Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

He gave me a significant look, his eyebrows raised, that I couldn’t understand. It cleared almost immediately. “So, what’s next? A normal human story, I hope.”

  I braced myself for the teasing I knew was about to come. “Well . . . I’ve kind of been thinking of something a little different than this one . . . like a human falling in love with a vampire.”

  “A good vampire, I assume. One that drinks donated blood?”

  I smiled slyly. “I don’t know . . . maybe he or she is horrible. I haven’t decided who’s human and who’s vampire yet, but I think one wants to kill the other or they both want to kill each other . . . at least at first.”

  He gave me a dark look and I shrugged.

  “Well, they say to write about what you know.” I bit my lip, waiting for his reaction. Shouldn’t have said that, stupid.

  He just shook his head, chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. “You know, only you could bring love into the most unlikely situations.”

  “Everybody has at least a little good in them, so it’s possible.”

  My face pressed against his chest, so I couldn’t see his expression, but I felt his muscles tense. His tone was dark and serious. “Not everybody.”

  Even with his warm body around me and the sun beating on us, a chill ran up my spine. He would know. I decided to let the subject drop.

  “So, what do we do with the rest of the day?” I asked.

  Tristan suddenly jumped toward the table and slammed his hand on the folder containing the manuscript, then a big gust of wind blew around us. I looked up and saw the dark steel-gray clouds building up and pushing toward the beach from the other side of the house. The typical afternoon storm came in quickly.

  “Thank you!” I gasped. “How’d you know?”

  “Heard it coming.”

  We barely had everything inside when the wind picked up again. Tristan pushed a button to close the window-wall, then he took my hand and led me downstairs.

  “Are you hungry? I picked up some croissants with the coffee. Chocolate, your favorite.”

  I hadn’t realized it until then, but I was ravenous. “Sounds good. I hope you bought ten. I’m starving.”

  He chuckled. “There should be enough to hold you over. Then I’ll shower and take you home so you can get cleaned up, too. Maybe by then the storm will have passed and we can go for a short ride before tonight.”

  “What’s going on tonight?” I asked as I lifted myself to sit on the counter.

  “Like I said . . . plans to make, things to figure out.” He shrugged, downplaying it, but I knew by the look in his eyes it was serious.

  “You’re holding back on me,” I said pointedly. He grimaced.

  “You’re right. And I’m not going to do that anymore.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ian’s little visit has more far-reaching consequences than you realize. Your safety is more at risk now than it ever has been. We need to decide what to do about that.”

  “Oh,” I breathed. An onslaught of thoughts rushed through my head, giving me no time to think about each one as the next pushed it out: Are we moving again? What about school? What about my book? Can we still get married? Is Mom okay? Would they really challenge Tristan? Would he be okay? Those last three terrified me.

  Tristan misinterpreted the look of fear I felt spreading across my face. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry, you’ve been well protected. I won’t let anything happen to you. Why do you think I was at your house day after day, even when you wouldn’t talk to me? I couldn’t leave you alone, so vulnerable . . . .”

  While I was immersed in my own miserable world, there’d been much else going on I hadn’t even realized. And Tristan had put his own heart aside to protect me, even when I behaved so cruelly. I pushed my croissant away, my stomach in knots with heartache and worry. I leaned my forehead against his chest.

  “What does this mean?” I finally asked. “What will happen? Can’t you see the best solution anyway?”

  His body stiffened and he didn’t answer at first. Then he said firmly, “It’s no longer an option.”

  “Why not, if it’s the best one? What is it?” I looked up into his face. His eyes darkened.

  “I won’t discuss it. It’s just not happening.” He walked away, his back to me. “We’ll figure something else out, all of us, tonight.”

  I hopped down from the counter and went over to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed myself to his back.

  “I trust you,” I whispered. “As long as you’ll be okay.”

  His muscles relaxed and he pulled my hands apart enough so he could turn around in the circle of my arms. He lifted my chin with his thumb.

