Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) (31 page)

"Can't breathe," he whispered, locking his eyes with hers. If only he could anchor himself to something. He could feel the strap from the coral pouch tight on his neck.

"You're breathing fine, just take my hand."

"Can't move." Was he breathing? Didn't seem like it.

"What'd you do, get yourself stuck?"

He closed his eyes against the dizzy rush, he'd never reach her in time.

"Hey!" she snapped, startling him awake. She took hold of his wrist, dislodging his shoulder with a tug, and pulled him toward the opening. With room to move, he wriggled toward her until his head was free of the dark. "There. See? You're fine. I had to stuff you under the bed."

Tristan breathed in the cool air, his skin chilled with sweat. He wasn't quite ready to ask what made her stuff him under the bed. His eyes flew open with the sudden realization he was naked.

"What's Oliver's plan?" she asked, prancing toward the window.

"Plan?"

"Yeah. Aren't they here? Waiting for a signal maybe?"

"Who?" Tristan asked. "Why am I naked?"

"There's something wrong with the forest, or maybe it's whatever this block is." She pounded her hand against the glass several times.

"What am I doing under the bed?"

Her face hardened, still peering out the window. "Don't tell me he isn't here."

Tristan's mind reeled, trying to assemble the facts. "How long have I been…under the bed?"

"Why would they send you?" She turned to face him, wiping fresh tears away. "You don't even know anything."

"They didn't send me." Tristan scowled and tried not to take her anger personally. "I just followed you. Somehow." He had no idea what happened. His teeth chattered uncontrollably and his entire body shivered with the cold. His eyelids were impossible to keep open.

"No one knows you're here?"

"Of course they know, they just don't know where."

"That doesn't make sense." Dorian threw her hands in the air and started pacing. "You just arrive in a place you don't know and tell me you're it? You plan to rescue me all by yourself?"

"At least you're not alone, right? We can escape."

She didn't answer and didn't turn to face him.

"What am I doing under the bed?"

She whirled on him. "You think I should've left you in a heap on the floor?" She tilted her head and creased her brow. "Your lips are blue."

Had he literally disappeared from Gram's porch? He thought back and suddenly, people appearing from nowhere made perfect sense. Or did it? "Why am I…you didn't take my clothes, did you?"

She covered her mouth and nose with cupped hands and remained silent for several moments, then turned away. At first he thought great sobs made her shoulders shake, but it was soon apparent she couldn't control her giggles.

Tristan pushed himself back under the bed and allowed the plush bedskirt to make a wall, to hide in darkness. He should've followed orders and stayed on the island. His muscles couldn't handle the cold, how was she managing in her skimpy little dress?

She poked her head under the bedskirt and caught his eye. "I'm really sorry."

Tristan acknowledged the apology with a shiver more than a nod. "Can't we just leave the same way we got here? We could just…go back."

"I can't do it," she said, taking a more somber tone. "Uncle Eric's been trying to teach me for years. He says it's just not one of my things."

The cover dropped, sealing out the light. Tristan heard muffled snickering and shut his eyes.

"Apparently, it's not one of yours either." Her laughing grew louder. "I'm so sorry." She lifted the bedskirt again, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was…too mean. I'm really just afraid, okay? You should get warmed up. I'll find you a blanket."

Her face disappeared from view again, plunging him into darkness.

"How do people come and go from the island?" he asked, afraid the question would set off another giggling fit. Even if he had the strength to pull a blanket over himself, there wasn't room.

She lifted the fabric and glared at him. "You can't possibly think by your appearing here, you didn't disappear from there? How dense can you be?"

"Well excuse me for living!" The entire concept seemed completely illogical and impossible. "I've been nothing but nice to you, and in return, you've been the rudest, most ungrateful person I've ever met in my life! They told me to come back, but no! Instead, I chose to stay with you. So that's my mistake. All I asked is
how.
"

"You don't need to know how, you've done it!" she shouted. "Are you just trying to get me to say again that I can't? Fine. I can't. I've never managed. You're a million times better than I am." She dropped the covers and stomped away.

He couldn't muster the strength to continue fighting, getting dizzy with each ragged breath. Besides, arguing wouldn't get them anywhere. "How long have we been here?"

"Less than an hour."

"We'll think of something." Tristan shut his eyes. "I need to sleep."

"Let me get this straight." She dropped to her knees again to lift the wall of fabric.

"Do you mind? I'm a tad undressed here."

"Oh, get over it! You go through the effort to come and save me, but you need a nap first?"

"Dorian, please." His arms and legs would barely move, his eyes wouldn't stay open. "I've been following you around ever since you got here, telling Oliver everything I've seen to help them figure out where you are. I even saw you take on those guys at the door on the stairs. Gram said I'd run out of energy, that I had to come back, but instead, I stayed. I wanted to help you, but obviously, I made a bad decision. I'll be sure not to do it again."

"I'm sorry." Her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm glad you stayed, but if Gram said you were out of energy, you should've believed her. You're lucky you made it at all, and that's why you're tired. You're depleted. You'll sleep for at least a day, probably more, but I'm still glad you're here." She disappeared from the opening and returned with a pillow, too big to stuff under. "When they come, I'll try and do something to wake you, but remember to keep quiet. They can't find you here."

Tristan nodded, too exhausted to even shiver.

36

-
S
TATUES AND
S
PIES -

METAL KEYS RATTLED OUTSIDE the door. "I'm awake," Tristan warned, spinning himself in a tangle of fabric for a better view of the entrance. Dorian scrambled off the bed, initiating a downpour of dust over his head.

