Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai) (37 page)

“With guards?”

“Most likely.”

“How many people know about this?”

“Not many. Landon, Victor, myself, our healer, the Makai.”

“How many people are in the Makai?”

“Less than twenty.”

Tristan’s chest tightened at the thought of so many people knowing his darkest fear, how close he came to killing one of his most trusted friends, and how dangerous he really was. Killing people in Ireland felt like a drop in the sea. Not to mention they hadn’t figured out what his latest powers were.

“Sleep now. No predators. No prey.”

39
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C
OMPOSING
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MOLAJAH’S VOICE VIBRATED through Tristan’s skin, though the actual words were unintelligible. The constant ringing of metal on metal drew his attention to the canvas door.

Tristan rolled toward the side of his bed and swung his legs over the edge, completely shocked by the inability to carry his own weight. His bad arm collapsed when he tried to catch himself, knocking the air out of his lungs. He rested his forehead against the cool ground.

“It’s a start.”

Tristan looked up to see Donovan in the doorway, a sword in each hand. Sweat glimmered on his skin, soaked his white shirt.

“We have some things to discuss,” he said, leaving the room.

Tristan blew the hair out of his face with irritation when the ringing swords started up again. He used the bed frame to pull himself up, angered by the lack of strength in his hands. Especially his left.

A gnarled staff leaned against the foot of the bed; it was all he could do to inch his way toward it, leaning with his elbows on the mattress.

The last hurdle was getting to the doorway, ten feet away. By the time he got there, his legs were like noodles and he clung to the staff with both hands. Donovan glared at him.

“I’m trying—”

“Being immortal doesn’t mean you don’t require food and liquid. You’ve essentially been feeding on yourself.”

The idea made his stomach nauseous, his head dizzy. He leaned against the doorframe.

“It’ll take time and patience, but muscles can be rebuilt.”

In a blink, Donovan was in front of him, keeping him from falling forward. He bit back a cry of pain throbbing in his shoulder. “I can’t remember how my arm got so hurt.”

“It will heal.” A chair appeared, Donovan eased Tristan into it. “We need to go over a few things before you go back to bed. Tell me who Molajah is.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes you do. What does he look like?”

“Black skin, bald, big. He wears a dark robe with a hood. His voice rumbles through the ground....”

“What does he want from you?”

“He wanted me to tell you something.”

Donovan’s fists tightened on each if his swords and he looked like he would slash the tent into ribbons. “You tell him I will not be a slave to an idea. He needs to show himself, or I will never trust him. I will not bow down—”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I am not a puppet!”

Tristan curled his left arm into his chest and concentrated on remembering the exact message.

“He’s with the Seraphim Council.” Donovan slashed at the nearest tree.

Tristan swallowed the building anxiety. “Sounds familiar.”

“They’re using you for revenge, leverage, centuries after the fact.”

“They said not to trust you.”

“Of course they’d say that. What will Molajah do if I refuse his demands? Would they kill you? Is that their plan?”

“No.” Tristan frowned, unable to figure out why Donovan would have such an impression. “They said something about owing you. Landon and Victor too.”

“Owing me? For killing every descendant I could find?”

Tristan stared in horror.

“I knew this day would come.” Donovan slashed a third time and the tree smashed to the ground. “Is it my life they want?”

Tristan froze as one of Donovan’s swords stopped within an inch of this throat.

“Why did they expose you to me? Is it because they expected me to take your life as well? Is that what they want? Molajah! Show yourself!”

Tristan waited for the man to appear, but nothing happened. “He warned me not to shift. He said they tried shifting a long time ago, but it never went both ways. The dragons turned feral and had no sense of humanity. The Slayers picked them off one by one, so they decided the lineage was more important than the ability to shift. They made a rule against shifting to save the bloodline. Or something like that.” He kept the details of the contract to himself.

“So they owe me...for what? Helping you break their laws? Letting you live?” Donovan slashed at another tree. “Did they assume I would slaughter you?”

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Landon and Victor reminded you of your humanity,” he said.

“You could have killed me, but you shot tranquillizers instead.”

“You know I’m not human.”

“I still trust you.”

“Don’t put your trust in me.” Donovan stabbed his sword into the ground. “You might be immortal, or damn near close, but I know how to kill you. And I will if I must.”

Tristan watched him walk away in a whirlwind of leaves.

“Stay away from center circle until we have a truce with the room.” Donovan disappeared between trees.

Tristan breathed a sigh of relief.

The forest around him still lacked life, but he could at least pretend to be out in the wilderness. A red squirrel scurried down a tree and ran over the path of dried leaves, lifting his spirits a bit. He pulled himself up with the staff and began walking.

Tiny humming birds brushed his arms and tugged at his hair, encouraging him forward. Their feathers shimmered in metallic blues and purples and greens. Red flowers bloomed as he neared a pool of water, filling his heart with joy. White flower petals swayed in a soft breeze, tree branches were suddenly laden with floral garland. Everywhere he turned, color sprouted to life. Even the sky seemed to sparkle.

The wind picked up in the reeds.

Tristan closed his eyes and listened. Other sounds mingled in, water drops and chirping whistles, making the most beautiful melody he’d ever heard. Yet it was familiar—the music and the color.

He held out his left hand to a small butterfly, astonished when it landed on the tip of his finger. He thought it would fly away when he brought it closer, but when it took flight, it hovered above his left shoulder, showering a sprinkle of silver dust. The particles tickled his skin and neck.

