by Kristie Cook
"Charlotte!" Mom cried out. "How could you tell him? I trusted you!"
"No, not me," Charlotte said, shaking her head, her blue eyes wide and her face paler than her blond hair.
"No, not Charlotte," Martin said. "And not Owen, either. They're more loyal to the Amadis than to their own husband and father. I have my own way of discovering things."
Martin hurdled the table and jumped toward us, but before he landed, my hand flew up, and lightning shot out of it. The electricity didn't stop him, though, didn't even slow him down as he dropped to his feet. In fact, he began pulling on it, drawing it out of me harder than I could push it at him.
"Foolish girl!" Martin threw his head back and laughed–an eerie sound synthesizing a man's low guffaw with a woman's higher pitched giggle–as he pulled the power out of my body and into his own. His physical form wavered. A ghostly image emerged from it like smoke from a fire. A dark-haired woman, her body transparent, stood with Martin, half of her still a part of him. Several people cried out–vampires, Weres and mages afraid of this strange apparition. Martin's voice changed to the traitor's as both of their lips moved. "I feed off your energy!"
He continued pulling on my power, draining me, and I couldn't stop him, couldn't break his hold. My body began to tremble, weakening, but he kept drawing on me, sucking all the force out of me. And as he did, the image of the woman became clearer and more defined. Just as my head began to swim with darkness and my knees began to buckle, a massive figure blurred in front of me, severing the connection. I fell to the floor, next to Rina and Mom, behind Tristan. The woman's image dissolved back into Martin's body.
"Your life force is nearly as good, Tristan." Martin's mouth moved, but the traitor's voice came out of it. "Or should I call you Seth? That is more appropriate."
"Daemoni!" someone from the crowd shouted.
"A sorceress!" someone else yelled.
Commotion broke out behind us–the sounds of Weres trying to control their inner animals and not quite succeeding, and hisses and growls coming from others.
The traitor pulled Martin's mouth into a wicked grin. "Correct. A sorceress. Took you long enough to figure it out."
"But how?" Galina demanded from the dais. All the council members stood now, looking down at the person they'd trusted to be their leader. This person who was … possessed?
Martin's grin became a proud beam. "I am Kali, a sorceress. And it was quite easy. I simply overpowered Martin's spirit with my own and took control of his physicality."
Charlotte jumped down from the dais and stood in Martin's face. "What have you done to my husband?"
He lifted his hand toward her cheek, and she recoiled. His hand fell to his side. "Charlotte, my dear Charlotte. Your husband hasn't been around since … 1939, I believe."
Char's hand flew to her mouth, and her body jerked, as if she'd been punched in the gut. "You lie! It can't be!"
"Oh, yes, it can be. It has been done. How kind of you to be so busy protecting Sophia and the Amadis that you didn't even notice. Such a great wife you have been."
Char raised her hand and whipped it out to slap Martin, but he caught her hand in mid-air and twisted her arm. I sprang back to my feet as Char–brave, strong Char–cried out when the bone snapped. Martin pushed her toward us, and I caught her in my arms. I gently lowered her to the ground next to Mom.
"All I wanted was my bloodline carried on," Kali said through Martin's mouth, his eyes tinted red as he stared at Charlotte, who returned his glare. "I chose Martin because his parents were such powerful warlocks and both physically stronger than any sorcerer–he'd be the best father to my child. I killed his parents, took him and planted him in the Amadis over a century ago. But he wouldn't give in to my desires, always loyal to you." Martin's eyes flared brighter red as he jabbed his finger at Char. "Since you're such a strong warlock, too, though, I decided it was worth it. So I gave up everything. I gave up my life as a sorceress, even gave up my corporeal body, which had aged and weakened, anyway. But my powers remained strong, and I took Martin's body. Whether he liked it or not, you both still gave me a child–a boy with Martin's physical DNA and my magic. The most powerful warlock the Amadis has ever seen!"
Everyone's heads snapped toward Owen, who stood frozen, his face a white mask of shock.
