Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3) (19 page)

He closed his eyes and focused. Unsure at first if he should make the solid patterns match the original, or pull the original out, leaving the shell of whatever the solid part was. But there shouldn’t be any extra material, so he unraveled the solid and reconfigured it to match the inner core.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or if he could take a break without losing track of everything he’d done, when a cold body fell against him, knocking him to the ground.

Nobody was prepared.

The back of his head throbbed against the stone floor. A heavy weight was lifted from his chest and voices were calling him. He just needed a mental break and felt his shoulders lift and his head roll against something warm.

“I’m so sorry, Tristan. I should have predicted this. I wasn’t prepared. Landon, towels.”

Tristan tipped forward and something pressed to the back of his head. “I’m fine,” he said, hopefully out loud.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s changed,” said Lazaro. The words sounded rather threatening and Tristan opened his eyes to see the man smirking over Donovan’s shoulder.

For a moment, Tristan thought he’d be handed over to Landon, but he wasn’t. Donovan sighed. “Quite right. It would appear we both have something to hide.”

Lazaro nodded, then went back to his unconscious minion. “Should I feel bad that this man’s life means nothing to me?”

Donovan shrugged and put his attention back on Tristan. “It’s still bleeding,” he whispered. “Heal it already. Or do you want to get back home? That took longer than expected, almost an hour.”

“Give me a steak and I’ll be fine.”

Lazaro broke out in a fit of laughter and Tristan cringed, recalling the times he’d heard that laugh before. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard him say!”

Donovan glared and Lazaro shut his mouth.

“You’re an overprotective vampire and he wants a stake to make himself feel better?” Lazaro glanced at Landon and Victor. “That’s hilarious! Isn’t it? Am I missing something?”

No one laughed.

Something about the confusion with the word ‘steak’ triggered a memory from when he’d been a dragon. He tensed as the colors in the room faded to black and white. The unconscious man beside him held no body heat whatsoever, though his heart did seem to hold a pulse. Donovan gripped his chin and forced eye contact. “Tristan—”

“He’s brave, I’ll give him that. Wait. You don’t mean….” Lazaro studied Victor and Landon, then shot a look at Donovan. “They don’t know? Surely they should know what you are....”

“He meant steak,” Donovan snarled. “As in meat. Food. This whole dragon thing is taking a toll on his metabolism. That’s why he’s so tired and bone-thin.”

Lazaro frowned, then rose his eyebrows, then frowned again, apparently speechless.

“What would make you think I’m a...a vampire? Have you lost your mind?”

“Well,” Lazaro rubbed at his chin while he appeared to consider where he may have gone wrong with his thinking. “The kid was always having such vivid nightmares about being chased down and killed by you…and you pretty much look like a modern day vampire to me, with your stylish looks and cold attitude. I swear you haven’t aged a bit in the past twenty years, and you are rather ruthless when it comes to…well, you know...life in general. So…it just made perfect sense to assume—”

“Don’t assume.”

“Fine.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Touchy, touchy. I won’t assume. Though I’d say I hit a nerve based on your reaction, and that’s a bit suspicious by itself. Don’t you think?”

“There’s no such thing as Vampires.”

Lazaro blinked several times as the accusation in his expression faded. “Is he well enough to revive the next one, or shall we resume this tomorrow?”

“Give him a few more minutes,” Donovan said, gripping Tristan a little tighter. “Are you up for it? It’s fine to call it a day if you wish.”

“Food,” Tristan whispered, hoping not to start the whole thing all over again.

“Just like a teenager.” Lazaro busted into a fit of laughter and Tristan almost threw up. “You can’t keep ‘em fed for longer than ten minutes.”

“Yeah,” Victor said, slipping a backpack off his shoulder. “It’s those hollow legs. Here, Tristan. Liquid first, there’s a straw. I have a sandwich when you’re ready.”

Lazaro frowned. “Can’t the boy feed himself?”

“He probably has a concussion,” Landon said quickly. “We don’t want him to eat solids so soon, and we don’t need to move him immediately. So just…go check on your guy and leave him alone.”

“Well aren’t we all touchy?” Lazaro shut his mouth and walked back to Tynan, who could do nothing more than drape a heated blanket over the unconscious man.

Tristan closed his eyes.

“That’s it,” Donovan said. “We’ll do the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow won’t make any difference. Let’s just get it over with.”

“An hour was too long.”

“It won’t take as long now that I know what I’m looking for.”

Donovan pinched his lips tight and Tristan smiled. “If I can’t do it, I won’t. But if I eat something, there’s really no reason why we can’t just get it done. I mean, that went well, I think. Didn’t it? Is he alive?”

