I sighed, feeling bad for my behavior toward Owen. I loved him like a brother, and I'd let my frustration with his choices get the better of me, rather than loving him unconditionally.

"So," I said, "why on earth do you two need to go to South Beach? What's so important at Vanessa's old place, a.s.suming her stuff is even still there? I mean, we've bought her new clothes. If she needs anything else, we'll get it, too. Everything's replaceable. Nothing warrants this risk-"

"Except your pendant."

"What? Really? Did Vanessa finally admit to having it? Did Owen find out where it is?"

"No, but we're going to search her place. We'll go in undercover, find the pendant and get out as fast as possible," Tristan said before he took another bite of pasta.

My excitement deflated. "But Owen told me he looked already."

"He said he tried to look, but didn't have time to go through everything. He thinks, as possessive as he's seen her with it in the past, that since she didn't have it on her, she must have hidden it somewhere obscure. She wouldn't take the chance of someone else finding it."

"She's definitely hiding something," I agreed, and their plan started sounding better to me. "You're all right with Owen? I mean, you trust him?"

"With my life, Lex. I know he's different than he used to be, but he's still Owen."

"Then you trust him with mine?"

He placed his fork on his plate, crossed his arms on the table and leaned closer to me. "You're not going."

"Why not? You need my telepathy."

"No, we don't. We don't plan on coming into contact with anyone."

"Yeah, well, plans go awry, remember?"

"You're not going, Alexis. For once, don't argue with me."

"I can't just sit here, waiting for you to return. I'm not doing that again! Last time you did that to me, you didn't come back, remember?"

He grimaced. Then he reached his hands across the table and took hold of mine. "You promised me you wouldn't be reckless anymore. I need to know you're safe here and that Dorian is, too. Besides, someone needs to stay, in case anyone comes sniffing around for a long, lost vampire. Or two."

"Then you stay, and I'll go with Owen. It's not me the Daemoni are trying to control."

"Sonya and Vanessa need you, my love. Owen and I can't do what you can for them."

I stared at him for a long moment, but no further argument came for me. My breath huffed out with resignation. I would be left behind. Again.

The following week, I paced my office at the safe house, my hand twisting and pulling at my hair. Giving themselves plenty of daylight to work with, Tristan and Owen had left at dawn this morning and said they'd be home within a few hours. Winter's early dusk was only an hour away now, and they still weren't back.

"This isn't good," I muttered to Sheree, who sat on the couch, chewing on her nails. "There's no way it should have taken this long."

"Think positive, Alexis. They're virtually unbeatable, right? I'm sure they're fine."

"But they're not invincible!" My voice had risen several octaves with the panic growing in my chest. I couldn't stop thinking about the last time they'd left me for enemy territory, when Owen had come back but Tristan hadn't. My chest tightened and tears filled my eyes. "They shouldn't have gone, not by themselves, what were we thinking? I should have never let-"

I froze. The agitated mind signatures appeared on my mental radar at the same time crashing and banging echoed down the hall from the main part of the safe house. The Were and I exchanged a look and then I was gone. I blurred to the foyer and skidded to a stop in the doorway of one of the common living areas. My heart stuttered at the scene.

Owen and Tristan were apparently in a standoff.

Tristan's arms wrapped tightly around his own torso as if bound in an invisible straightjacket, and murderous flames filled his eyes. He growled and thrashed about, throwing his body at Owen, who dodged each attack. Tristan's body kept hitting the walls and crashing into furniture, destroying everything in his path. Owen circled him, his hands up, working his magic against Tristan.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" I demanded.

"He's flipped a freakin' switch!" Owen answered while keeping his full attention on Tristan.

As if noticing me for the first time, my husband turned his enraged eyes on me, growled again and threw himself at me. But I didn't duck away. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and rolled with him, doing my best to diminish the impact for both of us. The Daemoni obviously had control of him-which meant distance was no longer a factor-so I pushed my Amadis power into him. He didn't react as expected.

"That won't work!" he snapped, but I couldn't tell if he mocked me or actually tried to help.

Tristan! I yelled into his mind. His body calmed. It trembled violently, but he no longer fought me. Again I tried sharing Amadis power.

"It's not Daemoni power doing this," he said. "It is ... but ... not in me."

The strain in his mental voice scared me. He could barely fight off whatever controlled him.

Just don't forget you love me and I love you. No matter what. You don't want to hurt me. You don't want to hurt anyone here.

He nodded. His body relaxed even more. But as soon as I released my embrace and moved to get up, he started thrashing about again.

"You lie! You're a lying wh.o.r.e," he silently yelled.

My head snapped back as if he had physically smacked me. What are they doing to him? He moved as if to attack me again, but Owen held him back with his magic. The muscles in the warlock's neck and shoulder strained with the effort, so I raised my own hands and did what I could to help. I didn't have Tristan's power to paralyze, but I could control objects to a certain extent, almost to Owen's level. We couldn't back off in the slightest, though, because Tristan could easily overpower both of us if he wanted to.

"What are we going to do?" I asked Owen.

"We can't hold him like this forever. I can bind him to the fridge again," he said, reminding me of a similar situation two years ago at the beach house in the Keys, right after I'd gone through the Ang'dora.

I shook my head. "I can't do that to him again. Besides, this is different-"

"Yeah, he's not only after you this time. He seems to hate all of us."

Sheree appeared in the doorway, and Tristan's body jumped against our power, trying to lunge for the were-tiger. Owen and I were able to hold him back, which told me Tristan fought the impulse, too. If he'd given the attempt his full potential, we'd never been able to hold him off.

"Get out," I yelled at Sheree before she got hurt. She simply stood there with wide eyes. "Go!"

Her eyes snapped to me, then she scrambled off.

"We can't do this forever, Alexis," Owen said. "Decide."

