by Kristie Cook
“Don’t you have a car or something?” I asked.
“Ha!” He laughed as though I’d made a hysterical joke, and then gave a shake of his head. “We’re bikers. Cars are for pussies. Someone might have a truck or somethin’ somewhere, but it could take a few hours to track one down.”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” I muttered with a sigh. “Tristan’s given me a few lessons, but I haven’t really ridden by myself.”
“The rest of ya’ll?” Trevor asked as his eyes scanned the others.
“No worries here, mate,” Jax said.
“I’ll, uh, ride with Jax,” Blossom answered, taking a step closer to the were-croc. She looked up at him. “If that’s okay with you?”
His face broke into a grin as he gave her a nod.
“I think you know my answer,” Vanessa said.
Trevor’s gaze came back to me. “Do you want to ride with her again or on your own?”
I cocked my head as I considered his question, grateful my headache had faded.
“On my own,” I finally said with assurance. As Vanessa would say, I needed to pull on my big girl panties, and this was one of only a few ways I could be independent. I already relied on others for so much. “As long as Blossom can handle the extra shield?”
“You have to have your own shield anyway,” she said. I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me. “Council’s orders, direct from the matriarch.”
Trevor gave me a refresher course, and then I made a few circles of the property as practice. Afterwards, the pack leader led us to a group of bikes at the far end of the parking lot.
“These are the ones I can spare. Take your pick.”
He helped me choose the best one for me—a Harley Softail he’d turned into a bobber with flat black paint and purple trim. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
“You were kind of my inspiration on this one, so it’s fittin’,” he admitted.
“You built all of these?” I asked, not sure what to make of his admission and not wanting to embarrass him.
“I mostly repair. The packs keep me pretty damn busy with all their fuck-ups, especially when they go Daemoni hunting, but I build when I can.”
“Wait—Daemoni hunting?” I asked, my stomach knotting. The Amadis had rules and hunting down the enemy as I imagined a wolf pack would do did not fall under those rules.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Trevor said. “We run the woods, and when we find them too close to Normans, we run them off, is all. Protect the innocents. It’s the most fun we can have during the full moon.”
I nodded as an idea occurred to me. “Instead of running them off, you think you can trap them somehow? Capture them?”
He eyed me with bemusement. “Maybe the newly turned.”
“Perfect.” I gave him Tristan’s and Charlotte’s cell phone numbers so he could call us when his pack captured any young Daemoni—or others who wanted to be converted. “If we can get here, we will. Otherwise, we’ll send someone else to take them to a safe house. You’ll be helping us build our army.”
I tried to make myself sound authoritative so my order came out that way—as an order. Because I knew Trevor and how he put his pack before all else.
“Anythin’ for you and the Amadis,” he said, although I didn’t miss the reluctant grunt that followed.
Well, it was better than nothing. At least I felt like we’d accomplished something for our mission.
When we arrived at the Atlanta safe house after a maze of backcountry roads to avoid checkpoints and Daemoni hunters, I hadn’t expected to see two more motorcycles there. After a long hello kiss and embrace, Tristan explained that he’d bought them in Jacksonville. They were the first vehicles they found for sale where they’d appeared.
“They bought them,” I emphasized to Vanessa.
She shrugged. “I didn’t see a wad of cash or a stack of credit cards in the few things the cops gave back to us.” She lifted her chest and gave her breasts a shake. “Unless you’re talking about using other ‘currency’.”
I rolled my eyes, but she was right—Tristan had had all of our cash on him when we’d had to bail off the plane.
I’d thought he’d been speaking to me while they were on the road, but I hadn’t heard the loud Harley engines in the background. Then Charlotte demonstrated how she’d magically muffled the sounds.
“Wouldn’t a car or van be easier?” I asked. “Especially now with all of us?”
Charlotte shrugged. “With Blossom’s help to shield and cloak, the bikes aren’t difficult. A lot easier to squeeze into tight spots when other drivers can’t see you. Or to sneak past a checkpoint.”
