Descendant (Secrets of the Makai)

by Kerr, Toni

  "What's going on?" Oliver asked.

  A rhythmic vibration churned in his stomach. He concentrated harder on the men entering the room, surrounding Dorian.

  "They want her to wake up somewhere more suitable," Tristan whispered. "They're carrying her out. I don't see Sabbatini, though."

  He followed the group out the door, the tension in his shoulders tightening with each step. "Looks like we're at the bottom of a big well. Everything's round, walls included. It's all rock. Even the stairs are wet."

  At the top of the stairs, they passed through an arched tunnel with no windows into a room so large it could have been a warehouse. If not for the walls made of rock.

  "Wow," was the only way to describe it. "Sorry. We're in a really big room. Huge square rocks for walls, stacked like bricks. It must be a hundred feet to the ceiling. No windows. No lights! How can there be light? They're laying her on a couch."

  "Are there any plants in the room?" Gram asked.

  "Yeah. There's a few big trees in pots." He wondered if they were silk plants for decoration. "At least they're giving her a blanket."

  "Is it cold?" Gram's voice seemed to shiver with the question.

  "I don't know." Tristan rubbed his arms, unable to feel any sensation. "No one's wearing coats, I don't see anyone's breath. Looks like she's coming around." Tristan held his breath again, willing her to be okay as she took in the new surroundings. She didn't even look worried. "They're asking her to come with them if she's up for it, and…looks like she is. She seems fine to me."

  Dorian stood from the couch and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. He took a step closer with an urge to brush the wet hair from her face.

  "How many?"

  Tristan glanced around the room to be sure he wasn't missing anyone. "Three."

  They entered a narrow passageway reinforced with massive wooden beams. At least there were windows in the hall. Dorian tried to catch a view, but the men kept her moving forward.

  Tristan peered outside. "It's raining. Everything is very green. Grazing land maybe? I don't see anything far away, not even mountains." Tristan shrugged to himself, wondering if his body on the island mimicked his thoughts, and caught up with the group. "I'd guess this would be their lab area. They want her to take a look around…looks pretty high-tech. Stainless steel counters, chrome...she's smelling some of the plants and they're bringing her more stuff."

  Dorian swiped her finger along the counter with her blank expression becoming more confused.

  "What does she think?" Gram asked.

  "I don't know, she looks...mad. Nothing new there. Sorry. She checked the counter for dust or something, and says she doesn't know what they expect from her, but whatever it is, she's not going to cooperate. Oh, come on. Why's she so stubborn? They say all she has to do is make…something, and they'll take her back. Sounds good to me!"

  "What do they want her to make?"

  "Uhhh. Something like, andra-pur-cult-er-um. I don't really know what they said, but Dorian's refusing." Tristan scoffed. "Just do it, Dorian."

  Tristan scanned the room and stepped aside when a new person entered. "Sabbatini's here."

  Tristan heard the collective gasp from Gram and Oliver, and whoever else might be listening, and swallowed. How was anyone supposed to save her? He wasn't relaying information about her location, this was more how-she's-going-to-die information. And he could only watch. His chest tightened at the thought of watching her die in this unknown place. Alone.

  He stuffed the thought away and refocused. "He's asking what the trouble is and if she's found everything to be satisfactory. She says everything looks fine. He wants to know why Tynan can't do anything right. Tynan isn't saying anything. He looks…ill. Oh…." Silence.

  "What?" Oliver demanded, raising his voice.

  "Hey!" Tristan lost his balance in both locations, leaping to his feet in one and throwing out his hands to steady himself in the other.

  "We needed you to stay put!" Oliver yelled.

  Tristan ignored the sharp pinch in his arms and kept his focus on Sabbatini. "He just backhanded her—gave her a bloody lip and she still refuses." The impulse to protect her surprised him. Could he protect her somehow? "Why won't she do it?"

  "You're still there?" Oliver asked, halfway between furious and doubtful.

  The pressure in his arms lessened.

  "Why did he hit her?" Gram demanded. Oliver grumbled something in the background.

