Power (Soul Savers) (16 page)

“Help me, damn it!”

But it was too late. A blue light flashed at us, shattering
the glass door we leaned against. Magic. Mages were coming for us this round.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
I had no strength left to fight them, and who knew what was wrong with Tristan,
but he sure couldn’t do anything to help us.

“Tristan, we have to flash away. Can you at least do that?
Please?” I begged.

His face remained vacant. Another light, this one red, shot
at us from a different direction. Barely missing Tristan’s leg, it blasted a
chunk off the concrete block of the store’s wall.

“We have to get out of here. Flash with me. Now!” I threw my
arms around him in a bear hug and held on, but he didn’t flash.

“
You take him
,”
not-Cassandra said, and now I knew it couldn’t be her. The idea was impossible.
No one could flash with another person except Tristan. I’d disappear without
him, and in his state of mind, who knew what would happen to him?

Cloaked figures came out of the shadows down the street to
our left, their hands and wands pointed at us. And then more wearing Norman
clothes came from the opposite direction. They also aimed at us.

I wiped what I thought was sweat from my forehead, but the
back of my hand came away red. With this much blood leaking from various fang
wounds, the mages would soon be joined by the vampires and probably Weres, too.
The thought of fighting them all made my head swim. No. Injuries made my head
swim.

My vision faltered. I was slipping away fast.

Tristan
, I called
out with my mind.
Please, Tristan, help
me. If you don’t snap out of it, we’re going to die.

No response. I zapped him with electricity. His body jolted,
but he finally looked at me with more awareness.

I’ll die here,
Tristan. Help me!

His head tilted a notch. Did he hear me?

Please, baby,
I
begged,
I
need
you.

The flames in his eyes darkened. Or maybe that was my
vision.

“
You
can
do this
,” not-Cassandra said. “
Trust in me. Trust in yourself.
”

I had no other choice but to try. With every ounce of energy
I had left, I squeezed Tristan tightly, concentrated, and flashed.

We appeared on the driveway in front of the garage of our
own home, lying on our sides. The thud of our landing must have snapped Tristan
out of his trance.

“Did you do that?” he asked with surprise, but I had no
idea. And I couldn’t answer.

Help me
, I
whispered in his mind.

He finally looked at me, actually
saw
me, and horror filled his eyes.

He dragged me into his arms and held me tightly. “I’m sorry,
ma lykita
. I’m so sorry.”

“Just help me heal,” I croaked against his shoulder, barely
hanging onto consciousness.

He went to work, using his mouth to close those wounds that
weren’t closing fast enough on their own and apologizing between each healing
kiss. Then he held me close again, rocking me like a child while we sat in the
driveway. His guilt felt tangible, wrapping around my body, flooding into the
cells of my skin, nearly suffocating me.

But when I asked him what happened, his mouth clamped shut,
and he only shook his head. Whatever had overcome him in that alley, he wasn’t
ready to talk about it. If I’d felt better, I would have demanded answers that
very moment, but I was too tired to care. The eastern sky was beginning to
lighten with dawn and after being awake for nearly twenty-four hours and
surviving a brawl with the Daemoni, I needed sleep before answers.

I had many sleeps and still no answers.

***

“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” I asked for at least
the hundredth time over the last three days since the fight in South Beach.

A full moon shone through the window and bathed our bed in a
silver glow, creating a contrast of light and shadows on Tristan’s face as he
lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. I lay on my side and stared at him.
Remorse flooded out of his being, as it always did when I raised the subject of
that night. His jaw muscle twitched as he scowled silently.

I placed my hand on his shoulder. His body went rigid. I
squirmed closer to him, snuggling against his side, and murmured in his ear,
“You know I forgive you, right?”

He placed a stiff hand on my knee, though he still stared at
the ceiling, unblinking. “You shouldn’t.”

“I’m your wife. I’ll forgive you if I want to. But I should
know what happened, so we can be sure it doesn’t happen again.”

His jaw tightened once more. “It. Won’t. Happen. Again.”

“How do you know? How can
I
know?”

“Because I promise. I promise that you and I won’t be facing
the Daemoni by ourselves again. I promise you won’t be leaving this island any
time soon. I promise to keep you safe, which means finding you a better
protector than myself.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “No one’s more powerful than
you.”

“The most power doesn’t necessarily make one the best
protector,” he said, and added with a tone of disgust, “as we have seen.”

“Tristan, that wasn’t about
you
. Something happened—”

In a flash, he stood at the bedroom door, a hand resting on
the jamb.

“Even if you don’t value your own life, Alexis,” he growled.
“I do. You mean too much to me, so drop it.”

And with that, he was gone.

I flopped onto my back with a groan, and listened as Tristan
made his way through the house, out the backdoor and down the stairs to the
beach.
What does he mean, I don’t value
my own life? And what does that have to do with anything?
I sat up in bed
and watched out the window as his moonlit silhouette moved through his Aikido
routine. When it became apparent he wasn’t returning any time soon, I slid my
hand between the mattress and box spring and pulled out my dagger.

In the moonlight, I studied the elegant lines of gold and
silver that weaved around the hilt, and my finger caressed the intricate design
cut into the blade’s center.

Cassandra?
I felt
silly as soon as I thought her name, and considered putting the dagger back and
stuffing away this insane idea with it.

“
I am with you
,”
the now familiar woman’s voice said.

I pressed my lips together.
You’re really Cassandra? THE Cassandra?

She chuckled in my mind. “
Yes, dear. It is me.
”

How do I know?
The
dagger warmed in my hand. I almost snorted.
Is
that supposed to be some kind of ghostly sign?

