by Kerr, Toni
Tristan stared at her, confused, half-admiring her courage to look under the bed for him. He took in the dress she was wearing and tried not to grimace. "It looks…." The color reminded him of the blood-red pile of shattered statue. He stared at the base of the bed again, still expecting something to emerge.
"You can say it, I'm a big girl."
It wasn't just the color. He'd gotten used to seeing her in the short little tennis outfit. This just didn't fit. "It looks horribly heavy. Restricting."
"You don't have to say it like that. I think it's quite lovely." She let her hair fall over her shoulders and pulled a different dress from the armoire. "But I'll try the blue one. Back under."
"I found out some things." He needed better motivation and more time to calm down before crawling back into the depths of whatever lurked.
"Like what?"
"Those statues I told you about are real people. I think Sabbatini wants you to make the potion so he doesn't keep losing his own men. There were eight. Now there are seven."
"He really just killed someone?"
"Well, one of the statues broke." Tristan kept the details to himself, considering she'd have to play nice and dine with the man. "There's this little box he keeps covered on a pedestal, and I think whatever's in that box is turning the men to stone. There's a book that practically crumbles to dust every time he touches it, with strange writing. Maybe Egyptian or something. But it's very technical-looking." He stopped, considering a plan. "I think we should steal it, the box that is."
"We're not thieves. At least, I'm not. Besides, don't you think he'll notice?"
"He keeps it covered, and he said something about the world being his. Do you really want Sabbatini to run the world?"
Dorian rolled her eyes. "Let's say you can steal it, what then? He'll find out soon enough and then he'll think I did it."
"While you're having dinner, I'll switch the box with one of these." Tristan scattered the collection of jewelry boxes on the bed. "It's about the size of this." He dumped a string of pearls from a white box shaped like a treasure chest and turned it for inspection. "We'll have to make our escape tonight. You could agree to make the potion, only you need to look in one of the greenhouses to be sure of something. I'll think of a distraction and we'll make a run for the forest." He slipped the box into the pocket of his robe to make sure it would fit.
"Are you out of your mind? You can't outrun people like Sabbatini and I'm not about to give up on Oliver."
"Do you plan on waiting 'til they use Gram against you? Sabbatini doesn't care if he kills people."
"But there isn't anything useful for the potion in any of the greenhouses."
"I don't care!" Tristan paced, unable to think of a better plan. "You're the one who's 'legendary'. Can't you make up something? We've got to do this now. Tonight."
"Why? What's the sudden hurry?"
"Because…." Urgency raced through his veins, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the shadow chasing him. He'd been unable to even guess at how to get the emerald back, and now he knew exactly where it was. "We just can't sit here anymore and we might never get another chance." Tristan turned toward the window, afraid he wouldn't be able to convince her. He'd never be able to leave without her.
"Maybe I could get some of the plants to help us. A few can move on their own. We'll need to be at the third greenhouse, closest to the cliffs. How will I know when you're ready?"
Tristan grinned with relief and resisted the urge to hug her. "I'll try to give you some sort of signal when you get outside. There won't be much time."
She couldn't possibly think the plants could move on their own, but he decided to be thankful she'd at least try an escape. "What if you get caught stealing the box?" she asked. "We should leave it."
"No way." Not in a million years.
"All right." She sorted through the hanging gowns. "Black will be harder to see in the dark." She re-hung the blue dress and held the black fabric over the red. "Back under, please."
"I'll see about escape routes." He peeked first, gulping his fear, then slid under the bed.
* * *
A few guards walked along the edge of the forest, one on a horse. If they couldn't outrun Sabbatini on foot, maybe having a horse would help? He'd never ridden one, but maybe they could gallop to the forest at full speed, hopefully under cover of darkness.
There didn't appear to be any light fixtures outside the greenhouse entrances, nor along the walls of the castle. He found the stables by following the cliff-side wall to the very end.
