Avenge (Malice Book 2)

by Amity Hope

  “Well that’s a relief,” I admitted.

  “I believe my dad spoke with Lebeau,” Alex said. “He told her that I’d taken care of Tristan. He also told her, quite firmly, I’m sure, that Tristan is in the initial stages of recuperation. Dad made it clear to her that if Tristan’s recovery was jeopardized that he would file a formal complaint against her. I think he made a few heavier threats as well but he didn’t seem to think I needed to be filled in on those.”

  “He did that for me?” Tristan asked.

  Alex nodded. “We take our work seriously. I didn’t bust my ass performing that spell just so Lebeau and her cronies could unravel the whole damn thing.”

  Tristan looked around at the small group that was gathered.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It doesn’t seem like enough, but I don’t know what else to say.”

  Alex stood up. “Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for.”

  ~*~*~

  The door clicked closed behind us. It seemed to echo in the silence. I turned to Tristan and found him watching me. He ducked his head and averted his eyes when he realized I’d caught him.

  This was the first time we’d be alone. I wasn’t going to count the handful of minutes last night when we were traipsing through the woods. Or the handful of minutes we’d had alone at the cottage before our friends came back.

  Tristan and I had known each other since we were four. He was my best friend. For years, I’d been his only friend. The foundation of our relationship had shifted multiple times over the past few weeks. I had no idea where we stood now.

  “It’s so quiet here,” I said, “with Mom and Magnolia gone.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “I called Mom again this morning. They were on their way home. They should be back sometime later tonight. I also heard back from Cecily. She’s on her way home too. She should be back soon. She can’t wait to see you. She sends her love,” I said.

  “Good. That’s good. I’m anxious to see her too,” Tristan admitted.

  I wanted to walk up to him, slide my arms around him. I wanted him to tell me that he wanted to pick things up where we’d left off. I couldn’t quite get those words out of my mouth.

  He gave me a questioning look. I rolled my bottom lip through my teeth, folded my arms across my stomach, and waited.

  “So…uh…,” he started. He walked over to the wall of photos that hung in the hallway. For a moment I thought he was trying to get away from me. Then I noticed the tension in his shoulders, the erect way he held himself. His hands were in his pockets, as if he did not know what else to do with them. I realized then that he wasn’t walking away because he was avoiding me. He was too nervous to face me.

  I leaned against the registration desk and waited for him to speak.

  His tone was as tense as his stance. “I have to ask. Where do you and I stand now? I know the day that we went to the mausoleum you said that you didn’t care that I was Striga. I told you then that there was more I needed to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out about me from anyone else. I wanted to be the one to tell you who I really am.” He paused and appeared to be studying a picture. I knew he was really gathering his thoughts. “But you did find out. Now you know. And now I need to know if that changes things. Because I would understand if it did. I mean it’s not like you owe me anything. We’re not even dating, really. We had one night at the cottage and then everything went all to hell. So if you want to go back to being friends I would understand. I’d be okay with that.” He pulled in a breath and I thought his uncharacteristic ramble had come to an end. It hadn’t. “Just don’t stop being my friend,” he pleaded.

  I closed the distance between us. I placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt like granite under my palm. “Tristan, nothing has changed for me. Nothing.” I felt some of the tension fade away but he was holding on to more than he was releasing.

  He cocked his head to the side, as if he needed to think about my words. Maybe he was weighing them. Or analyzing them.

  “I’ve known you most of my life. Yes, you had your secrets. None of that matters to me. Not in the way you think,” I assured him.

  “I just don’t get what you see in me.” This wasn’t the first time he’d said this.

  “Do you need me to have a reason to feel the way I feel? I can give you a few. I love how your face lights up when you’re tutoring me and I finally get it. I love that you’re so great to Cecily. I mean, it’s kind of hard not to love a guy that loves his grandma. You’re always patient with Magnolia, no matter how trying she gets. And what you did? Barging into the mausoleum to save me? I’ll never forget that.”

  “Sam, you don’t owe me anything. Any decent person would’ve done that.”

  “My feelings aren’t about ‘owing’ you something. I confessed how I felt long before anything went down with Levi. And no, not everyone would’ve done what you did. Very few would have. So don’t downplay it. It’s just one of the many things that set you apart. One of the many things that make me love you,” I said quietly.

  He pulled me in roughly, but the kiss he gave me was the opposite. It was soft and gentle, tentative and questioning. His arms scooped me up, held me tightly to him. My tiptoes balanced me against the floor. I slid my arms around his neck.

  I kissed him back with everything I had in me. I wanted to answer every question he might have ever had about us.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I had no intention of answering. Tristan sighed, as if the moment was broken. He let the kiss fade away. His grip around me loosened, my feet landed flat on the floor.

  I wanted to curse whoever had broken the moment.

  “You should get that,” he said.

  I did as requested. It was Cecily. I listened as Tristan watched me intently.

  I ended the call and slowly slid the phone into my pocket. My heart felt heavy.

  “That was your grandma. She’s at the cottage. She said it’s important that we come over immediately.”

  He frowned. “Did she say why?”

