Power (Soul Savers) (18 page)

None of her fellow vampires had thought once about her,
either, which I found pretty weird, considering she was supposed to be leading
the new nest there, according to Sonya. Maybe things had changed since Sonya
had been with the Daemoni, and Vanessa wasn’t part of the South Beach nest
anymore. But then why was she there? And why did she leave when she had to have
known there’d be a big fight? If she knew they’d be taking control of Tristan,
wouldn’t she have stayed to watch him kill me? To help him and try to make him
hers? We were missing some important piece about their plan. Either that, or it
was much bigger than simply eliminating me, the youngest Amadis daughter.

“Please continue your search,” Rina said, and she started to
add something, but broke down in a coughing fit, which eventually led to the
call coming to a close. I sighed as I hit the “end” button. Rina wasn’t
supposed to be sick. Not anymore. The fact that her condition hadn’t improved
since I’d left hurt my heart.

“I should be there with her, helping her,” I said to Tristan
as we sat back in the cushy chairs.

“It’d probably be safer for you,” Tristan agreed.

“So should you. Maybe you can heal her.”

He shook his head. “My powers won’t help her. It’s deeper
than a physical illness. Besides, someone needs to stay with Dorian. I’m sure
they won’t allow him back on the Amadis Island.”

I chewed on my lip. “Rina would be pissed if I came to the
Island. She wants me out here, helping the cause and finding the stone.
‘Serving my purpose.’” I wiggled my fingers in the air to mark the quotations.

“Well, you’re not going anywhere right now to find the
stone.”

I lowered my head onto my hands on the table. “It’s not as
if we have any leads anyway. But still …”

Potentially aid my grandmother’s recovery or serve my
purpose for the Amadis—how could I choose between those? I knew what Rina
would want me to do—serve the Amadis as a whole and not worry about her
personally—but what she desired and what was right weren’t necessarily
the same thing. Especially when I didn’t seem to be doing much for the greater
good of the Amadis anyway. And wasn’t helping the matriarch as important as
anything else? On the other hand, Rina wasn’t the only person who could serve
as matriarch, but retrieving the stone was certainly necessary to ensure the
Amadis would continue to exist and even
need
a matriarch.

My internal debate—which I apparently had been sharing
with Tristan because he’d nodded at all the right places—came to an end
when Sheree knocked on the door.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked me.

Tristan rose. “I need to get home for Dorian’s math lessons,
anyway.” He kissed my forehead. “See you later?”

“Of course.”

Sheree took a seat across the conference table from me, and
folded her hands on top of the wooden surface. Her leg bounced under the table,
her knee hitting the lip each time.

“I’ve been talking to my mentor in Atlanta,” she said.
“About Sonya. He keeps telling me everything I tell you—conversion takes
time, she’s progressing normally and so on. But she’s kind of in a unique
situation, so we had an idea that could be her breakthrough.”

I leaned forward at the excitement in her voice and the light
in her eyes. “Go on.”

“Well, since Sonya has a family member who knows about her,
someone she obviously cares for a lot, we thought if we let her talk to Heather
at least on the phone, that could help her. I mean, normally new converts are
supposed to be totally isolated from Normans until they’re completely converted
and ready, but normally we don’t have anyone to talk on the phone with, either.
I mean, we can’t exactly call our families and friends from our old lives. Not
when we’re supposed to be dead. But Sonya does have someone who knows what she
is, and a phone call couldn’t hurt and—”

“Whoa.” I held my hand up, happy to try anything that could
help Sonya. Maybe communication with her sister would lift her spirits.
Sometimes her mood swings gave me whiplash, so an attitude adjustment,
especially a positive one such as this, would be a godsend. “Your idea is a
great one. Let’s give it a try.”

Sheree let out a little squeal. “This will be the best
Christmas present! Sonya will be so happy.”

I smiled. “Heather will be, too. And, if all goes well,
maybe it won’t be long before they can finally see each other in person.”

We both stood and left the conference room together, Sheree
still babbling on about her idea.