“I’ll know more when we get back home,” answered Tynan. “His body temperature is low, so I’m warming him up, but other than that I’d say he appears intact, for lack of a better description. I’ll know more about his mental status when he wakes up.”

Tristan accepted Landon’s hand to help him up and sat at the table to eat the sandwich.

“So what’s it like being a dragon?” Lazaro asked, leaning into the table to watch Tristan eat.

“Get out,” growled Donovan. The meeting room door flung open on its own. “We’ll call you back in when we’re ready to continue.”

Lazaro grumbled in Italian and pulled Tynan out the door with him.

Tristan blinked at the final few bites of wheat crust and a bit of lettuce, unable to recall picking up the sandwich to begin with. He stared up at Victor and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did I eat this?”

“It’s the fourth,” Victor said cautiously. “Think it’s enough?”

Tristan swallowed the last of what was in his mouth and put the rest back on the paper plate. How could he eat so much without realizing it? “Did you guys eat?”

“Nah. We can eat any ol’ time.”

“I’m....” Tristan swallowed again, horrified to know he’d probably eaten their meals as well. “This can’t be a good thing.”

“It’s fine!” Landon grinned. “We ate before we got here.”

Never in his life had he imagined monopolizing everyone’s time. He looked back to the statue of Stephan. It was odd to think someone he’d never met personally might kill him in a heartbeat. “You know, Lazaro is right. You are acting strange,” he directed to Donovan.

“I care about everyone,” Donovan said, turning from the table.

“But you never show it. Changing the plans for an entire mission just because of a little bump on the head? I know I’m fragile and all, but I’ll bet you’ve never babied Landon or Victor like that.”

“Landon and Victor can take care of themselves.”

“The guy fell on me, I bumped my head, and you act like I can’t possibly go on.”

“Do you prefer the cold-hearted vampire version? Is that your request?”

“No.” Clearly he’d dug himself into a hole and Landon and Victor were staying out of it. “I think I’m just trying to avoid getting back to work. Reviving Stephan. I’m sorry.”

“He will not harm you, I will see to it.”

“See? There you go again.” Tristan eyed Landon and Victor. “Don’t you think it’s out of character for him?”

They shrugged, uncommitted to a yes or no answer.

Donovan sighed and sat beside Tristan. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room.”

Landon and Victor leaned in.

“On the ship, you were...dreaming. Do you remember?”

“Vaguely,” Tristan said. “It was Jacques’ ship.”

“You remember Jacques is my father, yes?”

Tristan nodded.

“I had suspicions, but no proof…and perhaps that’s why I was always hesitant to kill when, for anyone else, I might have. What I’m trying to say is, Jacques informed me that I am your uncle. You’re descended from my brother’s line.”

“I thought you investigated his heritage when we first started tracking him,” Landon said.

“I did, but I never found anything, and the last living relative of mine, that I knew of, died in the early 1600s. So forgive me if I feel a sudden need to protect you at all costs.”

“Wow.” Victor broke the long silence. “I’m kinda jealous.”

“You will both always be like sons to me, which is why I’ve kept you from the higher risk missions. So it’s not that I don’t have faith in your abilities, it’s that bonding with people and seeing them die is a very painful thing. I don’t wish to see you killed so young.”

“I think I knew that,” Landon said. “But it’s nice to hear. Thanks.”

“So long as you don’t hold us to a curfew,” Victor added, “or tag along on dates.”

Donovan smiled and put his attention back on Tristan.

Tristan blinked away the moisture from his eyes. “There was a time I thought, hoped, you could be my father. I even buried messages in glass jars before each move, in case you or someone you trusted was watching.” Anger brewed in his gut. “But it was probably just Jacques manipulating my emotions, making me wish you’d stick around for once so
he
could be with you.” He would never know the extent of the man’s influence, and the idea made it difficult to have his own identity. “You were nothing more than a stalker. But it all worked out for the best. I’m totally over it.” He’d never put words to his anger in regards to Jacques. “Even the drawing was Jacques’ talent, not mine. Am I just a vessel for him? Do I have any talents of my own?”

Donovan remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“What about my personality, is that his, too?”

“You are your own person, Tristan. Jacques may have raised you in his image from the day you were born, teaching you everything he knows, guiding you in times of need, but that’s what a parent strives to do. You lacked physical parents, he stepped in and raised you to be the person you are today. I wasn’t fit for the job, even if I’d known that was Jacques’ intension.”

“But you were fit enough to take in Landon and Victor—”

“They have their own lives.”

“Well, so do I. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

“Tristan,” Donovan sighed, seemingly at a loss for words. “I could never be the father that Jacques has already been. It makes us more like brothers than distant relatives.”