“Huh,” I said with a nod of understanding. “We managed to avoid any checkpoints. Did you pass a lot?”
“Three, which are three too many, considering this is the United States of America.” She shook her head slowly. “Not normal at all.”
So apparently we’d be riding motorcycles for our mission, but for now we only rode from the safe house to my old home in Atlanta, which served as a secondary safe house and wasn’t occupied at the moment. Although the Amadis had made it appear to have burnt down a couple of years ago, A.K. Emerson’s “heirs” rebuilt it, making it look exactly like it had before. Because it was exactly like it had been before—the fire and resulting rubble had all been an illusion.
An odd mix of emotions slammed over me when we walked in through the back door by the garage and I flipped on the lights for the family room. Tristan had never lived here with us, and, at the time, I’d never known the rest of the people here whom I called friends. Sheesh. I’d been nearly Norman then, nothing like the person I was now. So having them all here in this house full of memories felt a little weird. Mom, Dorian, and Owen had been the people in my life then, and one was gone by choice and the other against his will, and Mom was halfway around the world. My heart squeezed as I suddenly wished she were here, telling me everything I was doing wrong but loving and supporting me anyway. I bit my lip as I thought about how much I needed my mom.
Ridiculous. I had to hold on to the anger. I couldn’t let this place get to me.
When Tristan and I passed Dorian’s old bedroom on our way to my former suite, I nearly broke down. The Amadis had changed it, though, into more of a generic guest room rather than a little boy’s room. It’s not his anymore, I reminded myself. It’s just a place.
Climbing into my old king bed in the master suite—a bed where I’d cried oceans, threw temper tantrums, and allowed Foggy Alexis to move in—with Tristan on the other side felt weirder than any of the rest, though. But in a good way. I snuggled into his arms, which he wrapped around me tightly. Finally, for the first time since several nights ago when Blossom had magicked me to sleep, I relaxed a bit. And I caught him up on all of my events and experiences, down to what happened in Sundae’s office.
“You don’t know who it was or where they were?” Tristan asked when I finished. His heart pounded into my ear as I lay on his chest and drew random shapes with my finger over the ridges of his stomach.
“I was pushing really hard and completely lost track. They could have been five miles from where we were or fifty. Maybe more. But I’m sure it’s nothing. No one to worry about.”
“Probably. Unless you think it could be Kali?”
My finger stopped by his belly button, and my brows pushed together. I hadn’t considered that possibility. “I don’t think so. I think I’d recognize her signature by now, even from that far away. On the other hand, whoever it was became enraged when I found them. I’d never felt anything like it before, not even when Vanessa used to push me out.”
“Mad because you found them or because you were in their head?”
“You mean, like they’re hiding something and knew who I was?”
“Maybe. They could even know Dorian’s whereabouts.”
“Huh.” My finger returned to skating over his abs as I pondered this idea. “So maybe we should
go back and try to find them again?”
“Let’s see what you and Blossom can do from here first,” he said as his hand rubbed circles over my lower spine. “You said the spell nudged you north again?”
“I think so, but I could have imagined it. You’re right. We have to stay focused on Dorian. If it was Kali, then maybe he’s not with her.”
I tilted my head up to look at him, and my breath caught at his beauty. How he could still do that to me was beyond my understanding, but I wouldn’t complain.
He curled down around me and kissed me on the forehead. “We also need to see what conversion missions Charlotte comes up with around the area so we can make the Council happy.”
Right. Our “main” mission.
Tristan’s lips moved along my temple and down my jaw as he rearranged us so I lay on my back and he leaned over me. His mouth traveled over my chin, along my neck and collarbone, and to the stone over my heart. As soon as his lips touched it, warmth zinged through me.
The feeling in my lower belly brought on a realization, and I groaned. “The tea mix. It’s gone.”
