Kristie Cook - Devotion

"I do … but my answers aren't to that question. I don't know about your daughter yet. I'm not a prophet."

"You can't see her from the Otherworld?"

Lisa's eyes twinkled. "I can't see what doesn't exist yet."

Tristan and I stared at her for several beats. I hated not being able to tell if she was lying. Not being able to listen to her thoughts.

Tristan stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, Alexis. This was pointless."

"You don't want your answers?" Lisa asked as I cupped the Lykora in my hand, stood and followed Tristan as he headed for the door. I gladly followed, ready to be moving again. I didn't feel safe here. For all I knew, she could have been stalling us, waiting for Daemoni to arrive.

"You don't have the ones we want," Tristan said without turning.

"But I do. If ya'll are searchin' for a daughter, you're lookin' for the wrong thang." She paused. "Where's your stone, Tristan?"

We both stopped abruptly, turned and stared at her again.

"The stone you were supposed to give to Alexis. Where is it?"

My pendant? Is that what she meant? The ruby in the pendant was the only stone he'd ever given me, besides the obvious one on my finger.

"You don't have it. And that's what ya'll should be lookin' for. It'll give you what you seek, what you need."

"How do you …?" Tristan asked with that familiar steely undertone in his voice.

"Oh, I know. Do you remember what you were told?"

I looked at him when he didn't answer. His eyes were dark, the gold dim.

"Have you spoken with Bree yet?" Lisa asked.

"Who?"

"Ah, I guess not."

Something flickered across Tristan's face.

"Who's Bree?" I demanded.

She didn't answer for a long moment, but something showed in her face, too. Sadness? When she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. "Bree is who you need to speak to, Tristan. She has your answers. Find the stone and find Bree. That's what I have to tell you."

We stood there for several more beats, but Lisa didn't explain any further.

"Are you going to tell us where to find this Bree?" I finally asked. Perhaps she was only distracting us from finding the girl, sending us on a wild goose chase for something else. From Tristan's and Owen's descriptions of faeries, it'd be something she would do. But if she was serious, if this Bree had our answers …

Lisa laughed, that same delightful sound from earlier, the humor reaching her eyes now. "There's a reason Bree has survived all these years–because she can't be found. But Tristan knows. He just needs to reach deep down in his heart, into places he refuses to go."

I looked at Tristan, and his expression was incomprehensible. His eyes were hard stones, the gold sparking with anger. He shook his head at me. He has no idea what she's talking about.

"So you're saying the answers to the questions about our daughter are buried in Tristan's heart?" I asked.

Lisa laughed again, then said cryptically, "Always were … in more ways than one."

Her riddles had become quite annoying and were getting us nowhere. I took Tristan's hand and turned for the door. "Come on, Tristan. You're right. This was pointless."

As soon as we were in the car, Dorian squealed with delight when I gave him the Lykora-puppy, but he instantly silenced when Tristan slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Fortunately, he reined his strength in before hitting it; otherwise, he would have jammed the wheel all the way into the engine compartment.

"Fucking faeries," he growled he growled under his breath as the car peeled out of the driveway and sped the winding roads to the highway. Not daring to speak aloud, I silently reminded him that Dorian and Owen might not heal from an accident.

"Did any of it make sense to you at all?" I finally mustered the courage to ask once we were on the highway, headed south.

"The stone is in the pendant I gave you," he said, that steely undertone still in his voice. "The one Vanessa has now. I have no idea about the rest of it."

"So you don't remember what you were told?"

"I just said I have no idea. It's all bullshit. She's making it all up, playing with us. Forget about it, all right? Seeing her was a waste of time."

"So you don't think this Bree–"

"Damn it, Alexis! Drop it already!"

I flinched at the roar that filled the car, and his eyes flew to me, then returned to the road. He growled with frustration and swung his hand down toward the steering wheel again, but I caught it before he hit it. I was pretty sure he wouldn't restrain himself this time, and we were driving over a hundred miles an hour. I held his hand between both of mine in my lap, feeling him relax with each passing mile. His jaw muscle stopped twitching by the time we crossed the state line into Georgia.

We drove in silence all the way through Atlanta. Even Dorian and the puppy knew to keep quiet. At least, until Dorian's stomach growled loud enough for us all to hear, and he finally said he was hungry. Food lifted all of our moods.

"Faeries are hot, but totally not worth it. Women are hard enough to figure out, but could you imagine being married to that?" Owen asked as I handed him a burger from the fast-food bag. Tristan and I laughed, and the car's atmosphere immediately changed. "So what's next, big guy?"

"We'll get to Fort Myers tonight, and tomorrow Alexis and I go house-hunting. We need to get settled as soon as possible, but while we're doing that, I need you to check around. See if anyone in the state can tell you anything helpful."

"Shouldn't Alexis be in on that, so she can–?" Owen glanced at Dorian who was totally enthralled with the puppy, but he didn't need to finish his sentence for Tristan and me.

"We have too much to do right now," Tristan said, "but I don't want the time going to waste. Hopefully, you'll learn something that will give us a better starting point when we're ready."

The morning after we arrived in Fort Myers, the first thing we did was go to the Harley-Davidson dealership, and Tristan paid cash for a pearl-white Fat Boy with the "necessary" extras. I drove the car to the hotel for Owen, then hopped on the back of the bike, wrapped my arms around Tristan and immediately felt as though the last eight years had never happened. The familiar rumble under us, the smells surrounding us, and the rush of wind as we cruised over the causeway took me to our early days, when we used to ride to Gasparilla Island.

This time, however, he took us to a different island. Sanibel was an undiscovered paradise, lush and green, many of its streets canopied with oak, banyan and palm trees. We drove along the main road through the island, passing restaurants, shops and inns, and then followed signs for Captiva Island.

Much of the road at the northwest end of Sanibel was undeveloped, lined with trees whose branches stretched over the road but not quite creating a canopy. The only indication that we crossed over to Captiva was a sign mounted on a small bridge. Then we started passing large homes and small mansions with signs on the mailboxes displaying names such as "The Unicorn's Lair" and "Magpie's Delight."

Eventually the homes became a little smaller and closer together, but even the more developed area of the tiny island wasn't overdone. Brightly colored townhouse clusters, quaint boutiques and ice cream shops were surrounded by tropical plants, bushes and palm trees that survived the hurricanes. It was here the textures of the mind signatures changed. There were just as many not-quite-human signatures as there were Norman ones.

"The colony," I breathed against Tristan's ear. He nodded.

Unsuspecting Normans would see the island as a sweet little beach resort, with people walking and riding bicycles and visiting the shops and cafes–enough people to feel neighborly but not overly crowded. They would never know the shop owners were witches and wizards or their waiter might morph into a wolf or the bartender preferred blood to wine. Not even the local Normans knew. The Amadis lived among them, served them, but with the security, support and camaraderie of being near each other.