Tristan had to smile at that. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I hope so.”

“So why don’t you want anyone to know?” Victor asked.

“It’s a weakness.”

Tristan’s heart sank. It was the last thing he wanted to hear. “Let’s get this over with.” He stood from the table and shut his eyes when Donovan grabbed his shoulders. “That actually does hurt, just so you know.”

Donovan loosened his grip and pulled Tristan against his chest in a hug. “Jacques told me how painful your shoulder is. I’m sorry. Had I known—”

“You’d what, find a cure faster? There is no cure. And it doesn’t matter if we’re related in some distant way, nothing changes. And stop hugging me—it’s too late and I’m not a kid anymore. It’s embarrassing.”

Donovan squeezed a bit tighter.

“You can’t make up for anything.” Tristan squirmed to free himself.

“I’m not trying to.”

“Then let go before Lazaro comes back.”

“You aren’t an embarrassment, Tristan. The only reason I don’t want people knowing is because you would be used against me. I don’t want to see you tortured, kidnapped, or harmed in any way. I, and everyone around me, would be at the mercy of anyone who dared.”

“That’s stupid.” Tristan stilled as possible scenarios filled his head. “You’d be stupid to negotiate, or be controlled by some ridiculous ransom—”

“You’re a fool if you think I’d let you be injured or killed if it was within my power to stop it.”

“I’m not even a real person! You can’t tell me you’d kill Landon or Victor to save me.”

“Those would be odd terms that I don’t foresee happening, but perhaps a building full of world leaders, a train of civilians, a presidential flight…. There are many targets a terrorist would pay a great deal for, and if they had you, the deed would cost them absolutely nothing.”

“You’re nuts. I would never want that.”

“It wouldn’t be up to you, would it? So let’s keep this secret and we won’t have to make such decisions. Understand?”

Tristan nodded, as did Landon and Victor.

Donovan pounded on the door twice, making everyone flinch. “Lazaro, get in here!”

LIFE AND DEATH

“THIS ONE’S DEAD,”
Tristan said, and moved on to the fourth statue.

Lazaro and Tynan pushed it against the wall and covered it with a sheet, leaving it beside the first one.

“What about this one? No sense in moving him out from the wall if he’s dead, too,” said Lazaro.

Tristan studied the statue closely until he found hints of a living aura. “Move it out.”

Lazaro and Tynan rocked the statue away from the wall, far enough to stand behind it and catch the body. Victor and Landon stood at Tristan’s right and left sides protectively, while Donovan stared at the first revived man lying on the floor.

Tristan eyed him suspiciously, both the man and Donovan.
Do you think he overheard? Even though he’s unconscious?

Perhaps. It’s taken care of.

Tristan faced the statue and took a quick breath.

“Come on, Tristan. Nothing changes,” Landon said. “You can do this.”

Tristan put his hand on the statue’s arm, just above the elbow. “Forgive me if I fail, but I’m doing my best, under the assumption that you’d rather die than be trapped like this.”

Lazaro nodded. “Very brave.”

“Yeah. Considering he could kill me the second he’s aware.”

Killing a person isn’t as easy as it seems,
instructed Donovan
. Simply keep control of your cells so they cannot be scattered or manipulated by something else.

Tristan kept his objecting negativity to himself and took another deep breath.

“This is a trade we’ve negotiated,” Lazaro stated, addressing the three remaining statues. “The lives of these four men are never to be harmed, in trade for seeing to your resurrection. I hope it is clear—they do this in good faith.”

Tristan glanced back at Donovan, who nodded his approval, then stretched his mind toward the most inner part of the statue until he had a grasp of the original molecular structure, drawing it outward until all the solid aspects were adjusted to match. Lazaro and Tynan caught the man and Tristan moved on to number five. He said his peace and plea for understanding, then did the same thing.

When Stephan fell into Lazaro’s awaiting arms, Tristan stared at the blank wall, somehow missing something important. There was no sound or movement in the empty room and he briefly wondered what would happen if he shifted, if the room was big enough to contain him, or…. Who would take precedence, him or the stone? Did his body extend outward from the human shape or did it simply appear as a dragon in a blink?

Someone behind him called his name. He turned to see his own body lying on the floor, with Landon, Victor, and Donovan on their knees, surrounding him. He smiled at the thought of how serious they seemed, then saw Molajah standing over them.
You’re alive! Where have you been?

You’re too important, Tristan. Go back.

Go back where?
He’d been in this mental state before, so seeing himself on the floor wasn’t very shocking. Donovan scooped him up and he felt nothing—no tug yanking him back, no sense of uneasy seasickness or queasiness. In fact, he felt a bit free. He could barely remember the last time he could move his shoulder without pain.