  “You do not need to worry about me,” he said. “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be fine.”

  He bent over and brushed his lips against mine.

  “Now, I’m going to take a shower and, as much as I’d rather you not, you need to get dressed.” He headed for the stairs and I followed behind him.

  “I could join you,” I offered, my insides warming at the thought.

  “I’d love that . . . but, my love, I need your patience.”

  My head fell in dejection, though I knew deep inside that my whole heart wasn’t into the idea. I wanted to wait, too.

  “I promise you, though, it will be rewarded,” he added and I smiled.

  Something white lying by the baseboard caught my eye as we crossed the living room. I picked it up and realized it was a piece off one of the house models. I looked around the room and didn’t see any boxes large enough to contain the architectural renderings. I wondered what he did with them. As I looked back at the piece, I noticed it hadn’t just fallen off—it was broken.

  “Tristan . . . ?” I looked up at him as he turned to me. “Where are your houses?”

  His face darkened and then he shrugged. “Gone,” he said flatly.

  “What do you mean . . . gone?” I searched his face as a pit formed in my stomach with the thought of what might have happened to them. I could tell he didn’t want to tell me.

  “I . . . destroyed them,” he admitted quietly.

  “Tristan! How could you? Why?”

  “I was angry at myself and decided I didn’t want them anymore. I wouldn’t need a dream home . . . without you to share it with.”

  A long carving knife of shame pierced all the way through my heart and then twisted around inside my chest.

  “I’m sorry!” I cried, throwing my arms around him. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry . . .”

  “You had every right—”

  “No, I didn’t! How could I doubt your love? I knew it all along and I was just mad, acting like a child. And I hurt you . . . .”

  “You were hurt first. I hurt you. I should have been more upfront with you. I deserved it.”

  “But it wasn’t you! I know that now. All you did was what was best for them . . . and you loved me. I’m just so sorry I was too proud and bullheaded to realize it sooner. I almost lost you,” I whispered miserably.

  “But you didn’t,” he whispered back. “And now you know you love me and trust me fully.”

  I nodded. He wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  “So, we’re good.” He smiled warmly and I nodded again. “Then let’s get past this and look forward, okay?”

  I nodded a third time. He picked me up in a tight hug. I gave him a long kiss, hoping the depth of my love for him would flow through it. But I didn’t know if that was even possible. My love was so much more.

  “We’ll do the next one together—our dream home,” he promised as we continued up the stairs hand-in-hand.

  ***

  As we headed home from dinner that evening, Tristan drove the motorcycle right past the cottage to the dead-end at the beach.

  “Come on. We have just enough time to watch the sun set,” he said.

  The sun already hovered half-way behind the water and we sat in
silence as it finished its descent.

  “Listen,” Tristan finally said, “we’ll need to go soon, but before we do, I need to tell you something.”

  Somberness and foreboding filled his tone. My stomach tightened automatically.

  “Why do I have this feeling I won’t like what happens tonight?” I asked.

  “I think, in the end, you’ll be fine. First, though, there will be some surprises.”

  “More surprises? How much more can there be?” I moaned and threw my head into his lap. I laid there curled up, my head resting on his legs. “I don’t know that I can take any more.”

  “So you don’t want to know all these big secrets you haven’t been allowed to know before? You don’t want to know who you are?”

  I shot up and stared at him. “Seriously?”

  He looked at me thoughtfully. “Yes, I think you’ll be learning quite a bit tonight. I don’t see how it can be kept from you any longer. There’s too much at risk. So . . . I want you to know, no matter what you hear, regardless of how . . . shocking . . . it is, I absolutely, unconditionally, undeniably love you. No matter what. I’ve known it all since before you were born and knew what I was getting into, okay? And I would’ve told you already, but, like their plan for us, it wasn’t my place. Do you understand?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Um, no. Was that supposed to make sense?”

  He chuckled. “I guess it probably doesn’t right now. Come here.”

