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You won’t leave me?
I swallowed down the hard lump in my throat and shook my head. We’ll figure this out together.
Taking a deep breath, Tristan stepped away from the human, releasing him and moving to my side in a blur even my own eyes struggled to follow. The human started to slump down the bare hardwood tree’s trunk in shock. Dad darted forward and caught him before he hit the ground, pulling him to his feet then capturing the man’s gaze with his own. Under the thrall of the vampire gaze daze, the man’s eyes widened then went blank as Dad began to murmur instructions to him to alter his memory and send him safely home.
If only recovering Tristan’s memory could be as easy as making this human forget part of his.
My own knees weak with relief, I slipped an arm around Tristan’s waist and slowly led him through the woods back toward the cabin. And tried not to think about how much the sweet, delicious scent of blood on his lips made my stomach clench and my heart race with need.
We spent every waking moment of the next five months training Tristan to control the speed of his reflexes and movements using tai chi, because it had worked so well for both my dad and me. Dad’s theory was that a lot of a fledgling’s control issues came from the fact that our bodies moved even faster than our minds, so instinctual urges to feed kicked in and made us attack before we could even realize what we were doing and make a conscious decision to stop ourselves.
The longer Tristan practiced tai chi, the more I began to see hints of the Tristan I’d loved for so long. His movements became less like a bird’s and more fluid, like the human athlete he used to be. As Tristan developed self-control, he also gained something other than his memory loss to focus on, which allowed him to relax and gradually become more independent.
When I wasn’t helping Dad train Tristan, I was working on homework. And there was a lot of it. I’d figured Tristan and I could retake our junior year of high school someday after Tristan got his memory back. If we were both going to live forever, what was one year’s delay in our education going to matter? But Dad insisted on signing us up for homeschooling via the internet and having me do both Tristan’s and my homework so we wouldn’t fall behind. Once Tristan’s memory returned, the plan was to have him speed-read over everything he’d missed to get caught up.
I think Dad was just trying to keep me busy so I wouldn’t worry all the time.
But how could I not? Especially with Tristan’s sister, Emily, constantly texting requests for updates on Tristan’s progress. At first I thought she was just concerned about her little brother. But lately I’d started to wonder if maybe she wasn’t the only one in the Clann who was worried about Tristan.
One early April morning, my cell phone’s beep woke me up with an alert for a new text message.
Still half-asleep, I rolled onto my side, grabbed my phone, and cracked one eyelid to read the message before the beeping could wake anyone else.
My mother wants to know when you two will be coming back to Jacksonville.
Why would we return? I texted back.
You have to, Emily’s reply read. The Clann needs to be sure he’s in control and not a danger to anyone.
I scowled at the screen. As far as I was concerned, we were never going back to Jacksonville. How could we, when Tristan was still more animal than man? I wasn’t sure he could even control himself in a crowd full of humans, much less descendants.
Sighing, I propped up on one elbow, looked around and froze.
I was alone in the cabin.
Had Tristan run outside after another hunter? Maybe Dad had been in too much of a hurry chasing after him to wake me? If so, why hadn’t I heard anything?
My pulse racing, I jumped to my feet and rushed toward the door. But movement outside the window stopped me. Tristan and Dad were practicing tai chi a few yards from the cabin.
Blowing out a long sigh of relief, I moved closer to the window to watch them, and a sigh of a different kind slipped from my lungs.
In the cold morning air, still predawn gray, Tristan’s fiercely determined focus turned each motion into a thing of both beauty and danger, like a fighter in a martial arts movie preparing for a battle. I wrapped my arms around myself and watched him unseen and unheard for once, and in that moment remembered again why I loved him. It wasn’t just the way he moved, or the beautiful lines formed by his sculpted body, honed by endless football practices over the years and perfected by vampire blood. It was the look in his eyes, the firm set to his mouth and jaw, that single-minded determination to succeed at whatever he attempted. Just like he always had.
It was a rare glimpse of the old Tristan I knew and loved and had missed every waking day of the past five months.
When he smoothly slid down into a low right lunge in Form 16, I actually shivered. A minute later, as he progressed to Form 18 and his left palm slowly pushed forward as if pressing open an invisible door, my shiver turned into full-on goose bumps down the back of my neck and arms. But this time it wasn’t because of the beauty of the moment.
Tristan was about to use magic.
I had time to think Oh, no and rush for the door. By the time I opened it a half second later, a nearby tree had already gone up in a thunderous boom of flames. The morning’s tai chi lesson was definitely over.
Tristan stared at the tree. He glanced down at his hands then up at me, his eyes wide as I ran over to him.
“I... Did I just...” he sputtered.
“It’s okay,” I said, taking his hands into mine. “You did it with your willpower and that bundle of energy inside you. Can you feel that energy?”
He frowned then slowly nodded.
“Good. Now focus on that energy. Think about keeping it as a tight ball inside you if you can.”
“I didn’t mean to set the tree on fire. I just...I was ticked off. I got distracted. I was thinking...”
