Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) (28 page)

Dorian scowled and walked to the door. "I don't see why I should have to go and he gets to stay."

"We'll take care of it, sweetheart." Gram gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You have enough to do with the harvesting."

"But why does he get to stay?"

Tristan would've asked the same question. Gram didn't answer. "Eric, would you mind?"

Dorian glared furiously with her fists clenched. She left before Eric could take her by the arm.

"I really don't think Tristan should be involved with the specifics," Alice continued more calmly. "Especially if you agree he's dangerous."

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Oliver said to Tristan. "Use that spyglass and come tell us if you think anything feels out of the ordinary. There's not much else you can do anyway."

"You can go." Gram gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, in the same fashion she'd done for Dorian. Odd, it was. To be included in something sort of social. Like a family.

On the back step, Tristan searched the surrounding forest for Dorian. He wanted to tell her what a great job she'd done in defending herself, and explain that Oliver had basically cornered him into telling, but she was nowhere to be seen.

32

-
D
IVIDE AND
S
EEK -

TRISTAN HELD A CHUNK of bread in one hand and pressed the spyglass to his eye with the other, keeping watch from the top of the mountain. The falcon lingered nearby, bending the tip of a fir tree into a horizontal perch. Dorian probably had the same sort of relationship with the elk as he did with the falcon, especially if the islanders were taking responsibility for its kill.

Every day, he watched Eric sit on the same rock, whittling something with a pocketknife while Dorian ignored him. She'd drink from the glass heart around her neck, strap on the knife, and float out a good distance before diving under. If he had a timer, he'd guess thirty minutes under water.

"How can she do that? It's not even possible." He remained alert, but boredom took its toll. "Underwater air domes? Tunnels leading to caverns? Oliver did mention a cave…or maybe she keeps an air tank anchored at the bottom."

* * *

Gram and Oliver were sorting through seeds at the workspace when a stout man cleared his throat at the threshold. He removed his bowler hat and straightened a silver necktie before entering the shop, carrying an alligator skin briefcase. Mirrored glasses covered his eyes. "Good evening, I'm here to deliver this case to Mandissa."

Gram stepped forward. "I wasn't aware of anyone coming today."

Oliver stepped between Gram and the man, crossing his arms.

"Marcus Rosenthal of South Africa wanted Dorian to look at some samples. He merely instructed the case be given to Mandissa." The man held out the briefcase. Oliver eyed it suspiciously before accepting.

"Thank you." The man left the shop, his shiny shoes clicking on the freshly sealed hardwood floor. Gram and Oliver kept silent, watching him until he reached the center of the courtyard. He spun around to face them, replaced his hat, then nodded a curt goodbye.

"Do you know a Marcus Rosenthal of South Africa?" Oliver asked, searching the outside of the briefcase for identification.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Gram snatched the case and went to the back room, setting it carefully on the workspace.

"Wait, Gram. Let's think about what we're doing."

"We could ask Alpheus to inspect it first. Excluding him from all this mess seems completely irrational."

"I don't think the island will go for it." Oliver rubbed his scruffy jaw, scanning the contents of the case without opening it. "Doesn't look like samples to me."

"Oh, Oliver. Samples could be anything." Still, she did not open it. "Alpheus would come for me, without involving anyone else. He would do it as a personal favor and the rest of the island need never know."

"Alpheus
is
the Makai. Besides, we can't go against the vote. Let's just prepare for the worst and open it from a safe distance." Oliver led Gram outside, where they could watch the case through the slats of a shuttered window. "I'm going to seal off the area around the table."

"Let's let Alpheus do it."

"If something goes wrong, whatever it is will be contained."

Gram nodded, pursing her lips to a tight line.

The gold-plated latch on the briefcase clicked open and a smoky darkness rolled within an airtight cubicle, just before Oliver's barrier dissolved completely.

* * *

Time froze. With a sudden gasp of air, Tristan leapt away from the rumbling boulder and slapped his hands over his ears. The mountain shook beneath his feet with a deafening explosion.

He caught the spyglass before it rolled out of reach and aimed it to where the village should be, where plumes of black smoke billowed into the sky. He saw everything: the hole in the trees where the courtyard was, the village rooftops, Gram's log cabin by the lake, and several other homes.

A rush of adrenaline surged through his body. He scanned the beach for Dorian, barely able to keep the spyglass steady. Eric lay spread-eagle on his back, his tiny pocketknife glinting near his hand. Someone squatted at the shoreline, swirling a stick in the water.

He had to get there. Now.

In the space of a heartbeat, Tristan found himself standing behind the man with the stick and blinked. He looked at his transparent hands, then up at the mountaintop on the other side of the lake.

The man in front of him straightened, slipping what had to be a wand into the back pocket of his jeans.

Tristan smiled to himself and tiptoed closer, reaching carefully for the protruding stick. He didn't know what he'd do with it, but at least the man wouldn't have access. He hesitated. What had happened to his body and could he pick up something solid? Without warning, the man seized the wand and spun, pointing it an inch from Tristan's head.

Tristan held up his hands and took a step back. He shot a glance at Eric, still laying perfectly still.

"Ah, it's you," the man said, stuffing the wand to an inside pocket of his jacket.

Tristan almost tripped on a clump of grass, retreating. "Whatever you're doing, you can't." He straightened his shoulders and vowed to put all his fears aside. To do whatever it took to keep Dorian safe.

"Everything is going according to plans."

Tristan opened his mouth and left it hanging. The man stepped to the side and directed Tristan's attention to the water. Fish floated everywhere.

