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

by Toni Kerr

  “I’ve already called him.”

  Tristan nodded. “Tell him they’re making me.”

  “Who?”

  “The Council.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tristan nodded again, half asleep by the time they came to the enormous doors.

  “You aren’t ready for this. Can’t it wait?”

  “No. Can you follow me? Just until Donovan gets there?”

  Victor opened the towering doors. The little pixie darted outside with squeals of delight. The surrounding trees and shrubs seemed rejuvenated by her presence—more vibrant in color, emitting a type of essence he’d never felt before.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Landon said. “We should wait.”

  Tristan closed his eyes and let the rush of fresh air fill his lungs. “No time.”

  Salty, ocean water blasted his face in the freezing wind. Tristan clung to the staff and studied the coastal inlet. The sun would be down in an hour or less. The beacon of lighthouse shined brightly on the distant cliff.

  “You have the right spot,” Donovan said, focused on the same rock Tristan had his eyes on. It sat in the ocean about 100 yards offshore. “Lazaro’s been chiseling for a few weeks now. He’s lost eleven men, and I’d say the nearest town has lost about seven in freak accidents.”

  “He’s getting close.”

  “What does the council expect you to do?”

  “Move it somewhere else.”

  “I see.”

  “The curse will radiate at full strength if Lazaro exposes it to the air. I don’t know what sort of accidents will happen then, but it’ll be bad. Maybe a tsunami, maybe an earthquake, I really don’t know.”

  Donovan nodded. “I’ll do what I can to make it a smooth transition.”

  “Lazaro will probably think he destroyed it. Do you think I should leave some sort of proof?”

  “I think you’ll need all the strength you have just to transport it elsewhere. I assume you know where you’re taking it?”

  “No idea. If I don’t come back right away, it’s because I’m tired. But I plan to go to my cabin when I’m done.”

  “Landon and Victor will—”

  Tristan smiled as they appeared beside him. The pixie yelped in fright at the sight of Donovan and dove under Landon’s ponytail.

  “You didn’t.” Donovan scowled, glaring at Tristan with narrowed eyes.

  “She survived,” Landon said quickly. “We’ll take care of her, I promise.”

  “She’s really no trouble,” Victor added.

  “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “Her!” Landon and Victor said together.

  “Fine. Her. Right now, go to the cabin and triple the security. I don’t care how, but get it done fast. Tell Alpheus to give you that fang; Tristan needs to hide more than we do.” Donovan pointed his finger at Tristan. “And before you object, if you want to stay in your own home, there’s going to be some changes. Deal with it.”

  Tristan shrugged. Landon and Victor vanished with Pink.

  “I promised Samara I’d train with her, but I want time. If we take care of this, there’s no hurry, right?”

  “Samara?”

  “The Room. The training place?”

  “It has a name?”

  “You seriously didn’t know that?” Tristan eyed Donovan suspiciously. “She—” Tristan paused for a moment. If Donovan didn’t even know the woman’s name...he didn’t dare shove a wedge in whatever sort of relationship they had. “She wouldn’t let me out, so I made myself a doorknob and let myself out. And then I promised I’d be willing to come back, but only if she’d promise not to put me against dragons.”

  “Interesting.” Donovan looked at the rock with the hint of amusement in his expression, seeming content to drop the subject. “So, you are to reseal the gem in a new location?”

  Sounded about right. “Whatever I end up doing, don’t follow me. It will be in the open and I don’t know what this bad luck is. I’m only guessing it won’t harm me, but I can’t speak for anyone else.”

  “It doesn’t have to be exposed.”

  “I just want to keep it as simple as possible.”

  “I’d advise you not to touch this one. It’s the first gem I’ve heard of that has an effect without actual contact.”

  Tristan agreed, though he couldn’t actually say what curses the other gems produced. How many gems were still out there? Was he going to have to move all of them?

  Donovan gripped Tristan’s shoulders, shaking him until he opened his eyes. “I don’t like how this is going.”

