by Kerr, Toni
His mom wouldn't stop, so he jumped. He planned on collecting all the pieces and fixing the ship. But then a Mack truck smashed it to splinters. He'd never been so devastated in his entire life. It might have been the first time he started thinking about suicide.
"I still believe it was a trap set for me, with Tristan as bait, but nonetheless, the boy did have certain qualities that couldn't be disregarded. So I concealed his memory of me and kept an eye on him from time to time.
"When he started feeding that absurd father obsession in sensing my presence, it was in everyone's best interest to assign someone other than myself to watch him."
Tristan fumbled to get the top buttons of his shirt loosened, needing more room to breathe. His breath made faint clouds in the frigid air and his muscles burned with agony. He had to get out of this place, or at least back to the room he'd started in. Had they really been watching him all this time? Since he was nine? At least he wasn't the only one who never noticed the old woman following him.
"That explains the sketch," Landon said.
"If he's made a sketch of me," said Donovan, "I want it destroyed."
Tristan felt his stomach pitch. Did they know everything? He'd always hoped whoever stalked him was his father, or someone sent to check on him. It was practically the only reason he stayed with his mother, even though she claimed he was killed in a car accident.
"My point is, he's not alone. He's not the one who called me that day."
Clicking footsteps in the hall forced Tristan away from the entrance, backtracking to get out of view.
A new voice spoke in the room next door—a woman's voice. "I'd say he's not getting worse. He's still weak and pitifully malnourished. Also, his body doesn't seem to be responding to treatment as quickly as it was, though the painkillers were easy enough to take care of."
Tristan eyed his path across the hall, tempted to make a pathetic run for the bed.
"We've concluded that the unknown substance contains a carnivorous, digestive enzyme. The entire process would have been agonizingly painful."
"Cobra lilies are carnivorous," Landon said. "Maybe Sabbatini's combined something with a related species?"
"We've already ruled out cobra lilies and other known plants with those traits. Honestly, if it weren't for that antidote…. Where on Earth did you come up with that?"
"I'd rather not say."
Tristan waited for more, apparently with everyone else.
"Dorian."
A chair screeched along the floor and something crashed. "Damn it, Donovan," the old man shouted. "We had a truce with them! She's off limits and you know it."
"It is not my goal to remain neutral at all costs."
Tristan started toward the kitchen's exit, deciding he'd heard enough.
After a tense moment of silence the woman changed the subject. "I'm running a few tests to identify the sand, and I'll give him a day or two before we try another round."
Her footsteps clicked toward him, he froze when they stopped.
"My sincerest condolences, Alpheus. I know Gwenna was a friend."
"She was a great woman," said the oldest voice. Alpheus.
He continued speaking as her clicking footsteps started up again, pushing Tristan back into the corner.
"Get more disguises while you have time and set up in-house surveillance before he gets there. I want reports on every person he makes contact with, every action, and every thought he makes. He is never to be out of range. Worthy or not of our protection, he's still a suspect."
Shuffling papers and multiple chairs dragging on stone had Tristan shrinking back with nowhere to go. His eyes darted around the kitchen for a better hiding place, but there was nothing.
"If he is meant to be here with us, he'll have to find his own way," Alpheus said. "Don't get attached."
"But if we could teach him…he really believes he's insane and isn't opposed to killing himself. He's relying on painkillers, and it's so unnecessary."
"If I can't trust you to follow orders, you won't be on this case. There is to be no coercive interaction with him while he's here or in the States, or anywhere else for that matter."
Tristan gasped for air. Were they implying that he was in another country?
"But we used to seek people like him, just to make sure they were taken care of. Why not Tristan?"
"Times are changing." Alpheus changed his tone when no one had a reply. "There's too much risk with this one."
"Risk?" Landon and Victor asked at the same time.
"Donovan suggested we give him the coral as an alternate tracking device."
Tristan shut his eyes. He should've run back to his room while he had the chance, then he could've faked sleeping. Footsteps stopped just outside the kitchen.
"How's he supposed to know we exist if no one's allowed to tell him anything?" Landon asked.
"The Makai is a secret society," Donovan answered.
"I'm not saying we should tell him everything, but first we strive to make things better, then we strive to do nothing. Why is keeping him in the dark better than teaching him how to block people's thoughts? Or how to conceal his own?"
Tristan held his breath—he'd give anything to block people's constant thoughts. Were his that loud?
Landon continued. "And you've been altering people's minds for who knows how long."
"Would you rather I kill anyone seeking the emerald instead? Should I let every one of them proceed, so more people can be killed along the way?"
"But you're allowing Sabbatini to pursue it. What if someone you didn't permit had rights to it?"
"Fate shall act accordingly, no matter what decisions I make."
"So you'll mess with anyone except Tristan and Sabbatini?"
Thank goodness for Landon's willingness to stand up for him so strongly.
"On the contrary. I consider Tristan the new bait. Sometimes, bait and enemies can do much of the dirty work."
Tristan slipped into a dark silence until the hairs on his neck and arms tingled. He opened his eyes, startled to see the living rendition of his sketch glaring down at him. Even the eyes, pale blue with random streaks of brown, were exactly how he'd drawn them. Exactly like his own. It had to be Donovan. The map thief.
