Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai)

by Toni Kerr

  “Philip could have waited to see if I’d attack.”

  “Why didn’t you take this off?” Donovan asked, attempting to peel the poncho away from the wound. “It’s badly infected.”

  “It’ll heal.” Tristan gasped in pain as Donovan tried to straighten his bad arm. He couldn’t move away from the inspection and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to inhale.

  “It’s been weeks.”

  It couldn’t have been that long.

  Dorian knelt to lift a lock of matted hair from the side of his head, reminding him about the band. “Get it off!” He scraped at his scalp with his good hand to find the metal, his heart leaping into high gear.

  Donovan gripped his wrist and held him still.

  “Can’t breathe.”

  “Is that blood in his hair?” The horror on her face said it all.

  Donovan didn’t answer.

  “I can help with the oxygen...maybe.” She took the glass heart hanging from around her neck and twisted the cork to open it. “It’s how I stay under water for so long. It multiplies the oxygen in blood but....”

  “But what?” asked Donovan.

  “But maybe we want him unconscious.”

  “No,” Tristan said. “I’ll take it.”

  “If it makes you dizzy, hold your breath. Too much oxygen will make you pass out too, got it?”

  Tristan nodded.

  “I’m giving you less than what I take, just in case.” She tipped the tiny flask with the opening sealed to her finger, then put the tip of her finger on his tongue. “It takes a few minutes to work into your bloodstream.”

  Tristan tried to roll to his good side, only to be held down by Donovan. “Your burning up.”

  Dorian placed the back of her hand against his forehead and jerked it back. “Organs aren’t meant to function at this high of a temperature. It’s not even possible.”

  Tristan focused on Donovan, trying to keep his chattering teeth still enough to speak; a hopeless task. Molajah said I’m shifting, to stop it at all costs.

  Shifting to wha—? Donovan didn’t bother finishing. How do we stop it?

  Tristan blinked as the surrounding trees changed in color. Dorian’s skin glowed red, while Donovan’s remained a pale shade of blue, almost green. Philip’s unconscious body, along with the others behind the semi-transparent trees, seemed to have blankets of glowing orange light hovering around them.

  Donovan’s icy hands gripped his face, forcing Tristan to look at him. “Focus, Tristan. Tell me what you see.”

  Heat maybe? But you aren’t…. I don’t want Dorian to know.

  “Who is this Molajah person?”

  “I think I know why it won’t heal.”

  A power from one of the other gems is overriding the emerald’s ability to heal? Donovan suggested.

  Objects around him solidified and returned to the normal colors; Tristan eased back into the ground. Donovan’s answer was much easier to swallow. Logical even. He almost nodded just to avoid facing his own theory.

  Tell me!

  They said the poison was for dragons, only, I’m not a dragon.

  Yet, Donovan finished. It’s reacting to the trace of dragon, which is getting stronger.

  It seemed crazy to keep denying it. If I shift—

  “What are you guys talking about?” Dorian asked, rubbing her arms nervously.

  “He’s been poisoned by something designed to kill dragons.”

  “I guess that’s a start.”

  “We have to cure him before—”

  I am not an abomination. Who was he trying to kid? Please don’t tell her.

  “We have to get him to a safe place,” Donovan said, changing the subject. “You’re welcome to come along if you wish.”

  “You are not taking him off this island.”

  “Look around, Dorian. There’s more than twenty armed people waiting to kill him right here. He’s not staying.”

  35

  - A FEVERED FIRE -

  QUEASY WAVES ROLLED through Tristan’s stomach as a stone ceiling flowed overhead. Someone carried him through a narrow hall with flaming torches, down a descending staircase that never stopped turning. “Dorian?”

  “She’s here.”

  The next time he opened his eyes, Dorian was within reach, studying him intently. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed reddened with tears. Something had to be wrong; he tried to untangle himself from the weight of covers pressing him down.

  “Shhhh,” she said, putting a hand on his chest. “He’s awake.”

  Donovan appeared behind her. “We can’t break the fever, so we’re letting it run.”

  The words barely registered.

  “There’s a needle and tube connected to your arm,” Donovan said. “It’s there to keep you hydrated. Understand?”

  “Landon?” His words slurred.

  “Upstairs. They both are.”

  “Home.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Cold.”

  “I’m sorry. More blankets won’t help.”

  Dorian backed away, returning with a dark bundle. It flew over his body like a swarm of bees. He panicked, remembering too late about the band on his head, and tried desperately to get it off.

  “No, Tristan,” Dorian whispered, trying to keep him still. “There’s nothing on your head. It’s gone!”

  His left arm wouldn’t move, but something at his shoulder tore. “You don’t understand—I have to get it off.”

  “It was destroyed. It’ll never, ever be on your head again.”

  “But I feel it.”

  “Trust me.”

  Dorian put her hand on his cheek, drawing his attention from Donovan. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “You ambushed me.”

  “No, we’ve been through this—” Her hand tightened on his as she sat back down in the chair beside his bed.

  “What about Philip?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”

  “You have the right to defend yourself.”

