Purpose (6 page)

Letting go…my breath hitched at the
thought.

“I’m going to fight sharks one day, too,”
Dorian promised me, not noticing the choking sound in my throat. I
swallowed the lump as he wrestled his stuffed shark and put it into
a headlock.

“Yes, I believe you will,” I said. “Now, do
you want me to continue?”

“Yep!” He tossed the stuffed shark to the
side and I told him about the leather-faced man who tried to rob us
during our honeymoon in the Keys. Knowing the story by heart,
Dorian moved his hands as if he fought the guy and shoved him off
the boat.

“Okay, it’s time to settle down and say good
night,” I said after finishing the story.

I picked up the framed picture on Dorian’s
nightstand. It was the only picture I had—the one Owen had taken
with his cell phone at our wedding. Camera-phones were cutting-edge
then, but the technology seemed old by today’s standards, and the
enlarged picture was grainy and unclear. But Mom’s cottage and the
bookstore had been torched shortly after we left that fateful
August and all we had were the few belongings we’d taken with us.
The picture was mounted in an expensive silver frame. I had one
just like it, lying in my nightstand drawer—if I left it out, on
top of the nightstand, I could stay up all night staring at it and
not get any sleep. I trailed my fingers over our beaming faces and
then kissed the glass over Tristan’s. Dorian kissed it, too, then
embraced the frame in a hug.

“Good night, Dad,” he said softly. “I love
you.”

I inhaled a jagged breath, my lungs feeling
heavy and thick, as if liquid grief filled them.

“He loves you, too, little man,” I whispered.
“And so do I. Very much.”

I held him until he fell asleep. I knew I
should let him fall asleep on his own at his age, but holding him
like this was the closest thing I had to holding his father. I
would probably keep doing this as long as he let me.

Exhausted from playing all afternoon, he fell
asleep quickly. As I headed for the door, two small lights in the
window caught my eye. At first, I thought I saw a reflection.
No, they’re outside. Two little fires.
The dream from the
other night flashed in my mind—the vampire and his red eyes. A
chill ran up my spine. Then my pendant suddenly heated against my
skin. I picked it up between my thumb and forefinger and glanced at
it, then back up. The lights were gone.

I stared at the window. I had closed the
blinds earlier. I thought…. Had I done both windows? Surely, I had.
So how was one open now? I rushed to the window, my heartbeat
spiking. I peered outside. Nothing there, but Owen’s truck in the
driveway. Not a creature stirred. No tree branches even waved in
the air.

I let out the breath I’d been holding,
checked the window’s lock and closed the blinds. I watched them for
what felt like several minutes. They didn’t move, of course.
You’re imagining things, is all.
Of course, that was all. No
big deal to be seeing things. That wasn’t weird at all
.
Not
irrational or anything
.

I shook my head to clear it. The lights were
probably just a bizarre reflection of headlights ricocheting off
Owen’s truck and other surfaces. The blinds…I probably just forgot
to close them. I held onto those sane explanations, feeling Swirly
trying to creep in.

“You shouldn’t tell him those things,” Mom
said as I stepped into the hallway, making me jump.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“The stories about fighting. It only
encourages him.”

“Oh,” I breathed as I shut Dorian’s door.
“Well, he needs to know about his dad. It’s not like I have tons of
stories to tell.”

I turned for my room, but Mom stopped me with
a hand on my shoulder.

“Owen and I need to talk to you. Can you come
sit with us for a minute?”

I could hear a slight strain in her voice and
I didn’t think it had anything to do with Dorian’s fighting.
Something else bothered her. Probably my recent behavior.

I sighed. “Mom, I know I’ve been acting
crazy. Crazier than usual, I mean. I don’t know what’s wrong with
me, but I am really trying….”

She took my hand and tugged me down the hall
toward the family room. “I know, honey, which is why we need to
talk. It’s more important than you realize.”

Owen stood at the bank of windows in the
family room, staring out at the darkness of the backyard. He seemed
to be deep in thought—and not good thoughts. The corners of his
mouth turned down and his brows pushed together, creating three
vertical lines over his nose. When he looked at me, the frown
disappeared, but the smile replacing it looked more like a
grimace.