“We can’t let that stop us from trying,” he murmured against my chest. “We’re still on a mission.”
“At least this one is nice,” I said in agreement.
His lips moved to my breast and made all kinds of promises of exactly how nice it would be. Unfortunately, with everyone in the house, I didn’t quite get to enjoy it as much as I would’ve liked—I held back at the last minute so I wouldn’t share my orgasm with my team.
* * *
The next morning, we all set to work right away. Charlotte, Sheree, and Jax went hunting for potential converts in downtown Atlanta, while Blossom and I sat in the middle of Dorian’s old room, Tristan nearby to keep watch. Blossom began her chant, and we pushed and pushed until everything went black in my mind.
“That same thing again?” Blossom asked when I opened my eyes. I was surprised to find my head in Tristan’s lap, my body curled in the fetal position next to him on the floor.
“No,” I said as I pushed myself up. Dizziness waved over me, and I blinked against the gray trying to cloud my vision. My brows pushed together—I couldn’t remember anything but stretching my mind as hard and as far as it would go. “I didn’t hear anything this time. Why?”
“You’re bleeding again,” Blossom said.
Tristan’s thumb wiped over the curve of my jaw and came away with a smear of red. I rubbed my finger over my upper lip, and it also showed blood.
“I’m fine,” I muttered as I wiped my finger on my leathers. “It’s not like yesterday.”
Blossom looked at me with a raised brow.
“I promise.”
Although it didn’t feel as if an ice pick were lodged in my gray matter, my head did throb, but I refused to admit it. At least it didn’t feel as bad as before, and this time nothing strange had happened. I began to wonder if I’d imagined that part yesterday.
“I think you’re trying too hard,” Tristan said. “Pushing your boundaries.”
He reiterated what I’d told Blossom yesterday, and the idea may have been truer than I’d thought.
“What else am I supposed to do?” I demanded. “Our son is out there somewhere. We have to find him. And unless you have a better solution, we have no other way.”
He pulled me into his arms and soothed his hand down my back. “Pushing your boundaries isn’t a bad thing. I’m not saying that. Just don’t push too hard too soon. It’s like a Norman weightlifter trying to exceed his max. If he goes too hard too fast, he gets injured. You injure this head of yours, you’re no good to Dorian or the rest of us.”
So we treated my ability—and Blossom’s—as though we were training, pushing a little further each time but not to the point of my passing out. My ears did stop bleeding, but my patience wore thin. Nothing was working. Using my old house as a home base, we physically rode the streets of Atlanta, its suburbs, and beyond while I searched for Dorian’s mind signature—and Kali’s, Owen’s, Victor’s, and Lucas’s, too. But we found no sign of Dorian or any of them. We questioned new converts, but they could only tell us that both Kali and Lucas seemed to have been up to something, but they didn’t have the status to know what. Days grew longer as we moved into spring, and they turned into weeks with still no progress.
Dorian’s birthday came, and Tristan and I spent the day like every other—searching for him, both physically and mentally. But in the end, all we could do was promise that we’d celebrate it with him as soon as we had him home. I refused to let myself cry even on that day. Worry and fear of what the Daemoni might have done to him tried to squeeze my heart, but I let the wrath smother them.
Sasha never showed either.
“We have to do something else,” I declared, thumping my fist on the table as my team stood around the kitchen one morning. “He’s been gone a damn month already, and we’re no closer.”
“Where are we supposed to go, though?” Sheree asked. “What else can we do?”
I pushed myself off the table and threw my hands in the air. “I don’t know. Somewhere. North, I guess, since that’s the little bit of feeling we get.”
Charlotte’s phone rang, and she grunted when she saw the number.
“Alexis, we haven’t really felt that for weeks,” Blossom said as she watched Char leave the room to take the call.
“Maybe you haven’t, but I have.”
The witch cocked her head, her blond hair falling over her shoulder. “Really?”