  “I haven’t started.”

  “You’re in no condition to be out here.”

  “Did I miss something?”

  “I would never put Landon or Victor in this much risk.”

  “No one will know I’m here. All I have to do is...take the thing and leave. From here.”

  Donovan fumed, facial muscles twitching with anger. “I’ll stay for a few minutes to take care of any backlash.”

  “What do you expect him to do, throw a fit? Claim it’s not fair?”

  Donovan clenched his jaw. “If you’re not home within an hour, I’m coming after you.”

  “Give me a day.”

  “Hell no. Do whatever you need to do and get home. End of story.”

  “Fine. But don’t blame me if I drop dead—”

  “Listen.” Donovan seized Tristan’s face with both hands, forcing eye contact. “I don’t like the way they’re using you, especially if they expect you to survive,” he added quickly, when Tristan attempted to interrupt. “If Molajah meant what he said about owing me, tell him I want an audience with the Council.”

  Tristan nearly fell backwards when Donovan let go.

  “We’ll be waiting at your cabin. You have one hour.”

  41

  - DOWN IN THE DEEP -

  FINDING THE STONE wasn’t hard. Tristan wrapped his mind around the pulse of angry energy and waited for a clue on where to go with it.

  The cave on Dorian’s island was out of the question, if the stone radiated bad luck. He needed a place in the middle of nowhere, where no one would get close or find it by accident.

  In a blink, the freezing wind was replaced by a blazing sun beating down on his back. He found himself standing on a large rock, dense with slick seaweed. Deep blue sky spanned above him, a vast ocean surrounded him.

  The rock island tilted to the side, throwing Tristan off balance. He gripped the cursed stone tight in his fist and tried to keep himself from slipping off the edge, without letting go of the staff.

  He stopped in time, marveling at the fact that the rock seemed to be growing bigger, rising from the ocean itself.

  He didn’t dare question who was in charge and waited while the island continued expanding. Water ran in small rivulets, flowing from the highest points.

  Curiosity had him opening his hand—black onyx. Or maybe obsidian?

  Dark clouds materialized out of nowhere, blocking the warmth of the sun. The surf became wild, tipping the small island in all directions. Where was he supposed to put the stone, and how was he supposed to seal it?

  Wind funneled around him like a personal tornado, drawing the surrounding water upward in a spiral. It was all he could do to keep from being sucked up with it, thrown from the unstable bit of land into the sea.

  Tristan concentrated, mentally prodding his way through the rock, backtracking when he came to the freshly severed bottom a few feet down. His stomach lurched as the rock seemed to plummet toward the ground from which it came. Seawater formed spinning walls towering above him, as far as he could see.

  Tristan fought the sensation of falling and focused making a small cavity for the stone. He should have paid closer attention to how it was sealed before removing it from the original location—all he could do now was experiment. At least he had an hour. If the walls held.

  The tiny island jerked to a stop on the ocean floor, at the bottom of a massive wh
irlpool. The water was a solid mass of dark, churning sand. He could barely see in the lack of light. Panic raced through his thoughts. How deep in the ocean was he? Worse, what would happen when the stone was properly sealed? If the walls caved in?

  One problem at a time. He went back to the puzzle of sealing the stone, ignoring the enormity of it all.

  Tristan?

  Dorian? Tristan smiled to himself, relieved she was still talking to him. He tried to recall their last interaction, if it was positive or not.

  Yeah. Got a second?

  Not really. Are you okay?

  Sure. You?

  Yeah.

  So, what are you doing?

  Experimenting. You?

  I just heard you were at the bottom of the ocean, near the Bermuda triangle. What are you trying to do? You can’t swim.

  Dang! He glanced at the limp seaweed at his feet. Word really does travel fast.

  I thought they were keeping you—

  I got out. Look, I have no idea what I’m doing and I need to concentrate. No one is supposed to know where I am.

