Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3) (12 page)

Tristan glanced over at Donovan, who was looking at a plaque on the wall with a man’s picture drawn in pencil. “Is that him?” Tristan stepped closer.

Donovan nodded grimly. “I cannot undo the things I have done.”

“I’ve seen him.”

“I’ve just explained—”

“Is he the man upstairs in the oil painting?”

“He is.” Donovan’s face reddened as Tristan’s grin grew into a full smile. He wasn’t about to forgive the man for everything, but the weight from much of the stress and turmoil lifted. “Do not provoke me, Tristan.”

“Did he design that ship in the bottle?” Tristan asked, nearly laughing at the idea. “Do my drawings match his?”

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and they do.” Donovan stepped toward a bare wall and placed the palm of his hand against it. A door several feet away pivoted open and he entered a dark room. Landon, Victor, and Tristan stood at the entrance, stunned when a light from within came on.

The room was filled with nautical things: framed land charts, models, ship decor…one of the drawings focused on a giant serpent with wings extended along each side. “He was a dragon,” Tristan said.

“He was not. He was only obsessed with finding them.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I was twenty-two when…he died. He would have told me.”

Tristan had to think about that one. Why wouldn’t Jacques want to tell his son? “Did you have brothers and sisters?”

“None of your business.”

“His name is Jacques.”

“Was—” Donovan froze as the pieces fell into place.

Tristan smiled again, even more certain his theory was true. “He’s still alive. Well, sort of. I mean…he’s the falcon. My friend. He’s the one I’ve been trying to free from the council.”

Donovan smashed his fist through a display case and stormed out of the room.

KEEPING HISTORY

“WHERE DO YOU SUPPOSE
he went?” Tristan asked, exchanging the staff for a paper plate of food from Victor. “I would’ve thought he’d be kind of glad or relieved.... Did you guys know that stuff?”

Landon shook his head. “He’s not very open about his past.”

Tristan scoffed, refueling his anger. “You probably
did
know, and he made you forget.”

They both grimaced and stuffed food in their mouths.

“Don’t tell me you approve of having your brain swiped clean.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yes, it is! Remember the slayers? Not only did Donovan take away their memories associated with dragons, but he gave them new histories. Now they hunt endangered species with cameras and—” Tristan paced back and forth, biting his lower lip. “I mean, obviously in this case it works in my favor, and maybe it’s good for some researchers and activists, but where do you draw the line? What else has he erased? How would we even know?”

“I believe
suppressed
was the word he used,” said Victor. “So if it makes you feel better, at any moment, the slayers might recall the happy days when they gathered to hunt the dragons.”

Tristan slouched into the chair, dropping his plate on the table. His stomach growled at the prospect of lost food, but how could he eat? “Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Maybe,” Landon said.

“What else is there? You must have known about the class.”

Landon nodded, keeping his attention on his food. “Donovan left so you could stay. He didn’t tell us why, except that you would be safer staying with us.”

“Safer.” Tristan ground his teeth. He couldn’t think of a single place on Earth that would be safe for him. Not even this basement.

“Let’s drop it, okay?” said Victor. “Every time we make a decision, we make it based on what we think is best at the time. The slayers would have found you anywhere, so at least now we can’t say they found you because you lacked security. Nothing is perfect.”

“I know.” Tristan hung his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why you guys feel obligated to do anything for me.”

“Eat up,” Landon said. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here and the food shouldn’t be wasted.” He handed a slice of raw mushroom to Pink, who was sitting cross-legged on the armrest.

“Sorry.” Tristan picked up his plate. “It looks really good. Thank you.”

Victor nodded and smiled at Landon. “So where do you think Donovan went?”

“Hard to say. It’s one thing to hide from a fight and quite another to leave the scene entirely. He’s around somewhere.”

“Still, I would have thought he’d be back by now. Think he’s in trouble?”