  "She's so stub—" Tristan held his tongue. "I'll bet she could take them all out, if she wanted."

  "You have no idea what these people can do," Oliver growled. "Why did he hit her?"

  Why could he never say the right thing? "He asked why Tynan wasn't having any luck with the simplest potions, and she said something pretty stupid. I can't believe she'd defend Tynan. Would she?"

  "What exactly did she say?" Gram asked, her voice quivering.

  "Something about how the plants were taking a stand, going on strike, and they would not participate in anything having to do with Sabbatini. And neither would she. Why would she say something like that at a time like this?"

  "Oh, dear," Gram murmured.

  A man standing next to Dorian grabbed her arm, practically throwing her toward the door.

  "They're taking her somewhere else." Tristan couldn't think of anything to add as he followed Sabbatini and the three men escorting Dorian through the corridor, back to the main room. Tynan stayed behind.

  The enormity of everything had him staring in awe. They skirted the same arrangement of furniture in the center and walked toward a wall with five tunnels. Lazaro picked one, while the rest led Dorian through the middle. They entered another circular room, filled with another spiraling set of stairs.

  "This place is huge. We're going up lots of stairs, round and round…a lighthouse maybe? A castle?"

  They passed several landings with thick wooden doors. Near the top, Dorian let the blanket slip from her shoulders and draped it over her arm. She turned to face the men and glanced over the railing. "She wouldn't jump, would she?"

  "Jump? What?"

  Yes, she would. Dorian stood taller than the men, being on an upper step, and would have an advantage. "Come on, you can do it."

  "Do what!?"

  Tristan ignored Oliver and watched Dorian throw the blanket. It opened like a net over the men and she kicked through it before they had a chance to free themselves. Two men tumbled down a few stairs before smacking against the wall. She'd gotten hold of a small knife from somewhere and slashed at the third. He leapt back. She placed her hand on the railing and sprang from the floor, just as the man lunged in again, catching her with the same bear hug they'd tried on the beach. "Yes!" She certainly knew how to get out of that one!

  Tristan expected to see the man go flying over the railing, instead of her. But he had her feet off the ground. The knife fell from her hand and bounced off the railing, tumbling down the center of the tower. She tried kicking at his knees, but stopped when the top of her foot slammed against the rail. There just wasn't enough room for her to get any leverage.

  The other two men were already recovered; one was unlocking the door with a large brass key.

  "She's fine," Tristan mumbled, too discouraged to relay her failed attempt. "They're unlocking a door and making her go in." Tristan squeezed through before they slammed it. "I'm in. Wow."

  "What!"

  "Way fancy. Like an old-fashioned hotel, or a theater room maybe. There's a window with long red curtains. Most everything is red and dark wood. Wow." Tristan circled. "All the walls are still rock though. Lots of huge, frilly rugs. Glad they aren't keeping her in the dungeon."

  Dorian didn't even look around. She went straight to the window and put her slender hand against the glass. "She's looking out the window, probably to see how high we are."

  She pounded the heel of her hand against the glass. Tristan shook his head. It would slice her hand pretty bad if she actually broke through. He glanc
ed at the bed, layered with thick fabrics, wishing he could hand her something to protect her hand with. Anything would be better than nothing.

  She gave up the pounding and rested her forehead against the thick glass.

  "What can you see from the window?" asked Oliver.

  Tristan moved closer, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He took in the scenery, cheek to cheek with her. "There's a hill, but it seems to go on forever. No buildings, no roads. Still raining. I'd guess it's well-kept, green farmland, but I don't see any fences. Or animals. The falcon! How did he get here? I'm sure it's him."

  Dorian left the window and sat on the floor by the bed.

  "What about a falcon?"

  "I'll explain later," Gram said. "Tristan, what time of day do you think it is?"

  "Can't tell through all the clouds. I would guess it's not too far from night, but I suppose it could just as easily be morning. How can I see all this?"

  "It would take too long to explain," Gram answered. "What's Dorian doing?"

  "She's sitting on the floor." Tears spilled down her cheeks. The wooden posts at each corner of the bed wavered, becoming blurry. "Things look…distorted."

