by Kristie Cook
“I don’t think it works like that,” I murmured over the pounding of my heart. “She needs love. Not lust.”
“Mmm…it makes me feel better.” A small smile tugged at his delicious lips and, to be honest, I wanted to let him take me right there on the kitchen counter. Apparently, he wanted the same thing because his thought of lifting me up and yanking off my panties floated in my mind. But Owen paced the balcony outside, making impatient sounds with each turn. Tristan sighed and gave a sideways glance out the sliding glass doors. “At least he put some clothes on her.”
I peeked out the window. Sheree sat on the balcony floor, her knees pulled to her chest in a ball. Seeing her human form in a different setting made it even harder to believe she shifted into a killer cat. She still wore Owen’s shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just above her wrists, and she now wore a pair of red-and-blue-plaid boxer shorts, as well. I couldn’t have provided any better. Not only were nearly all of my clothes dirty, but she was tall and thin. I was short and, at least when I came here, fat. My own shorts only fit me by rolling the waist several times or with a pin. They would fall right down to her ankles.
“Is that what started this? Her being naked?” I asked.
He chuckled. “No, my love. Seeing your naked body through that little dress is what started this.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Is that another power you haven’t told me about? X-ray vision?”
“No. I don’t need x-ray vision to know what you look like under there.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “I have the memory firmly locked in right here. A very nice memory.”
“A very distracting memory.”
He shrugged in concession. I moved to break free of his embrace, but he tightened his arm around me. With his other hand, he lifted my chin to look me in the eye. The green of his eyes was clear and deep, but the gold sparked, on the verge of flames.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured. “In fact, I really prefer that you didn’t.”
“Tristan, what would you have done if you had decided to leave them, but my mom hadn’t been there for you right away? You’d already made the move, they knew what you were doing, but you were there with no immediate options.”
“I would have fought them when they came.”
“Exactly. And you would have crushed them. Don’t you see she can’t do that? You can see how weak she is. And all those bruises…they’ve already beat the hell out of her. She thinks they’ll come looking for her.”
“If they’re all fighting right now, she’s the least of their worries.” He sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. “I guess that means it’s the best time to do this. But you must know I won’t hesitate to kill her if she does anything to you.”
“I know.” I kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m counting on that.”
I took his hand and led him to the glass doors.
“But only if there’s no hope for her,” I added. He sighed with resignation.
Chapter 16
As soon as I opened the doors and stepped onto the balcony, a wave of cold air blew over me, causing a chill to run down my spine. It wasn’t because the air temperature had become nippy. Early April in the Keys provided ideal temperatures with highs in the low eighties and even now, with the sun beginning to set, it had to be at least seventy-eight degrees. That cold blast came from Sheree.
This was the closest I’d been to her yet and I felt the evil energy surrounding her. The feeling wasn’t my sixth sense sounding my Daemoni alarms, either. This was a physical feeling, as if malevolence emanated from her every cell and froze the air around us.
Owen sat next to the young woman, their backs against the railing bars, his arm around her shoulders. I almost thought Tristan might have been right about Owen’s motivations, but the look on Owen’s face told me he didn’t hold her out of sexual want. His eyes were filled with sorrow and his nose wrinkled in disgust. His mouth twisted, as if he were suffering deep internal pain. He looked like he wanted nothing better than to let go and flee from her as far as possible.
Sheree’s body quaked uncontrollably with more than just the loud sobs, groans and growls escaping her throat. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face puckered in concentration, like someone does when they’re trying hard not to physically lash out at someone else. I didn’t know if she fought the Daemoni power or the Amadis power Owen tried to give her.
“Will she shift if she loses control?” I asked. The Weres in my books would and since I’d been right on so many other things, I had to know.
“Possibly,” Tristan said.
My heart pounded with the thought of a tiger bursting out of her body in this small area. Even if she didn’t mean to, a wild paw could severely injure any of us. Tristan and I would probably be okay, though it might slow our ability to fight back while we healed. But not Owen. He didn’t have the same level of healing ability we did.