“I don’t think he left.” Tristan mashed each last crumb of egg with his fork and slipped it into his mouth. “At least, I didn’t feel any shifts in the force-field running through the walls. I suppose he could’ve transported through it.” Suddenly he couldn’t get enough food in his mouth and he glanced at Landon’s empty plate to see if he could scrounge. “You know, it’s okay if you guys want to go back home, or if you have other things to do. I’m the only one they’re after—me and Pink. So please—”

“Ha!” Landon held out his hand for Pink. “Who’d want to pass on exploring Donovan’s house?”

Victor agreed. “Besides. Didn’t he say the slayer museum was down here? There must be other rooms.”

They searched the walls for seams and buttons, but Pink was the first to detect a draft along the base of a wall, coming from beneath an antique cabinet.

Landon’s theory about food and power was proving to be true; Tristan clasped his hands together while Landon and Victor searched the cabinet for a hidden door. The floor held the same vibration as the walls; Tristan knelt carefully and rested the staff in front of him, closing his eyes to find a pattern.

“You okay?” Victor asked. “I can help you to the chair.”

“No, I’m fine. Really. Just searching.”

“Suit yourself. Let us know if you find something.”

Cords of energy weaved together like a shielding cloth embedded in the wood and stone. Tristan wove his own energy to fill in the gaps, expanding his awareness outward.

The basement they were in extended in all directions. It had to be the size of the island itself for how far it stretched. Although some of the dimensions would have to reach beyond the shoreline, unless he was turned around and confused about which direction the dock was.

Behind the cabinet, where Landon and Victor were looking, there was a hall leading to four individual rooms and a large warehouse. The room itself was dark, but the walls of the warehouse were lined with tunnels of vertical pipe. Beyond the pipe was solid stone.

Tristan breathed deeper and felt his energy flow into the existing web. Once he established a solid pattern of his own, it was a simple matter of letting the energy flow through his hands.

“Come on.” Victor shook Tristan’s shoulder. “We found the museum.”

Tristan opened his eyes and stayed still until everything came into focus. He faced a dark hall that wasn’t there before, forcing him to reconsider the room he was in and his surroundings in general, but everything else in the room was as he remembered it.

The museum wasn’t going anywhere; sleep was becoming the highest priority. He couldn’t get his tongue to move and his lips felt cracked. His eyelids closed—Landon and Victor lifted him to his feet.

“How can you go from fine to barely conscious in ten minutes? What were you doing?”

“Donovan’s security,” Tristan mumbled.

“What about it?” Landon asked. “Is it helping or hurting? Should we go find him?”

“No. I was just adding. Let me sleep. Half an hour.”

“Fine.” Victor sighed. “But I’m exploring with or without you.”

“This isn’t good, Tristan. You need to be aware of how much energy you’re putting out so you don’t fall asleep in the middle of a battlefield.”

Tristan groaned, then opened his eyes when something cold pressed to his lips. He swallowed water from a glass mug. “Sorry to be so much trouble. You should know, I would never want to hurt you, or eat you, or kill you in general….”

“We know, Tristan. We’ll wake you if anything exciting happens.”

“Here, you may as well get comfy.” A thick blanket draped over his shoulder and he leaned into a cool pillow.

Silence filled the room.

Tristan faced the open doorway and listened to Landon and Victor talking about some sort of concert Alvi was organizing as a fundraiser. His stomach growled, waking the dog stretched out beside him. He used the staff to get to his feet, kept the blanket around his shoulders, and tossed the pillow to the empty chair.

The first doorway in the newly exposed hall opened into a dim, dry, cave-like room with Egyptian hieroglyphs carved into all the walls. Rows of clay jars filled one side of the room, while various artifacts lay in seemingly random places on a sandy floor. A dull gray desk sat in one of the corners, with piles of scrolls and old leather-bound books on top. Plastic crates of notebooks and paperwork stacked beside it. Above the desk, insects were pinned and framed with labels, along with amulets and partial slabs of writing.

A stone coffin lay in the center, thankfully closed, surrounded by baskets of beads and small sculptures.

“Do you think there’s a mummified body in there?” asked Victor, giving Jessie’s head a scratch.

“I don’t want to know. What’s he doing with this stuff?”

