Kristie Cook - Purpose

My hotel suite’s window looked down on Duval Street, crowded with tourists hopping from bar to bar. I envied their normal lives and their ability to relax and have fun. I wanted to let go of my screwed up life and pretend I was one of them. I only ventured as far as the hotel’s bar and sipped some kind of frozen, fruity concoction. The outdoor bar faced the street and the passing crowds provided limitless opportunities for people-watching. I felt bad vibes off some of the revelers. And a few set off my evil alarms. Both Tristan and Stefan had once said this was one of the Daemoni’s favorite stomping grounds.

I felt their eyes on me. They surely had to recognize me. They could capture me if they wanted. I tried to ignore my sense’s command to run, telling myself I wasn’t the frightened young girl I used to be. What’s the worst they could do to me? I wondered as I stirred the pixie straw around my slushy drink. Would they torture me or just outright kill me? Maybe they’ll bring me to my love. Would they take me to him and let us at least be together? Or did they even have him? Apparently, enough doubt about the video lingered. And then I wondered if they would decapitate me, too, and send the video to the Amadis. My stomach clenched. But then Psycho Alexis told me even that would be okay. Being together, whether within their captivity or both of us dead, had to be better than what I’d lived through so far. I had a brief impulse to walk right up to one and let them have me.

And then I saw Owen across the bar, keeping an eye on me. Protecting me. Probably just as much from myself as from the Daemoni. I’d given him a job again. Actually, I realized, he was not alone. I felt the presence of several Amadis, all on guard for me. Just in case. I had been right—Mom would never let me be completely alone. Realizing this suppressed Psycho Alexis.

I wondered how these innate enemies seemed to co-exist. I’d seen the carnage both sides could produce during that bloody battle nearly eight years ago. Rina had said the Amadis only fight when necessary. But why wouldn’t the Daemoni be instigating something with them? Were even they able to control themselves when so immersed in the human world? Or did they have no reason to fight? No orders to attack?

Why should we attack when you are so close to coming to us on your own? You’ll soon realize exactly where you belong.

I stiffened in the bar stool. That voice again. The internal voice that was mine, but not mine. The voice of Evil Alexis that scared the shit out of me.

I ordered another drink. Then another one. I hoped to drown the voice away, along with all my other thoughts. I’d never been truly drunk before. I’d been buzzed, but never falling-down, blacking-out drunk. Why not now? I had protectors to ensure nothing bad happened, so why not allow myself that numbness? After three drinks, which should have inebriated me, I felt little effect. Probably overpriced, watered-down drinks the bartender served. In fact, Owen had probably slipped him a larger-than-necessary tip to make my drinks weak. I gave up and headed back to my room, feeling a little defeated because I could never truly run away. At least Owen and the others didn’t bother me, for which I felt grateful.

The front room of the suite contained a sitting area with a couch, chair and walnut armoire, which housed a flat-screen television. A desk sat by one of the windows, with a view of a small courtyard two stories below. A tall, walnut sleigh-bed and another armoire with a second flat-screen furnished the bedroom, the bed made with luxurious linens and a fluffy duvet. The marble-and-walnut bathroom contained boutique-brand toiletries. The hotel was the epitome of luxury. It should have been, for the rate I paid. This would have been a nice place for a vacation…like a honeymoon. But not better than where mine had been. The place I would have to face tomorrow.

As comfortable as the bed looked, I knew the threat of nightmares—more replays of that video—wouldn’t allow me to sleep. So I sat down to write for the first time in days, pounding on the keyboard for hours, and eventually fell asleep at the desk. The nightmare came and I awoke with a start, his scream still echoing in my head. No! I won’t believe it! I longed for the memory-dream, or even the slideshow, terrified that even my subconscious had completely lost him, except for his agonizing cry. I wished I had gone straight to the beach house now. I needed to feel him, to remember him, to keep hold of that thread. Then I thought of his bag, with his few pieces of clothes still in there—his things I could touch and feel and hold close. I started to stand up.

Daemoni! Evil! Run!

“Do not move, Alexis.” The deep, gravelly voice of the vampire again. My heart jumped against my chest. “Settle yourself down. You don’t want to excite me.”

I took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, but not because the detestable voice told me to. I needed to be able to focus and figure this one out. Because I was pretty sure I was awake, sitting at the desk, thinking about my husband. But maybe not. Maybe one nightmare had slipped into another.

“Good girl. Nice and slow.”

Yeah, whatever. I found it difficult to control my heart and my breathing because now I just wanted to scream and wake myself up. But I couldn’t bring myself to do either.

“You did not listen to me, Alexis. You are still writing.”

I swallowed, not answering. Real fear crept in, poking black fingers into the edge of my mind.

The vampire stood only five feet away, his red, glowing eyes glaring fiercely at me. His arms were crossed against his chest, his marble-white skin contrasting starkly with the black silk shirt, tucked into tailored, black slacks. This was the first time he’d appeared in the light and he looked very similar to the descriptions in my books. Except…not exactly. His lips were wrong. I had always pictured my worst villain with full, dark-red lips, as if permanently stained with blood. This creature had white, hard lips that looked chiseled into a stone face. And he appeared much thinner, lankier, even weaker-looking than the image in my head. Finally, he wasn’t exactly good looking. Most authors of vampire lore, including myself, always described the extreme attractiveness of the vampire’s face as part of their lure. This creature could possibly be appealing, if he weren’t so downright frightening.

“I am not here to attract you as my prey,” he said, as if reading my mind. His lips pulled back from his razor-sharp teeth and fangs. “You apparently are not taking me seriously enough, so my goal is to scare you. Am I doing a good job?”

Yes, very much so. I stared at him wide-eyed, frozen in place. The Daemoni alarms still rang in my head.

“Are y-you D-Daemoni?” I finally managed to ask.

He smiled—it looked stunning and wretched at the same time. “Ah, so you are not so stupid after all. If I answer yes, will you take me more seriously?”

I ignored his question, needing an answer to my own. Even if this was just a dream. “Do you have my husband? Is he still alive? Do you know where he is?”

He glowered at me, the red eyes burning brightly, and then hissed. “You have no husband! Your baby’s father left you!”

I cringed at the words although they weren’t new. He’d given the public’s story. Anyone could have said that.

“You’re not real. You’re just a dream,” I muttered.

“Stupid, STUPID WOMAN!” he growled, suddenly right in front of me, leaning over me. His eyes changed with the burst of anger, to the deepest, darkest black of death. Just the edges of the iris still glowed red.

I could see my horrified expression in those deep-black eyes. This nightmare felt even more real than my memory-dreams. I could hear his ragged breathing, feel it on my face, smell the unexpectedly pleasant, sweet scent: strawberries covered in sugar and cream. Is this really a dream? My heart raced even faster. I thought my ribs would break from the pressure and my heart would just fly out, right into his hands.