I read his mind. He was thinking that he was tired of not knowing who and what he was. And then his anger had triggered his willpower to kick in and spit out a bit of magic in the form of a fireball.
A fireball that could have easily killed my dad or me if he’d aimed it in a different direction.
I pushed that thought away. “I know. It was an accident. That’s why we do the tai chi. It gives you a way to physically get the emotions out without, well, blowing stuff up.” I turned toward the tree, took a deep breath, held out my hands, and willed the tree to cool off. The flames died down then extinguished in a thick cloud of smoke.
“Savannah, the smoke...” Dad muttered. “Others will see it for miles. Can you do anything to disperse it?”
I thought for a moment, nibbling at the inner corner of my mouth. Then I raised my hands and imagined a strong breeze blowing out from my palms toward the smoke.
Tristan hissed and rubbed his arms as wind whispered to life, gathered the smoke, and shredded it into long gray ribbons that trailed off into nothing.
“There.” I turned to Tristan with a forced smile. “See? All better. Just try to keep your willpower under control and you’ll be okay.”
But Tristan was frozen in place, staring with wide, unseeing eyes at the now blackened trees.
“Tristan?”
He didn’t blink, didn’t move, his mind a million miles away in another place and time when he had last worked with someone to learn how to control his Clann powers.
TRISTAN
Images I didn’t understand at first flashed through my mind, of myself and a big bear of a man with a thick silver beard standing in a yard at night.
Then I recognized him. The answers flowed to me without my having to struggle for them.
Dad. We were standing in the backyard behind our house.
Okay, Dad said. So here’s the basics of casting a spell. Every witch starts off at the beginner level of spell casting by saying a word and using a small hand gesture. This helps you focus and control when the spell is actually cast, until you learn how to discipline your mind. Someday, when you’re ready, I’ll teach you how to cast a spell even if you’re tied up with your mouth taped shut, just by thinking the word and using your willpower. Eventually you’ll learn to cast a spell without a word at all, just by thinking about the results you want to create. Like you do when you create fire or ground your energy.
The brief memory was like the strong wind Savannah had just whispered into life, blowing away the mental fog that had filled my head for months now. I remembered. Everything that had been lost to me came back in wave after wave of memory. I remembered Dad training me how to use magic...the vamp council abducting me and handcuffing me to a chair in their underground Paris headquarters to test Savannah’s self-control...Mom expecting me to follow in Dad’s footsteps to become the next Clann leader and how desperately I had wanted to play pro football someday instead and our endless family arguments about it...Dad’s death...Mom’s heartache turning into happiness as I finally took the stone throne as Clann leader...the pain that exploded in my chest as Gowin tried to rip out my heart through my back...and then waking up in Savannah’s arms with only the memory of her smile to anchor me as everything else faded beneath the fog that had filled my head.
I remembered it all. But it was too much too fast, a thousand different memories and emotions swirling around me like a tornado trying to rip me into pieces. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control it.
I had to get away, get some air, find a way to sort through it all one memory and emotion at a time before I went insane.
CHAPTER 3
SAVANNAH
Tristan staggered, and I reached out for him. But he turned away, a choking tidal wave of shock and horror swamping him as memory after memory slammed into him from every direction, each one tied to and triggering the next, each one robbing his lungs of air or the ability to draw another breath.
“Tristan!” I took a step after him. He was getting his memories back, but they were returning too fast. No one should be hit with seventeen years’ worth of memories all at once.
“Dad, the memories...they’re all coming back.” What should I do? Should I try to hold him, let him feel me there beside him so he would know he wasn’t alone?
I reached out for Tristan again, but he brushed my hand away and stumbled toward the nearby ledge where he liked to go sometimes to sit and watch the sun set. My heart missed a beat. He was getting too close to the edge. He would survive the fall, according to Dad. But I still didn’t want to see him hurt.
“Let him go. He will need some time and space to work through them on his own.”
I held my breath until Tristan found the large stone he usually sat on. His hands fumbled over its surface, guiding him as he sank down onto the rock.
“Are you sure he should be alone right now?”
“Yes, I am sure. Some things you cannot save him from.”
I hated the idea of Tristan having to deal with the return of his memories alone. Especially the memory of his father’s death, which had happened just a week before Tristan had nearly died and I’d had to turn him in order to keep him alive.
But I followed Dad’s suggestion, staying when I wanted to follow, watching when I wanted to actively help in some way. After a moment of silence, I realized Dad was actually smiling.
“You can’t possibly be happy about this,” I snapped. “Tristan’s hurting. I know you’re not that callous.”
“I do not enjoy his mental pain, no. But the return of his memories means he will quickly regain all his former self-control and discipline. The one advantage of his being who he was within the Clann is that he should have had plenty of previous training in these areas. Otherwise he never would have been able to keep his infamous Coleman Clann abilities contained in public. And if he could contain those abilities...”
