take him away.

  People saw. The Daemoni would find out, and they'd come looking for him. One more reason the Daemoni would come to the quiet colony. One more reason for everyone to think us a danger. Because I certainly wasn't going to simply hand him over, even if doing so meant protecting everyone else. Maybe it was selfish and un-matriarch-like, but he was my son. My baby.

  After a few minutes, Mom reached for Dorian, and I panicked.

  "No," I screamed. "You can't take him!"

  Sasha was suddenly at our side, twice as big as normal, a growl in her throat. Tristan knelt beside us, and I felt him tugging in my mind.

  "Lexi, they're not taking him away. You're scaring him."

  I looked down at Dorian. He trembled in my arms as he looked up at me with wide, haunted eyes. I relaxed my fierce hold, and Mom took him. Tristan picked me up and half-carried me to our room. He sat on our bed with me in his lap, and the tears finally fell.

  "I can't take anymore," I blubbered after several minutes. "You two are my life, and everyone wants to take you both away. And this whole daughter thing … all this pressure. I feel like I'm losing it again."

  "We're not going anywhere," he murmured. "I'm here, Lexi. It's a lot to deal with, but I'm here for you."

  I inhaled a jagged breath and nodded. His being here meant a lot. Everything, actually. Which was why I couldn't lose him again.

  I eventually calmed down, and Mom must have heard because she popped her head in our doorway to tell us she, Charlotte and Owen were going to Captiva to do some damage control. Dorian came in as she finished, and she slipped away. He climbed onto our bed and into my lap, and wrapped his arms around my neck.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," he said. "I'll never do that again."

  I wanted to tell him very bad men would take him away otherwise, but such a threat wasn't enough to scare Dorian. So I simply said, "No, you probably shouldn't."

  "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "Because I don't want you to be sad again. I don't want you to be like when Dad was gone."

  More tears slid down my cheeks as I kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry. You and Dad are right here, so I'm happy. I'm just having a bad day."

  He nodded. "Okay. I love you, Mom."

  "I love you too, little man, very, very much."

  "I'll never leave you. Me and my wife and our kids will live with you, okay?"

  "I would love that," I said with complete sincerity. If only it were possible.

  "I know what you need," Tristan said, gathering us in his arms and standing up. He placed us on our feet, then took our hands and led us to the kitchen.

  He popped open the bottle of wine Charlotte brought, poured us each a glass (well, a glass of juice for Dorian) and turned on some music. Then he started pulling food out of the refrigerator: ingredients for fajitas. And he was right. Cooking dinner together was exactly what I needed and a perfect way to celebrate our anniversary. Our kitchen wasn't fully stocked with all the gadgets and gizmos I couldn't wait to buy one day, but we had the necessities–good knives, pans and food. Listening to 30 Seconds to Mars, feeling the knife move under my hand, tasting the wine, smelling the onions and peppers and joking around with my two guys felt incredibly and necessarily normal.

  Mom, Owen and Charlotte, along with Blossom, returned just as we started searing the meat. I hadn't expected Blossom, but it turned out she was a bit of a hero. When she saw Dorian spring a little too high for what was normal, she threw a cloak over him, so no one else saw his little flight on Captiva. It wasn't a strong cloak because she wasn't supposed to use magic out in the open, so Owen, a more powerful mage than her, was still able to see through it. He had been too worried at the time to sense the magic. With Mom and Charlotte here, she had been scared to come tell us what she'd done, but they finally tracked her down, and she confessed. When they finished telling me the story, I threw my arms around Blossom with relief. Her actions today laid a huge stretch of foundation for my trust.

  ***

  "If Blossom's from Daytona, that coven is her home coven," Tristan said that night as we lay in bed. "We should take her with us."

  "Tristan, I don't think–"

  "You trust her, right?"

  Because the subject always caused problems and I didn't want to deal with yet another one right now, I'd given up on pressuring him a
bout the stone and divulged all I knew about Blossom. I told him I felt better about her, but I still didn't trust her fully.

  "And I really don't want to bring her into the middle of all this. It's too dangerous."

  "Unless you can get Sophia to take us to the coven and persuade them to talk, Blossom's our only hope. Owen can cloak the three of us, and Blossom can drive us without raising any suspicion. The Daemoni are looking for us, not her, and it wouldn't be strange for her to be going home for the weekend."

  "Can't we flash?"

  "And if we run into trouble, they follow our trails. Do you want to deal with that again? Who knows when–or if–we'd be able to get home without leading them straight here. Besides, Blossom can get us in."

