Promise (16 page)

"My side of your family," Mom corrected.
Of course, there's another side.
I tended to forget that.
The sperm-donor, as I referred to him when I had to, had never been
a part of my life and Mom never spoke of him. Now there seemed to
be a reason why she made that distinction…but she quickly jumped on
my thought. "No, I can't tell you about the other side right
now."

She bent her head over my arm again,
squirting it with water to flush out the blood. Then she picked up
the tweezers.

"Right. Of course not," I mumbled, laying my
head back down. I didn't mind avoiding that topic as much as the
others. "So, the Amadis…if we are natural enemies of the…?"

I couldn't remember the word.

"Daemoni," Mom filled in.

"Right. Day-MAH-nee. And the Daemoni created
Tristan, then he is…?"

Tristan's face darkened and his eyes dropped
from mine.

"Basically…designed to kill your kind," he
said grimly, wincing at his own words, as if they physically hurt
him. "Their main purpose in creating me was to lead them into
victory over the Amadis…and, eventually, humankind. The instinctual
desire to seek your kind out and kill without hesitation was
bred
into me."

I raised my head and tried to gulp down the
boulder-sized lump in my throat. It remained stuck.

"
Kill
us?" I whispered around it.

He nodded and slowly lifted his eyes back to
mine. They looked horribly pained.

"But…you're not a killer," I said quietly,
finding this more difficult to believe than anything else they'd
told me…or not told me. He dropped his eyes again and stared at our
hands, mine in his, in his lap. I had sensed a bit of danger in
him.
But murder?
It didn't make sense. I shook my head in
denial.

"I
have
killed people, Alexis," he
answered just as quietly, still keeping his eyes from mine.
"Innocent people. Amadis. That was my way of life."

I gulped and blinked back the tears stinging
my eyes.

"
Was
your way of life, but not
anymore," Mom added. "Right, Tristan?"

"Absolutely right," he said fiercely. "I
turned my back on that many, many years ago, before you were born,
Alexis, thanks to Sophia. She persuaded me to see the Daemoni from
a different perspective and I saw how evil they were…how evil
I
was. They are, in all respects of the word, demons. Evil
spirits. Followers and soldiers of Satan himself."

His voice was cold, his face contorted in
disgust. A chill traveled up my spine.

Looking at him and knowing him the way
I
did, I just couldn't believe it. Then I thought about the
flames I'd seen in his eyes. And how, this very night, he'd said he
was much more dangerous than a vampire. I'd thought he was joking
at the time. I shivered. He frowned, his brows furrowing.

"A little over twenty years ago, Sophia
somehow convinced me there was good inside me," he continued, his
tone and expression softening from revulsion to appreciation with
each word. "She took me to the Amadis and they taught me how to
change inside, how to pull that good out and allow it to be the
overpowering force within me."

"See, in their greedy desire to create the
perfect warrior, the Daemoni underestimated the power of two types
of blood they included in Tristan's," Mom explained. "There is
enough Amadis and enough humanity in him that he was able to
overcome the evil."

"So, you have Amadis in you? You
are
like us?" I asked, feeling hopeful after all the repulsive
information they'd told me about the man I loved.

"If you trace it back several centuries, we
have ancestors in common. I do have Amadis blood, but that doesn't
make it easy to be like you."

"Tristan's been through a lot of pain and
turmoil to strengthen this side of him," Mom added.

"It still takes solid concentration and
self-control, but it's worth it. I'll
never
return to who—or
what
—I once was." The conviction was clear in his voice—as
clear as the pain was. "So…I came here to find you and Sophia, but
I knew it had to be done in a certain way. It had to be in a place
where you would be safe, just in case… The Amadis told me you were
taking classes at the college here, so I enrolled, too, hoping we
would cross paths and I knew I could be around you without having
an overwhelming urge to…"

His voice broke at the end and he was unable
to finish.