“I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner,” she said
as we crossed the marble-floored foyer, past the ginormous Christmas tree
Sheree and Blossom had decorated, to our offices. “I guess we thought she was
doing fine and it never occurred to us to do something extra, especially
something so out of the ordinary. I mean, no one gets to see or even talk to
their family
ever
, not after they’re
turned, well, except those who go back to eat their families. Even when we’re
converted we can’t, because, you know, that would freak the family out. So I guess
it had never occurred to us.”

“Um … Sheree?” I said, as I stood at my office door. My
knowledge of the faith-healing part didn’t compare to hers, so I’d been nodding
and humming when appropriate, and she hadn’t even noticed that I’d stopped. She
was already several steps farther down the hallway when she turned to me. “I’m
going to get some work done, okay?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right. Sorry about the babbling.
I was a little excited.”

I didn’t have a lot of work to do—only a bit of
paperwork and ordering supplies for the safe house, such as animal blood. Sonya
wasn’t ready for anything stronger, but maybe if Heather could help, we’d
finally be able to get her onto donated blood, and maybe, even, get her out of
the safe house. Of course, then what would we do? Sheree and I would
practically be out of a job.

“Some kind of delivery arrived,” Sheree said from the
doorway of my office, making me jump in my chair. I’d been so involved in my
online research of the most recent murders and missing persons—evidence
of more Daemoni attacks—that I hadn’t heard her approach. “They’re really
old and kind of neat looking, so I’m not sure what they are. Maybe something
for Christmas?”

“I’m not expecting anything. Not like that, anyway.”
Sticking to my childhood traditions of handmade gifts only, we hadn’t ordered
any Christmas presents. I massaged my eyes, then glanced at the clock and
sprang from my seat. “Oh, crap! I’m late for Dorian’s English lesson, and I
promised we’d work on the book today.”

Sheree hopped out of my way as I rushed into the hallway.
“What about the delivery?”

I waved my hand at her as I ran for the backdoor. “I’ll
check it out tomorrow. Just put it in my office.”

I hurried outside, jumped in my car and drove the six miles
home. I could have flashed, but in the interest of maintaining Norman
appearances as much as possible, I didn’t want to leave my car at the safe
house. I expected to find either Tristan still working with Dorian on math or
Dorian impatiently waiting for me. Instead, I found them in a heated
discussion.

As soon as I walked through the door, Dorian pounced on me.
“Heather’s mom is taking her to Universal Studios this weekend, and they said I
could go, too, but Dad won’t let me. Tell him he’s wrong, Mom.”

Ugh
. No way would
I risk Dorian’s life to go to an amusement park, especially unprotected. I
didn’t care what Galina’s people had said about South Beach. The Daemoni were
out in full force.

“Sorry, but I have to agree with Dad.”

“
Why?
That’s so
not fair! You and Dad won’t take me, so why can’t I go with them?”

“Well, um, we
want
to take you, Dorian, but—” I clamped my mouth shut at his expression. His
face scrunched up and his shoulders sagged. He didn’t want to hear any more
excuses.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “You guys never have time for me.”

He slumped into a kitchen chair, crossed his arms over his
chest and stuck his bottom lip out. Tristan and I exchanged a glance, both of
us feeling guilty. No matter how much we tried to make time for Dorian, it
never felt like enough.

“We have time right now. You want to go skim-boarding?”
Tristan said.

“Nah. Don’t feel like it.”

“Wanna spar with me?” I suggested. “Maybe you can beat me
this time.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll never beat you until I’m big like Dad.”

“Video games?” Tristan asked.

“Heather’s coming later to play with me.”

“We’re supposed to be working on our book today, anyway,” I
said. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can read something.”

“Bor-ring.” Dorian yawned.

I began to grow annoyed with his attitude, especially when
he’d always had fun working on the book. He was just being obstinate. “We
obviously have time for you, Dorian. We’re always doing these things together.
So what do you want to do now?”

His toe scrubbed at the floor tile. “You already know. I
want to go to Universal and ride the roller coasters. Why can’t I go with
Heather?”

I pressed my lips together. “We can’t allow it, Dorian. End
of discussion.”