"I lived Martin's life, pretending to be one of you, waiting for my opportunity," Kali continued, her voice cold yet mesmerizing. "The Daemoni grew restless. They have no patience, no self-control, but I have mastered it. Killing Stefan was their way of getting me on the council, but it wasn't until Seth's return that the opportunity really arose. I knew about you then, Alexis, about your power, and purposely planted those ideas in your head. Ideas about a daughter. It took you and Tristan away from here, letting me execute my plan while at the same time, knowing what would happen when you found the girl. It all played out beautifully. Until now. You're better than I realized."
Martin's wrist flicked again, but no blue light shot out of his palm. Instead, a staff, taller than him with a blue, crystal-like ball on its top, appeared in his hand. He lifted the staff and banged the end on the floor. My body jerked as the electricity shot out of me and to the shimmering ball. But not only from me. Energy from the atmosphere created an electric flow to the staff, like lightning being pulled from the sky, and the ball's interior glowed and swirled. People started crying out, even whimpering, as the sorceress pulled on our life forces.
Owen yelled something over the noise, and the air around Martin trembled–Owen must have shot some kind of magic at the sorceress, but she had herself shielded.
"Use your power, Alexis," Tristan said.
"She's already taking it!"
"Your Amadis power. She's Daemoni!"
"Alexis, I think I can break the shield," Owen thought. "Be ready. She's weakening me, so we only have one chance."
Resisting the desire to sag to the ground, my energy all but gone, I dragged my right arm up. Owen yelled out again, and the air around Martin wavered once more. I seized the opportunity and pushed the Amadis power at the sorceress. She shrieked. Martin's body convulsed. But the sorceress fought it. She pointed the top of the staff my way, and a blue light streaked out of it. With a writhing body, though, her aim jerked to the right, and the blast missed me. A thud sounded from behind.
"Ferrer!" someone cried out. The spell must have hit the blacksmith.
Before I could react, another streak blasted out of Martin's hand. My arm shot up with my dagger out to parry it. The spell bounced off the blade, soared over the council members' heads and hit the wall above them. The angel's stone sword shattered and debris rained down on the dais. I gathered all my Amadis power within me and pushed it out at Martin. But it wasn't enough to bring the sorceress down.
"Mom!" I shouted. "Help!"
She sprang to her feet, grasped my shoulder and lifted her own right hand toward Martin. Our powers more than doubled–they grew exponentially. Then Tristan stood behind us, placed his hands on us and gave us what he had. No one else could project Amadis power and none were as strong as Mom and me, but the rest of the Amadis in the room did what they could. Council members jumped down from the dais and formed a human chain, ending with Minh's hand on my wrist. Others from the crowd joined us, too. Their hands–some bone white, others looking more like claws–grabbed our arms and legs, held on wherever they could and shared their power with us. The Amadis came together as one, the power of all that's good streaming through them, into me and out my hand. The sorceress couldn't fight the goodness. A siren of a scream escaped Martin's mouth as he collapsed to the floor. Our energy sapped, the rest of us fell, too.
An eerie stillness blanketed the room as we all processed what happened. But before anyone could move, motion from the center of the floor caught our attention. Martin flinched. His arm jerked upwards. His hand waved weakly, and the air around us trembled.
"The shield!" Charlotte shouted. "She's trying to take it down!"
"Owen
! Stop her!" Mom said.
"Kill her!" Charlotte yelled.
But Owen didn't move. He only stared at Martin's upraised arm. And I knew he couldn't do it. He didn't see the sorceress anymore. He saw his father. And stopping the sorceress from hurting us was much different than killing his own father.
Martin's hand moved again, and the air shook harder. We had to do something. I switched the dagger to my right hand and pulled it up, behind my shoulder. Tristan's palm rose, and he paralyzed Martin just as I swung up and let go. The knife arced up and over, the light flashing off the silver blade as it flew end over end and stabbed Martin right where I intended. The dagger pierced through his hand and pulled it down, nailing him to the stone floor. The sorceress was too weak to withstand the silver. Her ghostly image rose from Martin's body, swirled and disintegrated. Her spirit became smoke in the wind.
I dropped my arm to my side and stared at Martin's lifeless body. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. As others began to stir, I remained on my knees. What have I done? A huge lump formed in my throat. My chest tightened. My stomach felt like a small stone. I … killed … someone. That was what I'd done. I'd ended a life. Martin's life.