"Kill me
,
" I finished in a
whisper.

He finally looked at me again and agony
filled his eyes. He seemed to be pleading for me to understand. I
tried to imagine what it would feel like to have an inherent desire
to kill someone—as strong and natural as the need to drink when
parched or eat when starving—and then to try to overcome that force
when the object of desire was right there to be easily taken. The
morsel of food or jug of water…or innate enemy…right there,
taunting… The thought of harming someone repulsed me so much I
couldn't complete the picture in my mind. I just knew it had to be
nearly unbearable to fight that impulse…and the feeling of
not
conquering it could only be worse. Especially when the
person you wanted to hurt—to kill—was the person you also
loved.

I tempted this urge in him and didn't even
know what he went through. My heart ached for Tristan and the
struggle for control he had to fight every time he was with me. I
squeezed his hand once to communicate I understood and then tried
to pull my hand from his, thinking that just holding his hand made
it even worse for him. He held tighter to mine, though, and shook
his head.

"It's way too late for you to worry now," he
whispered.

"Done with this arm," Mom said, standing up.
"Trade places with me, Tristan."

Tristan took my hand as soon as he was seated
again, now on my right.

"This is why I was so concerned when I first
saw you with Tristan," Mom said as she rearranged everything in
front of her. "I hadn't seen him in twenty years and I didn't know
how he was. The Amadis told me over the years he was still
with
us, but he stayed away most of the time, so I didn't
know for sure."

She filled the syringe again and I looked
back at Tristan as she stuck the needle into my arm.

"I was too ashamed," Tristan muttered,
dropping his eyes from mine, staring at his lap again. "I am
supposed to be this strong, invincible, nearly perfect being, but
it took immense effort to control my own nature. I didn't want the
Amadis to see and know that about me. I would check in to let them
know I hadn't gone back to the Daemoni and to absorb Amadis power
when I needed it."

"Amadis power?" I asked. "What is that?"

"Sorry, hon," Mom said, "I can't give
details. Just remember you and I—and Tristan—have
unusual…abilities. Our powers must come from somewhere, right?"

Abilities? Powers?
I'd never thought
of them that way. They'd always been annoying quirks that made me
weird. But after everything that happened tonight…and thinking
about everything Mom and Tristan could do that just wasn't normal…I
realized that's exactly what they were. I looked at Mom and opened
my mouth to ask a question, but she shook her head.

"This is about Tristan, Alexis," she reminded
me, seeing my frustration.

She pressed along my left arm and, not able
to feel it, I shook my head. She picked up the scalpel and I
immediately turned toward Tristan.

"Can I tell her what the Amadis power does
for me?" he asked Mom. "So at least she can understand some of it
and its importance to me?"

When Mom didn't answer—and I didn't feel any
pressure on my arm yet—I looked at her. She seemed to be
considering it, then finally nodded.

I lay my head against the table again and
watched Tristan as he stared at the table and explained. "Amadis
power allows me to conquer the…
monster
…within me. It
strengthens the goodness, so it can overcome everything else bred
into me."

"So it's good for you," I said.

"Yes," he answered quietly. "I
need
it."

"You would've been better off staying with
them," Mom admonished. Tristan didn't answer. He looked at me again
and returned to what he'd been saying.

"Once I realized that, with great effort, I
could control myself with you, I wanted to learn more about you.
You intrigued me…and you made me
happy
. In all my years, I
had never experienced that emotion—happiness—and you gave it to me
in a day." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I hurt to hear he'd never once felt happiness
in his two-hundred-odd years.
That's such a long time to live.
And to be miserable the whole time?
But I never had either. In
my very short life, I could not remember ever feeling real joy. Mom
and I had some good memories, but not true happiness. Not like what
I felt when I was with Tristan. He brought the best out of me. And
now I couldn't imagine not being with him—going back to my old,
dark, lonely life...I knew I just couldn't do it. Even knowing what
I did now.