His heart ached with something other than pain. Happiness? He gazed at the sheer beauty of the world around him.

“Tristan? What are you doing?”

Tristan turned around with the goofy grin on his face. Landon and Victor stood shoulder to shoulder, eyeing him cautiously.

“I know you probably can’t see this, but just let me stay for a little bit longer.”

“That’s my song,” Victor said, searching the pond of bright blue water for the source.

Landon stared with wide eyes at the magnificent wonders beneath the glimmering sky. “What is this place?”

Tristan beamed. “I thought for sure I was imagining things. Remember the little fairy girl I told you about, on the first day you brought me to Darnell?”

They both nodded.

Tristan held out his hand and she landed gracefully in his palm. Her hair was the blue of a winter’s sky, her eyes twinkled like the sapphire. He’d almost forgotten that part. Four iridescent wings fluttered behind her. “She’s real.”

The tiny girl danced in a tight circle, then curtsied in her lace gown toward Victor and Landon. A male creature landed beside her; they hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years and darted off hand in hand. The tips of their wings sparked rainbows as they flittered against one another.

“You’re a composer,” Victor said, his mouth hanging open.

“We should do that camping trip! You could play your music—” Tristan reigned in his excitement. “I don’t understand why you’re so shocked. You guys make stuff all the time—that twenty dollar bill, the jar, fire....”

“Those are clones. Copies. This is...real.”

“Get some real food,” Landon said to Victor. “Quick.”

“Why? I feel great! Better than I have in months.”

“You’re doing great,” Landon said, shooing Victor away.

“We’ll picnic,” Tristan added, searching for a spot in the lush grass.

Victor didn’t get far before Donovan appeared. “I told you to stay out of the center.”

“I didn’t go near the center.” At least, he didn’t think so.

“End session.”

“No session is in progress,” said the female voice.

“Ha!” Tristan spun in a circle. “Told you! Dorian would love this!”

“The staff,” Donovan said coolly. “Where did you get it?”

“It was at the foot of my bed. I just assumed....” Tristan handed it to Donovan, no longer feeling the need to rely on it. The flying couple swirled around the staff, giggling with voices like the chime of bells.

“Is this—” Donovan cocked an eyebrow as the creatures spun in front of his nose. He blew them away. “Is this what you saw at Te Hono-i-Wairua?”

“We had to tell him,” Victor said, seemingly more interested in the rhythm of water dropping from a bowl-shaped lily blossom.

“I would like to identify the creature that descended upon the scene you saw that day.”

“You think I made this place?” Tristan followed a path of humming birds chasing each other. “It just grew out of the existing trees. It’s not the same location....”

“Maybe the room altered the setting to something that might cheer him up?” Landon suggested.

“Disengage all environmental settings,” said Donovan. When nothing changed, he added, “I want to see this creature.”

Tristan shook his head. Just the thought of the shadow killing every living thing made him shiver with dread. “It was terrible. You don’t want to see it.”

“No harm will come to these creatures, because they do not exist in a true form. Do you understand?”

Tristan eyed the forest of colors and life. Was that all it was? Something magical and not real? An illusion?

A shadow swooped over their heads; sparkling glimmers among the foliage went out. The beautiful little pixie girl darted into Landon’s jacket pocket.

“I didn’t do this.” It was happening again. “Everything will be ruined, call it off!”

“What is it?” Donovan asked. He stepped closer to Landon and Victor and they stood back to back, ready for whatever might attack.

Please don’t let it be a dragon.

All the energy he’d been riding on vanished. Tristan dropped to his knees, his body aching again. Landon and Victor stepped away from Donovan to put him in the center. Donovan handed the staff back and a sword appeared in his hand.

“If the room isn’t in session, what are we worried about?” Victor asked.

Donovan hushed him as a low whisper quaked in the trees, in a language only Donovan could understand. After a few replies, the voice laughed.

A dark shadow formed above them and spiraled down a tree, leaving nothing but a pile of dust where it once stood.

Tristan clutched his chest and gasped at the pain in his heart.

“I underestimated you,” whispered the voice. The shadow took the shape of a long slender dragon and spiraled around another tree before flying upward. It dove into the pond, creating an enormous wave of water that turned to dust before any droplets hit the ground.

Landon fell to his knees beside Tristan.

“It hurts when something you’ve created is destroyed,” said the disembodied voice.

“Victor, get him out,” Donovan said.

Victor pulled Landon to his feet and hauled him toward the door.

“You can’t run from a thought,” the shape said. The doorway disappeared. “Nor can you destroy this existence I’ve been given.” The ghostly black haze of a dragon zigzagged a path through the trees, leaving billowing clouds of dust in its wake.

“These are not my thoughts,” Tristan said to himself, then repeated it over and over, frozen in pain.

The dark mist reformed itself into a mirror image of Donovan, standing within arm’s reach of the man. Even the engraving along the blade of the sword was identical. “You are an even greater surprise. And to find you here with the young dragon. Why haven’t you killed him?”

“I choose not to.”

“But you’ve done so well in the past. I’ve been searching for centuries, to thank you for your services.”

“I serve no one.”

“You are more Slayer than any generation combined.”

“You’re the voice they hear, in the Forest of Darkness?” Tristan asked.

“I was cursed by a diamond; my soul forever bound to the ground like a tethered beast. Trapped by my own kind.” The mirror image of Donovan soared into the sky, then exploded into a shower of sparks that burnt through the leafy foliage. “I am a dragon! The gem should have acknowledged me! I should have been empowered!”