  I nodded as my elation floated away. It was replaced with a heavy feeling of dread.

  “She said you have company.”

  He nodded, as if accepting his fate.

  We could both only think of one person who be demanding to see him right now.

  Chapter 18

  The woman waiting for us in Cecily’s family room was not Eleanor Lebeau, though there were similarities. They had the same stiff demeanor. The same solemn look to them. They shared the same ramrod posture and this woman seemed to be just as stingy with her smiles.

  My immediate thought was that this woman had to be a colleague of Lebeau’s.

  She stood when we walked into the room. Her smart looking pantsuit looked as though it had been tailored just for her. As far as I knew, it had been. Her hair was so dark it was nearly black. It hung in a sharp line just below her chin. Her eyes were a vibrant blue. They were piercing.

  A smile moved onto her face as we entered the room. It didn’t feel genuine to me. There was no warmth. In fact, it chilled me. The way her eyes roamed over Tristan caused chill bumps to slide down my arms.

  Cecily stepped forward nervously.

  “Tristan,” she looked at him apologetically. “I wish there was another way to do this. I wish that I could’ve given you some warning.”

  He reached out and gave his grandmother’s shoulder a squeeze. “It’s okay. I know The Council doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He smiled at Cecily reassuringly. It was a soft smile that faded away when he returned his attention to their guest. “So is this it then? You’ve come for me?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “I am here for you.” She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. I clasped Tristan’s hand in mine. As if by sheer will I’d be able to force her to let him stay. “But not the way you seem to think,” she continued.

  I glanced at Cecily. She was wringing her hands, clearly distraught. The way she eyed the woman made my ne
rves tingle even more vibrantly.

  “Tristan,” Cecily said apologetically. “This woman isn’t from The Council.”

  Tristan and I shared a confused glance.

  “I don’t understand. What are you here for?” he asked.

  She smiled. This time I thought maybe I spotted just a flicker of warmth.

  “I’m here because…” She faded off and pulled in a breath. She straightened her spine as if she were about to conduct important business. “I’m here because you’re my son.”

  Time seemed to freeze in that moment. No one moved. If anyone pulled in a breath, I didn’t hear it. Several long moments passed. No one seemed to know what to say.

  It was finally Tristan who broke the silence.

  “You’re my mother?” His tone was incredulous, as was his expression.

  He turned to Cecily, the only family that he’d ever known.

  She shook her head apologetically. “I’m sure this is a shock.”

  “What are you doing here?” Tristan asked. His tone had softened but he hadn’t made a move toward the woman. He was studying her face. It had been thirteen years since he’d last seen her. He’d only been four at the time, just a child.

  “I’ve been keeping tabs on you all this time. I heard what happened. I had to come,” she said.

  “Elyse contacted me while I was at my sister’s,” Cecily explained. “I was able to give her an update. She was thrilled to hear that Samara and her friends were able to come to your rescue. Weren’t you, Elyse?”

  My brows furrowed in confusion. It almost sounded as though Cecily were prodding Elyse along.

  “Of course.” Elyse smiled brightly. “I was thrilled to hear that everything turned out okay.”

  “I’m not sure that’s really the case,” Tristan said. “I think I’m going to be in a lot of trouble with The Council.” He paused as he pulled in a few labored breaths. His mind was obviously still wrapped up at the start of the conversation. “You’re really my mom?”

  She nodded slowly. I realized I must’ve been imagining things before. Her smile looked genuine. Of course it only made sense that she was nervous. How could she not be? I knew I had to have misread her when I walked into the room.

  He shuffled his feet as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

  Elyse moved toward Tristan. Her strides were purposeful. I stepped aside, assuming a mother was rushing to hug her long-missed son.

  She grabbed his wrist and held it up between them. She frowned at him. “Where is it?”

  I instinctively knew what she was talking about.

  Tristan did too.

  “I took it off. The night we were attacked on the boat I took it off so that I could protect Samara.”

  She slowly released his wrist. His hand fell to his side.

  A muscle ticked in her jaw.

  “Perhaps you don’t recall,” she began, her tone low and steady, “but I asked that you never take that off.”

  “It was an emergency,” I said in Tristan’s defense. “In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him with it off. Not until the night we were attacked. If he hadn’t taken it off, we’d probably both be dead.”

  “And now?” she asked, nonplussed by my answer. “Where is it now?”

  An angry tingle burned down my spine. Was this woman serious?

  “Do you even realize what he has been through the last few weeks?” I demanded. “We just got him back last night. We couldn’t even go to my house last night because Councilwoman Lebeau was there waiting for us. He took the band off the night he was taken. He hasn’t exactly had a chance to put it back on.”

  She seemed to have only heard one sentence out of my entire statement.

  “You knew Eleanor was at your home last night?”

  Eleanor? She was on a first name basis with Councilwoman Lebeau? I wondered what was going on.

  I cleared my throat.

  “I didn’t personally see her there.” I glanced at Tristan. He had a wary eye on the woman who claimed to be his mother. “I don’t mean any disrespect but do you have any idea what Tristan has been through? My only concern last night was finding Tristan somewhere that he could rest. He needs some time to recover from his ordeal.”