"So," he continued, "I started looking for
more ways to spend time with you without scaring you off. I
realized immediately when I'm with you, that monster inside…well,
it doesn't exactly go away, but it's…quiet, repressed.
You
bring out the good in me."

"Like the Amadis power?" I asked,
surprised.

He smiled again, less sorrow in it this time.
"That's what I thought at first."

"It couldn't be," Mom said. "Until the
Ang'dora
, Alexis, your power is extremely weak. Not strong
enough to do what you have for Tristan."

"And it's different," Tristan added. "It's
just who you are naturally, what you do to me. Nothing special or
extraordinary. Just you being you. You bring out the best in
me."

Funny. I'd just been thinking the same
about him
. It dawned on me the connection we had—we each
needed
the other to truly thrive, to be the best we could
be.

"So you
don't
want to kill me, right?"
I asked.

Tristan grimaced at my question. He stared at
the table for a moment and then looked me directly in the eye. "I
could not consciously harm a single hair on your head. I knew when
I met you I
had
to maintain control—I could
never
hurt you—and it has become easier every day since. Even all that
blood tonight…at one time that would have caused all hell to break
loose. Literally. But not anymore."

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why do you think
it's easier to control now?"

"Because I love you," he said
matter-of-factly, still holding my eyes. "The pain I would feel if
I ever did anything to you far outweighs any desire or force within
me. Sometimes that other force tries to fight it, but my love for
you is overpowering every other urge."

"Love tends to do that," Mom said quietly.
"What you need to understand, Alexis, is how amazing it is for
Tristan to feel that…to know love. He was created for the exact
opposite…hatred and evil–"

Tristan cringed.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But, unfortunately,
it's true. I personally thought it was impossible for Tristan to
love anyone. He's surprised us all, though me more than others.
Many of the Amadis believed it could happen, that he could love. I
didn't think he would go back to his old life—I wasn't positive,
but I didn't
think
he would—but I never thought he could
come so far as to
love
. And I have to admit it bothered me
at first, that the person he loves is you, my own daughter. But I
see you two together every day. I can't deny the truth…."

We sat there quietly for a while, Mom
continuing her mini-surgery on my arm. I closed my eyes and my mind
whirled. A ticker tape of questions ran through my head. I hit
information overload, unable to process it all.

"But now that you know the truth, Alexis,
I'll understand if you can't love me," Tristan said quietly. "It's
a lot to accept."

I chuckled. All this time I'd been worried
about him not accepting me. He watched me as he waited for my
answer, his eyes noticeably darkening with each beat of my heart. I
knew he expected the worst. But all I could think about was what he
overcame—his own natural desires, what he was
made
for—so he
could be
good
. And I knew to my very core he was good. And
he loved me. I squeezed his hand.

"I told you I wouldn't change my mind," I
said.

He gazed into my eyes and he must have seen
the truth because immediate relief washed over his face. He lifted
my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of
it.

"Okay, you're glass-free," Mom said, sitting
back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "What a night."

"Oh, yeah, what happened at the store?" I
asked. With such a surreal discussion, the accident now seemed like
a different lifetime or dimension. "I mean, with the driver?"

"The police think he was drunk and tried to
escape the car before it hit the store," Mom said. "The door was
open as if he planned to jump, but apparently, he must have just
fallen out and under the car, because it rolled over him, crushing
his chest."

"Ugh." My own injuries from the night now
felt miniscule. I could only hope it was quick for him. "Do they
know who he was?"

"His name was Phillip Jones. He lived here in
the Cape. Some people from the bar came down to the scene, said
he'd been drinking since this morning because his wife left
him."

Phillip…Phil
… My mind flashed on the
orange car sitting partially in the store…and then the orange
Camaro the wife-beater at the park had jumped into when Tristan
scared him off.
Oh!
I looked at Tristan, my eyes huge. He
nodded with immediate understanding.