  “Can’t.” Sleep pulled at his eyelids. “The band.”

  “It’s gone.” She shook his head, forcing him to open his eyes. “You have to remember that.”

  “Sorry.” He resisted the urge to feel his head for himself.

  “Stop apologizing!”

  “Why are you here?” He cringed at his own question. “Sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to think you’re alone. Even for a second.”

  “I’m not alone. I have Donovan and Landon and Victor.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  He didn’t dare ask what she meant. “Where am I?” He couldn’t quite see the walls, but it looked like a small room. Maybe a tent of some sort.

  “It’s a safe location,” Donovan answered, keeping watch from the flap of a doorway.

  “Is everyone on the island okay?”

  “They’re fine,” Dorian said, resting her head against his good shoulder. She pulled away suddenly. “Does it hurt? Do you mind? It’s the middle of the night....”

  “It’s fine.” Tristan smiled as she put her head back down. “Does Oliver know where you are?”

  “Yes. But there’s not much he can do about it.”

  “Thanks.” Tristan drifted back to sleep.

  The bed shifted and Tristan tightened his grip on Dorian’s hand. “Don’t leave.”

  “Let her go, Tristan. There’s a fire.”

  Tristan’s eyes flew open. Smoke filled his lungs. Donovan carried Dorian through the haze, through a fabric flap that made a door.

  Tristan choked on the thickening air and pushed at the blankets to get out of bed. Flames leaped into his face, blinding him from the rest of the room.

  His legs had no strength when he tried to stand. His scream of terror died, realizing the flames eating through the bandages on his shoulder and chest felt good. Soothing even.

  He rolled to his back
on the ground and soaked in the warmth, finally able to relax every aching muscle.

  Donovan flung blankets over him, smothering the flames, dousing the relief. The searing pain returned.

  “Let it burn,” Tristan said, clenching his teeth. “Please!”

  “You’re not in your right mind.” Donovan tucked the blankets around his body and poured a pitcher of water over them.

  “I’m begging you.”

  “Fire is not pleasant when you’re immortal. You must protect your flesh at all costs. It’s all you have.”

  The cold seeped back into Tristan’s trembling hands. “If it kills or cures me...I’m better off.”

  “Engulfed in flames can be as psychologically traumatic as any torture....”

  “It felt right.” Tristan held his breath against the pain as Donovan lifted him from the ground and put him back on the bed. “Is she okay?”

  “She’ll be fine, just a little smoke inhalation.”

  “Why was she here?”

  “She cares for you.”

  “No she doesn’t.”

  “I thought she might keep you mentally grounded, because I know you care for her as well. And if shifting into a dragon puts her in danger, perhaps you’ll try harder not to shift in the first place.”

  “Don’t risk her life. Keep her away from me.”

  Donovan nodded. “I’ve already taken her home.”

  Tristan let his eyes close, half asleep. “Victor and Landon?”

  “They’re fine,” Donovan said irritably. “Everyone is fine.”

  Donovan left the room, then stormed back within seconds.

  “Damn it, Tristan! I don’t know what to do with you. You need food. You need to get out of bed and move around before your muscles deteriorate completely. Tell me about Molajah. How does he communicate with you? What does he know about dragons? Surely he’s told you something.”

  If only the pain would lessen. “Burn the poison.”

  “I will not watch you burn!” Donovan glared, then left the room again.

  Before Tristan could find a quiet dark place in his mind, Donovan returned with three pitchers of water and a few more blankets.

  “I am not the slightest bit happy about this.”

  “Can I see Landon?”

  “Hell no! He’s beyond sensitive right now.”

  Tristan rolled his eyes.

  “This is serious. If you’re right, the flames will go for flesh after the poison is gone. Are you prepared for that?”

  Tristan nodded, flinching when Donovan yanked back the blankets. Nothing happened for a few tense moments, and then, tiny licks of flame beaded like sweat.

  A soothing warmth crept up his neck, down to his toes. He glanced at Donovan, who seemed to be concentrating all his attention on flesh beneath the flames.

  Dizzying waves made him nauseous. Donovan blurred in and out. He had to stay awake, just so Donovan wouldn’t extinguish the fire.

  “It’s too much,” Donovan said, clutching the pitcher. “Your nerves are confused.”

  “Air,” Tristan breathed, afraid Donovan would panic and use the water. “Need air.”

  36

  - THE TRAINING ROOM -

  CLEAR BLUE SKY spanned above him. The fabric walls appeared to be the same, but there was no ceiling to the tent surrounding him.

  Tristan’s hand automatically went to his head, searching for the band, then drifted to his shoulder. It was tender for sure, but there was no bandage covering it, nor was there anything keeping his arm immobile. He could move his fingers, but not much else.

  He pulled back the single quilt and let his feet slide off the bed, waiting for his head to stop buzzing before attempting to stand.

  Patches of grass tickled his toes in an odd way. Odd in that, the blades of grass were fake. A shiver of dread shuddered through him as he realized the clumps of dainty yellow flowers were fake as well.

  He gathered the quilt around his bare shoulders, glad he at least had flannel pants on, and took hold of a wooden walking stick that had been left against the foot of his bed.