“
Call it what you
like, but know that you and I are the only two daughters with the ability to
wield this Angel’s dagger. It has been sitting in the Sacred Archives for two
millennia, waiting for you to come along. Katerina knew this dagger would be
yours and had it prepared for you even before anybody else knew the blade would
be your best weapon. It is because you have the genuine power—the same
power as me. We are connected, dear.
”

I closed my eyes, wishing they could pull forth her image,
but even when they couldn’t, I definitely felt her within me. Well, a warm
power flowed in my chest that I assumed to be her.

Is that why I’ve been
so good at fighting? Are you helping me?

“
Not exactly, dear.
The power is all in you.
”

Even bringing Tristan
with me when I flashed?

“
The power is in you.
”

Did she know how to say anything else?

Then why are you here?
Why are you talking to me?

“
Because sometimes you
need encouragement. Sometimes you need guidance to accomplish your purpose for
the greater good. I come when you need me.
”

Thank you?
I said.
I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but part of me still doubted the
reality of this exchange.

“
Sleep well, Alexis
.”
Her presence receded, although I wasn’t done with the conversation.

I knew better than to push her, though. If our connection
was anything like the matriarch’s with the Angels, she would communicate only
when necessary. Too bad. She could have answered a ton of questions, such as
what was wrong with my husband. But I supposed I had to figure that out myself.

I slipped the dagger under the mattress, and looked out the
window. Tristan was still outside, working off his guilt. With a sigh, I lay
down and tried to sleep.

***

Another week passed with no progress. Tristan’s guilt only
grew and as it did, he became quieter and quieter. I felt him drifting away
from me, on a tiny raft in the immense ocean of his regret. Nothing I said
broke through to him, and the urge to invade his thoughts had grown into a
looming monster, although I’d sworn to him many times I’d never do so without
his permission. I was
this
close to
breaking that promise.

 
One October
morning I finally slammed my coffee mug on the table. The sharp crack
reverberated around the kitchen, and Tristan’s head snapped up, his attention
diverted from the business page of the newspaper.

“I’ve had enough!” I declared. “This is ridiculous. We have
a mission, and we can’t accomplish it if you won’t let me leave the island.”

“Find your protector and you can go,” Tristan said, his tone
dismissive.

I wasn’t about to let him blow me off, though. Not this
time. “You know damn well that I’ve been trying to find Owen, regardless of
your stupid ultimatum, but that’s beside the point. You and I need to work
together, so you need to get over this. I’m alive. I’m fine.”

“No thanks to me.”

I groaned. “Tristan, we were in a bad fight. Things aren’t
always going to go our way, but we can’t let it stop us if we’re to serve our
purpose, do our duty, all that jazz you and the rest of the Amadis are always
talking about. We made it home, and that’s all that matters. Besides I
am
alive thanks to you. You healed me,
remember?”

He flipped a switch, going from blasé to an explosion of
anger in a blink. He threw the newspaper to the side.

“You should have never been that hurt!” he bellowed. “I
should be able to protect you. I should have fought by your side, but I
didn’t.”

My voice rose to match his. “And why not? If we can figure
out what happened—”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Alexis.”

“So you
know
what
happened?”

His eyes glanced at me then narrowed as he stared at the
wall in front of him. His voice dropped to a low growl. “I know what I felt and
that’s enough.”

I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “And? What did you
feel?” I pressed.

No answer. Seconds ticked by.

“Dammit, Tristan, tell me already! Do I have to go in and
find out myself?” I threatened, tapping my temple with a finger. He looked at
me with a challenge in his eyes. “Well, what do you expect when you won’t tell
me—share with your wife, your
partner
—what
happened? You were a statue, surrounded by Daemoni but not fighting, and flames
filled your eyes like before, when the monster inside you was trying to take
over. But that monster’s supposed to be dead. So you need to tell me—is
it still there? Have they found a way to revive the monster? Because if so, we
need to figure out—”

“It’s not the monster,” he finally said. “You don’t have to
worry about that.”

Whew
. That was a
relief. And more information than I’d been able to pull out of him for weeks.

“Okay, then what is it?”

“Worse.”

“How can it be worse? If we beat that thing, we surely can
beat this … whatever it is.”

He shook his head. Then he rose from his chair, as if to
leave. “I’m not—”

My eyes grew wide. Anger overcame every rational thought. I
lunged across the two yards separating us and shoved my hands into his chest.
Hard. He fell over his chair and landed on his butt. He looked up at me, his
mouth twitching with either his own anger or a smile. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t
care.

“The only thing you’re
not
doing is leaving,” I seethed. “Or bowing out of this discussion like a coward
anymore. You’re going to tell me what happened. Or what you felt. Whatever it
is that you
do
know.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as he stood once again. He
leaned close to me, all traces of any smile gone. His voice came out low and
deadly. “You
don’t
want to know.”

I leaned forward, too, and looked up, our noses only inches
apart. “Yes. I. Do.”

He rocked backward on his heels and crossed his own arms.
His eyes narrowed. “Fine. You want to know what I felt? I felt
hatred
, Alexis. Murderous hatred.”

I sucked in a breath, more at his icy tone than his words.
Very slowly, I exhaled and tried to relax my shoulders. I already knew this;
I’d seen the anger in his mind that night. “Okay. Well, the Daemoni were there.
Of course you did. Why is that such a big deal?”

He spun away from me, and his arms flew out with
exasperation, one hand barely missing my jaw. He let out a groan and grabbed
his hair in his fists. He turned back to me with a peculiar wildness in his
eyes. I didn’t understand the problem. Did he really think I’d judge him for
hating our enemy? I mean, sure, Amadis weren’t supposed to hate, but I really
doubted he felt true hatred. He was beyond that. We both might feel intense
anger and extreme dislike to the point that it could
almost
be hatred, especially during a fight, except … he wasn’t
fighting …

“Not toward
them
!”
he roared. “Toward
you
! I hated
you
.”