Decide? Decide to tie my husband up? How could I do that?

The smell of burning flesh interrupted my thoughts. My eyes bugged at the sight of smoke rising from Tristan's sides.

"What's he doing?" I cried, though it was obvious-he was shooting himself with fireb.a.l.l.s.

Chapter 19.

"Owen, make him stop," I shrieked. "Do something!"

Owen flicked his hand, and Tristan's arms jerked away from his body and lifted to his sides so that now he looked as though we were crucifying him on an invisible cross. A lone fireball fell from his hand to the tile floor, no power behind it. Without looking away from Tristan, I stepped forward to stomp the flames out. Tristan's flesh stopped sizzling. Through the holes burned into his shirt, I noticed his skin already healing. Tears stung my eyes.

"All right," I croaked around the lump in my throat. I couldn't believe what I was about to say, but I couldn't let him hurt himself or anyone else. "If we put him in the shackles in one of the rooms, can you shield it or something so he can't flash out of them?"

"Sure, but will they hold him?"

"He installed and tested them himself, so let's hope so."

The fire in Tristan's eyes had died by the time we had his wrists and ankles locked in shackles in the room next to Vanessa's, but mine burned even more with tears.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, taking a step toward him.

He shook his head. His voice came out low and hoa.r.s.e. "Don't be. It's necessary."

I reached out to touch his shoulder but he jerked away as far as he could, the metal chains jangling noisily against the concrete wall.

"What are they doing to you?" I asked.

He closed his eyes, and his expression became one of shame. "I don't know. They're in my head ... or my heart. I think I'm feeling what they're feeling."

"What are they feeling?"

A growl rose from his chest. "Hate. Anger. A desire to kill. Toward you. Toward me. Anyone and everyone, actually." Another growl. "I can barely control it."

His body violently thrashed again. His back arced away from the wall while his head threw back, cracking against the concrete. His hands burned a bright reddish-orange, and I knew he must have been controlling the urge to shoot more fire.

I turned on Owen. "How did this happen? How did they get to him? You were supposed to have him shielded and cloaked, Owen!"

"I did, Alexis. I ..." He shook his head. "I don't know. n.o.body was around. I have no idea how they knew we were even there."

"Did you at least find the pendant?"

The defeated look on his face told me. "We tore the place apart, but it was nowhere-"

"Alexis!" Sheree came running into the room. She stopped short at the sight of Tristan. Blinked. Swallowed. Slowly turned to me, as if trying to remember the urgent matter she'd apparently needed to share. "Um ... someone's here. Someone's at the door! Not Amadis, but not Norman, either."

Daemoni! They've come for Vanessa. Or Tristan! Those thoughts immediately shot through my mind, but I couldn't sense Daemoni. Nothing more than the trace that still came from Sonya's room. I felt out beyond the mansion for the mind signature. Strangely familiar, but in that unidentifiable way ... no thoughts to latch onto.

"Must be a faerie," I muttered. I looked at Owen and he nodded.

"I'll stand guard here," he said. "Holler if you need me."

I ran for the front door, Sheree on my heels, and peeked out a side window. An old woman stood on the front steps, wrapped in raggedy cloaks. I could barely see through the illusion-a few golden strands in her hair, gold flecks in her flat eyes.

I yanked the door open, grabbed the old woman's arm and pulled her inside. Then I threw my arms around her. "Bree! Thank G.o.d you're here!"

"You mean thank the Angels," she said, hugging me back. "They sent me."

She stepped back from my embrace and transformed into her real self.

"The Angels sent you?" I repeated, confused. I thought the Angels only communicated with the Amadis matriarch. On the other hand, as a faerie, Bree was more of the Otherworld than she was of ours, and although she'd been an outcast since agreeing to become Tristan's mother, she had closer ties to the spirits of the Otherworld, including the Angels, than the rest of us. Well, besides the connection between Ca.s.sandra and me, which remained inexplicable.

"Well, in a roundabout way," Bree said as she shook out her golden hair. "They didn't directly tell me, but I think I know what they did to the stone. Where's Tristan? Can we talk?"

I grimaced. Did I want her to see Tristan, her son, chained up and behaving like a madman? But if she could help ...

"Um," I started unsuccessfully. "Well ... if you know what they did, maybe it will help us figure out what to do. Tristan is ... well, a bit of a mess right now."

Bree nodded, showing no surprise. "In the heart?"

My eyes widened. "Yeah, sort of. I guess that's what it is. Why?"

"Has he been near the Daemoni lately?"

"Yes. And when he came back-"

"Take me to him. You both need to know."

I led Bree, with Sheree following us, to the room where Tristan remained chained to the wall, Owen keeping an eye on him. Bree didn't gasp at the scene as I'd thought she would-as I still did even knowing what to expect-but shook her head.

She walked over to Tristan and placed her hand on his arm. He growled, but at least he didn't thrash about as if trying to attack her.

"Do you know what's going on?" he asked, his voice rough, barely human sounding.

"I believe so," Bree said. "The faerie stone-when the Angels took it, I believe they enhanced it-"

"We already know that!" Tristan snarled, clanging his chains with impatience. "We need to know what they did before the Daemoni figure it out!"

Bree c.o.c.ked her head. "You don't think they know yet?"

"If they did, you'd probably all be dead by now," Tristan answered. "They're angry and frustrated. I can feel that as if they're my own feelings, and it's maddening. So no, they don't know."

"Good," Bree said. "I think I do know, especially after seeing this. I believe the Angels wanted to be sure you know when you're loved. That you feel your soul mate's love when she is in possession of the stone so you wouldn't doubt it. So whoever has the stone ... that's whose feelings you are experiencing."

The room fell deathly silent as this news settled in.

"So Tristan is feeling the Daemoni's feelings right now?" Sheree asked.