  He pulled me sideways onto his lap and held me close, brushing his lips across my cheek. He murmured into my ear, “I love you, no matter what. You are everything to me and nothing will come between us as long as I can help it. We are together forever.”

  “I can understand that.” I found his lips with mine. He suddenly stopped kissing me, though, and cocked his head, then closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

  “They’re ready for us.”

  “How do you know? And who’s ‘they’?” I asked as we headed back to the bike. “I thought it was just my mom.”

  “You’ll see in about three minutes.”

  Three minutes later we walked into Mom’s cottage. I stopped in the archway between the foyer and the living room, surprised to see all the people there—Mom, a woman who looked just like her and two men. I sensed extreme goodness from all of them as they looked at Tristan and me and smiled approvingly.

  The lady who looked nearly like Mom’s twin, dressed for a ball in a white, shimmery gown, rose gracefully from Mom’s usual chair. She had all the same features as Mom and looked to be in her late twenties, but, somehow, seemed much older. “Hello, Alexis, I am your grandmother.”

  I jumped at the “sound.” Because she hadn’t spoken. Her lips didn’t move! I’d heard it in my head, not with my ears. Somebody snickered. Tristan squeezed my hand.

  “Mother, she wasn’t ready for that,” Mom said.

  “Sorry, dear,” my grandmother said aloud. Her real voice, just like the one in my head, was smooth and luxurious, like velvet, with a foreign accent I couldn’t place. It seemed familiar, though. I heard it in my head again. “You are just as beautiful as they have told me. Just wait until the Ang’dora. You will be magnificent.”

  I stood there awkwardly, forcing a smile on the outside while internally freaking out. My grandmother’s a telepath!

  She held her hand out to me. I didn’t move. Tristan gave me a little nudge and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  Without letting go of his hand, I took the two steps over to her. She clasped my other hand in both of hers and closed her eyes. Silence filled the room as everyone watched. I had no idea what she did, but a warm, pleasurable sensation washed over me. She smiled and then opened her eyes.

  “Yes, magnificent,” she said aloud. She looked at Mom. “She is amazing, Sophia.”

  Mom beamed. “I told you. Probably the best in many, many centuries?”

  “Yes, I think you are correct.” My grandmother sat back down. Her body moved with the majesty and grace of a lead ballerina. She belonged in a palace, not in our little cottage.

  “Alexis, this is your grandmother, Katerina. You can call her Rina,” Mom said. She held her hand first toward a tall, broad man with hair in cornrows standing perfectly erect behind Rina, then at the man sitting next to her on the couch. “That is Solomon and this is Stefan.”

  Stefan barely looked at me. Although he radiated goodness, the way he hid his eyes behind his dark, curly hair gave me the impression he felt guilty about something. I wondered what it was. He seemed vaguely familiar but I didn’t know why. I couldn’t remember ever meeting him, but I knew his name from just the day before. He’d spoken to Tristan recently, from what I heard on the speaker phone. I now placed Rina’s voice—she’d been the woman on the phone.

  “These are some of the Amadis council members,” Mom continued. “Our family line has always led the Amadis, with advice and guidance from the council.”

  Owen popped his head in the door then and called, “All’s clear.”

  “Thank you, Owen,” Rina said. “Please continue your watch.”

  I threw Mom a look.

  “Yes, Owen is part of the Amadis, but he’s not on the council. He’s a protector.” She smiled. “He’s your protector.”

  Chapter 20

  My protector—as in bodyguard? Why do I need a protector? And am I the only one in the dark here? I must have stiffened because Tristan stepped behind me and circled his arm around my waist. “Relax, my love.”

  He pulled me over to the loveseat. We hardly ever used it—there were never more than three people in the room—and it sat in the corner, out of the way. Someone had pulled it slightly forward and now, as we sat down, it felt like the focal point of the room as everyone scrutinized us.

  “My darling, Alexis,” Rina said, “you are probably wondering what we are all doing here?”

