Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai) (20 page)

Will you get out of my head?

All in good time, and, I’m not actually in your head.

Where are you then?
Tristan studied the forest.

I wouldn’t want you tipping off your little buddy there.

Landon motioned him forward with a reminder signal to keep low.

Could Lazaro use him against Landon somehow? Tristan hesitated until Landon waved him forward again.

Lazaro, apparently, had nothing to say for the next thirty minutes.

Landon broke down his pole and put it away. “No wonder you didn’t have luck,” he said, pulling line from Tristan’s reel until all the tangles were out. He bit off the line and stuffed the knotted wad in his pocket.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to do with it.”

Landon smiled. “You feeling better?”

Tristan stared over the water. Peace flowed with the river, especially now that Lazaro didn’t seem to be around. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ordinarily, I’d say don’t eat before sleeping...but you need it.”

Tristan nodded, though his stomach clenched at the thought of eating, and he fully expected Lazaro to be waiting for him at his cabin.

20
-
W
ILD
C
HILD
-

TRISTAN SAT UP IN BED and peered out the window to his front yard. Something in the morning light had wakened him.

He had no memory of dreams or voices throughout the night, and felt better than he had in days. A flash of movement caught his attention from outside as something dove into the shrubs.

Again.

Tristan leaped to the front door. Whatever was outside, he wasn’t about to let it get away a second time. “Hey!” He waited a few seconds, unsure if the cowering figure was an animal or person. “I can see you.”

A young child unfolded himself from his hiding place, brilliant blue eyes shining through a layer of grunge and dirt.

“What are you doing out—” Déjà vu struck him like a punch. He’d seen this kid before, but where? “Can I help you with something?”

The boy shook his head and stepped out of the brush. Tristan glanced up at the sun. How much time did he have before class?

“I’m sorta in a hurry, do you want to come in?” Tristan shrugged when the boy said nothing. He left the front door open and filled two glasses with water.

The child stayed just outside, clinging to an oddly shaped ball. He quickly stuffed the item in his pocket when he caught Tristan eyeing it.

“You can come in.” Tristan offered one of the glasses and the boy shook his head. “A shower maybe? You look like you need it more than I do.” Tristan opened the bathroom door and stepped back to give the boy space.

It was a little like training his falcon. The boy stayed where he was on the porch. Then something must have changed his mind and he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“So, you do understand what I’m saying?”

The boy seemed to think about it, then nodded a yes.

“Do you live around here?”

He shook his head no, then nodded yes.

“Are you a native?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders and seemed to relax with the questioning.

“Have you lived here long?”

The boy shook his head no.

“Hungry?”

He shook his head again. Tristan rummaged through the things Victor had left and found a jar of dried fruit in one of the cupboards. The boy stepped back against the door, suddenly petrified.

Tristan poured a handful for himself and left a handful on the counter. “Hot chocolate? Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

The only thing the boy did was shake his head in the negative.

“I have to get to class. You’re welcome to stay while I’m gone. Maybe get some sleep?” An idea popped into his head, but he had to test the boy first. “Can you do anything special?”

The boy shrugged.

“A trick maybe?”

The boy’s face lit up with excitement and he wandered around the room. His attention settled on the decorative drum that Victor hadn’t gotten around to explaining yet—he took it off the shelf and placed it on the table.

Tristan hoped he would do something magical, so he could take the boy to Angelina for advice.

The drum somersaulted into the air, shattering the window as it spiraled out of control.

Tristan grinned as the boy’s eyes grew impossibly wide with fear, and decided right then that they would be friends.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to fix that,” he said, nearly laughing. “But I’m sure it’s fixable.”

The boy scrambled onto a chair and leaned out the window to see where the drum landed. Tristan walked around to retrieve it, put it back on the shelf, then closed the curtains to cover the gaping hole.

“I have someplace to take you. It’ll be fun.” Tristan motioned for the boy to follow him out the door. “Do you have a name?”

The boy nodded.

“Can you give me a hint?”

The boy smiled and shook his head.

“Should I guess?”

The boy caught up to walk alongside Tristan and nodded happily.

“Winthrop?” The boy made a disgusted expression that made Tristan laugh. “Seymour? Rudolph? Fritz? Maybe...Redhead?”

The boy actually giggled with childlike glee and Tristan resisted the urge to hug him. “Charley?”

The boy nodded.

“Your name is really Charley?” For a second, Tristan wondered at the odds, but the young boy shook his head. “Do you like that name?”

Another nod.

“Okay, then. You can be Charles when you’re old and sophisticated and Charley for now.”

The boy’s smile widened and he skipped up the trail.

“Charley it is.” Tristan kept walking, wishing he knew if he was late or not. They entered Grumpy’s clearing and the class had already begun gathering.

“Ah, Tristan,” Angelina smiled. “I was hoping you’d make it in today. Who do we have here?”

“I met him—” He drew a blank again, then shook the web of confusion from his head. “He was by my house and I thought....” Tristan glanced back only to find the boy trying to hide behind him. “He doesn’t talk much and I was thinking he would enjoy being around kids his own age. I know I should have asked first, but there wasn’t time. I didn’t want to leave him behind and I didn’t want to miss class.”

“Well, I do prefer a little background before taking new students. However, since you brought him and say he’s okay, he can stay.” She smiled pleasantly at the boy. “You may join us.”

