Kristie Cook - Purpose

Mom sighed. “Just be thinking about it right now, honey. We don’t expect you to do anything. In fact, you should know that Rina and I, and some others, don’t support any of this. If you are meant to have a daughter, if the Amadis is meant to continue under our rule, it will happen when and how it is supposed to.”

“We just thought you should know what’s going on,” Owen added.

I stopped pacing and leaned my forehead against the window, staring out at the backyard bathed in silver from the moon’s light. I appreciated their candor. They still had to protect their secrets until I went through the Ang’dora, so I hadn’t learned anything over the years. I hadn’t even asked, since the day I realized my feeble human mind couldn’t comprehend anyway. The day my world fell apart. But at least they shared this.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Alexis…you do need to remember something, though,” Mom said. “You need to understand this won’t go away. They will eventually increase the pressure. You are royalty, honey. You have responsibilities.”

Her words burned my ears, their meaning slowly washing over me, hot lava scorching my soul. I would have to choose. Stay true to my love, to my soul-mate, remain Tristan’s faithful wife no matter how long it took, even if doing so meant no daughter. Or assume my responsibilities to a society that depended on me for its future, on the daughter I needed to have, even if it meant breaking my vows…letting go…moving on.

The liquid fire scalded the edges of my wounds, making them throb with pain. Regardless of how much I’d been trying to convince myself that I needed to, I just couldn’t move on. I couldn’t let go of the hope that we would be together again. Just thinking about doing so in such real terms felt like sharp claws ripping at my inner core, tearing at my soul. It would die with that choice…and so would Tristan’s. After all, if our souls were bound as tightly as Rina said they were, the death of one meant the death of the other. I could not do that to him. I owed him so much more.

I turned slowly. Mom and Owen looked at me expectantly.

“We’re all relying on you, Alexis,” Mom murmured.

“Well, then,” I said, “I guess we’re all fucked.”

I slammed my bedroom door shut and threw myself on the bed. I knew that was the wrong thing to say. Once again, I’d snapped because of my emotions. Emotions that were tearing me apart, ripping me in two. Right and wrong no longer mattered anyway. I couldn’t do anything without devastating consequences. To me. To Tristan. To Dorian. To our whole damn society. I had actually stated the truth.

That’s right. You. Are. Fucked.

I startled at the thought. It didn’t sound like my “voice”—the way I heard my own thoughts in my head. Though I’d just said the same thing to Mom and Owen, this was not me. Was it?

Who the hell else would it be?

Again, the voice sounded different, strange. But it was definitely in my head. It could only be my thoughts.

Of course it is. This is the real you. The one you’ve finally been letting out recently. The one who knows the truth and isn’t afraid to say it.

I didn’t understand myself. What the hell did that mean?

Think about it, Alexis. Who are you really? Some miserable wench who can’t get over herself? Too afraid to do anything? Come on, you know what you really want to do. Why hold back?

Again, I didn’t understand. Because I really didn’t know what to do.

Yes, you do. You know you can put an end to all of this. No more suffering. No more choices. No more council or Amadis at all, for that matter. And you won’t have to deal with any of it. You’ll be gone.

What?! I covered my ears with my hands, as if they could shut out the internal voice. The thoughts sounded too much like suicide. I had never been suicidal. I couldn’t do that to Dorian, to my mother, to the Amadis…to Tristan. Even if it were just a thin thread, I really did have hope.

Oh, give it up. There’s no hope. No hope for anything. Like we just agreed, you are fucked. All of you.

I would never kill myself!

Then don’t. You have other options, you know. You do have other family…remember?

I nearly screamed. Holy shit! What the hell was happening to me? This was a bigger mind game than Swirly had ever played.

Hell. That’s what’s happening to you. It could be your home. We hold your desires right here. You can have it all with us. With them…nothing. With us, everything. Your soul-mate. Your son. You don’t have to worry about having a daughter with us. We’ll love you and worship you anyway. You can be our queen. Your king is already here, waiting….

“Stop it!” I gasped aloud.

You know this is what you want.

“No!” I said, louder this time.

But the voice wouldn’t shut up. It kept taunting. The evil blood—that of my sperm donor, Lucas, the Daemoni’s most powerful warrior—coursed like an icy stream through my veins. I could feel it trying to take over. I curled into a ball, my hands still over my ears, my eyes squeezed shut, my body shaking uncontrollably.

“No. No, no, no!”

Yes.

“This is not what I want!” An electric charge filled the air. The hairs on my arms stood on end and I heard a crackling sound around me. Again, the pendant heated against my skin.

You know it is! Let go, Alexis. Let it all go. Find comfort with us.

“No! Please, God, help me!”

The voice fell silent.

I trembled so hard, the bed shook under me. My pulse thudded in my ears, but at least I heard nothing else. I opened my eyes and remained in a ball, staring at nothing and praying for the voice to stay away. The energy in the room settled, as did the pounding in my chest. My blood finally warmed and the shivering stopped.

But fear still wrapped itself around me. Nothing like this had ever happened before. I was half Daemoni, but not evil. Rina assessed me every time she saw me and said the evil was repressed, virtually non-existent. So what the hell just happened?

Was the state of my mind bringing out the worst of me? That was certainly possible, I supposed. I suddenly remembered the lights in Dorian’s window—the two little fires. Had those been my own eyes? I shuddered again.

This afternoon and evening with Dorian had been good. Too good. Almost as if I’d swung into a maniacal state from the chaos earlier in the day. And now I had to pay for it. The conversation with Mom and Owen…the realization of just how bad everything was…an Evil Alexis trying to push her way out…. I would really lose it at this rate, if I hadn’t already. I just hoped the good side would win, that Mom would lock me up before I did anything…bad.

I couldn’t move. I felt drained of all energy. I lay there, with the light still on, and squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to see the beautiful face. I just wanted to go back to the way things were, when I could count on the same dream, seeing him every night. I had my miserable moments then, but I was mostly just foggy and I missed the fog. If I never found Real Alexis again, I preferred Foggy, who was a hundred times better than all these other alter egos.

The memory-dream tried to replay but even my subconscious mind couldn’t focus—couldn’t make his face clear. I woke up at 3:39 sobbing and my body burning. It didn’t ache with soreness from the running. It actually burned as the muscles repaired themselves from the strain I’d put them through. When I finally fell back to sleep, the memory-dream didn’t start again. The slideshow on the mountain played instead…and every time Tristan’s face started to surface, Owen’s pushed it away. And the images of Owen weren’t really memories. They looked more like…possibilities. No, no, no! I’m not only forgetting… Oh, hell no! He can’t be replaced!