“I’m ready if she does,” Tristan added, his palm already facing Sheree.
I nodded and took a deep breath, thinking about exactly what to do. I remembered how Rina could just take my hand and I would feel her Amadis power wash through me. Mom could do the same, though her power wasn’t quite as strong as Rina’s. Mine was still very weak, but it might be enough to at least get Sheree through the night. I sat down in front of her and started to reach out for her hand.
Pop! Pop! The sounds were muffled, but unmistakable.
Owen jumped to his feet. Sheree’s body slackened, as if released from some unendurable agony. She pulled in a deep breath, her first in a long time, and exhaled with relief. Until the musical voice rang across the property. Vanessa’s voice. We both started shaking. Tristan and Owen just stood there, at attention, their eyes scanning the landscape.
“There,” Tristan said quietly, lifting his chin toward a giant entanglement of bushes, vines and mangrove roots near the water’s edge, but not on our property. Two white figures stood in the dark shadows.
“They can’t get in,” Owen said.
“Th-they’re here for m-me,” Sheree said, her hoarse voice full of terror.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Tristan muttered. “But thanks for bringing them.”
“There’s no way they’d know,” Owen said. “I’ve been careful with the shields.”
“Then how did they find us?” Tristan seethed through clenched teeth. “I knew this was a bad idea. It’s stupid, Owen. You should have never brought her here.”
Owen dropped his head and his shoulders sagged. He crossed his arms over his chest. His body language contradicted itself, as if he acknowledged Tristan was right but still defended his actions. He remained silent, his mouth drawn into a scowl.
“We need to leave now, before more come,” Tristan said. “Morning will be too late.”
Owen lifted his head and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his pocket rang. He dug the cell phone out and flipped it open, walking toward the other end of the balcony as he spoke.
Tristan stared at Sheree, his normally full lips pressed into a hard line.
“Please don’t make me go back to them. Kill me first,” she pleaded. “Just don’t send me back.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know how tempting that is. You’d be a nice distraction for them while we attempt to leave…but it’s not going to happen. I’m Amadis now. Only they would do something so despicable.”
“Is it even safe to leave?” I asked. “We’re protected in here, right? Can’t we just stay?”
“Looks like we’ll have to,” Owen said, returning to us, his phone already put away. “That was Julia. Atlanta’s not safe. The house is surrounded.”
“Who’s Julia?” I asked, momentarily distracted by the unfamiliar name.
“One of Rina’s council members, her closest advisor after Solomon. She went ahead of Rina and Sophia to check security. Good thing, too.”
Movement in the brush caught all of our eyes. All four of our heads twisted at once. W
e watched Vanessa and her brother walk the perimeter of the shield, testing it every now and then. Eventually realizing they couldn’t get through anywhere, they sunk into the shadows.
“Call Rina and Sophia and make sure they know,” Tristan said. “And try to get some soldiers here immediately.” He jerked his head toward Vanessa and her brother. “They won’t leave without a fight.”
Owen pulled his phone back out and headed to the other end of the balcony as he dialed. Tristan paced our part of the balcony, his eyes constantly moving from Sheree to me to the darkness outside. He mumbled under his breath, wondering how Vanessa had found us. Again.
Owen finally came back. “I couldn’t reach Sophia or Rina, but I did talk to Solomon. Rina and Sophia boarded the plane from London to New York hours ago. I’m sure they’ll call as soon as they land. Solomon’s sending soldiers, along with Julia. But there’s no one close by to help Sheree. Not until Rina and Sophia get here.”
“They can’t come here!” I shrieked. “It’s too dangerous! Especially now that they know they’re coming!”
I flipped my hand toward the last place we saw Vanessa and her brother.