Lazaro and Tynan were laying Stephan’s body in the line with the others. Donovan ran out of the room, carrying Tristan’s body up the narrow stairs.

Now, Tristan. Before you lose the way.

I’m immortal, remember? I thought they killed you!

Don’t be thinking you don’t need your body, and apparently I had this last thing to do. Now catch up before it’s too late.

Tristan scowled and left the room to follow Donovan.
But, I have questions! I need to talk to you. How can we find Jacques? Are you sure I’m supposed to break this contract?
When he turned the corner, Donovan was gone.

This way,
Molajah said, standing at the top of the staircase.
Hurry.

Tristan made it to the top of the stairs and saw Donovan, Landon, and Victor stepping through the open double doors, rushing into the brightly lit outside. He ran to join them, then felt a line snap, jerking him back into his body.

Molajah smiled with pride. He covered his heart with one hand and held up the other.
Goodbye, Tristan. May you all be well.

“He’s back. He’s fine,” Landon said, as Donovan dropped to his knees to lay Tristan on the ground.

Tristan stared at the spot where Molajah stood, tears welling his eyes. Why did they always leave him? This was the second time he had to lose Molajah.

“It’ll be okay, Tristan. You’re safe. We have you.” Donovan about crushed Tristan’s arms and ribs together in a tightly wrapped, hot blanket. “Whatever happened, don’t let it happen again.”

His throat constricted as he willed Molajah to come back. Even if he could only be a faded-out ghost.

“Look at me, Tristan. How many fingers? Say something.”

It was the stupidest question he’d heard in a long time. And the constricting body that held his spirit prisoner tighten around him like a noose.

Nothing would happen if he slept, because no one could do anything without him. The thought was refreshing—he at least had
some
control over his life.

He let himself drift, beyond exhausted. The cold grip of the sea tugged at his legs, pulling him down deeper into darkness. Like a game of tug-of-war, with Donovan pulling him back to the surface.

“He’ll be fine, Donovan,” said a woman’s voice. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

“He’s slept long enough. He needs to eat something.”

“He’ll wake when he’s ready.”

Tristan opened his eyes and saw Donovan and Madam Galina. She sighed, shook her head, and left the cabin. “I’ll give you five minutes, no more.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“You first,” said Tristan. “How did Lazaro’s men turn out?”

“Two are fine, three are still in comas. They aren’t my concern. The ghost committee is waiting for us. They have already approached the dragon in the Forest of Darkness.”

“I’m not getting out of bed until they free Jacques.”

“Not an option.” Donovan picked Tristan up off the bed and carried him out of the room.

“I’m not doing anything they want until Jacques is free.”

“They’re getting anxious.”

“Since when does the other side’s level of anxiousness matter? Don’t you want Jacques freed?”

Donovan averted his gaze, directing his attention to the path through the trees.

“I still need to talk to Lazaro. I forgot to ask how he knew where to find the gem on the map. The black one from the beach.”

“It’s irrelevant now. The ghosts say they know where everything is, and they will show you before we break the contract, so we can free the others as time permits.”

“Is the goal to free everything before I starve to death?”

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Seems like we’re controlling the power by keeping me underfed, but my brain feels too scattered to concentrate.”

“You did fine with Lazaro’s men.”

“I would have gotten lost without Molajah.”

“You saw him?”

Tristan nodded. Donovan sat him down in a chair at the table, where three ghosts were waiting. “He apparently had unfinished business here. He helped me find my way back to you, then waved goodbye and wished us all well.” Fresh tears welled in his eyes and the listening ghosts remained fixed on him. They turned suddenly toward each other, excited by the news.

“I know when the contract is broken, and I will break it, that Jacques and you all will be freed to move on. But I want the chance to say goodbye to Jacques, and to thank him for being with me all along. I don’t care if he already knows.”

“This is Oskar,” said Donovan, directing Tristan’s attention to the lead ghost, who began writing in the air. Donovan translated. “Jacques went missing two days ago. We assume the council ended his life, due to our unwillingness to cooperate.”

“You made that decision without me?” Tristan stood from the table and clutched at the blanket around his shoulders. “How could you? I would have—” He glanced at Donovan, who was taking this far better than expected. “Did you agree to this? There had to be another way! Why couldn’t you just go in and save him? I want to talk to the council. Samara, let me out!”

“It’s too late, Tristan.”

Tristan held back the hateful, childish tantrum building inside.

“Jacques wouldn’t have wanted to be a pawn in this.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye.” Tristan tensed as Donovan smashed his aching shoulder, wrapping his arms around him. He could barely breathe and tried to push away. “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing ever is.”