by Toni Kerr
“You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
A fresh round of heaving prevented an answer.
“Sorry,” Landon added. “That was uncalled for. We do have a doctor. Her name is Madam Galina. I’m sure she could make something up for you if you’re catching a flu.”
Tristan heard the kitchen sink running. “I’m not ill, just…confused.” Maybe he should take that back. The toilet water was bright red with blood. He flushed it away as his stomach convulsed at the sight.
“Confusion doesn’t make you hurl your dinner. I assume you’ve eaten?”
Tristan brushed his teeth for a long time, trying to rid the pungent flavor, then found himself kneeling at the toilet again with a fresh wave of nausea rolling through his gut.
“Maybe you ate something bad?”
“I had a dream.”
Activity in the kitchen abruptly stopped. “About what?”
“I can’t remember. But there’s blood,” he flushed again, still seeing the pink tinge. “And I can’t get rid of this flavor.” He brushed his teeth and tongue more aggressively
A stirring spoon clinked against a glass as Landon resumed whatever he was doing. “I’m sure it’ll pass. I’m making you a cup of hot chocolate. The group will be waiting for us at Grumpy’s, but we have a few minutes. Maybe some fresh air would help?”
Tristan came out of the bathroom, pale and tired. He accepted the hot chocolate and they sat at the table.
Landon noticed the clay sculpture as Tristan eyed the book covering Charley’s picture. “Where’d this come from?” Landon asked, picking up the miniature falcon.
“It’s just homework.” Tristan tried to put Charley’s drawing out of his mind.
“You made this?” Landon studied the bird, running his fingertips over delicate layers of feathers. “Alvi’s going to have some major competition.”
“I couldn’t make the right shades, but it’s the best I could do with the colors available.”
“Alvi could spray a clear-coat to seal it, which would bring out the texture.”
“What’s your opinion on this?” Tristan pulled Charley’s paper out from under the book and handed it to Landon without looking at it.
Landon turned it over, leaning back in his chair. “It’s uh, hmmm.” He spun it several times, apparently searching for the correct position. “It’s interesting. What’s it supposed to be?”
“Charley drew it.”
“That explains a few things.” Landon laughed. “I was afraid you were going to tell me it was yours. There is a big difference between this and that,” he said, motioning from the sculpture and the drawing.
“You don’t see anything in it?” Tristan took the paper and threw it back to the table, seeing the face instantly. “Not even if you look really hard and focus?”
Landon picked up the paper to study it more carefully. “Maybe if I knew what I was looking for?”
“A face.” Tristan searched the kitchen, looking for something to override the flavor of blood in his mouth, settling on a piece of jerky.
“Sorry. Looks like random scribbles to me.”
Tristan took the paper, frantic to point it out. “Don’t you see eyes? See where the yellow comes around. Don’t look at the colors, look at the shapes.”
“I’m sure it’s there, I’m just not a fan of abstract stuff. I don’t see it.”
“It’s not abstract. It’s perfectly clear!” One of the eyes winked, flooding Tristan with frustration and anger. “How can you not see that?” He wadded up the drawing and threw it into the woodstove, slamming the iron door behind it. “I am not losing my mind.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
They both heard something outside and saw Charley turn from the front window.
“Oh, that’s just great.” Tristan dropped to the couch and closed his eyes. “Now I have to explain why I burned his art project.”
“Well...yeah. Why did you?”
“Forget it.” Tristan put on the poncho and huddled under it. “If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll skip the party. I don’t feel like being social right now.”
“Okay. I’ll let everyone know.”
“I’m sorry I’m acting this way. I guess I can’t explain. Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a huge adjustment to learn all this new stuff. Your mind will get used to it, and so will you. Okay? Don’t drive yourself insane and get some rest.”
Landon dimmed the lights and closed the front curtains before leaving Tristan on his own.
I didn’t think you had it in you, breaking the poor boy’s heart like that—destroying his precious art.
Tristan squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself for a long night.