“Someone can slip them in or I’ll go out to cloak them myself. And they—” Owen nodded toward the same place “—can’t hear us, so they don’t know anything. The shield silences us. We can hear them, but they can’t hear us.”
None of his explanations calmed me. I didn’t know if I could rely so completely on magic, something I hadn’t believed truly existed until just this morning. Though he’d proven himself repeatedly, for some reason, Owen’s powers felt different to me now…less him and more something else I didn’t fully understand. My own sixth sense had been a part of me for as long as I could remember, something I could rely on more than any of my other senses because it had never been wrong. Thinking Owen’s shield was similar must have allowed me to trust it so much, but knowing now that magic lay behind it all…that we trusted our lives with something out of fairy tales…it was just a lot to try to accept in one day.
I could almost feel Vanessa’s eyes boring into us, whether she could actually see us or not. I didn’t see how Mom and Rina would ever get past her. I didn’t know why they would even want to try. They weren’t reckless by nature…which meant they did trust Owen’s magical capabilities. And if they could, I needed to. I really had no choice right now anyway.
I took a few calming breaths, trying to blow the anxiety out of my body. At least, the anxiety about Mom and Rina. I still had this task in front of me. Literally sitting in front of me, her eyes wide and her lower lip trembling.
“Let’s just focus on this,” I said. I looked into Sheree’s terror-filled eyes. “We already know it’s going to hurt. Tell us if you can’t handle it. If you wait until it’s too much and you do something harmful—to me or anyone else, including yourself—I don’t know what these guys will do to you, but I’m sure it won’t be good. Understand?”
She nodded and her voice came out in a rough whisper. “Just help me or kill me. That’s all I ask.”
I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Then I lifted both hands toward her. Just as I was in reach, an electric current shot out of my left hand. I hopped backward on my butt. Sheree had nowhere to go, her back already pressed against the railing, but she shrank away as far as possible.
“Sorry,” I muttered, scooting back toward her.
Tristan stepped right behind me, placing a foot on each side of my hips and standing over me. His forearm came into my vision, over my head, his palm facing Sheree. “This is a really bad idea.”
“You already said that,” I said.
“And I still think it is.” The words came out as a snarl. “There are better solutions—like waiting.”
I twisted my head to look up at him. “Haven’t we learned that the best solution is not always the right solution?”
He tugged his eyes from Sheree to look at me. The green bands were dark and the gold sparkles dim as his eyes held mine, filled with concern. He exhaled a surrendering sigh and nodded just slightly. Then he looked back to Sheree, his body coiling, ready for action.
I raised just my right hand this time, reaching out toward Sheree. She hesitated. Then she lifted her own hand and clasped her fingers around mine.
Piercing needles of pain shot through my hand. A toe-curling scream wailed from both of our mouths. Her hand was glacial and it felt as if my own froze in her grasp. My blood went cold, ice traveling through my arm, up to my shoulder, into the bones. But we held on tightly to each other.
Owen dropped to his knees next to Sheree, his hands moving around her but not on her, as if afraid to touch her. Tristan stood over me, his palm still facing Sheree. He was prepared to shoot her if and when necessary. I almost begged him for the warmth a fiery ball would provide as the icy sensation continued rushing through my blood. The bitter hatred from the other night started overcoming me again, turning my vision red. My throat felt like I swallowed sandpaper and I realized I still screamed. I clamped my jaw shut, forcing myself to stop.
Various images popped into my head, like the slideshow of my dreams before Tristan’s return. But these weren’t familiar visions. They were Sheree’s memories.
I felt her painful transition into a tiger the first time she’d shifted and saw the full, white moon in a clear sky. She had no idea what happened to her and terror overwhelmed her. Then appeared an unfamiliar face talking to her, his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear the words. Then she was traveling and I knew we were seeing through tiger eyes. The perspective seemed lower than it would be from her height, but taller than if she crawled, just a little taller than me.
