some pleasant, some not so much, making me wonder what kinds of concoctions were being created in some of the more eccentric homes. A few people were outside–one cutting herbs from a garden, another walking a pet tarantula the size of my head on a leash, making me shudder–and they all inclined their heads as we passed by.
'I'm the alien but they all treat me like …'
'Royalty?' Tristan finished for me.
I sighed. 'Yeah. At this rate, I'll be ready to get back to normal life sooner than I thought. At least in the normal world, I know how to behave, what to do.'
He gave me a squeeze. 'We'll be leaving soon enough, I'm sure. But first you have a lot to learn. You need to train. Have you been practicing at all, or just gawking?'
'Pretty much just gawking,' I admitted and then I frowned. I hated listening to people's thoughts, and it felt especially intrusive when the people close by thought they were in the privacy of their own homes. At least on the main street, people would be thinking fewer intimate thoughts and more about their business at hand. 'Let's go back downtown, or whatever you call it, so I can be with more people.'
As we walked, I pushed my cloud out to people we passed long enough to hear a brief thought, then quickly pulled the cloud in as soon as I'd succeeded. I kept to only one person at a time, afraid I'd lose control if I tried more. Fortunately, what I heard was mostly mundane, except …
'Can't stop thinking of him as Seth. Look at him, walking around as though he owns the place, his hands all over the real royalty, as though he owns her. He's such a traitor. He'll be the downfall of the Amadis.'
As we walked by, the man–I picked up the thought he was a were-animal of some sort–inclined his blond head like everyone else, and hurried past us.
'Wow, he's not quite a fan of yours,' I muttered to Tristan. 'He thinks you're a traitor.'
'Yes,' Tristan said with a hint of steel in his voice, 'there are some who think I shouldn't be here … and especially shouldn't be with you.'
Before I could say what those people could physically do to themselves, my brain rattled with an agitation that exceeded my own. Somehow my mind followed the disturbance to pick up the disjointed thoughts.
'This meeting … a farce! … What to believe! … Another daughter? … And the boy?... Martin ruling?... Is it possible? … Tristan–a traitor!... Something needs to be done…the Amadis … Decimated!'
I peered over my shoulder, sensing the owner of such mental chaos behind me, but no one was there. Whoever had been so upset had disappeared.
My own mind spun. The fragmented thoughts made no sense. Were his thoughts really so disjointed or did the telepathy cut in and out like a poor cell phone signal? Did he mean my future daughter? And Dorian? Who was Martin? And, most importantly, how many people thought Tristan would betray us and how could they possibly still believe that after everything he's done for the Amadis?
I opened my mouth to tell Tristan what I heard, but he cut me off. 'Rina's asking for our return.'
'She told you? But not me?'
Tristan shrugged, took my hand and led me back to the big white building at the top of the hill, the Council Hall. I wondered briefly why Rina had only spoken to Tristan as if I was inferior, but my mind quickly returned to the commotion I'd heard.
The man had mentioned the meeting being a farce, but didn't specify which meeting. The council meeting that was about to begin or another one? Thinking he might possibly be a council member, I knew I needed to gather my wits and courage and do a damn good job of 'listening' for Rina. Something was definitely going on.
'You can't go in there!' Owen's bark came from the other side of the door to the little room where we waited with Mom and Rina once again for the council meeting to begin.
'Owen, I am your mother. You let me in right now,' commanded a stern female voice. The door burst open. 'Sophia!'
'Sorry,' Owen muttered, following the woman in.
Mom grinned widely. 'It's okay, Owen. I doubt your mother is trying anything sneaky with us.'
The woman slid out of her leather jacket and tossed it to Owen as she strode over to Mom and embraced her. She wore black leather from head to toe–a bustier, pants and combat boots–and though her build was slight, the confident way she moved and held herself would make a bully cower. She appeared to be in her mid- to late- thirties, but she had to be nearly three times older: Owen appeared to be twenty-five, but was actually sixty-eight and this woman, apparently, had given birth to him. With shoulder-length, straight hair the same shade of blond as Owen's and eyes the same sapphire blue, the resemblance was obvious.
'I know I'm breaking protocol, but I couldn't wait a minute longer to see you or to meet Alexis,' she said, already advancing on me. She didn't wait for introductions. 'Ah, yes, you are as beautiful as I've heard. Hello, Alexis, I am Charlotte Allbright.'
It took me a moment to recover from her straightforwardness. 'Um, nice to meet you, Ms. Allbright.'
She laughed. 'You can call me Charlotte or Char.'
'Or Charred or Charcoal,' Mom said.
'You'll never let me live that one down, will you?' Charlotte gave Mom a mischievous smile at some private joke.
'Alexis, this is Owen's mother, as you've figured out,' Mom said. 'And, I have to admit, a long-time friend of mine.'
'I apologize for my son's irresponsibility while he was supposed to be protecting you. Sometimes I wonder why Sophia insists on him having the job. He should really–'
'Oh, no, please don't blame him,' I quickly interrupted. 'That was totally my fault. Owen's great at his job– when I let him do it.'
Charlotte eyed me. 'Hmm … well, I suppose I can understand, if you're anything like your mother.'
'Worse,' Mom muttered. I tilted my head in question. 'Charlotte has been my protector from time to time and she thinks I'm hard-headed and rebellious.'
'Of course you are! I wouldn't love you if you weren't,' Charlotte said with a laugh.
Mom shrugged. 'So, maybe I am.'
'You think I'm hard-headed and rebellious … worse than you?' I asked, not sure what I thought about that.
'Of course you are. And I wouldn't love you if you weren't,' Tristan said from behind me as he placed his hands on my hips. Mom and Charlotte chuckled.
'Alexis, we will have our hands full with you,' Mom said.
I frowned. Charlotte placed her hands on each side of my face and looked me directly in the eye, an impish gleam in hers.
'These are admirable traits, Alexis. There are dark days ahead and we'll need your spunk and spirit. Martin says we all need to be prepared, especially you.' With that cryptic message–there was that name Martin again–she planted a kiss on my forehead. What did she mean by dark days ahead? And why especially me? I didn't get a chance to ask as she turned away. 'I suppose I should let Owen kick me out. I'll see you soon. We have some catching up to do, Sophia.'
Charlotte held her arm out to Owen and he took her elbow, pretending to forcefully escort her out of the room. She hooked her boot around the door, pulling it shut behind them.
'She's a handful herself,' I muttered and her laugh echoed from another part of the building.
Mom laughed, too. 'Yes, she is. But she's a great friend to me, a powerful warlock and an excellent addition to the council.'
'She's on the council?' I asked. She acted as though she hadn't seen Mom for a long time, but Mom had been at the island for nearly a week. She and Rina returned before us so they could debrief the council on the recent events in the Florida Keys–my Ang'dora, Tristan's escape, the Daemoni's attack ... and everything else.
'She is now. Martin, her husband, took Stefan's place, but Char is a new addition. She's been fighting in the Middle East and returned last night,' Mom explained. 'Rina will swear her in this morning.'
So Martin was Char's husband and Owen's dad, and their family was apparently close to ours. Which made everything I'd already 'heard' today much more confusing. This meeting may or may not be a farce, but it seemed