Too early to make actual arrangements, Tristan returned to his place under the bed to conserve energy, grateful there were no shadow monsters to contend with. Dorian hummed a tune he half-recognized, without a hint of fear or nervousness. She'd surprised him by being so brave. And agreeable. If he chose the wrong escape plan, they'd both end up dead.
39
- INTO THE NIGHT -
TRISTAN WOKE TO THE SOUND of a male voice and peeked through the fringe of bed coverings. Dorian's black velvet dress swept the floor as she walked toward the door, where a man waited in pressed slacks and black pointed shoes. Tristan ignored the stab of jealousy and gave them plenty of time to get down the stairs. Now or never, he thought, and left to steal the emerald.
He paced in front of the meeting room, chewing on his ghostly thumbnails. What if the shadow waited behind the walls? Under the floor? He leaned his face through the rock, relieved to see that someone had cleaned up the demolished statue.
He approached the pedestal with the covered box and stood for a long time, trying to think through the racing anxieties.
Why risk stealing it, and what was the plan afterwards? He glanced at all the statues. Maybe they'd tried stealing it too.
Maybe Gram was right—he should wait until he knew more, or until he had some sort of backup. A shudder jerked through his shoulders; he couldn't steal it quite yet.
Tristan left the box to make sure the dinner was underway. Voices drew him to the opposite side of the spacious room. He stopped at the entrance of a formal dining area, where a real candle chandelier, draped with pearls and flower arrangements, hung above a feast.
Rumbling growls echoed in his stomach. His mouth fell open when he spotted Dorian at the head of the table. Her smooth skin glowed in the warmth of candlelight and her hair hung in ringlet curls and fancy ribbons, blending perfectly with diamond earrings. A diamond necklace around her neck matched an embroidered design of sparkling silver that curled down the front of her dress.
Tristan forced his eyes away. Looking like that, she'd have Sabbatini and his entire army fulfilling every wish in no time, if she didn't already. But if something happened to her now, it would be his fault for forcing her into making such a reckless move. They should have tried to escape without being noticed, rather than trying to make a run for it. Or maybe they should've taken more time to plan it out.
She was certainly following through with her part; nothing prevented him from doing his. Except her. Tristan returned to the small box and faced the next problem—getting himself physically into the room.
When he arrived the first time, he didn't think about the actual scientific procedure. It simply happened. He couldn't just let it happen now. What if he passed out like before? Without his clothes? If he'd thought about it sooner, he probably would have cancelled all plans to escape. Tristan paced some more, wasting precious time.
Was he supposed to know the difference between his blood and skin? How could he keep the coral from ending up in his lungs, or get bones and muscle to land in the right spots? Maybe he was making it too complicated.
He said a quick prayer to anyone who might help him and willed his body to join his mind, as a whole, to exist in the meeting room. He dropped to his knees, clutching his sides, as jagged bolts of pain shot through his arms and legs. He groped for the coral, glad to see the robe had arrived with him.
When he got to his feet, he inhaled a steadying
breath and removed the white box from his pocket. His hands shook as he inspected the pedestal. Maybe Sabbatini did something to keep from being turned to stone. Maybe he set traps if the wrong person should tamper with the box.
Why couldn't he just walk away? No one said he had to steal it. Tristan lifted the cloth with two fingers and faced the wooden box with metal braces. He didn't dare open it to see if the emerald was still inside. The box he'd chosen to replace it with was practically weightless, made of padded cardboard. He paced around the table one more time.
Dorian would be on her own if things went wrong. Tristan gulped, then made the exchange in one quick motion, slapping the white jewelry box in place of the wooden one.
He opened one eye and frowned with half a smile tempting his lips. It wasn't over though, he'd barely begun. His blood pulsed faster with each frantic thought. What if alarms were going off and he didn't know? He crammed the wooden box into his pocket and draped the black cloth over the decoy. He still had to get out of the building and he couldn't just open the door and walk out.
