Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai) (25 page)

“The food has been fine and I’ve been taking my mind off things for days now. But it’s not solving anything. I can’t keep busy forever. I need to sleep.”

“I’ll bet you’re just having post traumatic stress nightmares; we told you that might happen after Ireland. What have you been doing to keep your mind off things?”

Tristan’s stomach tightened. Whether his latest project was good or not, it wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes.

“Why don’t you come to my garage and we’ll build something fun—a robot maybe? We could make it voice-activated and you could train it like a pet. It’s loads of fun. Alvi has one and it does tons of stuff for her. Or, we could get together with her and you guys can do art stuff. She’d love to see what you’ve done. If that doesn’t interest you, I can teach you how to play a musical instrument. Guitar maybe, or we could make room for a piano in here.”

“Okay,” Tristan said, un-enthused.

“Okay to what?”

“Let’s build something. I want to see how all this stuff works.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up Monday morning. That gives you two days.”

“Two days for what?”

“For rest. Looks like you could use it.”

“Do I look half dead?” He certainly felt like it. Maybe he was sleeping more than he thought, and
all
the encounters with Lazaro could be written off as bad dreams.

“Your levels aren’t good, but with a little sleep and food, you’ll be fine. Don’t tell Landon I said this, but stay away from coffee. It’s actually made your levels go down.”

“Two days then,” Tristan agreed, glad for the excuse to remain unsociable a little while longer. Victor washed dishes in the sink, rambling on about robots, while Tristan did his best to keep his food down.

“Monday morning. Come to my house when you wake up and I’ll have breakfast ready.”

“Got it. I’ll be in a better mood.”

“Good. Are you sure you don’t want to see Madam Galina? She could probably give you something to make you sleep better....”

“That’s alright, I’m tired enough as it is.”

“If you ever want company, you can always call me or Landon. And
that’s
for emergency,” he added, pointing at the watch. “See you Monday.”

Wait! Before he goes, ask him where the security is so we can get a good look-see before you keel over and die!

Tristan tried hard not to slam the door behind Victor and got back to work.

25
-
B
ETRAYED
-

TRISTAN LAY SPRAWLED over his artwork, still sitting at the kitchen table. He must have fallen asleep midway through the rock formation he’d been working on and suddenly realized what had awakened him—his hand was no longer in the right spot.

Something had moved it.

He shot up in his chair, stunned to see Shaely standing beside him, punching buttons on her phone.

“Sorry,” he said, as she leaped back. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

She put her phone away and smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t think you’d wake up—I was knocking on the door for like, ten minutes!”

“You didn’t take a picture with that thing, did you?”

“Of course not! I was about to call one of my brothers for help, because you wouldn’t wake up, but then you did. So I didn’t. Besides, I sorta snuck out and I really didn’t want them to know where I was.”

“Oh. Good.” Tristan glanced down at his art. Overlapping images wavered in and out, making it nearly impossible to focus on any particular layer. Much like it had when Gwenna burnt the image in his mind the night she was killed.

“Wow!” Shaely closed the distance and took a closer look at the drawing. “Did you get this from somewhere?”

“No. I just....” Tristan rolled up the paper as fast as he could and she stopped him with a warm hand on his.

“It’s beautiful, so intricate.”

Tristan gave her a moment to take in more details.

“It’s almost mind-boggling.”

He could never show Landon or Victor, because they might know what it was. But Shaely? He opened his mouth to ask her to keep it a secret, then thought better of it. “No one was supposed to see it.”

“Why not? It’s...just...wow.” She tucked her golden hair behind her ears. “How do you—?”

Tristan blinked, wishing his brain would speed up. “How do I what?”

“How do you know what to draw? Have you seen this before? Maybe something like it?”

“I don’t know.” Tristan pulled his hand away from hers, rolled the drawing, and shoved it back in its cardboard tube. “I just started doodling and that’s what it turned out to be. That’s all.”

She looked a bit hurt and headed for the door.

“Shaely, I’m sorry.” He waited for her to stop, but she didn’t. “I’ve been up all night and I’m tired. I really don’t mean to snap or be cranky, especially with you.”

She turned to face him with a teasing smile. “Make me breakfast?”

“I—I can’t cook to save my life.” He rushed to the kitchen and opened cupboards. “But I’m sure I can find something. Hot chocolate?”

“Sounds great.” A shy smile played on her lips as she sat at the bar and waited with her chin on her hands. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

Tristan shrugged. “It’s just a distraction.”

“From what?”

“Do you like dried fruit?” Tristan dumped the entire jar into a bowl and put it in front of her.

“You really hate talking about yourself, don’t you?”

“How did you know where I live?”

“I followed you the other day when you said you had an emergency. I could see you through the window and I was worried. So I let myself in.”

“I’m....” Tristan poured hot water into the mugs and sighed. He’d already told her some of the mess he was in. “I’m going through some mental things right now, and I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do about it. I was told to stay home and relax.”

“You do look like hell, but you could’ve just said so. Or you could have sent me a message.” Shaely sipped her hot chocolate and breathed in the sweet steam. “Are you trying to ditch me?”

“I’m not ditching you. I just don’t want you around if I, you know, lose it.” He’d never dare admit to being possessed by someone who could kill without thinking twice about it.

Shaely rolled her eyes and smirked. “You think you can hurt me? I’ve been training for crazy crap my whole life.”

Tristan left his mug on the counter and sat on the couch. “I don’t know what you can handle, but I’d rather not find out.”