But had I? Had there been anything of the real Martin left? Or had he already been dead, killed by the sorceress when she overtook his body decades ago? Who did I kill? Char's husband? Owen's dad? Or an evil and powerful sorceress? Or was she even dead?
I vaguely noticed people rising around me or the change in the air–relief that the real traitor had been identified and the situation managed. Mom, sounding distant to my ears, asked Tristan to flash Rina to the mansion. I finally tore my eyes away from the heap of robes and flesh that had been Martin and looked at Rina, who appeared to be just as dead.
My stomach clenched. "Is she …?"
"No," Mom said, "but she's not well."
"How bad?"
"I don't know, honey. She got the same dark magic you did."
Tristan bent down to lift Rina into his arms.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Julia hissed at him, her body protecting Rina's.
Chandra placed a hand on Julia's arm. "Julia, it's over. Tristan is obviously not the traitor."
"Yes, we have been made fools of," Armand said, his tone mixed with exhaustion and anger. "Martin was the traitor. He–or she, I should say–had all of our thoughts twisted up."
"Then are you done accusing my husband?" I asked.
Savio, Robin and several others averted their eyes and fidgeted nervously.
"I believe it is obvious," Solomon said, "that not only is Tristan not a traitor, but that he is meant to be with us. The Angels have given him to the Amadis, and we shall not disregard their gift."
Several council members murmured their assent, and the crowd cheered.
"Allow me to apologize on behalf of all of us who doubted," Savio said without raising his head.
"We'll deal with the consequences later," Mom said, and she turned toward Rina. "Tristan, you probably want to spend some time with Bree …"
Tristan looked at Bree and then at me. "I'd rather spend time with my wife and son first. I have much to think about."
"Then can you please take Rina to the mansion?"
"No, I will take her," Julia said, no longer defensive or protective, but more like she didn't want to let Rina go. Her eyes looked pained and grief-stricken as she looked down at Rina's still body.
"You can't flash with her," Mom said. "You have to see the logic in getting her to her bed as soon as possible."
Julia didn't respond at first, but finally nodded. Tristan bent down and lifted Rina into his arms. Her body fell limply against him as he turned to Bree.
"Go," Bree said before he could say anything. "I understand. I'll be here when you're ready."
Tristan disappeared, and Mom followed. The crowd noisily filtered through the doors. I was about to leave, too, but not before checking on Owen. He was nowhere around. Lisa and Jessica caught my eye, and I hurried over to them.
"Do you know where Owen went?" I asked them.
"No, but he left this for you." Lisa held out my dagger.
"We can probably find him," Jessica said with a mischievous smile.
I narrowed my eyes as I slid my dagger into my belt. "Can I trust you?"
"Probably not." Lisa's smile matched her sister's. "But we promise not to hurt him."
"Unless he wants us to," Jessica added. "Some males like that."
I cringed, not wanting to think about Owen's bedroom preferences. I probably shouldn't have trusted them, but my heart hurt for Owen. He couldn't have been in a good frame of mind. I thought he could use the distraction the faeries would provide.
"Please find him," I said. "And bring him back. He needs his family. His real family."
Lisa and Jessica grinned excitedly. "We are more than happy to do this favor for you."
They disappeared before I could say anything. I hit my forehead with my palm. Crap. Now we owe the faeries even more. I didn't know what that meant–how bad it would be–but since they'd come here in support of Bree, I hoped it wouldn't be too awfully bad. But if it was, Owen was worth it.
I'd go looking for him myself, but I had too much to deal with … and I was probably the last person he wanted to see anyway, since I'd played a key role in his father's death. No, not his father's. That wasn't really Martin. Perhaps that was true, but that meant this Martin–the one we all knew–was the one who raised Owen. The only one Owen knew as a father.
With a heavy heart, I glanced around the room, expecting to find it cleared out. Guards stood right outside the door waiting to take care of Martin's body once everyone left. But the room wasn't empty. Charlotte still stood there, holding her broken arm and staring at the lump of robes on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Char …?" I said quietly, taking a step toward her.