  I felt like a child in the principal’s office, not because I’d misbehaved, but because something was wrong that the adults needed to explain. I took a deep breath and nodded. “That’d be a good start.”

  “Our primary concern is your immediate safety,” she said, “but for you to understand our discussions, you must be better informed. At our direction, Sophia and Tristan have only told you what you needed to know. However, recent events have shown you deserve to know more now, rather than waiting for the Ang’dora.

  “We are the Amadis. All of us, including Owen, are part of the Amadis society. Solomon and Stefan are members of the council. You, your mother, myself and Tristan, too, are direct descendents of the original Amadis family bloodline. Women in our direct bloodline have ruled the Amadis since its beginning over two millennia ago. I have been the matriarch for over a half-century. At some point in the future, Sophia will inherit it from me and then you from her. There was a time when we thought our existence was all but extinct, until you miraculously arrived. You are full of such promise and I am convinced the Ang’dora will bring you powers unseen since our earliest leaders.”

  I felt my eyes grow wider with every sentence Rina spoke. She paused now, not only so she could take a breath herself, but so I could have a moment to process it. It was already too much. Royalty? Unseen powers? Me?! Tristan squeezed my hand and I felt myself slightly relax. I hadn’t realized I’d become so tense.

  Mom excused herself to get us all a glass of wine. I didn’t know if that was such a good idea for me, but I did know I could really use it.

  “Can I ask a question?” I asked while we waited for Mom. Rina nodded. “Actually, two. What, exactly, are the Amadis? And why are the Daemoni our enemies?”

  Rina nodded again. “We are the protectors of souls. The Daemoni try to destroy human souls; we fight to save them. They are full of hatred; we are full of love. They are ruled by Hell; we are ruled by Heaven. They would like us to cease existing so they can rule the Earth. It is our job to prevent that from occurring. You will learn the whole story and know our full purpose, and yours specifically, one day, but not now.
Is that enough?”

  I nodded reluctantly. It really wasn’t enough—I’d hoped to get more—but I was too intimidated to push it.

  Rina continued where she’d left off. “As soon as we realized your righteous qualities and your strength, we had hope. We also knew our chances would be strengthened if you had a child—a daughter, of course—fathered by the most powerful male with Amadis blood. Tristan had just come to us, but we knew, even when he was not sure himself, he would become one of us. Most of us knew when you were just an infant that your souls were meant for each other. The Heavenly Host created you specifically for each other, the strongest connection two souls can have.”

  She paused as Mom handed each of us a glass of wine.

  “There is only one problem with this Heavenly match,” Rina continued. “The Daemoni would like to prevent it. Firstly, they still desire to have Tristan back. They promise him a kingdom, but we all know he would be under their rule. They believe him to be a possession. They have time and again tried to bring him back, using an assortment of tactics, from promises of greatness to violent force. Tristan refuses.”

  I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. I had almost pushed him back to them. I could never let that happen again. I squeezed his hand.

  “So, secondly, they seek revenge. If they cannot have their ultimate warrior, then they certainly do not want us to have him. They seek revenge against Tristan for betraying them and against the Amadis in general for taking him.

  “Thirdly, this match will result in our family’s, and therefore our society’s, continuance. The Daemoni would like to see us extinguished. Add to that, young Alexis, the fact that they have always targeted the youngest Amadis daughter and you can see we have a complex problem on our hands.”

  Tension filled the room like a dense fog as we sipped our wine. Well, everyone else sipped. I drained mine, but didn’t expect it to have much effect on me. Tristan put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. That calmed me more than the wine did.

  “We need to consider this from both an immediate and a long-term perspective,” Solomon said. His deep, seductive voice, with a foreign accent different than Rina’s, matched his attractive, yet exotic face—nearly white skin but, somehow, with a dark undertone, and features that looked African or possibly Caribbean. “The Daemoni know about our plan for the two of you and that it is being executed. The question is what they will do about it.”