Wrath

sacrifice my life for my son, but the end goal was to release him from their clutches. I would die trying to do so, but I’d sure rather my last breath be drawn knowing he was free.

Shit. Rationality was already setting in.

I pulled away from Tristan and threw my hands into the air. “So what do we do now?”

“We build an army. Gather intelligence and create a plan. We arm ourselves in every possible way. Then we act. We take every one of them down and get our son. Or at least die trying.”

“So, what? Go to the Amadis Island?”

He shook his head. “We need to go back to the safe house first. That is your house. Our house. We need to take care of it and not leave Blossom to clean up the mess by herself.”

The scene of the crime. I didn’t think I could face it.

But then, seeing it all again would keep the feelings fresh. The rage I needed to hold onto. Just picturing the scene in my mind—the mages’ blood smeared on the walls, Sasha’s feathers strewn about the room—shot more fury through my veins.

“Fine,” I said, still mad, but calming. I peered up at him. “You really checked the border that far already?”

“I’m not running on my last bit of energy like you are,” he said. “And I’m much more experienced. Why do you think it took me a while to catch up with you?”

“So you wanted through, too. You were trying to get to Hades just like I was.”

“At first, yes. But I’m also more experienced at gaining control of my rage than you are.” He grimaced. “I have to be or innocent people would have been dead by now.”

He was too dangerous to be running around like a loose cannon. I obviously was, too. Who knew how far I would have taken it if Tristan hadn’t stopped me? I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I could have killed anyone, including innocent Normans, and not cared. And then I really would have been no better than the Daemoni.

I did need time to simmer down.

We flashed back to Florida, slower than we’d come because I was so drained. The fatigue left, though, when we arrived in the safe house, and as I’d hoped, the ire returned, though more quietly.

We appeared in the foyer, where Blossom paced, her cell phone at her ear. She halted both her steps and her words when she saw us.

“I’ll call you back,” she said into the phone before hitting the END button. “I’m sorry, Alexis. I didn’t start cleaning up yet. I had to call my Aunt Sylvie and make sure she and the coven were okay.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Are they?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. This seems to be an isolated incident.”

With another nod, I turned toward the common room. I stared at the blood and the mages’ decimated bodies with my hands balled into fists at my sides and my eyes burning.

“They deserve a proper Amadis send-off,” I said through a clenched jaw.

“A fire outside will draw attention,” Tristan said from beside me. “But we can take them out on the water.”

I gave a cursory nod. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I glanced around one more time, capturing the scene clearly in my memory so I could share it with Mom and Rina and anyone else who needed the details, as gruesome as they were.

“Alexis,” Blossom mentally called out, triggering my telepathy. I reached out with my mind to where she still stood behind me, in the doorway between the foyer and the common room. “They’re scared.”

Not understanding—the mages were dead, how could they be scared?—I turned toward her. Behind her stood several of the local Amadis.

“But they want to help,” she added.

Somehow, through the anger and the need to have my son back in my arms, I found focus and managed to give orders. A were-shark from Captiva owned a boat we could use, so the shark, Tristan, and I took the mages’ bodies several miles out on the Gulf and gave them the best Amadis send-off we could. By the time we arrived back at the mansion that afternoon, Blossom and the other remaining mages had the blood magically cleaned.

All of the local Amadis had gathered in the so-called safe house, either seeking direction or camaraderie. I wasn’t sure which.

“Why are they here?” I asked Tristan. “It’s not safe anymore.”

“They’re here for you. For us. And it’s safer in numbers.”

Damn. All I wanted to do was formulate a plan for rescuing my son and then execute it—sooner rather than later.

“I can’t deal with this right now.”

Tristan nodded, then spoke aloud so everyone could hear, “There’s plenty of room for everyone, and we’re safe as long as we each take shifts.”

“Are the Daemoni coming back?” someone asked.

“Not likely,” Tristan answered. They have what they want. He hadn’t said the rest, but I knew that was what he meant. “But we’ll take no chances. We need any mages who can help to put up a shield and volunteers to take shifts.”

A section of the small crowd parted, and a big tiger waltzed out. Sheree, volunteering. She, two vampires, and a were-panther each took a wing to prowl for the first shift while the mages worked together to put up as powerful of a shield as the witches and wizards could muster. A warlock would have helped to strengthen it, but there weren’t any in the colony. Not since Owen had left.

The sun began to set again by the time Tristan, Blossom, and I could gather in my office to start planning a search and rescue. I dropped into my chair, crossed my arms over my desk, and lay my head down on top of them.

“You look exhausted,” Blossom said.

“You need to regenerate,” Tristan added.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

“Yeah, right. You’re about to pass out whether you like it or not,” Blossom said.

I let out a dark chuckle. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t possibly sleep with my son and Heather out there.”

“You may not be ‘only human,’ but you can’t last forever,” Tristan said. “You’ll be of no use if you don’t have all of your energy.”

“How long has it been, anyway?” Blossom asked. “Three days now since you slept? Four?”

I lifted my head and glared at them. “Why are you ganging up on me? I seriously can’t sleep right now. My mind won’t shut off, even if I tried. But I don’t want to try. I want to find Dorian!”

Tristan and Blossom exchanged some kind of look, then Blossom flicked her wrist and a faint purple light flew at me. My mind suddenly became hazy and my body floppy. Did she put a sleeping spell on me, that . . . witch?! Through the fog that began to settle in, I felt Tristan carrying me. Down the hall, to the left wing, to the suite where we’d left Dorian. The smell of blood no longer lingered, and Sasha’s baby-powder scent hung heavily in the air instead. The lykora lay on the bed, a few small, white feathers sprouting from her back where her wing had once been.

Tristan set me in the middle of the bed, next to Sasha, and he lay behind me. I didn’t want to sleep, but a small part of me knew Tristan and Blossom were right. I needed to regenerate if I was going to have the energy to save Dorian. Just a few hours, I told myself, then we start.

“Ma lykita, you’ve been strong all this time,” Tristan said quietly from behind me as he laid his arm over my waist and pressed his hand against my stomach. “You can cry now. Let it out. I’m here, my love.”

But I didn’t want to cry. For once in my life, tears evaded me. I refused to grieve this loss, because it wasn’t a loss in my eyes, in my heart. It was a call for war, yes. But not a loss. I wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, I was too mad to cry, even in my exhaustion, and enmity would carry me through to do what needed to be done.