Faster than a vampire, she yanked the dagger out of her corset and sprang at Martin's body.
"You son of a bitch!" she screeched, slamming the dagger down. Making sure he was truly dead. But instead of the sound of the blade sliding through flesh and bones, we only heard the sharp twang of metal hitting stone. The robes billowed around her as she fell on her knees, nothing padding her landing. "What the hell?"
Charlotte pawed through the robes, shoving and swirling and lifting them in the air. Her movements became frenzied and her sobs desperate. I rushed to her side, knelt beside her and pulled her into my arms.
"He's gone," she sobbed against my shoulder. "The damn coward is gone."
I held her and rocked her. "I'm sorry, Char. I'm so sorry."
And I was–the last seventy-something years of her life had been a lie and now she couldn't even have her revenge–but part of me felt relieved. Because if Martin's body was gone, that meant I hadn't killed him.
Charlotte pulled in a raggedy breath and straightened in my arms. She gave a sharp nod. Her voice came out hard and cold. "Don't worry. I'll get the bastard."
With that, she disappeared. And I had no doubt she'd keep her word.
I flashed, too, to the mansion, anxious to hold my two men, but I needed to see Rina first. Julia stood in the hallway of Rina's wing, all alone. I bristled and prepared to push past her to see Rina. But looking at her more closely, I realized she wasn't guarding Rina's door. Her shoulders were slumped as she leaned against the wall, and she didn't glance up at me, although I knew her vampire ears had heard me minutes ago.
"Tristan and Sophia are assessing her," Julia murmured as she continued staring at the floor. "They would only allow Solomon in."
I leaned against the opposite wall and waited, not wanting to bother them.
"Alexis," Julia said after several long moments, "I am sorry for my behavior. Part of it, I am sure, was Martin's influence, but part of it, I admit, was my own obstinacy. I was very frightened for Rina. My feelings for her … they make me very distrusting of anyone. I only wanted what was best for her, even if it meant removing her as m
atriarch. It would have kept her safe." She sighed. "That's what I thought at the time. Now look at her."
Perhaps I should have told Julia it wasn't her fault because that was probably the right thing to do. After all, she'd just apologized and explained her reasoning. And no one had been themselves with Kali controlling them. But I didn't feel so forgiving at the moment, at least, not toward this vampire who'd been at the heart of everything wrong. Including Rina's condition. So I didn't say anything.
Luckily, I didn't have to. Rina's suite door opened, and Solomon came out. Julia straightened and searched his face for answers.
"How is she?" we both asked at the same time.
Solomon shook his head. "She has a pulse–it is faint but it is there–and she breathes normally, but her eyes do not respond to light and she does not respond to pain at all. We will have to wait to see if her body can regenerate from the damage done. Tristan is trying to help her heal."
"He's giving her his blood?" I asked with mild surprise.
Both Solomon and Julia wrinkled their noses.
"Yes," Solomon said, his voice thick, full of revulsion.
I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my throat. "You're disgusted by that? You're vampires!"
"It is not the blood transfusion," Solomon said, "which is rather repugnant, but it will change her scent."
I thought about what it would be like if Tristan's scent changed and he smelled more like Solomon or Mom, and I understood the vamps' revulsion. I loved his scent, found it quite mouthwatering actually, but it was his scent. Not anyone else's. And for Solomon to have his mate smelling like another guy?
"At least it is only temporary," Julia said. "Can I see her now?"
"Not yet," Solomon said. "But Sophia is asking for you, Alexis."
Julia scowled.
"She needs Amadis power, Julia," Solomon said as I entered Rina's suite and closed the door behind me. "Be patient."
I thought our suite was grand and luxurious, but it looked like a shabby motel room compared to Rina's. The front sitting room was larger than our entire suite and elaborately decorated in warm, neutral browns and beiges, with the obligatory antique furniture. I entered the bedroom and found Rina laid out on what Dorian would call a ginormous bed–like ours, it consisted of a stone platform and pillars, topped with a two-foot-thick pad. With Rina's dark auburn hair spread out on the pillows and her eyes closed, she looked like Sleeping Beauty. Except for the tube snaking out of her arm.