Tristan breathed into his cupped hands to keep himself from hyperventilating, concentrating with his eyes closed. He mentally wound his way to the cliff side of the castle, then willed his body to join him.
This time, his muscles cramped with the sensation of being submerged in icy water, forcing him to fight for his first breath. He felt for the bulge of the box in his pocket and staggered along the wall, gradually increasing his speed as his muscles warmed.
He glanced toward the top of the castle to see if the guards would be able to see him and stopped at the corner. Ocean air clung to his face and hair, damp moisture thick and salty. If the sun was still shining, it was well below the line of dense clouds on the horizon. Voices came from the stables.
He peeked around the corner, into the breezeway of the stables. A woman with her hair in a ponytail led a horse into one of the stalls. A man had just pulled off the saddle from another, catching the saddle blanket with the toe of his boot when it fell. He carried his bundle to an open door and disappeared.
Tristan dashed across the corridor and squeezed himself into a gap between stacks of hay. There were at least six horses lined up in the breezeway, none of them saddled.
The woman reappeared, shutting the stall door and hanging a rope on a hook. "You got this?" she called, brushing dirt from her jeans. Tristan couldn't hear the man's response. "I have work to do," she added, leaving the breezeway.
Tristan exhaled his relief; one down.
The man stepped out of a tack room with a brush and bucket, then left them on the ground and trotted after her.
That's it? What luck! Tristan ran forward.
He slowed his approach when the horses strained against their ropes, trying to back away from him. "Shhhh." He held out his hands as he crept closer, planning to untie the nearest two.
The pair didn't object to being led away. In fact, they nearly trampled him to get to the stacked bales of hay. He gathered a handful from the floor, bribing the animals along the path between the castle and cliff.
The guards would spot him crossing to the greenhouse if they happened to look. He needed a diversion. Tristan dropped the pile of hay at the corner of the building and waited to make sure they'd stay and eat, then ran back to release the rest. By the time he returned, a guard was yelling from the top of the tower. "Hey, Gargy! Horses got out—"
Tristan pulled on the lead ropes of his horses, leading them away from their pile of food, and ran to the backside of the greenhouse. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He smacked his forehead and circled, desperate for better ideas. The greenhouse hid them from the castle, but what about guards in the forest? Not only that, but now they'd be searching for two missing horses. He whispered to soothe the restless animals.
The back door to the greenhouse was locked. He tied the horses to a small water pipe along the brick and walked back to where he could see the front doors of the castle. His heart sank with yet another mistake: a trail of bright yellow hay led straight to him. He glanced over the vast ocean, hoping for wind to blow all trace of it away, and for darkness to come quickly. He settled himself down at the corner of the greenhouse and waited.
* * *
Lightning flashed more consistently than it had an hour ago. Tristan shivered against the gusting winds. Heavy raindrops kept washing away the camouflaging mud he'd smeared on his arms and legs to hide his white skin. The horses seemed content to huddle next to each other, remaining relatively calm in the storm.
Tristan leapt to his feet when light poured from the front doors of the castle. Dorian, Tynan, and someone else glided down the steps. Tynan carried a lantern.
Dorian could most certainly take care of Tynan by herself, he just had to get rid of the second person.
A flash of lightning silhouetted the falcon as it swooped in over the trio, stealing the second man's hat. Tristan stared for a moment, not sure to be relieved or worried for his friend. The man yelled, running after his hat, maybe thinking it was the wind that had blown it away.
"Leave it!" Tynan yelled, holding up the lantern. But the man was nowhere in sight.
Dorian glanced around, fidgeting with her hands. She pleaded with Tynan to let them wait in the greenhouse. Tynan produced an umbrella and held it over her.
Tristan snuck up on Tynan as fast as he could. Dorian screamed before he could put a finger to his lips, then swung her elbow, hitting Tynan in the face. His head jerked back and he fell to the ground without a sound. The umbrella tumbled away in the wind.