  I sighed. My arguments were useless. He'd already thought everything through and knew the best solution. "I just don't like using her. It's not right, and it's not safe for her."

  "We'll keep her safe." He rolled onto his side to face me and pushed my hair away from my face. "How about we let her decide?"

  Blossom's decision came quickly and easily. She knew all about the trouble not only in the council, but throughout the Amadis. Like everywhere else, people in the colony were divided, which was why they hadn't been so welcoming to us. She'd known about the traitor, but not, of course, about the girl or my telepathic powers, and her feelings reflected Owen's–she found difficulty in believing any of it, but wanted to find the truth. She wanted to help solve the problem, and she came up with the idea to take us to her home coven before we even mentioned it, although it meant leaving immediately.

  So the four of us piled into her car and took off, leaving Dorian with Mom and Char. Owen cloaked himself, Tristan and me, which made Blossom look as though she talked to herself if any drivers looked over at her. She didn't care. She talked non-stop for the five-hour drive, providing us details on the members of the Daytona coven, including her Aunt Sylvie, the leader. She hadn't been home in over a year, because last time, her desire to help some so-called friends back-fired on them all, and the coven, especially Aunt Sylvie, still held it against her.

  Once in Daytona, she parked on the side of a street in front of a large, brick home in an older, yet nicely manicured neighborhood. Planters with colorful flowers hung on the window sills, the lawn was beautifully landscaped, and the shady front porch invited you up for tea or lemonade on this hot summer's evening. The house looked as though it belonged to an upper-middle-class family, not twelve witches that made up the coven. I only felt six mind signatures inside at the moment.

  "You stay here for now," Blossom said as she opened the car door. "Let me soften up Aunt Sylvie first."

  Tension tightened my muscles as Blossom hurried up the front walk. I couldn't help but wonder if she was delivering us right into the Daemoni's hands to protect the colony.

  A thin woman who looked about sixty, with silver hair pulled neatly into a bun and wearing a long, tie-dyed skirt, opened the door just as Blossom reached it. Her dark eyes widened when she saw the guest on her front porch, and they silently stared at each other for a long moment. When the woman finally opened her mouth, she spoke quietly, but not too low for our ears.

  "Blossom! What are you–" She broke off and peered behind her niece, her eyes scanning the neighborhood. "I sense magic. Too powerful to be yours, child."

  "Yeah, well …" Blossom squirmed and shifted her weight. "… because I'm not alone."

  The old woman's eyes snapped back to Blossom's face. "What do you mean you're not alone? Who did you bring here?"

  "Some friends. They need your help."

  "Blossom, we're not going through this again. Last time you brought friends to me, they wanted to raise their dead uncle to dispute a will!"

  "I didn't know that's what they really wanted. They told me–" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's not like that this time."

  "Good! Because there are no séances or necromancy going on here. We don't do magic for Normans, and we definitely don't use dark magic."

  "Of course not, Aunt Sylvie. That's not it at all. They're Amadis. Honestly. They just want information."

  Aunt Sylvie narrowed her eyes. "That magic is too powerful for Amadis, even a warlock. It almost feels like a … a … sorcerer. What have you gotten yourself into now, Blossom?"

  "I swear, they're Amadis. More Amadis than anyone really." Blossom waved her hand behind her back, her signal for us to join her.

  "She won't let us in until she trusts we're not Daemoni," I said after peeking into the older witch's mind. This worry actually made me feel better because it meant Blossom hadn't led us into a trap. "She actually believes a sorcerer has cloaked and shielded us. Are you really that powerful, Owen?"

  "No, not quite. But close enough," he said with a grin in his voice as we climbed out of the car.

  Owen didn't remove the cloaks on us until we stood behind Blossom on the front porch. Aunt Sylvie gasped when we appeared.

  "Oh, no. Blossom! This is almost as bad as Daemoni themselves."

  "Aunt Sylvie, your manners," Blossom whispered, as if we couldn't hear anyway. "Don't you know who they are?"

  "Of course I do. How could you bring them here?" Fear masked the woman's face, as if she expected us to attack her.

  "They need our help."

  "We can't help. It's too dangerous!" Aunt Sylvie glanced around the neighborhood again and stepped back into the house, pushing the door nearly closed so we could barely see her drop her head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Alexis, Mr. Tristan. I can't risk my coven. There was a reason I wouldn't respond to Owen's calls. Please, leave now. It's better for all of us."

