Purpose (2 page)

I tried to recreate the scenes—the good
ones—in my mind, focusing on the background, the feels, the smells,
hoping my wandering mind could bring his face into view naturally.
My scheme began to work. The blurry edges started to sharpen, the
light on his face grew brighter, the hazel eyes came into
focus….

My consciousness drifted off as I held onto
his face. And then I heard his lovely voice, distant and muffled:
“I’ll come back. I promise.”

My dream-self felt surprised and confused.
This is new
.

Then clear and close: “Alexis.”

It wasn’t the same voice.

Evil! Daemoni! Evil!

The alarms of my sixth sense rang in my head.
The beautiful face disappeared as my heart nearly jumped out of my
chest. I shot up and realized I sat on my bed again. I glanced
around the darkness for the source of the gravelly voice.

“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice thundering
through the silence.

A shadow shifted in the corner. Two small,
red lights glowed from about two-thirds up the wall. I realized
they were eyes.
It can’t really be Daemoni—can it
? We hadn’t
been bothered for over seven years. Not a single visit or even a
threat. Nothing at all. They had what they wanted.

“Don’t you know?”

The shadow moved forward, just enough for the
light from my clock to slightly illuminate a face—pale,
bluish-white in the clock’s glare, glowing eyes and…
fangs
.
The light reflected off his glimmering teeth, bared in an evil
grin, if that’s what you could call it, and I knew for sure those
were fangs. And I knew immediately what he was. From what I could
see, he favored some of my characters, as if he’d stepped out of
the pages of the books I wrote.

Such a strange feeling—to feel as though I’d
awakened in my usual way but know I was dreaming again. I had to
be. Monsters were real, but vampires were not.

“C-Claudius?” My voice shook. I knew this
dream was about to become a terrible nightmare. With his dark hair
floating around the sides of his face, this visitor looked similar
to my Claudius, leader of the evilest vampire nest in my
make-believe world.

“Ha!” the shadow barked. “So you do see the
resemblance.”

I didn’t respond. I stared wide-eyed at the
barely visible face, wondering what would come next. My heart
pounded in my ears and my lungs seemed unable to pull in any air. I
wanted to scream myself awake. But I couldn’t. I was frozen.

The vampire came closer, almost near enough
to touch…if I dared to reach out.

“I am
not
your dim-witted Claudius,”
he growled, “but my world and my ways are very similar. In fact,
too
similar. You are bold—and foolish—to tell the
humans.”

In a strange way, the dream made him more
real
. More frightening than any of my characters, even
Claudius. The timbre of his voice held promises of horror, the
sound more terrifying than I ever imagined when I wrote.

But his words made no sense.

“I-I d-don’t understand.”

“I am not stupid, woman, and I know you are
not
entirely
ignorant. I know who you are. You know what I
am. You have crossed the line in revealing our truths. You must
stop writing and exposing us, Alexis. Or we will stop you
ourselves.”

The flaming red eyes narrowed. The nostrils
flared.

The vampire cocked his head and growled
again. “No more, Alexis, or we
will
come for you!”

Pop!
The overhead light suddenly
flooded the bedroom with brightness. I was sitting bolt upright in
my bed, my heart hammering again, wide awake with the sound and
light. I blinked at Mom’s figure standing at the foot of my
bed.

“Are you okay?” she demanded.

My eyes adjusted and now I could see her
looking anything but vulnerable, though she only wore a short,
baby-doll nightgown. Petite, but tough. She stood with her body
tense, coiled and ready to fight, as her narrowed eyes scanned the
room. Then she rushed to my side and braced her hands on each side
of my face. She seemed to appraise every inch of me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, pulling my face from
her grip.

“You don’t sound or look fine.”

“You scared the crap out of me.” I lay back
down and closed my eyes. “And I had a bad dream. That’s all.”

She stood there for a long moment and I could
feel her eyes still on me. I never heard her footsteps, but the
light switched off and the door clicked softly in the latch when
she left. Mom was used to me having bad dreams. She had no need to
question me.

