"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 about 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. She 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?

  Having their fun in the Norman world and knowing the Amadis were already experiencing our own turbulence, the Daemoni did the opposite from what I expected. Their attacks on Amadis had actually dwindled. They still watched, however, prohibiting anyone from helping us. Tristan, sometimes with me and sometimes with Owen, made a few flash trips to other states in the Southeast, but no one would talk to us. Most worried about attracting attention of the Daemoni, but others said they'd been ordered by their council representative to give us no assistance. Which we knew to be lies, because Char was their council representative. Someone else threatened them, someone within the Amadis. The closer we came to October, the more we were stonewalled.

  Mom and Charlotte had returned to the Amadis Island shortly after leaving us in early August, to find things worse than when they had left. If Mom didn't know Amadis daughters just didn't get ill–not physically or mentally–she said she would have thought Rina had dementia or Alzheimer's, often forgetting things, spacing out and even letting others make important decisions for her. Mom's updates became less and less detailed over time, however, and she made more and more references that things had improved, including Rina.

  I knew from Blossom's sources that they had not.

  The pressure sometimes became too much for us. Tristan and I fought nearly every day. He refused to tell me about the stone and I refused to drop the subject. My dreams had intensified, and I couldn't shake the feeling the stone and our daughter were somehow connected. I tried to convince him to seek out Bree, the person Lisa had spoken about, but he said we had too many other problems right now to be worrying about what a damn faerie said.

  I taught myself Ancient Greek and Latin as a distraction. Tristan thought it was a waste of time, saying if I wanted to learn new languages, I should be focused on useful ones–those I would need while traveling in today's world. For me, however, these nearly obsolete languages were useful. The first and last few pages of the Book of Prophecies & Curses, the only pages I had a close enough look at, were emblazoned in my memory. From Lisa's words, it sounded as though what Tristan had been told might have been a prophecy, and if he didn't want to, or really couldn't, tell me what it was, I hoped to find out on my own.

  The process of translation was painstakingly slow, however. Internet translators didn't do a good enough job for anything to make sense, which was why I had to actually learn the languages. At least, enough about them to decipher the prophecies and curses. The fact that they were written in riddles didn't help.

  Nothing on the pages in my memory mentioned a stone. I did find the prophecy about Tristan and me, which was fairly simple: "29 February 1736–The one they name for the god of chaos becomes the most powerful warrior for both friend and foe. Likewise, his mate, her soul created for his, shall be the daughter of enemy and ally." I also found, on the first page, what appeared to be a curse about the Amadis sons. Not sure that I translated it correctly, I wrote out what I saw in my memory for Tristan and showed him my translation as he sat at the kitchen table, reviewing stock quotes.

  "Is this right?" I asked him, shoving my papers under his nose.

  He studied the Ancient Greek and Latin versions and then my translation. "It appears to be. And I have heard of there being a curse before, but–"

  "Then we have hope for Dorian!" I bounced on my feet with excitement.

  He frowned. "Explain your reasoning."

  "If this is right, Eris put a curse on all the Amadis sons. You said it's as if they're compelled to go to the Daemoni, right? And this also says the curse can only be broken by the sacrifice of Amadis blood for the greater good of the world, and it must be done by purposefully giving themselves to the Daemoni. But so far, the boys all go for their own benefit, right? But you–"

  "If it's true, which most doubt it is–"

  "Would it be in the Book of Prophecies & Curses if it wasn't true?"

  He lifted an eyebrow. "You read the Book of Prophecies & Curses?"

  I bit my lip. Had I not told him? Was there a reason for not telling him? "Just a few pages. I couldn't actually read it at the time, but I remember what I saw, you know, like we can do."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34