Kristie Cook - Purpose

He chuckled. “Yes, but I’m sure they flashed from New York. You fought it for a couple hours.”

My eyes opened wide. “A couple hours? It didn’t feel so long.”

“You were in an alternate state of mind. I think, by the end, we all were. I told you the process is draining.” He yawned, too, as if to emphasize his point.

“That’s not even the entire process. She’s not converted yet.”

“No. It takes a long time. First, you have to remove the evil energy and the pain is excruciating. Rina and Sophia are finishing it, but you started it. Next time you’ll be strong enough to finish it, too.”

I shook my head. “There won’t be a next time. I failed her and I’m never risking that again. I’ll leave it to Mom and Rina from now on.”

His arms around me released their tight hold. He lifted my chin with his fingers and caught my eyes with his. “This is what you’re made to do, ma lykita. Protecting and saving souls is your purpose for existence.”

His eyes held mine, conveying deep meaning to his words. He raised his eyebrows, as if questioning whether I understood. My own brows knit together. Because I didn’t understand.

“I thought my purpose is to write these stories for whatever it is the Amadis have planned. And to have a daughter so the Amadis could continue. And to eventually lead them.”

“Those are all part of your duties, part of your purpose. But your true reason for being here is to save and protect souls. There are only certain people who can convert others. When you have your full powers, you will be one of them.”

I tried to shake my head again, but Tristan held my chin. “If this is what I’m meant to do...we’re all in big trouble.”

He lips pushed into a small smile. “You did fine, ma lykita. You just don’t have enough power yet. But you will.”

Not enough Amadis power, anyway. It seemed the Daemoni power in me had been plenty strong…almost strong enough. If Mom and Rina hadn’t shown up when they did, I would either be dead or the Daemoni blood would have won. Then all hell could have broken loose. Literally. I would have rather been dead. And nobody knew if I would always have to fight that Daemoni power, even after the Ang’dora. The chance of the evil power winning next time wasn’t worth taking. Sheree’s was the first and last soul I would try to save. They would have to find something different for me to do. Surely there were other roles I could serve.

“How do you feel?” I asked, taking the cue from Tristan and switching the focus from me and my shortcomings.

“Hmm…not great. But better than I was. Don’t worry about me.”

But I did worry about him. His eyes should have returned to their normal beauty by now, but the gold still sparked and the green remained dark and disturbed, like a murky pond rather than bright emeralds.

“I’m fine, too, in case you were wondering,” Owen piped up. He stood in the kitchen, munching on a handful of crackers.

“Yeah, I can tell,” I said and I lifted an eyebrow. “But how can you eat?”

“I’m refueling. You guys should eat, too. Food equals goodness.” He grinned, his sapphire eyes shining brightly.

My face twisted in a grimace. Right now, just the thought of food equaled sick stomach. When I glanced at the clock on the wall behind Owen, though, his hunger made sense. It was nearly eight o’clock. We’d completely missed dinner.

Mom slipped inside then and sat on the coffee table in front of Tristan and me. She took each of our hands and pushed more Amadis power into us. After about a minute, I pulled my hand from hers.

“He needs it more. Give it all to him,” I told Mom.

She wrapped both hands around Tristan’s. The sparks in his eyes finally returned to just gold flecks. They didn’t shine brightly yet, but he looked better. I still shivered next to him, but not quite as violently.

“That should help until we return,” Mom said.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“We need to get Sheree to a safe house.” She studied my face, but she mistook my fearful expression. “We’ll return as soon as possible. You’ll be okay until then.”

“But why do you have to leave? They’re out there, waiting for you. For any of us,” I said, my voice rising an octave with panic.

“No one’s out there right now, honey. They apparently left when our first soldiers showed up.”

I hadn’t even realized we had fighters out there, I was so consumed with everything else. “So we’re protected?”

“Of course.” She patted my hand, then stood and stepped back to the sliding glass doors to return to Rina and Sheree.

“Mom?”

She turned to look at me.

“Dorian’s okay, right?”

She smiled. “Yes, honey. He’s in the safest place he could possibly be.”

I nodded, then slumped back against Tristan.

“We’ll be back soon. I promise.”

I cringed. The promise sounded too much like the one Tristan had left me with. Things hadn’t turned out so well that time. They’ll be okay. They’re well protected. I found it difficult to convince myself, though. After all, there were real monsters out there, out in the world. And one monster right there with them.

I watched through the glass doors as Rina lifted Sheree and placed her limp form in Mom’s arms. Her heavy weight didn’t affect their graceful movements. They glided toward the stairs and then disappeared out of sight. I said a silent prayer for all of them—for Sheree’s successful conversion and for Mom and Rina’s safe return. I knew I would need them. I just didn’t realize how soon.

Tristan and I sat on the couch in silence for a while as Owen rummaged around the kitchen. I hadn’t been to the market since the day after I arrived and hadn’t purchased enough to feed me for more than a few days, let alone all of us. When I’d sent Owen the other night, he only bought steak and trimmings. So the cupboards and refrigerator were fairly empty.

“Not much here,” Owen complained.

I still didn’t know how he could be hungry, my own stomach still in knots. Of course, he’d probably been through similar situations many times in the past. The experiences were all new and overwhelming to me and add in the change of the Ang’dora that crept through my body, no wonder I felt so tense. Tristan had apparently recovered, too. He left me in the family room and joined Owen in the kitchen, in search of food.

“Can’t you just conjure something?” I teased Owen as I finally rose from the couch, too.

“Not food, not without something to start with,” he said, as if there was absolutely nothing in the house. I knew better.

“Hmph, a lot of good you are.” Even if I didn’t feel hungry, they obviously needed to be fed. “Watch my magic.”

I started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge—leftover steak, a can of black beans, salsa, the last of the eggs, cheese and tortillas. In no time, I whipped up some breakfast burritos, while Tristan sliced a tomato and an apple for us all to share. They dove into their food with enough vigor you’d think they hadn’t eaten for days. The drain of helping Sheree certainly left us feeling as empty as if we hadn’t, but I had to force-feed myself a third of the apple. Even the tiniest bit felt like a boulder in my constricted throat and my stomach was too tied up to make room. It didn’t feel like it had earlier, as though worms filled it. Now it just felt tight and tiny, as if it had squeezed itself into the size of a walnut, too small for even a slice of apple. But that seemed to be all I needed, anyway.

Renewed energy suddenly overtook my body. Those synapses ticked through my nerves again, making my muscles twitch with the need for exertion. I couldn’t sit still. After cleaning the kitchen, I paced around the living room, wishing I could run. I felt imprisoned inside the house.