“Categorizing, logging information...hard to say really. But it looks like a work room, so we better not touch. We’ve been waiting for you next door.”

Tristan followed Victor to the next room where Landon sat in a circle of three extra-wide chairs, reading from a book with a fraying cloth binding. Landon placed a ribbon marker in the book and glanced up as Tristan and Victor entered the room. “You don’t look much better. Here. Have a seat.”

Instead, Tristan scanned the slayer’s museum. It was brighter than he remembered, but otherwise identical. His pulse quickened with the expectation that enemies would burst through hidden doorways and shoot him with more poison. Even the smell was the same, though he wouldn’t have claimed to remember the smell before now.

Terror flooded his thoughts and he reminded himself that it was just a room. A display. Jessie barked and he nearly jumped out of his skin, jerking the staff up like a weapon, though he’d never used it as such.

Landon stood from his chair and Tristan stopped him. “I’m fine. Promise. Just...jumpy I guess.”

Landon nodded. “There’s no rush. Sit down for a minute.”

Tristan made his way to the empty chair, willing himself to relax. The room held no power over him; he was in no danger. There was no reason to fear a collection of things. Though the dog stayed at the threshold and barked again when Tristan sat.

“Maybe she isn’t allowed in here?” suggested Victor.

Tristan patted his knee and the dog ran to him, skidding to a stop and dropping to a sit. Tristan smiled, encouraging the dog to sit in the chair with him. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” Landon answered. “Certainly not longer than an hour.”

Tristan’s stomach grumbled again and he gave up searching for snack food. Had he really just eaten an hour ago? “That can’t be.”

“Why not?” Victor looked at his watch. “Guess we can’t be exact with the time, but it sounds about right.”

“I’m….” How ungrateful would it sound if he told them he was starving? Especially after Victor cut him off to conserve the food supplies. “Nothing. I was just curious.” He told the dog to stay and walked to the thin line in the mural where the hidden door was and put his hand against it. To his relief, beyond the wall was solid stone laced with Donovan’s security field. “This isn’t replicated. It’s the real thing.”

“Of course,” Landon said. “He doesn’t settle for replicas unless he’s setting up decoys.”

“But how?”

Victor rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I can’t believe you still ask questions like that.”

Tristan took in the details of the mural encircling the room. Most of it was painted in brilliant colors, all except for the Forest of Darkness. Maybe he could learn everything he needed to know here, and they could put off seeing the dragon trapped there.

He continued past the haunted forest to a Scandinavian village. Dozens of people piled on a large bluish-purple dragon. Its long neck was twisted to face the men on its back—fire erupting from its long snout. Five men were holding a shield to block the flames while people behind them hacked at the base of the dragon’s wings with axes. The hilts of swords protruding from the dragon’s belly were being used like stairs and handholds to climb the massive beast.

Tristan flinched when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“It’s not real,” Landon said, guiding him away from the painting and back to the arrangement of chairs.

“I know.” His head was spinning and he leaned on Landon for support. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Here.” Landon handed him a plastic bag and changed course for the hall instead.

“Why are you guys helping me? It doesn’t make sense. You should kill me before it’s too late.”

“Get over it, Tristan!” Victor said. “We’re not turning our backs on you, no matter what you are, so get used to it. Besides, you’re immortal.”

Tristan tried to laugh.

“The way I see it,” Victor said, “it took fifty men to bring that dragon down.”

“Exactly,” Tristan added. “And just when the artist had enough sketched out to remember the scene, the dragon stood and swallowed everyone whole.”

“Better!” Victor said. “I like that!”

“Whatever it takes, Tristan,” added Landon. “Those people aren’t giving him the spa treatment.”

Tristan nodded. “Maybe we could just cover it.”

“What did you expect to see? This is a slayers’ museum. They aren’t going to display anything that might make people wonder if they’re doing the right thing.”

“I know. I guess it hits closer to home this time. If you don’t mind, I’ll let you guys see if there’s anything useful here.”

“Anything specific you’re hoping to find?”

“No.” The case that had enclosed most of the gems caught his attention. “These are duplicates.”