A gray-haired man stood beside Donovan. Alpheus maybe? Landon stood behind them, then Victor. An elderly woman with long, layered skirts stepped in beside them.
Tristan shut his mouth, painfully aware of everything he had just heard. He took a shaky step back, only to be held firmly in place by the wall.
"Nice to have your attention," Donovan said. "Perhaps this would be a good time to tell us what you're involved with, and how you left your room without being detected."
Tristan shook his head in denial, speechless and unable to answer the question. Even if he knew what sort of mess he was in, he wasn't about to tell them anything. The vibration in the rock became so strong, he flattened his hands against the wall for support and slid to the ground to keep from falling.
The group of people finally seemed to notice the vibrations as the intensity increased. They watched in silence as the floor bulged upward. Slabs of stone fractured between Tristan and the group, sending a rolling shockwave in both directions. Boulders crashed from the ceiling and something the size of a tree shot up from the widening gap.
Tristan stared wide-eyed, unable to believe his eyes.
Donovan drew a sword from somewhere and sliced at the base of whatever it was with one powerful swing. The thing hit the ground with a sickening thud and twitched near Tristan's feet. He expected the carcass of an enormous snake, or something alive, but it looked like an overgrown root and smelled like fresh dirt.
Donovan leapt over the large hole and held the tip of his sword at Tristan's chin.
"He doesn't know what's happening," Landon said quickly, coming to a teetering stop on the far side of the gap. "He's as shocked as we are."
"Let him speak for himself." Donovan used the sword's sharp p
oint to raise Tristan's head.
"I—" Tristan started, cut off by the sight of smaller roots wriggling up from the crevasse and wrapping around Donovan's ankles.
"Call off this attack or I'll kill you," said Donovan.
"Me?" Tristan didn't dare point out the fact that he wasn't the one swinging a sword. He mentally pleaded with Landon and Victor to step in, but they stayed on their side of the widening gap, keeping away from the crumbling edge.
Tristan doubted he could stand, let alone make a run for cover. The wall trembled behind him as small chunks of mortar fell on his head.
Donovan withdrew the sword and severed the vine-like roots winding up his legs. How he managed without slicing into himself or his clothing was a mystery. "If you don't end this, I will," he said.
Tristan watched in dazed amazement, never having seen a real sword in action. More roots rose from the hole. Before he could blink, Donovan's sword slashed toward the side of his head, only to be caught and redirected by a root erupting from the wall above his shoulder. The root grew around the blade and retreated, pulling the weapon with it.
"All right," Donovan spat, giving up his sword. "Leave at once before you destroy the castle."
The rumbling ground froze. So did Tristan. "Wh-what?"
"Get out of my sight before I change my mind." The disarmed swordsman waved his hand toward a narrow path of unbroken floor. "Landon, see that he makes it to the front door."
"But, if these are roots, don't you think being outside will be a bit of a disadvantage?"
"We let him go in peace."
Tristan stared with his mouth hanging open, startled by the sudden change of events. The man had to be bluffing. "I want that folded piece of paper back."
"Of course." Donovan pulled the page from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over. "Now go, before the building collapses."
Tristan got to his knees, weak and clumsily, waiting for Landon to make his way around.
"What if it attacks us?" Tristan whispered to Landon, accepting the help up.
"If it does, I'll do what I can to save you."
Donovan nodded his approval, as if the statement was a request for permission.
The complete shift in behavior sent chills down his spine. There's no way they'd just let him walk. Not after everything that had happened. He knew too much. He didn't know enough.
Landon half-pulled Tristan around the gaping hole, out of the kitchen and down the long, darkened hall.
"I feel it moving in the floor." Tristan blinked hard in the echoing silence, hoping the slur in his words wasn't as bad as it sounded. What was he supposed to do once he got outside?
"It'll be okay," Landon said.
"Tell me what's happening." They came to a thick wooden door. Landon lifted a bar and pushed it open. Bright sunlight filled the hall and his knees buckled.
"Come on, we're almost out."
Tristan leaned more heavily on Landon as he took in the forest surrounding them. Half the trees had fallen. The ground looked freshly plowed and dust hovered like swarms of insects. "I don't have anything to do with this. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"He knows I won't live long enough to get away," Tristan said, descending the cobble stairs. "Is that why he's letting me go?"
"He just wants what you want."
Tristan glanced over his shoulder, instantly disoriented by the tiny shack of a building in place of what he'd assumed to be a massive castle. It looked abandoned and ready to cave in on itself. The cobble stairs were now made of rotting wood.
Alpheus, Donovan, Victor, and the woman watched him from the disintegrating porch while Landon helped him to the center of the clearing.
"What do you want now?" Landon asked.
"To lay down," Tristan mumbled, then regretted it. He should be running to get as far as he could. But he'd seen the view from the window. There was nowhere to run. A steep hillside perhaps, but nowhere to hide. Maybe there was something worth running toward on the side he hadn't gotten a good look at.
Landon lowered him to the ground.