When I awoke again, sunlight streamed under
the blinds, creating narrow lines of light on the boring beige
carpet by my bed. I lay on my stomach and stared at the floor for a
while, not wanting to be awake. Then I remembered the dream—not the
usual memory-dream, but the new one. I turned over and looked
around the room. Of course, no evidence of the vampire. He was just
a dream, but it had felt so real and was just so uncharacteristic.
Last night was the first time I’d dreamt of anything but those
memories since the day my husband disappeared into enemy hands.

Then I remembered the other anomaly of the
night. The whispered promise. But neither the lovely voice nor the
memory-dream had returned the rest of the night.
Damn
vampire
. I closed my eyes and tried to pull the face I wanted
to see into my vision. A pointless effort. Only a vague image
appeared. I was forgetting.

As time had passed on, as the conscious
memories faded, the feeling Tristan was still alive weakened. For
the first few years, I’d felt his presence and the grief of living
without him nearly consumed me. Eventually, a fog drifted in and
settled, dulling the pain…and the memories. Foggy Alexis arrived
and I liked her. She kept me numb during the day, allowing memories
only at night, when I slept. But now the dullness seemed to be
permanently obscuring my conscious memories and dissolving our
connection.

Forcing myself to let it go, I focused my
mind on the only things I’d been able to focus on for the last
seven years: my son and my writing. Dorian served as the bright
spot in my otherwise black life. He lit my path, keeping me from
straying away into the complete darkness of insanity. If his father
hadn’t already set precedence, it would be hard to believe I could
love anyone as much as I loved Dorian.

I sighed heavily and made myself stand up. I
already felt today was not a good day. I felt all wrong. Something
inside ticked, like a time bomb. I had a warped sense of time, but
I was sure it had been a while since I’d had a really bad day.
Since Psycho Alexis had made an appearance. Perhaps those two new
dreams had something to do with my mood. Or maybe I had too many
pent-up emotions, making me ready to blow.

Suck it up for now. Need to say
good-bye
.

It was after eight and Mom was probably
getting Dorian ready for school. I wanted to say good-bye to him.
Then I could lose myself in my writing.

“Hi, Mom!” Dorian greeted as I trudged into
the kitchen. His face lit up, his mouth stretched into that
all-too-familiar, beautiful smile and his eyes sparkled. He pulled
his jacket on, getting ready to leave. I almost missed him. If I
had, Psycho probably would have taken over immediately. But since
he was still here, brightening my morning, I could enjoy a few
minutes of being Almost Alexis.

“Hey, little man.” I ruffled his hair—the
snow-white color had been unexpected, but I had a feeling a
similar-looking towhead had been running around a couple-hundred
years ago—and gave him a big smile, too. Only Dorian could elicit a
real smile from me. “You ready for school?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Just today and
tomorrow and then it’s Spring Break. And Uncle Owen’s coming!”

“No fighting at school, okay?” I warned.

“I’ll try.” He gave me the same promise every
day…and rarely followed through on it. He had control of his anger
about as much as I did. Usually, he fought kids who teased him
about me, his crazy mother.

“You said the same thing yesterday,” Mom
reminded him.

“That stupid Joey! I hate him, Mimi! He said
my dad’s a no good shithead who didn’t want me.”

“Honey, that’s a bad word. You are too young
to be using such language,” Mom said.

“I didn’t say it! Joey did!”

The anger at the memory flashed in his
eyes—tiny sparks in the gold flecks around his pupils. Anger boiled
in my own chest. Once I became “America’s favorite young author,”
the media quickly discovered I’d been pregnant at the tender age of
nineteen and the father was nowhere to be found. People made up
their own stories from there. So when Dorian didn’t feel a need to
protect me, he defended his so-called deadbeat dad. Because he knew
better.

“Good for you!” I said, giving Dorian a
squeeze. I would have done the same thing—punched the kid in the
face. In fact, the lunatic in me wanted to hunt down the little
brat right now. The not-so-crazy part of me at least wanted to find
his parents.

Mom shook her head disapprovingly. I ignored
her.

“Don’t you
ever
let anyone talk about
your daddy that way,” I said. “He’s a wonderful man and he loves
you very much. It’s not his fault he’s not here. You know that,
right?”