Tristan stepped back farther and hit something icy. A wave of shivering dread passed through his back, coming out the front of his chest. A person walked through his space and came into focus. He'd recognize those curly locks of hair anywhere: Sabbatini.

Tristan's eyes widened as he grappled with the concept of Sabbatini literally walking through him. Where was he, exactly? Gram's words about dangerous locations had him second-guessing what he should do. How was he supposed to know what his physical body was doing? He had to figure it out without panicking, but seemed fine so far.

Dorian floated to the surface.

Oh my God!
Tristan watched helpless. Sabbatini waded into the water, his arms out wide. She drifted toward shore, leaving a scraggily trail through the layer of white-bellied fish. Tristan clenched his fist. "You can't just take her!"

Sabbatini scooped her out of the water.

She looked dead, lying limp in the arms of her murderer. Sabbatini yanked the knife from the sheath on her leg and flicked it to the ground. It stabbed between rocks with the pearl handle sticking up like a tombstone. Tristan summoned every ounce of strength and rage and dove to tackle the man.

33

-
W
HERE IN THE
W
ORLD -

"WILL YOU MOVE? Your arm is crushing me." Gram rolled to her stomach and got to her knees. Oliver made a fuss. Burning bits of rooftop and lumber lay scattered about, along with crumbled rocks. "Go check on Dorian." She brushed debris from her arms. "What is he doing?"

"Who?" Oliver knelt beside her, gently clutching her elbow. Parts of his beard smoldered and a torn gash on his forehead seeped a stream of blood down the side of his face.

"Tristan's energy is dropping so fast. Stop the training—" Gram sat on her heels and shut her eyes. "I think all security is down. Go find Dorian."

Oliver helped Gram to her feet and ran for the lake. Eric had a strong pulse, out cold on his back. He'd survive.

A circle of damp rocks at the shoreline drew his attention. He dug a line with his finger in the wet sand and frowned. Too much water had soaked in for just one person, not to mention the lack of wet footprints leading anywhere. Dorian's pearl-handled knife, the one he'd given her for her sixteenth birthday, jutted from the ground. He pulled the blade free, his temper flaring into a primordial growl.

Knife in hand, he carried Eric to Gram's cabin and headed back to the village.

The remaining islanders huddled in the courtyard, gawking at the obliterated cottage. Skeletal framing of adjacent buildings were still on fire. Oliver cursed himself for not opening the briefcase outside.

"I tried to warn them," someone shouted, working the stunned crowd. "We shouldn't have involved the Makai. Which of our businesses will be next? They will take every one of us down! Our island will be destroyed!"

"Where's Gram?" Oliver shouted, ignoring the murmurs of agreement and speculation.

"Over here," Alice answered, putting a second shawl around Gram's shaking shoulders.

"The Makai have
not
been involved with our affairs," Oliver announced for all to hear. He waited for the crowd to hush. "But now, it is exactly what we must do. Will any of you stand against Lazaro Sabbatini? Can you protect your neighbors? Your own homes? It's not all about courage and will, we need ability. Skills! It is my intention to ask for their immediate intervention."

The frightened crowd parted for Oliver. He knelt in front of Gram. "Eric's hurt. To the best of my knowledge, Dorian's not on the island."

"What about Tristan?"

"He's not important."

"Take me home." Gram stood, leaning heavily on Oliver, too shaken to walk by herself.

Oliver helped her to the lakeside cabin.

"Bring me the blue box from the medicine cupboard," she said, "and find Tristan quickly. Bring him here."

"What does he have to do with this? He wasn't involved—"

"Not physically." Gram unsealed the box, her face getting paler by the minute. "But I'm betting he witnessed."

Oliver hesitated at the door. "I don't think I should leave you right now."

"I'm fine," she stated, tending to Eric. "I'm not sure what Tristan has done, or what he's doing, but his levels are dropping fast and steady. He might have attempted to follow her, but for some reason, he's still physically on the island. You need to find out what his mental status is, and if he's with her mentally, be careful not to startle him into coming back. He may be our only chance to find out where she is. And for heaven's sake, don't transport him if he's truly divided like this."

"That's…" Oliver shook his head with disbelief, "unheard of."

"Just get to him and find out. I'll explain my suspicions when we have time."

"Got it."

Oliver transported himself to the ledge, not wanting to waste a second more. The cliff house stood empty. He jogged along the winding trail to the top of the mountain, which would be the best strategic location for viewing the village beach. Tristan sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, leaning against the tallest rock. The spyglass lay forgotten in his lap. Oliver paced with his lips pinched, considering all the possibilities of his actions. He'd have one shot to keep this going. If the kid wasn't just snoozing.

He squatted in front of Tristan and used his softest voice. "Continue what you're doing, stay exactly like you are. Nod if you understand me."

Tristan nodded.

"Keep everything the same." Oliver stood with relief. Any awareness had to be half the battle. "Are you actually with Dorian?"

Tristan nodded again.

"I'm going to move you to Gram's cabin. Don't shift your focus and gather information about where you are. Don't forget any details. Understand?"

Tristan nodded again.

Oliver wiped the sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt and debated how best to move the boy without interfering the focus. Physical jarring might invoke an involuntary response to keep from falling; levitation would be best. "You're going to feel a bit strange, but trust me, you're completely safe."

* * *

"Not a word," Gram said, instructing Eric to keep quiet. She rose from her chair and signaled for Oliver to place Tristan in her chair.

He did so, then motioned for Gram to follow him inside. "How are his levels?"

"They've been dropping slow but steady. I'd say they're pretty good, considering."