The instant Tristan's head touched the dirt, tendrils of grass began sprouting. They tickled the back of his neck and the sides of his face. Small purple flowers bloomed around him. The vibration seemed smoother on the bare earth, almost soothing, lulling him to sleep.
The peace didn't last. Exhausted muscles seized up as the ground shifted beneath him, mounding in a line to stop Donovan's approach. He hadn't noticed the man coming toward him until now.
"Analysis," Donovan said.
"He's in tune with whatever it is, but I don't think he's causing it on purpose." Landon put the palm of his hand on Tristan's chest. "He's more afraid than defensive."
"Tristan," Donovan said from his side of the mounded dirt. "I'd prefer you understand this."
Tristan kept his eyes open, wanting nothing more than to break contact with the ground.
"I can't let you go back to civilization. There's too much at stake if this power over the plants is a dragon trait you can't control."
Nearby trees crashed and the ground rumbled. Fresh clouds of dust filled the air as roots rushed toward the center of the clearing. "I don't have dragon traits and I'm not doing this!" Tristan rolled to his side, his body folding into a tight ball.
"Get him off the ground," Donovan shouted, facing the root that shot upward.
Tristan felt an arm on his back, but instead of helping him up, it held him tight to the dirt. Panic raced in his throat. He sank into the earth as the ground beneath him swirled. Interlocking roots weaved around him like a casket. He put all his strength in keeping hold of Landon's hand.
"Break the connection!" Donovan roared. Roots around them burst into flames, then withered to the ground with crying hisses. More roots erupted in a seemingly endless supply, shooting up through the flames of the fallen.
Tristan locked eyes with Landon, struck by more paralyzing fear.
Victor appeared at Landon's side and pried at Tristan's grip. "Let him go. You're going to get him killed!"
"I'm not—" Tristan bit off his words, blinking away the dirt from his eyes. He could barely see through the thickening mesh of roots over his head.
"He's an empath," Victor explained. "That means he feels what you feel, and you're scaring him to death. Take my hand instead."
Tristan was about to comply when flames shot from Victor's offered hand, incinerating a root that had wrapped itself around Landon's arm, leaving a dark scorch mark on Landon's flesh. Victor's hand didn't seem blackened at all.
"What are you?" Tristan asked, too afraid to let go of the only thing that seemed real.
Victor flashed a bright smile and winked. "I'm a lot of things, and a pyromancer. If you take my hand, I can be the one that gets us all out alive."
5
- SLAVES OF THE CAVE -
DORIAN TOSSED SHARDS of glass from the dustpan to the wastebasket, unable to face Gram. Why couldn't she send her to her room? Lecture her about being responsible? Force her to dig a root cellar by hand? Maybe Oliver could scold her properly and she'd feel better—he should be arriving at any second, according to the trees who were tracking his progress across the island.
Pounding thuds vibrated through the floorboards as he stomped his boots on the mat outside.
Dorian squared her shoulders, determined to take any punishment without argument, as Oliver scrunched his neck to get through the doorway, heedless of the dirt still crumbling from his shoes.
"There's nothing out there," Oliver grumbled. He hung his flannel jacket on a hook by the door.
Dorian stopped herself from commenting. She already knew there was no one out there, but figured Oliver would need to convince himself at least two more times. "I'm really sorry."
"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Oliver rounded the central workspace counter in four steps and lifted her chin to peer into her eyes. "You don't remember a name?"
"It's not that I don't remembe
r. He just didn't tell me."
Oliver let go of her chin and stomped off to wash his hands. "First the cave, now this. I've called a meeting. We have to do something more about security. This the second time someone has gotten through—that we know of. The village should be united before anything else goes wrong."
Silver bells on the front door chimed and Dorian glanced up to see Alice, the village seamstress, then shot a look at Gram. "Do you remember hearing the bell when he came in?"
Gram shook her head. "I don't even recall seeing the man."
Alice removed her sunflower hat as she entered the front of the store and froze when she saw Oliver.
"Wait," Oliver said, stopping her before she could retreat. "I know you don't want to believe anything bad of your aunt, but we found something." He stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled out a long golden chain.
Dorian recognized the charm at once.
"My aunt was…is not a traitor. She had no part of this." Alice's eyes welled with tears as she stared at the copper, Celtic charm. "She's in Europe, leading a bike tour. Flynn and I were with her when it started. She's still there."
"We feel this necklace identifies her as being one of the bodies," Oliver said gently. "It doesn't mean she was a traitor, it just means she was there when they broke in."
Oliver and his team found seven decomposing skeletons in the cave, some with bludgeoned skulls. The DNA was so scrambled, none of the bodies could be identified. They couldn't even be confirmed as human. But the team found a necklace, a gold pocket watch, and various other metal objects.
"What about your father?" Oliver asked Alice. "Have you heard from him yet?"
Dorian cringed. Only three people knew the cave existed before it was broken into several months ago: Alice's aunt, Alice's father, and Gram. The cave itself had reached out to Gram, showing her the bodies in a dream. She had told Oliver. Now, everyone knew.
"He's not a part of this either." Alice glared. "It's not unusual for him to be unreachable."