He nodded, his cupid-bow lips quivering with
sadness. I held my arms out and he gave me a bear hug—as big of a
hug as a six-year-old can. He knocked me to the floor and I gave an
exaggerated cry. He laughed and showed me his guns, flexing his
biceps. I ooh’ed and aah’ed over them. They were actually
impressive. He had his dad’s strength.

Then he crossed his arms over his chest and
looked at Mom and then me, his eyes lit up with mischief. “I’ll
stop fighting if you get me a dog. Then I’ll have a friend and I’ll
ignore everyone else.”

I bit my lip, not knowing whether I would
laugh or cry. I knew how Dorian felt to want a friend so badly. I
also knew he would promise anything to have a dog, which he’d been
begging us for since his last birthday. We had a hard time
believing, though, that he would stop fighting. It was just part of
his nature.

“I turn seven in twenty-eight days,” he said
when we didn’t respond. And then I did chuckle.

“We’ll see,” I finally said.

“How about no fighting between now and your
birthday and then we’ll discuss it?” Mom suggested.

I looked at her with surprise. She was the
one usually against adopting a pet. A dog would be another
responsibility to worry about if we ever had to go on the run
again. Then I realized she must have figured Dorian wouldn’t be
able to hold up his end of the bargain.

“Deal,” he said and I cringed. I agreed with
Mom on this one.

I gave Dorian another hug, then Mom took him
to school. As soon as I was alone, I poured a cup of coffee, went
out the backdoor and snuck around the side of the house for a
cigarette. When I heard Mom’s car return nearly an hour later, I
snuffed out my third one and drained my third cup of coffee, then
hurried inside. I munched on chocolate-chip cookies when she came
through the door and dumped an armful of grocery bags on the
counter. She eyed me, her mahogany eyes filled with disdain.

“Those are healthy,” she said as she placed
the bags on the counter.

“Breakfast of champions.”

“Alexis—”

I felt a lecture coming on and there were
plenty of areas she could pick on. The ticking in my head grew
louder. Some kind of switch flipped. I couldn’t control the need. I
wanted
to lash out. Psycho Alexis reared her ugly head.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mom,” I snapped,
marching out of the kitchen. “I fucked up by not having a girl, but
I gave it my best shot. I’m writing the damn books. At least back
off everything else, okay? I’m trying as hard as I fucking
can.”

“Alexis!” she admonished, following me into
my office. She hated my language, which was exactly why I used it.
“I just wanted to remind you Owen will be here later. You might
want to clean yourself up.”

I looked down at myself. I wore the same
raggedy t-shirt and sweatpants I had slept in. Pretty much my
normal attire.
What the hell do I care what Owen thinks?
I
didn’t. Mom seemed to, though. In fact, she seemed to care a lot
about what Owen thought lately.

“I’m fine,” I snarled.

I grabbed my laptop and headed outside. The
mid-March morning in Atlanta, Georgia, had been a little crisp
earlier, but the air quickly warmed. It would be a nice day to
write outside and I hoped the fresh air would help my mood. I set
up the laptop on the patio table, opened the document and then
stared at the screen. For a long time. I just couldn’t focus on
stringing words into meaningful sentences. Giving up, I gazed
absent-mindedly across the yard, thinking about last night.

I considered writing out the evil vampire
Claudius, after that rendition of him interrupted my dreams last
night. Maybe the time had come to kill him off. Of course, he was
one of my primary villains in this last book of the series, so he
was necessary until the end. But I was pissed at him now.
How
dare the asshole harass me at night!
I eventually dismissed him
for the time being after deciding he
would
die, a final
death, by the end of the book.

Tired of thinking so much about the stupid
vamp, I closed my eyes and tilted my face toward the sun, focusing
on the heat of the rays on my skin, giving me paradoxical goose
bumps. I felt the burn of someone watching me, but I ignored the
feeling. It had to be Mom and I didn’t want to deal with her yet.
With the warm sun washing over me, I actually felt…well, not
good
, of course, but at least no longer Psycho. Then a
slight breeze came up, light against my skin and just a little
cool. And with it, a familiar scent.