He glanced over as Shaely stared at her clenching and unclenching fist, front and back, with a look of absolute horror on her face. “You okay? Shaely?”

Her eyes settled on him for a brief second as she surveyed the room. As if she’d just woken up, and had never seen it before. “You tricked me,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

Tristan got to his feet and took a step forward, stopping when she held out her hand.

“I should have known.” She looked at the palms of her hands and fumbled with her jacket to get her phone. “They said you could be playing me, but I just didn’t think—”

“Tricked you how?”

She flung something from her hands, something only she could see, and stripped off her jacket to swipe at her arms. “Get them off! They’re biting me!”

It didn’t matter what she thought she saw, he knew exactly how real it could seem.

He helped brush at her arms and resorted to holding her wrists to keep her nails from gouging her skin.

“I just wanted to be friends with you,” she shouted, fighting him to break his hold. “But they were right! Let go of me!”

Tristan spun her around, keeping her wrists, wrapping his arms around her as she fought to get away. He was quickly losing strength to keep the upper hand. “Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real. You have to trust me!”

“I can’t trust you,” she cried. He dodged the back of her head as she tried to strike his face with it.

“Please, Shaely. I’d never hurt you. Let me hold you until they go away. They will. They feed on fear. If you relax, they’ll go away. I promise I won’t let anything happen.”

She seemed willing to settle in his arms, but he kept a firm grip. The last thing he wanted was for her to take off running through the woods. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off whatever she was feeling.

“I like you, Shaely. You’re sweet and thoughtful. Like when you planned that picnic. We could do it again—have a picnic somewhere. Maybe at a beach with nice warm sand. No wind. A sunset so colorful....” He couldn’t think of anything to add. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

Tristan guided her to the couch and sat, keeping her close and cradled in his arms. He released one hand to smooth her hair back from her face as she gazed up at him with eyes full of fear. And dilated pupils. Definitely under the influence of something.

Was it the fruit? The hot chocolate?

“You’re beautiful, Shaely. Your hair is like silky sunshine. Your eyes remind me of tropical seas.” Where was he coming up with this stuff? He thought of Dorian and tensed. He had to keep talking.

“But you can’t be trusted.”

“Of course I can.” He bit back the need to defend himself. “I would never hurt you. You’re my friend.”

“But, you’re a dragon,” she said.

Tristan’s hand froze and his throat cinched tight.

“Dragons can’t be trusted, no matter what. They’re tricky, conniving bastards who—”

“Who told you that?” It couldn’t have been Landon or Victor. Maybe she was still hallucinating...seeing him as an actual dragon. “I’m not a dragon, Shaely. I promise.”

She began to sob, curling into a ball and burying her face against his shoulder. Tears flowed over her flushed cheeks.

He held her as tight as he could and waited, shaking, desperate to see the whole dragon issue as a coincidence. He ran through the list of symptoms Landon and Victor had given, when they suggested he’d been slipped some sort of drug.

Whatever it was, it had to be in his personal food supply. Did that mean Landon and Victor were responsible?

“I’m so sorry, Shaely.”

“What are you sorry for?”

He hadn’t reacted as strongly to the drug as she had. But by now, maybe he was just getting used to it. “It’s me they’re trying to torment, not you.”

“I know,” she said between hiccups. “They’re coming for you. To kill you.”

“No.” He resumed stroking her golden hair. “No one’s coming to kill me.”

“My brothers—”

“Shhhh...it’s going to be okay. Everything will be fine.” His eyelids were getting heavier with each slowing heartbeat and he prayed she’d fall asleep before he did. “Get some rest. Everything will be better soon.”

“You don’t understand....” Her words slurred as she drifted to sleep. “We’re slayers. Dragon slayers.”

26
-
G
ONE
-

TRISTAN WOKE to an empty room.

“Shaely?” He checked the bathroom and the front porch, swaying a bit in the open doorway.

Victor?
He wasn’t sure he could initiate communications, but this was an emergency.

Tristan?
Luckily it was Victor’s voice answering him, and not Lazaro’s.
Everything okay?

Shaely’s missing. She was here. I made her breakfast—”

You made her breakfast?
Victor asked, sounding half amused and half irritated.
Was she there all night?

She had a reaction to the food. A bad drug reaction. I had her calmed down...but now she’s gone.

She probably just went home. Did you both eat the same thing?

I think so, but maybe I have a better tolerance to it by now. She was hallucinating—just like I do.

Okay. Landon and I are on a stakeout, but we’ll call in and get to you as soon as we can. Don’t eat or drink anything until we get there, okay? Tristan?

There was something else she said.

Don’t do anything until we get there, it should only be a few minutes. We’ll talk about it then. Got it?

Got it.

Tristan slipped the poncho over his head and sat on the front porch, determined to relax and wait. A few minutes wouldn’t be that long.

He thought of a peaceful place. A glassy lake. Trees stretched skyward along the banks. He added a few snowcapped mountains and puffy white, harmless clouds. The rocks on the pebble beach were either flat, perfect for skipping, or round, perfect for throwing.

Some of the trees on the far side of the lake were dead and fallen, making the reflections in the mirrored water more interesting. Patches of tall rocks and cliffs peeked through the trees for contrast and dimension. He decided the direction should be west from his beach, so he could conduct a sunset of soothing colors.

It didn’t take long to add the minor details—sounds and smells. A breeze now and then to liven the reflection.

What a waste. It’s almost a shame you’re dying.