  "But, Aunt Sylvie," Blossom begged, "they just need to ask about a girl. You might know–"

  "No, child! I don't–"

  Three pops behind us cut her off, and we all spun around, hands out.

  "That's exactly why I can't help!" The door's slam punctuated Aunt Sylvie's point. I caught enough of her thoughts to realize she knew nothing about a girl and only wanted her coven to be left in peace.

  "Who are they?" Blossom whispered.

  I knew who. I wanted to know how. How did Vanessa and her cronies find us once again? The surprise in Blossom's voice and in her mind meant this wasn't her doing. I felt out for mind signatures, but these three–Vanessa, her brother and another vampire–were the only non-humans around. Besides the witches in the house, of course, who were scrambling around inside and calling to each other about wands and hide-out spots.

  "The vampire bitch we told you about," I whispered back. Vanessa giggled, probably pleased to hear we'd been talking about her, regardless of what had been said.

  "You're going to attack in daylight, in the middle of a human neighborhood?" Tristan demanded.

  "No, we're not here to fight," Vanessa said.

  "Really?" Tristan asked, the single word full of doubt.

  "We're obviously out-numbered and out-powered. We're not stupid."

  "I beg to differ," Owen muttered under his breath.

  "I heard that, warlock," Vanessa's brother barked. "You better watch yourself."

  "Oh, stop. The warlock has a point about you, Victor," Vanessa said with a roll of her ice-blue eyes, which landed back on Tristan. "Let's just say I'm not stupid. But I'm beginning to think you are."

  Tristan growled. "What are you up to now?"

  "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Vampire hearing, you know. We've been watching this place, like we have every other coven, nest, pack, den … well, you get the picture. The Amadis refuse to help you. A little discord in paradise, huh?"

  "What's your point, Vanessa?" Tristan asked, his voice still a snarl.

  "Well, I'm not surprised," she continued, ignoring Tristan's question. "This is what you've planned all along, right, lover? This nonsense search for a girl when you already know what you really need. This."

  She whipped her gloved hand out from behind her back, my necklace still wrapped around her wrist, the pendant dangling from it. Sh
e couldn't wear the silver on her bare throat, and Vanessa wasn't the type to wear anything high-necked to protect her skin.

  I waved my hand and the pendant swung toward me, but the chain was too strong and too tight to easily come off Vanessa's wrist.

  "Too bad you'll never get it," Vanessa sang. "It's mine now and soon enough, Seth will be, too."

  Without further thought, I jumped from the front porch toward her, but I was yanked back into Tristan's arms.

  "I'm waiting for you, darling," Vanessa said, a gleam in her eyes. "Whenever you're ready to call off this charade and return to me. I have the stone now. Just follow your heart."

  And with that, she disappeared, followed by her brother and other crony.

  "Damn it!" I squirmed in Tristan's arms. When he let me go, I spun on him. "Why did you stop me?"

  "Your reaction was exactly what she wanted. She was taunting us. Especially you. The stone's not worth it."

  I stared at him, dumbfounded.

  "It's just a rock, Lex. Forget about it."

  "You think it's a distraction?" Owen asked.

  Tristan's jaw muscle twitched. "Yes. She's trying to take advantage of everything going on with the Amadis. She knows we're falling apart. Which means they all know."

  If that were true, if the Daemoni knew the Amadis had internal problems, they knew they could easily take us down. Was that what Vanessa had meant about a charade? About Tristan returning to her, because the Amadis would soon be destroyed? But what did she mean about following his heart? And what did she know about the stone?

  I couldn't help but think Tristan knew exactly what she meant. His denial didn't ring true in my ears. The stone was a lot more than just a rock. Once again, suspicion crept under my skin and festered, making me question what else he lied about, besides the stone. I was tempted to listen to his thoughts but then shame and anger overcame me. I can't let Vanessa get to me. The Amadis were doing enough to split us up. I couldn't allow the Daemoni to do so, too.

  Chapter 17

  The weeks flew by entirely too fast, as if the world felt compelled to get to October as quickly as possible. Everything went from bad to worse with each passing day. The number of news reports about Normans disappearing from their lives rose sharply. Tristan blamed "natural" disasters, bizarre "accidents" and tense relations among countries on the Daemoni, as well. The Daemoni liked chaos, he said. They liked human suffering and war. Normans became easy pickings during turbulent and violent times, so the Daemoni were wreaking havoc with inciting incidents across the globe. How far would they go? Would they ever stop?