  You were on fire, Tristan. Not the blankets, not your clothes. You! How do you explain that?

  This isn’t a good time. Tristan glanced up at the speck of daylight shining from above. I’ll have to explain later.

  Not everything runs on your time, Tristan. Can you at least explain why you’re destroying the ocean floor?

  I can’t. Can we talk later? Over lunch maybe?

  Lunch? I ask why you’re destroying the ocean and you want to do lunch?

  Dinner then. The longer you talk to me, the longer this will take. And I’m sure the longer this takes, the more damage there will be.

  Oliver won’t allow you on the island, you know that. Even more so after the fire incident.

  Tristan bit back his automatic arguments. No matter what he ever did, it would never be right. Then we’ll just talk like we are now, but later. This is important and you’re...distracting me.

  I don’t understand you.

  Thanks for telling me there was damage happening, I didn’t know. He’d learned something else as well—there was still a mental link open between the stone and the outside world. Tristan sat back on his heels and thought about how to finish sealing the stone. I’m cutting you off now, but I’ll talk to you as soon as it’s safe.

  Tristan?

  He severed the connection and wove a knot to ward off all communication with the stone—he hadn’t considered anyone might try until his mental conversation with Dorian.

  A million tons of water collapsed, crushing him to the ground.

  There wasn’t time to consider repairing whatever damage the whirlpool caused, the best he could do was send out a mental apology and warn anything listening to drift away before settling to the ground. The more distance between them and the stone, the better.

  Surviving plants on the rock itself were now his entrust guards, instructed to tell no one but him if the stone was ever in danger of being tampered with. Or Dorian, he added as an afterthought, being she was the only one who understood the language of plants.

  42

  - TIME CHANGE -

  TRISTAN CLUNG TO THE STAFF, letting it support most of his weight. His flannel pants and hair were dripping with seawater.

  I’m here, he called to Donovan. He knew he’d never make it to the front door without someone’s help. “Landon? Victor?”

  No one answered, though he knew they were supposed to be working on some sort of heightened security. It wouldn’t be overly embarrassing if he lay on the ground to sleep. Everyone would understand. But instead, he took a tentative step toward the front door and paused.

  Something in the air didn’t feel right, though it had been a while since he’d been home. He skimmed the surrounding trees for signs of the falcon, spotting a person crouched in the crook of a branch. Was it Victor? Setting something up?

  Tristan blinked, almost missing the motion of an arrow being released from a crossbow.

  “Stop!” Tristan said, struck by a dizzying mist that clouded his mind.

  The arrow stopped a few feet from his head, then settled to the ground like a feather.

  His living room window expanded outward in such a slow motion, Tristan stared in awe. Glass shards drifted through space like lazy snowflakes. He paid no attention to the dark shape rolling to his feet—stranger things had happened.

  “What have you done?” Donovan asked, giving Tristan’s shoulders a firm shake. “Never mess with time! Ever!”

  “Time?” Tristan stared, captivated by three white boxes attached to the smooth logs of the cabin. They each exploded in slow motion; dark sooty shapes expanded in firework fashion over the walls.

  Before the explosion could fully ignite into flames, the boxes disappeared.

  Tristan found Donovan again, and followed his gaze to the surrounding forest. There had to be ten more people hiding in the trees. And Shaely. She looked to be in the process of running toward him with an outstretched arm, trying to reach him.

  The staff slipped from his fingers. He would have followed it to the ground if Donovan hadn’t come back to catch him. “Why aren’t you affected?”asked Tristan.

  “I am. But I told you, I’m not all human. I can move quite fast if necessary.” Donovan laid Tristan on the ground. “The same seems to be true for our little friend. And you, I might add.”

  Tristan smiled at the little pixie as she poked her head out from Donovan’s pocket, tossing out small slivers of glass.

  “I thought she was afraid of you.”