The boy stared at her, looking completely confused.

“What’s your name?” Angelina asked.

Tristan gave him time, in case he wanted to say it himself, but the boy seemed on the verge of tears, ready to make a run for the forest.

“Charley,” Tristan said.

“Do you understand why you are here?” Angelina asked, kneeling down to be at eye level.

Charley took a step back, glancing between Tristan and Angelina. His large eyes grew more round as he looked even more frightened. He put his hands into his pockets and Tristan remembered the little ball he had.

“It’s school,” Angelina said quietly. “Beginning magic.”

Charley’s face lit up with excitement and he ran to Tristan, hugging him around the waist, nearly knocking him over.

Tristan patted him on the head, warmed by his own sense of happiness. If someone had given him the same opportunity when he was young, his life might have been incredibly different.

“Come on.” Angelina smiled with a look that could have been admiration or concern, Tristan wasn’t sure. He’d completely forgotten about the guard they had on him, until she glanced toward the house, where a man sat by himself on the porch.

The man nodded, apparently acknowledging the fact that he’d been spotted.

“I’d like to talk to him,” Tristan said. “Can I?”

Angelina sighed. “You might make matters worse.”

“Is it that bad now?”

She shrugged. “Make it fast. I’m not holding class for you.”

Tristan jogged to the man, who stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. The tattoos were mostly covered, but Tristan recognized him from the carnival. The man with the tomatoes and spinning rings.

“It’s Talak, right?” Tristan continued when the man didn’t respond. “I just want to say, I’m sorry about Stanley. I didn’t have anything to do with it, and I understand the need for a guard.”

The man narrowed his eyes and kept silent.

“I’m glad actually. Since obviously I....” He wished he’d stayed at the table. Parents were glancing his way. Was he making a scene? “I think you should know, someone’s been picking on me since I got—”

“I’m here to protect the children, not you.”

“It’s not that, I understand why you’re here. I just think you should keep an eye out for more than just me. Because I’m not the one who—”

“You telling me how to do my job? That people around here can’t be trusted?”

“No, but....”

“But what?”

“I’m being set up! If you get killed too, they’ll think—”

“Ah. So you think I can’t do my job. Or that I’m an easy target?”

“No, but—” He was definitely making things worse. “Never mind.” Tristan headed back to class, regretting the attempt.

“Tristan,” the man called, stopping him halfway. “I’m trusting Victor on this one, so thanks for the warning.”

What could he say? Was Victor the only reason they thought he might be innocent?

When he reached the table, Angelina was running through the rules. They both watched curiously as Charley picked a red crayon from the tin—it hovered above his paper while he looked around the table to see what the other children were doing.

Apparently, it met Angelina’s expectations for the class and she nodded her approval.

He made spiral circles, which quickly escalated to large scribbles, going off the paper and onto the table. He picked another color and did the same thing.

Tristan glanced at Angelina, but she just smiled as she prepared the next project.

“Why don’t you help me hand these out if you’re not going to participate?”

Tristan ignored his blank page and accepted the box of supplies. He watched Charley scribble with a fourth color, noticing a strange glint in his eyes, wondering if there was any thought behind the scribbling.

“One to each person,” she said. The box contained clear bags of colored clay. “Do you still think they care about what you can or can’t do?”

“No.” Tristan kept his eyes on Charley’s drawing. It was starting to make sense in a creepy way.

“You should learn from your little friend there. He doesn’t care if he goes off the paper.” She led Tristan farther from the table. “What do you know about him?”

“Nothing really. I don’t know where he lives, or why he was at my house.”

“It was risky to bring him here.”

“I asked if he could do any tricks and he broke my window with a drum thing.”

“Your mail drum? You better have Victor take a look at it, just to make sure it still works.”

“Mail?”

She sighed. “Tell him to explain, if he hasn’t already.” She glanced back at Charley. “Sometimes these abilities do funny things to people.”

“Why is it magic for them and physics for me?”

“Magic is a term that excites the mind, without creating false barriers of incompetence. As they get older, they will learn the physical reasoning. But for now, the doing doesn’t require an explanation like it seems to for you.”

Tristan understood, wishing he didn’t have to learn how and why at the same time.

“I suppose he might have been left with the hopes that someone like you would take him in,” she said. “But it does make me nervous. I’m sure he’s a nice boy and all, but he’s learned to conceal his thoughts and that’s highly unusual for that age.”

Charley filled his paper with color and the other students were complaining as a renegade crayon traveled around the table, marking each page with scribbles on its way. “Charley!”

Angelina stopped the runaway crayon and put it in the box. All the scribbles Charley had made on the other papers vanished. The children quieted. Charley sat with his head bowed, his lips pinched tight with anger.

“If you would like to color more, there’s plenty of paper available.” Angelina motioned to a stack of blank paper in the center of the table. “We all have our own projects and there’s a rule that nobody interferes with another’s work. Does that make sense?”

Charley nodded. Tristan tried not to smile at how pitiful the boy looked. The kid might be able to conceal his thoughts, but he had a long way to go for hiding his emotions. How did Landon cope? Feeling emotions would be far worse than hearing thoughts.

Angelina returned to her pleasant, singsong voice. “Are we ready to move on to the next project?”

The class shouted hoorays and Charley straightened with anticipation. Crayons flew from around the table toward the tin, where they collided crash-derby style.