"I thought you'd never wake up," she whispered.

The lock clicked and the door creaked on its hinges. Tristan watched through the dangling fringe at the base of the bed and concentrated on hearing thoughts.

A balding white-bearded man with tiny gold-framed glasses shuffled into the room with his arms loaded. The door swung shut and clicked behind him. He expanded a wooden serving station with a flick of his wrist, then lowered a tray of food.

The old man made a show of lifting a shiny silver dome, revealing a bowl of something steaming and a small loaf of bread. "A token of food for the fair lady," he announced, bowing his head to Dorian.

"What makes you think I would eat anything? It's probably been poisoned." Dorian plopped herself on the edge of the bed, directly above Tristan. He retreated silently and held his nose, certain the falling dust would make him sneeze.

"Please believe we would never poison you. We need your help. Our lives are all in danger without the perkonian." He replaced the lid and took a few backward steps to the door.

"What's he going to use it for?"

"I am only here to serve," the man said, bowing again. The door behind him opened and he spun to leave the room.

When the door clicked shut, Dorian dropped beside the bed. Tristan ignored her, still trying to follow the man's thought.
I knew it, the poor girl. She's not going to eat. If she doesn't come through, we'll all be dead.

"Tristan!" Dorian hissed, smacking his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Ow! I was trying to hear his thoughts, to see if they poisoned the food."

"Did they?" She dropped the fabric and headed for the food tray.

"I don't think so." Tristan tried to untangle his legs from what must have been a bed sheet, stirring up more dust. "He felt sorry for you and said if you don't make the stuff, they're all dead." Tristan sneezed against his arm, trying to keep the sound muffled. They remained silent, listening for signs of anyone coming back to check on her.

"What do I care?" she finally said, setting the dome lid on the floor. "I'm not making it."

Tristan wriggled partway out from under the bed, keeping the sheet around his shoulders, and shook cobwebs from his hair. "I need something to wear."

"You're welcome! I knew you'd appreciate having something to keep you warm while you slept."

"It's embarrassing enough. You want me to thank you?"

She shrugged and walked toward a large cherry wood armoire. "You're not going to like your selections." She opened the double doors and posed like a game-show girl, displaying a row of gowns and fancy shoes.

"You can't be serious."

"Now you're picky?" Dorian held a full-length, satin blue dress with thin rhinestone straps against herself. "I think this would be lovely on you."

Tristan's mouth fell open. "That wouldn't fit if I tried."

"How big do you think you are? It'll fit just fine."

"I think the bed sheet will fit just fine. Are there coats?"

"The proper term would be cloak." She took a long cape from a hanger and tossed it to the bed above him, then quickly glanced through the rest of the selection.

"Thanks a lot." He swung it over his shoulders, trying to situate himself without revealing anything.

"They weren't expecting a boy, so show some gratitude." She smirked and turned her back after a quick glance. "Clothed or not, I really am glad you're here."

"Yeah, well…thanks." The awkward moment passed when he changed the subject. "Are there belts?"

"You don't wear a belt with a cloak," she teased, but dutifully rummaged through a drawer in the cabinet. "A cloak should hang naturally." She held out a handful of ribbons and hair sashes, then buckled over in fits of laughter, using her hands to keep it muffled.

Tristan stood speechless, keeping the cloak held tight around himself.

"Come on, you have to admit it's funny."

"Yeah, funny for you." He snatched the handful of ribbons and turned his back to tie the heftiest into a belt.

"There's a bathroom over there if you want."

Tristan hadn't noticed the door and muttered his thanks, heading for privacy. "What's perkonian for?"

"It allows a person to be split in two, like cloning. The twin has all the physical qualities of the original, but only basic instincts and no abilities to really think for itself, making them very easy to control. No morals or personal will to get in the way of anything. Very dangerous. Gram told me someone once made an entire army."

Tristan finished wrapping the multi-colored length of ribbon around his waist, curious about why Sabbatini would want to clone someone. Satisfied with the cloak, he left the tiny room to join her at the tray of food.

"There was a big controversy," she continued, ignoring his goofy attire completely, "because, who's to say if the soul gets duplicated as well? If the clone has a soul, you can't morally kill them off or abuse them for your own purpose, which is probably why you'd want one to begin with." She tore the loaf of bread in half and smelled the inside.

"You can actually do that?"

"Not here, but I could at home."

"Is something wrong in his lab?"

"His lab is fine, really nice actually. But the plants are united and choose not to be involved. Even the chamomile—and they're usually among the best behaved." She took a bite of the bread.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry. Besides, you said it yourself. They need me."

"But what if it's drugged with...something that makes you do what they want?"

"I just told you, nothing's cooperating. It may very well be drugged, but I wouldn't be affected by it. Although, I couldn't say the same for you."

He blinked. Could he trust her about something so serious?

"Here." She handed over a chunk of bread. "It's not going to kill you."

She grabbed a spoon and dug in. Tristan watched, saliva pooling in his mouth. He gave in and dipped his bread into the stew. "I have a plan," he said, still chewing. The flavor was so much more than he expected, he lost all thoughts for what he was going to say.

"Let's hear it."

"I want to do some more exploring, the same way I followed you around. Maybe I can find a key, or maybe find out what their intentions are, so we can be ready ahead of time."

"Sounds better than mine."