  “She is, but she isn’t fast enough to fly at this rate of time, and I didn’t want her stepped on once time resumes its pace. The cabin was a trap. When you slowed time, I could see the rhythm of it and took my chance.”

  Tristan let his eyes close for a second, rolled to his side to reach the staff, then got on his knees.

  “So we know you have abilities with time, speed, creation... anything else?”

  He didn’t dare make the list longer. “Someone should kill me before this gets worse.”

  “That someone would have to kill me first.”

  “I’m being serious,” Tristan said, doing his best to stay awake.

  “So am I.”

  “I could destroy everything.”

  “So can we all.”

  Tristan sighed. “How do I fix time?”

  “If you can keep this time as it is for a few moments longer, I’ll take care of the Slayers surrounding us.”

  “Don’t kill them.”

  “They will never rest until you’re slaughtered. Do you want to remain in hiding for the rest of your immortal life?”

  “Then, make them forget me. Make them forget about the voice giving them orders from the Forest of Darkness.”

  “Make them forget they are Slayers?” Donovan frowned, but seemed to consider the idea. “That’ll take longer, and it’s not as certain.”

  Tristan got to his feet and held out his hand for the pixie, who gladly jumped to him.

  Donovan started with the man who’d shot the arrow. Tristan made his way to Shaely.

  “She likes you?” asked the pixie in a high-pitched, musical tone.

  “Yeah. She’s also psycho.”

  “And that makes you sad?”

  “I don’t see a weapon. Maybe she was running to warn me.” Tristan sighed, then let it go. “Can you read emotions like Landon?”

  “Oh yes. I like Landon very much.”

  Tristan put the pixie on his shoulder and used both hands on the staff.

  “Are you going to sleep now? Victor told me people do that.”

  Tristan laughed. “You don’t sleep?”

  “I’m not sure. I suppose I do. Alvinia is making me a house with a bed inside, so I think I will sleep in it.”

  “Sleep is good.”

  Pink fluttered off his shoulder and darted toward Shaely, who pulled her hand back and skidded to a stop with her eyes wide.

 
Tristan sucked in a breath, certain Pink shouldn’t be flying in front of Shaely.

  “Not yet, Tristan!” Donovan shouted, only halfway through the crowd of Slayers.

  “What on Earth?” Shaely said, her face lighting up like a kid at Christmas. Even after everything, she could still cheer him up with her infectious smile.

  A surge of panic ripped through him and Shaely froze in time once again, her eyes full of wonder. How could time be measured? He had no idea if it was the same slowness or not, and bent to help Pink up from the ground.

  “Good thing you can take a fall.” By the time he was standing again, Donovan had made his rounds and was ready to handle Shaely.

  “She probably wouldn’t have killed you,” Donovan said.

  “Only because she didn’t have the proof she wanted.”

  “She won’t remember meeting you.”

  “I know.”

  Donovan rested a hand on her shoulder for several moments, and then she vanished from his life forever.

  Tristan shut his eyes, drowning in the weight of sorrow and grief. He felt nothing for the loss of Shaely, but would he outlive everyone? How many lives would he be responsible for...how many deaths?

  “Not all memories can be buried,” Donovan said. “Especially traditions that have been ingrained for generations.”

  “So you killed them?”

  “Hardly!” Donovan scoffed. Pink dove under Tristan’s hair at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t subdue the hunting nature within, so I’ve sent them all to a forest in Russia, where they are seeking to capture an Amur Leopard. They are nearing extinction you see, and a few still remain there.”

  “You can do that? You just...made up a new history for them, and they’ll know what they’re doing?” He couldn’t bear the thought of putting endangered animals at risk. “You can’t do that.”

  Donovan shrugged. “Not all hunters are good at what they do, but these people will have a driving force to save any animal on the critically endangered list.”

  “Save the animals?” That was a shock. “But, you were totally willing to kill them all, right where they stood.”

  “Perhaps they can do something civilized with their skills, and I choose not to be a predator today.”