  Beyond the fabric door was an entire forest. A fake forest.

  Movement caught his eye—Donovan stood in a circle of large boulders, doing some sort of Tai Chi.

  Tristan kept his sore arm tucked protectively against his bare skin, under the quilt. Walking was slow with the staff, but he managed.

  “A new player has entered the field,” said a female voice, almost mechanically. “Analyzing new player.”

  Tristan glanced through all the trees, searching for speakers. “What’s going on?”

  “Training. I will not have you so vulnerable under my watch.”

  “But—I have questions. The forest....”

  “It’s a simulation.”

  “Where’s Landon and Victor?”

  “You’ll see them soon.”

  “Dorian?”

  “She went home. This is a safe training facility. No one you fight will be harmed, because each opponent is designed to match a certain skill level. We’ll start you at level one.”

  “But I just—”

  “No more excuses. You’re practically immortal. You don’t need food or more sleep. You need fighting skills.”

  “Have you lost your mind? I barely made it over here.”

  “But you did. Do you want them capturing you again? Do you know they are waiting? Do you want another event like Ireland?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Think of it, Tristan,” Donovan said. “Consider what the emerald allowed you to do, without deliberate thought. You’ve now handled seven additional stones. Each one has probably altered your natural abilities in some way. I need to know what you’re capable of, so we can all protect ourselves against it.”

  Tristan stared, speechless. “Is that why you won’t let Landon or Victor see me? I might look at them funny and turn them into frogs?”

  “Is that something you’re capable of?” Donovan asked, completely serious.

  “No! Who would do that?”

  “How do you know what you are capable of until you try? Not only do I want you trained to defend yourself, but I want to know how your instincts handle stressful situations.”

  “You’re insane. I’m not ready for stressful—”

  “It’s perfect, actually. You’re too tired to do anything but react. No thoughts, no guessing, no planning. Pure instincts.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  “I can’t let you out until you know how to control whatever powers you’ve gained.”

  “Maybe I didn’t gain anything.” Tristan looked for a door in the trees. “You can’t keep me locked in here forever.”

  “Tristan.” Donovan put a hand on either shoulder and tried an expression of patience. “This is an incredibly safe, underground facility. Anything can be simulated in this room and no one gets hurt. There are safeguards that protect you, me, and the room itself. It’s an ideal way to see what you can do. Don’t you want to know? Or would you rather find out the hard way—by accident?”

  Tristan opened his mouth and shut it again. “I do want to know. But not right now.” His legs were already feeling shaky just for standing.

  “This is a controlled environment where no one is in danger.”

  “Analyzing complete,” said the woman’s voice. “New player does not meet health parameter requirements.”

  Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. “There, see? I told you so.”

  “Override parameter restrictions. If you are in full control of your powers, I’ll let you go home. And, Landon and Victor can see you whenever they wish.”

  “Give me another day.”

  “This is a mental battle, nothing physical. You don’t even have to stand. Think of your opponents as computer-generated holograms, testing your mental strength.”

  Tristan shook his head. “I don’t have mental strength right now.” He’d already decided he’d never have anything to
do with anything he couldn’t see. Like Victor’s tracker messing with brainwaves. “Is this all generated by a computer?”

  “No, it’s not. But I can shut it down at any time.”

  “Forget it. I’m not doing this.”

  “It will be more difficult if you’re fully rested. Give him a place to sit.” A wooden barstool appeared in front of Donovan, he moved it to the center of the rock circle. “Sit. Keep your eyes closed if you wish.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll guide you through the first few levels.”

  “I don’t want to be attacked.”

  “You sound like a coddled—” Donovan turned his back on Tristan. “I can keep you here forever and I will if you don’t at least try.”

  “Just give me a day. I’m not ready—”

  “Come with me.”

  Tristan took a few shaky steps closer to the center of the circle.

  “Level 1.”

  A man appeared, dressed in a hunter-green jacket and faded jeans. His expression was utterly blank, but he lumbered toward Tristan like a befuddled drunk. “No—I can’t do this. I don’t even want to.”

  “Listen to me!” Donovan held Tristan’s face in both hands, forcing eye contact. “I know you’re afraid, but we need to know what happens when you have no options. If I start training you as I would anyone else, these new instincts could be buried under skills that aren’t nearly as effective.”

  “I don’t have new instincts!”

  Donovan released Tristan as the opponent finally got within arm’s reach. “Defend yourself.”

  Tristan tripped on the quilt as he took another backward step. The man’s arms rose like some sort of deranged zombie. “I can’t!”

  “Immobilize him. Put him in a cage, change his mind, change the situation, shield yourself. There are hundreds of options.”

  “I can’t!” Tristan rolled to his good side, too tangled in the quilt to get to his knees.

  “Yes you can! This is nothing. He’s merely giving you dirty looks.”

  “The band!”

  The attacker froze mid-step. Donovan crouched beside Tristan. “Listen to me.”

  Tristan flinched when Donovan attempted to move a lock of hair covering his eyes. “Get away from me.”