Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai) (9 page)

He made his way to the tank itself and put a hand on the thick glass, utterly amazed by how something so large could just…appear. With living animals inside.

The dolphins sped by, making a wave that crested the top of the tank.

To his right, someone was distributing bright green rain jackets to whoever wanted them in the stands.

A sound like fingernails on a chalkboard brought his attention back to the tank, to a faint crack in the glass.

His pulse quickened.

Just as he was about to look for someone to tell, the growing crack changed direction and curved upward. It almost made a letter U shape, but continued until it changed direction again, arching down to the left.

“Hey! You!”

Tristan tore his eyes away from the scratch marks and spotted a guy in a wetsuit jogging toward him, weaving through the people still looking for seats.

“What are you doing?” the man called.

“Me?” Tristan asked, horrified that he might be suspected for damaging the glass. “Nothing! There’s a—” He glanced back and saw that both dolphins had come to investigate.

Inside the cracked lines, eerily shaped like a knife, the glass began etching itself where the blade would be. Water began seeping through, beading at the outline.

“There’s a crack,” Tristan finally said, taking another step back. The nose of a dolphin barely touched the scratched design and a loud series of sickening snaps, followed by a creaking groan, silenced the people within earshot.

As if keeping itself together until the last possible moment, the fractured glass expanded like a swelling blister, then exploded in a wave of water, dolphins included.

People screamed.

Tristan turned to escape, tripping over a redheaded boy. He covered the child with his body to protect him from the wave of water and glass fragments and waited.

Nothing happened.

When he glanced over his shoulder, the glass wall was solid again. The ground was dry and there were no beached dolphins flopping around.

The man in the wetsuit looked furious.

“I don’t get it,” Tristan said. He got off the child, who ran away, and stared at the glass, lightly speckled with drops of water. “I saw it crack.”

“What happened?” Landon asked, half-jogging into the staging area.

“It’s about time you got here,” the man said to Landon, still glaring at Tristan. “I’d say you’ve got your hands full with this one. Get him out of here.”

“Me?” Tristan asked again, standing with his mouth open as the man in the wetsuit continued around the tank, calming the crowd with promises to start the show in a few minutes.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“But, Landon, you don’t seriously think I’d break the tank like that, do you?”

“Is that what happened?”

“You didn’t see it?”

“He fixed it before I got here,” Landon said, slowing down to hand Tristan a paper cup with a lid. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” Tristan asked, peeling back the lid.

“Don’t look. It’s a hangover concoction to help you feel better. Are you having fun?”

“I was.”

Victor appeared in front of Landon. “I’m still looking for Alvi, have you seen her?”

Landon shook his head.
There was a security breach, you might check with Donovan.

Tristan froze. Landon rolled his eyes. “It was probably just a glitch.”

“Thanks,” Victor said, slapping Landon’s upper arm before disappearing.

“Okay,” Landon said, leading Tristan away from the main path. “Right now, everything is completely normal and there’s no cause for alarm. Stop trying to analyze everything you see and have a little fun. Meet some people, go on some rides, go play in the motor skills area. You’ll find it over there somewhere.” Landon pointed across the crowd toward a makeshift racetrack. “I hate to leave you again, but give me ten minutes and I’ll be free for the rest of the day.”

“Assuming there’s nothing major going on?”

“Right.”

“Go ahead,” Tristan said. “I’ll stay out of trouble.”

“Thanks. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Eleonora’s tent was the closest attraction. Tristan waited in line, then entered cautiously, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Gold and silver metallic stars reflected light from a small stained glass lamp in the corner. Eleonora sat at a table for two in an armchair with an unreadable expression.

“You want me to tell you the future?” She stood and walked away from the table, removing a velvet headdress laced with crystal netting, and tossed it into a wooden chest.

“No.” Tristan stayed just inside the flap of a door, unsure of what he wanted from her.

“I wouldn’t tell you either way.” She draped a cloth over the ball of swirling liquid. “You’re hungover.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s the remedy,” she said, eyeing the cup. “Landon was right, you know. Fortunes aren’t worth diddily-squat.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like Landon.”

“The future is inevitable no matter how you try avoiding it. Knowing in advance only causes grief.” She packed the glass ball and locked the trunk. “Jacques isn’t with you anymore, that much is clear, and if anyone is listening, I don’t agree with this change of events.” She eyed Tristan from head to toe and headed for the exit before he could think about who she’d be talking to.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“If there are problems with your cabin while I’m gone, I’m sure Victor and Landon are more than capable. They’ll look after you.”

Tristan followed her out of the tent, wondering if he should apologize for something he couldn’t remember. But she was gone. Her wooden sign vanished and the line of people scowled at him. When he turned back to look inside, there was nothing but an empty space of crushed grass, dimly lit through white canvas walls.

7
-
M
AKING
N
EW
F
RIENDS
-

THE CROWD AT THE CARNIVAL tripled over the next hour. Tristan wandered with the general flow of traffic, hoping to find a familiar face.

“This is the spot, I know it!”

Tristan glanced at the girl, caught by curiosity. She had bright blue eyes and glossy bubblegum-pink lips. Her blonde hair hung in long braids.

“I’ll bet it’s hunting,” said one of the men standing next to her. “We’ll need to be careful.”

Tristan counted six in the group, all men except for her.

“Should we warn them?” asked the girl.

“Not without proof.”