"Quick," Tristan whispered. Dorian grabbed Tynan's feet and Tristan took his arms. Together, they half-dragged him to the first greenhouse and shut him inside.
"She's making a run for it!" a guard from the tower yelled. "Cliffside!"
Dorian and Tristan skidded around the corner of the third greenhouse and ran. She hiked up her dress and leapt onto the second horse, leaving the first for Tristan. He threw her the rope and slapped at the horse to get it moving.
"Wait!" Dorian slid off and tossed the rope back at Tristan. She rushed for the back door of the greenhouse.
"Are you crazy? They already spotted us!" Tristan struggled to keep the frightened horses from running away.
"I'll catch up!" She kicked her booted heel through the glass and climbed inside. Within a few seconds, the door opened and she shoved a triangular chunk of brick under it to keep it that way. She then vaulted herself back onto the horse like it was just another tree. Though he supposed she'd had enough practice with her elk.
"Hold up, what are you doing?" Dr. Morley shouted, having just exited the middle greenhouse. He pointed at the door with a dim flashlight. "You wouldn't—"
"It wants to be free!" Dorian said, no longer able to keep her panicking horse under control. It turned and fled into the stormy darkness.
"But you have no idea what—" A thick substance squirted from the open doorway, plastering the side of Dr. Morley's panicked face. His eyes bulged as the side of his head liquefied, pouring over his shoulders with a hissing steam. The flashlight toppled into a puddle of mud. Tristan grabbed the handle and leapt back as the man's hips and legs fell forward, each splash of water making bubbles on the ground. Tristan could only gape in horror at watching the man dissolve. Much like Gwenna had.
Voices came closer.
Twice Tristan tried getting on his horse, nearly trampled each time. He gave up and ran toward the forest, desperate to keep hold of the rope while staying out from under the horse's feet. A streak of light shot past. He watched it veer off at a sharp angle.
"No weapons, you fools," Sabbatini ordered. "We need her alive and there's nowhere to go."
"It's escaping," someone yelled, followed by a piercing scream of pain.
"Find Dr. Morley!"
Tristan made it to the forest and glanced back at the castle. Sabbatini's men gathered in a group, several on horseback, some pulling up on four-wheelers. He climbed onto a large rock and lunged for the horse, swingi
ng his leg over before it took off at a galloping run. He barely had time to get a fistful of mane and didn't know how to steer. Hopefully, it would simply want to catch up to the other horse without bucking him off.
"Jump!"
Tristan straightened, straining to see where Dorian might be. A low hanging branch struck him in the chest, flinging him backward. He landed in a puddle of mud on his back with a wumph. The pounding of hooves echoed and faded away. Tristan rolled to his side and got to his feet, still trying to catch his breath as he stumbled off the trail.
40
- PARTING WAYS -
"I TRIED TO WARN you."
Tristan sprang back, startled by the sight of Dorian dropping to the ground in front him. She took off her black cloak and swung it around his hunched shoulders.
"Keep yourself covered. Your skin is a sure giveaway in the lightning."
Tristan lifted his chin, letting her fasten the clasp at his neck and pull the hood over his head. Long black sleeves covered her arms, leaving only her hands and face exposed. And a plunging neckline, still adorned with diamonds. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her soft lips, but she grabbed his hand and led him over a log, where they huddled together next to a boulder.
"What now?" he asked. The forest was definitely her domain.
"I guess we should just keep moving. Are you okay?"
Thunderous hooves vibrated the ground. Shouts carried on the wind, muffled by rain. The engines of four-wheelers hummed in the distance. They peered over the log. "The horses probably dumped us on purpose."
"Probably." Dorian laughed. "But maybe no one will suspect we're on foot?"
"Yeah, until they find our horses," Tristan said, sitting heavily against the rock. He could move both shoulders, a good sign. "They'll probably circle back when they do. I heard them say we had nowhere to go."
Dorian let out a shriek and threw both hands over her head as the falcon landed on the log beside her.