“Then he can control his vamp instincts, too,” I finished for him without looking away from the slump of Tristan’s shoulders. He’d always had the best posture, holding his shoulders back, unashamed that his six-foot-plus height made him taller than most.
“Correct. Which means our days of training here on this mountain are at an end, and we must prepare to take him back to Jacksonville.”
“Jacksonville?” I hissed, finally able to look at my dad. “Are you crazy? We can’t go back there!”
“We must. The council demands it.”
“The council...” I sputtered. “You’ve got to be kidding. They can’t possibly want us to go back into Clann territory.”
“But they do. They know you and Tristan can read the descendants’ thoughts.”
And then it sank in. I groaned. “No. No way. Tristan and I are not going to spy for the council.”
Dad stared at me, his silver eyes darkening to a slate-gray. “You must. The council demands it.”
I stared back at him with one eyebrow raised. We both knew how much I loved being told what to do by the council.
He sighed. “Let me rephrase. Caravass and the other council members would greatly appreciate it if you two would consider going back to Jacksonville and keeping us apprised of any alarming developments within the Clann. They only wish to maintain peace with the Clann, nothing more.”
I leaned in closer. “Tristan is just now getting his memories back, including the ones about his family. And now the council wants him to go spy on them?”
“They cast him out of the Clann.”
“Because they had to! He’s a vampire now. They couldn’t let a vamp be a member.” Wasn’t it in the Clann laws or something? They sure seemed to have some rule about descendants and vamps dating, considering they’d cast out my mother for marrying my father, and then cast out my grandmother for failing to stop that union.
“I repeat, the council only seeks any information that will help them maintain the peace treaty with the Clann. Nothing more.”
I searched his thoughts. He was telling the truth.
The anger seeped out of me, leaving a horrible sinking feeling behind. “I really don’t want to go back there.” I tried to control my voice, but a slight tremble snuck into it anyway. “You of all people have got to understand what it’s like...finally getting to be with the person you love, facing all that hatred and judgment. The descendants are going to want to kill me for turning Tristan! In fact, they probably won’t even want us back there.”
It was Dad’s turn to stare at me with one eyebrow arched. “Do not think I have not read Emily’s messages requesting Tristan’s return to Jacksonville. I am well aware that his mother and the rest of the Clann seek reassurance that he is no longer a danger.”
I turned away and crossed my arms.
“Savannah, do try to be mature about this. We must return to Jacksonville. It is the only way to reassure the Clann that you and Tristan are no longer a threat to them. And the council is relying upon us to provide them with accurate warnings only the two of you can provide. Think of the good that you can do, the lives that you can save, by helping to prevent another war.”
Great. Dad must have picked up a few of my mother’s guilt trip methods. He was doing a really great job of making me feel like a selfish child.
I hung my head and closed my eyes. I had gone through so much for years now because of the stupid hate and fear between the vamps and the Clann...I’d given up my dreams of being a dancer on my high school dance team so I wouldn’t reveal my vamp abilities to the world. I’d risked everything, even losing my Nanna, by breaking the rules to date Tristan. I’d even given up being with Tristan for months just to make the vampire council and the Clann happy.
And now, when it finally seemed that Tristan and I could safely be together at last without breaking any rules, without having to sneak around...now when his memory had finally returned and I could have my Tristan back again...the council had the nerve to make yet another demand.
I was so tired of it all...of the hate and the fear and the whispers and judging stares, of having to do what everyone else wanted. When would it matter what I wanted? Or what Tristan wanted? Even now, after everything we’d gone through, we still weren’t free.
Dad tried to rest a hand on my shoulder, but I took a step forward so his hand fell away.
He sighed. “Do you not miss your friends and your dance team?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I assumed I would never see them again.”
“Well, now you can.”
I didn’t want to, but I could hear my dad’s thoughts as he struggled for some new and more compelling argument to try with me. As my dad, he hated having to push me on this issue. But as a representative of the vampire council, he was duty bound to. He would be forced to badger me endlessly until I gave in.
I gritted my teeth and held up a hand to stop him. “Fine. We’ll go back to Jacksonville. But only when Tristan is ready. Until then, until he’s sure he’s in control, we’re staying right here. Okay?”
“Agreed.”
Tristan stayed out at the ridge all day. By sunset, I couldn’t take it anymore and had to join him.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching out to him and then hesitating before dropping my hand at my own side again. Maybe he still wanted to be alone.
He continued to stare out at the sky, now slowly darkening beneath the early winter sunset. “I remember everything. Dad and Mom, Emily and Gowin. You and me. The Clann and the vampire council. The battle at the Circle, and Gowin’s sucker punch through my back. You turning me.”
I froze, fearing my nightmare was about to come true. Did he hate me for the selfish decision I’d made, for my inability to let him die?
He finally turned his head to look at me. “Thanks, by the way.”
“Sorry about the amnesia. I didn’t know about it till after I’d turned you, since I never had it. I didn’t know it would be so complete or last this long.”