  "You're running out of energy," Gram said. He could swear she was crying too. "I'm sorry, Tristan. You'll have to come back."

  "Feel the presence of air on your skin," Oliver began with a hypnotic tone. "Your real skin."

  Tristan's skin tingled, but he kept his focus on Dorian. She cradled her knees and her head was down. A painful black and blue bruise spread across the top of her foot.

  What kind of man would he be if he just…left her sobbing like that? Alone in this place?

  He wouldn't. Couldn't.

  34

  - THE MAKAI -

  "DAMN THAT LITTLE—" Oliver heaved a large stump over the porch railing. He turned to Gram's chair, where a pile of rumpled clothing sat in Tristan's place. "I told him to come back! What does he plan to do by himself?" He grabbed the pile of cloth in his fists and shook it to make his point, then wadded them up and slammed the bundle to the ground. Gram's chair went over the rail next, smashing into a pile of splintered sticks. "We had a chance to save her, now we have nothing!" Finally, he kicked at the railing with the heel of his boot, breaking it clean in half. "Where on Earth are they?"

  "At least we know it's daylight." Gram's lips trembled and she nodded at Eric. "That narrows the search by half."

  Eric stood to embrace her. "I'll contact Alpheus."

  * * *

  Landon followed Alpheus up the steps of a log cabin. Excitement rushed in his ears. Strict orders had taken them off the case, but now they were back. He glanced at Victor, grinning like a maniac beside him, and backhanded him square in the chest to tone it down.

  "Good to see you again, gentlemen," Alpheus said, shaking hands with Oliver. "I'm only sorry the circumstances are not more favorable."

  "Please come in." Oliver took a step back, stuffing a flowered washcloth dotted with blood into his back pocket. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

  "This is Landon and Victor," said Alpheus. Eric stood about ten feet back as they entered the cabin. "I've asked them to be involved because they are the most familiar with Tristan."

  Oliver narrowed his eyes. "Well doesn't that just figure."

  Landon glanced at Victor, unsure what to make of such a remark. "Thank you for having us." Landon held out his hand for an awkward moment while Oliver seemed to think it over, finally being polite. Victor didn't bother offering his hand.

  Alpheus glanced around the cozy cabin. "Where is Mandissa?"

  "She's resting." Oliver motioned them to a circle of mix-matched chairs. He grabbed two more from the kitchen table. "We're a bit shaken."

  "Would you please let her know we've arrived? I imagine she'd have us for breakfast if we continue this discussion without her."

  Oliver nodded and left the room, leaving Eric glancing warily at Alpheus. He closed the cabin door, then kept his eyes averted as he sat in the farthest chair, crossing his legs. Landon smiled at the Birkenstocks with red wool socks. Eric seemed to notice and put his foot back on the floor.

  "I have a pair myself," Landon whispered. He already liked the man, based on his file, and wished he could do more to ease the tension.

  Oliver returned with the frail little woman everyone called Gram, and Alpheus rushed to help. He held her arm gently with one hand and put his other around her waist, leading her to a rocker with an afghan draped on the armrest.

  "My dear Dissa, you could have stayed in bed. We would have come to you." Alpheus lowered her into the chair and unfolded the blanket, laying it over her lap. She gripped his hand and her eyes filled with tears. He knelt on one knee and brought her knuckles to his lips. "I'm so sorry for Dorian. This is a terrible thing for both of you."

  Landon glanced at Victor, curious if he was catching on to the intimacy, and quickly moved Alpheus's chair closer to Gram's.

  "Thank you for coming," she said, smiling when Alpheus dabbed a handkerchief to her damp cheeks. "I'm suddenly so old."

  He kissed her forehead. "Your spirit will never be old."

  Oliver cleared his throat. "Did you know they already knew about Tristan?"

  Alpheus sat in his chair and kept hold of Gram's hand.

  "Is that true?" she asked.

  "Yes. Tristan has a good heart."

  Gram nodded. She took a deep breath and seemed to pull herself together. "Dorian is in good company."