We stalked through the woods, the stranger beside us. Tall pines reached for the night sky. A lake in front of us reflected a full moon. A couple sat by the water’s edge. Our stomach growled with an emptiness as if we hadn’t eaten for days. The man slid a collar off our neck and hissed. The sound incited something within us. We ran for the couple, letting out a roar just as we attacked.
I screamed out loud. Sheree let out a mournful sob.
An image of frozen terrain flashed and then we were in caves. My heart settled its frantic pace. This image I knew. I’d just envisioned it yesterday, when Tristan told me about his imprisonment and escape. How had I pictured this place so perfectly?
“Because it’s home. Your other home,” a voice inside my head whispered. “Your real home.”
The voice didn’t belong to Sheree. Not to Owen or to Tristan. It belonged to me. It was the cold, evil one I’d heard before Tristan’s return. The one I thought had disappeared when my own sanity returned. Evil Alexis.
No! I silently protested, shutting that voice down. I know it from Tristan.
Then I realized that was exactly why the image had been so accurate. I hadn’t imagined the caves when Tristan told me about them. I’d actually seen what he saw in his mind’s eye as he told me. I just hadn’t known I could read minds then. Just yesterday. And now here I was, seeing Sheree’s visual memories.
As she remembered, she unintentionally shared with me the dark caves where she was free to roam inside, but could never leave. We went to Tristan’s space. Various images of him in there over time—sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, sometimes pacing and sometimes curled into a ball—flashed across my vision. She’d been watching him.
The scene abruptly changed to Key West and I saw myself walking down the alley, from her perspective. The image changed again. The time must have been later. Vanessa, her brother and their friends were back, kicking Sheree in her human form, then throwing her around, as if they played a game of hot potato. I saw the wall coming toward us. I heard her thought, “I’m not going to shift. I won’t be like them,” just before slamming against the wall. Then blackness. Then Owen’s face. The cold voice inside me hissed.
A new vision popped into my head. I saw through Sheree’s tiger eyes again. But this wasn’t a memory. This image had a different quality, a different text
ure to it. Her current thoughts flooded my mind and I almost pulled away from her. She stalked toward me in her mind, just as she’d done with that couple by the lake. And then she jumped at me. Her sharp claws dug diagonally across my face.
“No!” I said aloud. “Stop it!”
“What?” Sheree wailed. “I can’t stop anything!”
“I want it. I want it so bad,” she thought. “I want to rip your throat out. I want to taste your sweet blood, devour your tender meat.”
But her hand remained tightly clasped around mine as she fought the urge.
“You want it, too. You know you do,” my own cold voice said. “You want to fight her. You want to kill her.”
“No!” I cried. “No, no, no!”
My whole body suddenly went frigid. I started trembling all over.
“Yes, yes, YES! Fight her! Kill her! Watch the life force drain from her eyes.”
I could no longer tell the difference between Sheree’s inner voice and my own. They both taunted for a killing match.
“Find out what it’s like! You want to. Admit it. JUST DO IT!”
Sheree’s body vibrated, her edges becoming a blur.
“Don’t do it,” Owen warned with a low, firm voice breaking into the internal argument. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His face contorted with his own pain. But Sheree calmed down. She gained control over the shift.
Evil energy coursed through my body, as if it had been pent up there forever and was now finally free. Free to take control. I squeezed my eyes shut but the images filled my mind. My own visions of lashing out, hurting, killing these very people around me.
No! I won’t! This isn’t me. Don’t let it take me.
But that other part of me gained more control. The slideshow played again, but now it was my own—yet not the one I’d dreamed. These were all the horrible images. Tristan leaving the safe house and twitching his hand to shut the door behind him, closing me in. The battle on the mansion’s lawn. Tristan disappearing. His body writhing in agony on the cavern floor. Figures—some human, some not so much—beating him. And suddenly my fists pounded on him. Then I gripped something in my hands over my head. I slammed it down toward him. A sword pierced through his heart.