“See!” he yelled, jumping from his seat, a ball of angry
fire. “You never let me do anything!”

I jerked back as if he’d slapped me. I’d never seen my son
behave this way. “Dorian Stefan! You’re acting like a spoiled—”

Tristan cut me off. “Dorian, Mom and I really want to be the
ones who take you, and we will soon. But not if you keep acting like this. Be
patient, son, and we’ll go. I promise.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, and he stomped out of the room.

“How can you make that promise when we can’t deliver?” I
demanded with a hiss through clenched teeth. “That’s what started all this, why
he’s acting like such a—”

“He’s acting like this because he’s nearly nine years old,
almost a pre-teen, and his one and only friend is a seventeen-year-old girl.”

“Heather’s not a brat.”

“Not in front of us. But you know she’s probably overly
dramatic about how bad her life and mom are when there aren’t any adults
around. That’s how teens are. It’s one constant I noticed while observing them
all those years before approaching you.”

“So what do we about it? He needs other friends, obviously,
but who? And what good will that do if all preteens—oh, no! Tristan, he’s
nearly a
teen
.” The sudden
realization crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. “Puberty …”

“He has a few years yet.”

“Not enough! Look how fast time flies. He’ll be …
gone
… if we don’t figure something out.”

Talk about drama queen. I suddenly exploded into fits of
sobs and tears. The first time I’d cried in months. I’d become so much better
at controlling my emotions, holding back until it could no longer be dammed.
Fear, hurt, anger, love, worry for Dorian, for Tristan, for Rina, for the
Amadis, for everything—they all mixed and roiled and flowed out of me in
a messy gush of tears and snot. I couldn’t have been more of an emotional mess
if I’d been PMS-ing or pregnant. Of course, neither could be possible. This was
only me, finally letting loose of what I’d been so determined to hold onto. So
much for mastering control.

After a long while of leaning over the counter and crying
into my arms, the sobs diminished. I dragged in long, jagged breaths that
shuddered their way out. I finally lifted my head and blinked against the
brightness. I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, and then swiped at the
wetness on my cheeks. Tristan handed me a tissue.

“Feel better?” he asked.

At the thought of what sent me into the emotional crash in
the first place, new tears welled in my eyes. “Not really. Tristan … I can’t
lose him. It’d be like losing you all over. Only worse. He’s my
baby
. I couldn’t live through it.”

Apparently he decided the danger of another fit had passed
because he came around the kitchen island and wrapped me into the warmth and
comfort of his arms.

“You’d have to live through it,
ma lykita
. I’d need you by my side to beat the living shit out of
everyone who tries to keep us from getting him back. We’ll find a way to break
the curse, and if we don’t, they’ll all be dead by our hands anyway.”

I drew in one more shuddering breath, and then nodded
against his chest. I straightened my back and swallowed down my fear and worry.

“Of course. If the Daemoni is annihilated, then Dorian has
no reason to leave us.” Feeling at least a little better, I looked up at
Tristan. “But first, we have to get the stone, and how can we possibly do that
if they’ll control you if you go near them? I mean, I’m assuming it’s a
distance thing, right, since they’re not controlling you right now?”

“Yes, that’s my conclusion.” He stroked a hand down my hair.
“We’ll figure it out.”

That night, as we were about to head to bed, Tristan’s phone
rang, indicating a text message. And then mine echoed it. I glanced at my Caller
ID to see if the text was worth answering, and my breath caught. I practically
shrieked like a little girl. “Owen!”

Tristan read the text aloud: “Did you get my delivery? I
thought I’d hear from you by now.”

“Sheesh,” I said. “We haven’t heard from him in ages and
that’s how he greets us? And
he
thought he’d hear from
us
by now?”

I would have given the guy some electric-shock therapy if he
were here.

“I guess your eight hundred previous texts don’t count,”
Tristan muttered. “Do you know what delivery he’s talking about?”

“Must be what came in today. Sheree told me about it when I
was leaving, but I didn’t think anything of it.”

Tristan typed out a response. His phone rang immediately.