  “Where is the band now?” she asked.

  “At my house.” I didn’t even try to keep the edge out of my tone.

  “I would like for you to retrieve it.”

  “Elyse,” Cecily said, “we have plenty of time for that later. Surely you would like to spend some time catching up with your son.”

  Elyse pulled in a pained breath. It was as if it pained her to let this go.

  She forced a smile. “Of course.” She moved across the room and took a seat on the single chair. Tristan, Cecily and I crowded together on the sofa.

  Tristan’s eyes wandered around the room, as if he didn’t know where to look. His fingers tapped across his knee. I was sitting so close I could hear how quickly he was breathing.

  Seeing his mother again after all of these years should be cause for celebration.

  Not stress. And she was definitely causing stress. That was the last thing Tristan needed. I wondered what Alex would think if he were here. He would probably put a stop to this meeting while he fretted over Tristan’s mental state.

  I started to wonder if I should put a stop to it on his behalf.

  “Elyse, I would imagine you’d like to hear a little bit about your son. Tristan is at the top of his class. His grades have always been superb,” Cecily said proudly.

  “He’s incredibly smart,” I added. “That makes him an excellent tutor. He’s so patient.”

  “And your magic,” she asked with a tight smile. “Have you been using it?”

  He turned to Cecily, questioning what the answer should be.

  She put a reassuring hand on his knee. Her voice didn’t waver when she answered his mother’s question. “If you are asking if he’s practiced his magic, the answer is yes. I thought it was best that he worked with it. I didn’t want it unleashed one day only to find he had no control over it. Over the years we’ve practiced on occasion.”

  “I see.” Elyse was clearly displeased.

  Tristan shifted in his seat. “You said you were here because you heard about what happened.” She nodded. “How did you find out?”

  “Even though I haven’t been in your life I have kept an eye on you over the years.”

  “Then you know this child has never been in a lick of trouble,” Cecily pointed out.

  “Not until lately,” Elyse qualified.

  “It wasn’t exactly by choice,” I said in his defense.

  “Everything is a choice,” Elyse argued. “Given what he is, he must be very careful of the choices he makes.”

  I bristled at her word choice. Tristan wasn’t a what, it sounded so impersonal. I was sincerely beginning to question his mother’s motives. Both in the past and the present.

  “It wasn’t my choice to be born what I am. It wasn’t my choice to be abandoned. It wasn’t my choice to grow up terrified that I was a disappointment for reasons I had no control over! It was not my choice to avoid registering with The Council. Now, on top of everything that has happened the last few weeks, I’ll have that to contend with.”

  “Of course you were registered with The Council,” Elyse said. “I am not a law breaker.”

  I glanced at Tristan and then at Cecily. She was as flustered as we were.

  “You knew about that particular law?” she asked. “And you didn’t think it was necessary to inform me?”

  Elyse looked genuinely confused. “I took care of the paperwork. There was nothing left for you to do. Why would I bother you with it?”

  Cecily’s mouth sealed shut in a look of utter disapproval. She shook her head as she carefully chose her words. “I am beginning to think there is quite a lot you did not tell me.”

  I was beginning to think so too.

  “Why did you really bring me here
?” Tristan asked. “Why didn’t you just strip my magic?”

  “Oh, dear boy. I would have done that in a heartbeat. If only I could have. Stripping Strigan magic is a dangerous affair. It doesn’t typically go as smoothly as stripping Lamia magic. I couldn’t find anyone willing to attempt it in a child so young.” She sounded apologetic, but I wasn’t sure it was for the right reasons.

  “So you tried to find someone?” He asked. His tone was flat but I could see the emotions flitting across his features.

  She nodded solemnly. “I did.”

  He dropped his gaze from her and wordlessly stared at the hardwood floor.

  She had tried to find someone to perform the ritual, despite the risks? Until recently, I’d thought Tristan’s mother was dead. When I’d been informed that she was still alive I’d been told that she’d given him up out of love. I’d been told that she feared for his safety. Trying to find someone to perform such a dangerous ritual despite knowing the dangers didn’t sound as if she had his best interests at heart.

  I was beginning to wonder why she really abandoned him.

  “Of course now that you’re older the risks are minimal.” Her voice was cool as she leveled her gaze on Tristan. “Given recent circumstances, I would like to request that you consider relinquishing your magic.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you almost killed a handful of people recently,” she stated.

  “I protected myself and Sam from people who were trying to hurt us. They were Striga working with Levi Devane. If it weren’t for my magic…Sam and I could be dead right now!”

  For the last few years Tristan had always seemed to disapprove of magic. Now I knew it was because he’d been somewhat afraid of his own magic. But he was right. It was thanks to him, and him alone, that he and I were sitting here right now. The people who had come after us on the boat had been full of malicious intent.

  “You attacked Striga this time. What of next time?”

  “Next time?” Tristan asked. “I don’t get what you’re saying. You think there’s going to be a next time?”

  “I think that magic use can be intoxicating and addictive. I think it’s possible, even likely, that you will only crave to use it more.”