Tristan’s pulse quickened when she glanced over at him; he caught himself smiling and turned toward the crowd before the blushing might give him away. He spotted Victor and waved.

“Feeling better?” Victor asked, falling into step beside him. He spotted the cute girl over Tristan’s shoulder and grinned. “Making friends?”

“Not yet.” Tristan glanced back to see if she was still looking at him; her smile broadened. One of the men took her arm and yanked her toward the forest to catch up with the rest of their group. Something about the way the man grabbed her....

“I don’t know her,” Victor said, “but I’m sure I can find someone who does if you want an introduction.” He handed Tristan a plate of Pad Thai smothered in peanut sauce. “Did you meet the puddle?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’d know if you had.” Victor steered Tristan against the crowd. “There’s a tournament going on that would be much fun to watch.”

“Did you find Alvi?”

“Yep.”

“Glitch in security?”

“Yep.” They walked along the row of tents in a strange silence toward a cliff that overlooked the valley. “There seems to be a lot of uninvited people, but so far everyone’s behaving.”

“Could someone be hunting?”

“Hunting? Here? No. Hunting for what?”

Tristan shrugged and noticed the two men jousting from the top of swaying poles. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“The water’s really deep.” Victor sat on the grass to watch the duel and motioned for Tristan to do the same. “Most of the time, people just jump for the thrill of it.”

Tristan stretched over the cliff to see the water below. A waterfall fed the pool from a creek at the far side of the clearing at his right, and the pool at the bottom did appear deep, funneling into a shallow stream that disappeared under the foliage of trees. He could see a few boys sitting on a flat rock, their necks craned upward to watch the joust from below.

“The water’s actually warm—some sort of geological anomaly. But you have to go through the proper procedure before taking the plunge. Ready?”

“No.” Nothing on Earth would ever make him jump willingly.

“By the power invested in me,” Victor said, dripping with grave sarcasm, “I introduce thee to the puddle. Puddle, Tristan. Vice versa. May the two of you not kill each other in the joining and party on.”

“That’s insane.” Tristan backed away from the cliff. “We will not be joining.”

“Suit yourself, but you might like it if you tried.”

Dorian would probably love it. He buried the thought and kept his fears to himself as he watched the jousters. Both contestants lost hold of their padded weapons and began grappling. They fell at the same time, but one caught hold of the platform, effectively delaying his splash by a solid second.

“And the winner is…” a voice echoed coliseum-style, “Mad Dog Marshmallow!”

Tristan set his plate of food aside and crawled to the edge. Both men were climbing onto a rock at the far side, giving each other high-fives. Two more players in swim trunks appeared on the platforms. “Has anyone ever been killed doing that?”

“No. But, I think someone stubbed a toe once.”

“Jousters ready?” boomed the theatrical voice.

“Glad to see you’re eating,” Landon said, taking a seat next to Victor.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Are you competing?” Landon asked Victor, nodding toward the jousters.

“No. Alvi would probably consider that sidetracking. Besides, we’ll be starting the games any minute now. In fact, I better go juice up the tracker.” Victor stood. “Find me later.”

Tristan glanced at Landon, who seemed content to sit for a while. Behind Landon, he spotted the same girl with the group of guys along the trees, all gathered around some sort of digital device. She looked directly at him and smiled.

Landon followed his gaze and turned back toward the jousters. “I’m sure we can figure out who she is if you want to meet her.”

“That’s okay.” Tristan grinned, embarrassed. The last thing he needed was more distractions. And after Dorian, he knew how difficult girls could be. “Maybe later.”

Landon let it drop with another slight shrug. “Did we tell you about food?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t eat food that’s been created by a mind, thinking it’s a meal. It’ll fill you up just fine, but there’s no nutritional value. A lot of the desserts are made that way on purpose; the women seem to prefer it.”

Tristan studied his plate of Pad Thai. “How can you tell the difference?”

“You can’t really. Taste and textures are what you’d expect, but you’ll starve to death if that’s all you eat. People die every year trying to lose weight that way. And there’re few enough of us as it is.”

“How many of us are there?”

“Hard to say—not many. And don’t worry about the food; you won’t starve with Victor around, he loves to cook.”

Tristan nodded, glad he didn’t have to think about food quality. He took a quick peek over Landon’s shoulder to see if the girl was still there, oddly disappointed by the sea of strangers.

* * *

They headed toward the back of the clearing where a fire blazed as high as the trees. Landon introduced Tristan to several people, then left to help Victor with some sort of mechanical contraption.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to say hi.”

Tristan turned to the voice and stared up at the blonde girl with his breath caught in his throat, momentarily forgetting his surroundings. Was she really waiting to say hi? To him?

“Is anyone sitting here? I’m Shaely.” She held out her hand. Her fingernails were painted in a light, pearly pink that shimmered orange in the firelight. Tristan scooted over on the log to make room and reached for her hand as she pulled it away to sit. They both laughed at the mutual awkwardness.

“Sorry. Yes. I mean, no. No one is sitting here. I’m Tristan.”

“So, what’s going on here tonight?”

Tristan shrugged. “I’m not really sure. It’s my first time.”

“Really? Mine too.” She flipped open an electronic screen and snapped it shut again, frowning.

“What is that?” Tristan asked.

“Nothing. My mom just wants to know where I am.” She slumped, then straightened when she noticed the poncho. “Wow! Where did you get this?” She fingered the fabric while examining the design.