No, not really. If I’d felt anything at all, it had been only the tiniest of nudges, which I couldn’t know for sure meant anything. “Well, it’s more than anything else we know.”
“Come on, Alexis,” Charlotte said, returning to the kitchen. “We have a job that will take your mind off things for a few days, then we can regroup on this.”
“Char—” I started.
“Don’t Char me.” She stepped in front of me and crossed her arms over her chest as she pierced me with sapphire-blue eyes. Eyes like her son’s. “Sheree and I have been handling almost all of these conversions, but it’s time you get to work doing what you’re supposed to be doing. And it sounds like this is too big of a group for me to handle on my own anyway.”
I scowled.
“You need the distraction,” she said.
I looked around the kitchen at all the pairs of eyes on me. I’d missed most of the conversion attempts Charlotte had made because I’d been focused on finding Dorian, but I had promised Rina I’d make this a priority, too. So far, though, our conversion opportunities had only been onesies and twosies, enough for Char to handle with Sheree’s help. No big groups that would make a difference to the Daemoni.
“How big?” I asked, trying to let the idea excite me. Char was wrong—I’d never be distracted from my main goal of finding Dorian—but maybe going out on a conversion attempt, especially a big one like this, would give this one part of my mind a chance to rest. When I used to write and I’d have writer’s block, doing something mindless or using a different part of my brain would help me unstick myself. The overtaxed part of my mind could wander freely without pressure, and lo and behold, my brain would often trip over the solution to my problem on its own. So maybe this could work. Besides, I really did need to show some effort in this area.
“There was a vamp party in Buckhead last night,” Charlotte said. “Our guys saw at least twelve people turned, but they’ve been abandoned in an old apartment building.”
“Twelve?” I asked, my eyes widening. “How are we supposed to convert so many on our own?”
“See why I need you?” she asked before letting out a sigh. “We’ll be lucky to get them all anyway, but we have to give it a shot.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “All right. Fine. Let’s do it.”
We went over the plan, and then we moved out to a shoddy area near Buckhead. Charlotte and Blossom cloaked and shielded us when we came closer to a nest of Daemoni v
amps. A coven of mages wasn’t too far away, either. I tried to keep my mind open to everyone so we could hear our enemies’ thoughts, but all the noise in their heads was too much for everyone to handle.
Rina had taught me that in battle, she’d monitor the enemies’ thoughts and direct her people with her mind, allowing everyone else to focus on their fighting. I’d experienced this myself the day Tristan disappeared. Unlike her, though, I couldn’t stay far away from the battle itself. Not this time anyway. Charlotte did need me. So when we went in, I’d have to keep part of my mind roaming the area surrounding us to listen for danger while keeping another part focused on our potential converts.
Two vans from the safe house waited for us in an underground garage near the target location with Amadis vampires as their drivers. As soon as the bikes were parked and we dismounted, one of the vamps handed us some silver spikes.
“Once they state their desire to convert, and you get them near the vehicle, they’ll need to be staked,” Charlotte said, and the blood drained from my head. “It’s the only way to get them safely back so we have more time to work with them.”
My stomach clenched. I couldn’t help but be reminded of plunging my dagger into Sonya’s heart to keep her knocked out while Tristan drove us to the Captiva safe house the first time we tried to convert her. That had been way worse than cutting the stone out of her. Blood had spattered over my face and all over the backseat of Tristan’s truck. But it had effectively kept her out for the rest of the drive and up until we removed the dagger from her heart once we were ready to begin the conversion. We’d have to do the same thing over and over again today. Ugh. Maybe this would be a real distraction.
“Tristan, you stay with Alexis, and Vanessa, you stay near me,” Charlotte ordered. “Sheree and Jax, you two keep watch between here and there, and be ready to morph if necessary. A shield will attract that mage coven four blocks over, but if I do need to throw one up, Blossom, I need you ready to hold it. You come in with us so you can watch and learn. You might need to jump in. If so, just follow orders.”