  Oliver stomped out of the room, then stormed back in with his hands clenched into fists. "He told us he wasn't trained, that he didn't know anything. Worse, we knew he was hiding something from the start. Did you know he stood five feet from Gram, ten from Sabbatini, and neither one of them knew he was there? He's too damn good to know nothing."

  Victor smiled.

  Don't you dare, Landon warned.

  Gram's grin widened. She stared at Victor, then Landon. "Of course!" She tossed the blanket aside and stood, holding out her arms to offer hugs.

  Landon glanced at Alpheus, who nodded his approval.

  "He's told me a little about you." After hugging Landon and Victor, she hugged Alpheus. "Thank you for saving him, I know you didn't have to."

  "What does he remember?" Alpheus asked.

  "Hardly a thing. The boys were classmates and they showed up after Gwenna's murder."

  "He remembered names," Oliver said, crossing his arms and glaring at Landon and Victor. "I gave him a waking serum and I think he was surprised that you weren't the ones giving it to him." He faced Alpheus again, waiting. "You blocked his memory? What could have warranted such desperate measures?"

  "You know we can't be involved with him, but he wasn't handling the reality very well." Alpheus helped Gram back into her chair. "He's been an interesting case, though we're not sure what to make of his situation." His face hardened. "So no, Oliver, we have not trained him in any way. We've kept an eye on him, of course, but he appears to be on his own. Mostly."

  "You've been keeping him safe from Sabbatini, yes?" Gram asked. "Did you know about Gwenna?"

  "Yes." Alpheus shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you. We kept an eye on Tristan until he got here, but after that, we figured he was in good hands and left it at that."

  "So that's why you were butting in about security. And let me see if I have this right," Oliver continued, grinding his teeth. "You didn't want to deal with him, so you dumped him on us? Without even asking?"

  "No. This was a course of his own choosing, and quite an excellent one." He kissed Gram's knuckles again. "But we had nothing to do with it. In fact, he refused every opportunity we offered that would have altered this course."

  Oliver shook his head, disbelieving. "So let's talk about Dorian, we're wasting time."

  "Agreed." Alpheus nodded. "We know several locations where Sabbatini tends to stay, but none match Tristan's description. We'll start tracking and set up surveillance—"
/>   "There's something else you should know," Gram said. "We have a certain cave on the island."

  "No!" Oliver glared at Gram.

  "It might help, Oliver."

  Oliver took a deep breath, lips pinched, then waved her on.

  "There was once a cave where dragons went to die. A dragon fang kept it sacred and hidden from all. That cave is on this island—it's what keeps us hidden. Usually. We don't know who, but someone found the cave, broke in, and stole this fang. I don't know what it looks like, but that's why our security is weakening. The cave itself is dying."

  "We found several bodies." Oliver dropped into his chair. "Maybe you'd have better luck in identifying them." Oliver hung his head in his hands and stood again. "What an absolute fiasco." He began pacing. "I told Tristan not to leave, and what does he do? Unbelievable. Of all the idiotic—" He glared at Alpheus. "I have one more thing to get off my chest."

  "Now's the time."

  "Why did you sic Donovan on us? He killed half a million specimens and threatened Dorian's life for the damn antidote."

  Alpheus remained still, his frown lines deepening. "He did mention it."

  "The antidote was for Tristan? But that would mean…." Gram chuckled softly. "Dorian is having such a hard time with the plants. They adore him. She can't understand why."

  "They adore him?"

  "Oh my goodness!" Gram said, covering her mouth with her hand. "The antidote! The dragons went to the cave to heal or die, mostly to die. Gwenna told him he had dragon blood, and the sand from that cave is essentially bone dust with residual powers. What effect did it have on Tristan?"

  "Nothing that lasted long. We were nearly forced to kill him when he first awoke, after an army of roots from the surrounding forest tried to rescue him. But the connection seemed to fade and he passed every test we could think of. The only lasting effect seemed to be a bit of a green thumb."

  "It's more than just a green thumb," Gram said, ignoring the tension from Oliver. "Dorian is convinced he's upsetting the very nature of her plants. She says they…like him. Can't get enough of him."