“So you’ll work with Rina after all?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m still pretty mad at her.”
“Mmm.” His hand brushed tingles along my shin and calf, and his jaw muscle twitched as he seemed to be lost in thought for a minute. “You don’t really have much choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not leaving this island until you’re trained, and Rina’s the only one who can help you with this particular power.”
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.
“And we need you to listen to the council again if we want the information we need to find this girl.”
I shut my mouth. He knew how to get to me.
He took me to bed, and I lay in his arms, unable to sleep after putting the brakes on sex. Although Rina said my shield was nice and tight, I wasn’t about to risk that humiliation again. Another reason to learn control.
I groaned internally and rolled over on my side. Why me? Of all the powers a daughter can be given, why did I get this one?
I wanted to ignore this gift. To squash it. To pretend it didn’t exist until it disintegrated into nothing from lack of use. It caused way too many problems and was completely worthless since I couldn’t use it properly. Which, of course, was exactly the problem.
Tristan was right. I had no choice. I couldn’t return or exchange the power or re-gift it to someone else. The Angels had given it to me for a reason, and my job was to make the most of it. As much I hated it, I’d better learn to control it and use it. I blew out a breath of resignation and closed my eyes.
Rina? I silently called out, hoping she wasn’t asleep yet.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Ophelia served us breakfast again, which included a note from Rina that Tristan and I were to meet Charlotte in the gym and Rina and I would work together afterwards.
“I wonder what we’re doing with Char,” I said.
“Who’s Char?” Dorian asked.
“Uncle Owen’s mom,” I said.
Dorian’s mouth dropped open, as if I’d just told him Owen was with a pink elephant in a tutu. “Uncle Owen has a mom?”
“Of course, silly. Everyone has a mom.”
“She has some skills to teach you, I do believe,” Tristan said.
“Sounds boring.” Dorian crinkled his nose. “I’m gonna go play games. Uncle Owen said we got a new Harry Potter game.”
He gave Tristan a hug, smacked a wet kiss on my cheek, and ran off.
“Games?” Tristan asked.
“If there’s a computer anywhere in this mansion, Dorian would find it and all the games on it, too. Kind of like you and your toys,” I said, then something occurred to me. I couldn’t believe, being a writer and usually tied to my laptop, I hadn’t thought about it before. “Are there computers here?”
“Of course. In the media room.”
My brows furrowed with another thought. “How do they run? And how come I just now realized I haven’t seen any electricity since we’ve been here? I’m a disgrace to my generation.”
Tristan chuckled. “The island does that to you. Especially this mansion. You feel like you’ve stepped into another world and another time.”
“It feels so . . . natural, though.” This place—this world—seemed to become stranger every time I turned around, yet it still felt like . . . home, I supposed. Almost as though I belonged here. Almost, but not quite.
“There’s a power plant on the island. Fueled by magic, of course.”
“Of course,” I muttered.
“Rina prefers to keep things old-fashioned.” Tristan rose from the table and held his hand out for mine. “You ready?”
I placed my hand in his, and he led the way. We left the mansion through the front door and walked along a path lined with sixty-foot-tall cypress trees and a series of ancient stone arches overhead.
“I can’t believe this place is so old,” I said, awed by the huge arches. The island and the mansion had been a part of the Amadis since the beginning.
“A couple of millennia,” Tristan said. “About as old as anything in Greece.”
“It’s been well taken care of.” I ran my hand along the smooth marble of one of the arches as we passed through.
“It’s protected by the Otherworld. This place—the mansion and the whole island—is practically sacred.”
We turned off the main path and down a narrower one through the trees that led to a short, stout building. The two-story stone structure was a miniature replica of the huge mansion, bigger than Mom’s cottage in Cape Heron had been, but smaller than our beach house in the Keys. The wooden door stood ajar.
Tristan led me into a room that took up nearly the whole building. The walls and hardwood floor were bare, and a grid of wooden beams stretched overhead where a second floor would have been, with the roof far above the beams. The grid was multi-dimensional—the beams weren’t level with each other but set at different heights. Sunrays streamed in through open skylights and created an interesting pattern of shadows on the floor.
“I’m in here,” Charlotte called from our right.
We followed her voice into a small area near the door, and my jaw dropped. Weapons of every kind imaginable except firepower lined the walls and floor—short knives, daggers, curved sabers, long swords, stars, chains, axes, and other things I had no names for.
“No guns?” I asked, trying to hide my bewilderment.
“Guns are pretty useless in our world,” Charlotte said. Instead of the leather of yesterday, she wore a tight black tank, black spandex pants, and black boots, and her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. And she was still intimidating. “Unless you’re were-hunting, which is outlawed for the Amadis. Remember: our goal is not to kill unless there is no hope or if it’s absolutely necessary to protect yourself or someone else.”
Her blue eyes traveled up and down my body as though sizing me up, and then she wrote something on a clipboard.
“These are practice weapons,” she said, casually waving her hand in the air. “Sophia put me in charge of training you. We’ll figure out your strengths before deciding on your weapon of choice.”
Ah. Charlotte wanted to train me. This was one of her rewards for Mom dragging her onto the council.
“But we have powers. Are they not enough?”
“You always want choices,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly.
“Especially with vamps. They’re nearly impossible to kill,” Tristan added.
I regarded the weapons, intimidated by the number and variety. The idea of actually using them, practice or not, made my stomach lurch. I hated fighting. I hated watching it, and I sure as hell hated doing it. I’d already had enough violence in the last week with Vanessa and Tristan and wished I’d never have to fight again.
But I had to be logical, and I knew those weren’t my only battles. Apparently, everyone thought I needed to improve my skills, which I couldn’t disagree with, although I could think of other training I’d prefer to be doing. Like with my telepathy. Now that I’d decided I wanted to learn how to use it, I was anxious to begin my lessons with Rina.