Mom led me to one end of the sectional sofa
and pulled me down to sit next to her. Owen sat on the ottoman in
front of us as Mom took my hands into hers and studied my face. Her
own expression looked concerned as she seemed to struggle with what
she had to say. This was so unlike her.

“Just say it, whatever it is,” I finally
said.

She took a deep breath and blew it out.
“Honey, the council is growing concerned.”

I nodded.

“Because I’m acting like a lunatic.” It
wasn’t a question. I was well aware of my demented behavior and
now, apparently, so was the Amadis council. “Did that kid at the
store figure it out and go to the media?”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t heard
anything.” Mom narrowed her eyes. “Did you do something?”

“Um…no. Not really. I was just a little
rude….” I didn’t feel like giving a full account. I was embarrassed
by my actions, but right now I felt too much on the defensive.
Something about their attitudes and their expressions bothered me.
“Then did you and Owen tell the council about my insanity being
worse than usual?”

Mom shook her head. “No, honey. We haven’t
said anything. Not even to Rina. We know you’re going through
something right now, but like I said the other night, I can feel
the
truth
that things will get better. Sometimes they have
to get worse before they get better, though.”

I studied her face and knew then the
expression she held. Owen had the same look. It wasn’t the usual
concern or empathy. They
pitied
me! The poor woman who
couldn’t get on with her life. What did I expect? I’d been
wallowing in self-pity for years. I tore my eyes from hers and
stared at the black windows.

“What is it then?” I asked, crossing my arms
over my chest. “What has them so concerned?”

Neither of them answered at first. I finally
looked back at them. Owen leaned forward, his elbows on his
thighs.

“They’ve been asking about you,” he said.
“How you’re doing…if there have been any improvements. They’re
actually kind of…freaking out, really.”

“Why? What did you tell them?” Anger and a
hint of hysteria edged my tone. I didn’t know much about the
council—nothing, really—but knew they had no problem making
decisions for us. Only Rina had the power to overrule them. Only
the matriarch wasn’t controlled by them.

“Nothing. Nothing new, anyway,” Owen said
quickly. “But…”

He looked at Mom and so did I. She closed her
eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, while taking a deep
breath. She opened her eyes and looked into mine.

“Honey…it’s about the next daughter. They’re
getting anxious.”

“Daughter…?” I asked, the word sounding
strangely foreign because it wasn’t at all what I expected to
hear.

“Yes. Your daughter.”

“What daughter? We don’t even know if I can
have one.”

“Rina believes you will. I feel it, too. The
council wants you to start trying.”

“
What?
Now?” I couldn’t believe what I
heard. “But how? A daughter requires a father. Surely they know it
takes two!”

“Of course they do, honey.”

“They’re hoping…” Owen cleared his throat,
seeming to have a hard time spitting out what they hoped. “They’re,
uh, hoping that you’re ready to…to move on.”

There came that phrase again, like a punch in
the stomach.
Move on.
Which meant,
let go
. I flew to
my feet and strode around the room. It was one thing to think about
moving on myself. It was another to hear Mom voice the idea aloud.
But hearing Owen say it…knowing the council had been discussing
it…this was totally different. Who were they to decide when I
needed to move on?

“Why the rush?” I demanded. “Why now?”

“We celebrated your twenty-seventh birthday
last month,” Mom said.

I grunted. "Celebrate" wasn't exactly the
word I'd use. More like "commiserated" another year gone by.
Alone.

“The
Ang’dora
may only be fifteen or
so years away,” Mom continued. “If you’re like me, though, it could
be even sooner. In fact…”

She trailed off. I whirled on her.

“In fact what?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind. You
just need to know that there really is a biological clock ticking
and the council is getting anxious. Remember how even Solomon had
been demanding about a daughter? And that was eight years ago. They
would calm down if they at least knew something was being
done.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Like what? What
am I supposed to do? Do they have some kind of in vitro clinic set
up? Because that’s the only way anything’s going to happen! I won’t
be unfaithful!”

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.