22
- EXCUSES -
TRISTAN LEFT FOR ANGELINA’S class with the sculptured falcon wrapped in a small box. He spotted Charley along the way and called out to him, wishing he’d taken the time to come up with a decent apology for destroying the artwork.
“At least hear me out,” Tristan pleaded. It was clear the boy hadn’t forgotten, but he did wait for Tristan to catch up. “I’m sorry. You can make me another one and I’ll frame it.”
Charley still looked like he’d lost everything he owned, which couldn’t possibly be much.
“Please believe me. I kept seeing something in it and for whatever reason, I lost my head.”
Charley half smiled before continuing up the path.
“That’s it? You’re not mad anymore?”
The kid shook his head no.
“Will you make me something else?”
He shrugged.
“You’re coming to class then?”
Charley stopped walking and turned with a questioning look on his face.
“You’re welcome to if you like. I don’t think Angelina minds.”
Charley nodded happily and continued walking.
Tristan breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t have another enemy to deal with.
Such a charming little boy, mused the voice in his head. Tristan fell behind and Charley didn’t notice. So innocent and trusting...what a perfect age. Do you remember when you were that innocent?
Why won’t you leave me alone?
You worry too much, Lazaro said. I’m just taking some time to get to know you, that’s all.
And you don’t think I should be worried?
This is just one of those things you can’t do anything about. But if I were you, I’d conserve your energy.
Tristan remained silent as they entered the clearing. Charley ran to his new friends at the cliff and Tristan spotted Shaely sitting by herself on a blanket. She waved when she saw him and Tristan smiled.
Well, well.... You do work fast.
Tristan frowned at all the implications and headed for Angelina’s table. From the corner of his eye, he could see the disappointment on Shaely’s face. He got her attention and gave her a random set of hand signals, ending with a friendly wave.
She nodded like she understood, then settled back down with a book in her hands.
Does Dorian know about this little fling?
No. The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it, along with a dose of guilt. Dorian and I aren’t together. We never were.
You risked getting yourself killed to save her for nothing? I don’t buy that.
Tristan focused on sealing off his mind. He’d been doing quite well at blocking everyone’s thoughts, so how was Lazaro getting in?
He sat at the designated class table and waited, keeping his thoughts still as he made an effort to strengthen whatever shields surrounded him. When he saw Angelina coming from Grumpy’s, carrying a large box, he rushed to carry it for her.
What a gentleman! Lazaro’s voice snickered, rattling Tristan to the core. Who is this woman? I don’t recall her....
Tristan quickly turned away, forgetting Lazaro seemed to see everything through his eyes.
“Thanks,” Angelina said.
“Tough day?”
Go ahead. Tell her your crazy theory and see what your guard does when she spreads the word about how far gone you really are.
Tristan didn’t answer.
“I’m always willing to listen if you have something you want to talk about.”
He shook his head again, unsure if he could discuss Lazaro with Angelina or not.
“Don’t you be picking up Charley’s tactics—I expect words from you.”
Tristan nodded. “Sorry. I understand.”
“Now tell me what’s wrong before everyone gets here.”
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Well, that much is obvious. Did you get your homework done before staying out again?”
He set Angelina’s supplies on the table and handed over the box with the sculpted falcon.
Angelina unwrapped the clay figurine. “It’s beautiful! No cheating?”
If he went by Eleonora’s definition, using his mind at all would be cheating. “I don’t think so.”
She’s your teacher?
“You really are an exceptional artist. You should be proud of this!”
Sweat ran down Tristan’s back. He spotted Talak standing guard by the A-frame and rubbed his clammy hands on his jeans. He finally took a breath and kept his head down. “I’ve always been able to draw. I guess I have a good memory for details.”
“It’s a step in the right direction—knowing where your personal strengths lie.”
Tristan shrugged and waited for the kids in his class to gather.
“We’re making cards today,” Angelina announced, handing a stack of multi-colored tissue paper to each person at the table. A stack of white cardstock sat piled in the center.
This is your class? Lazaro roared with laughter so loud, Tristan wondered how the others couldn’t hear. Why would they put you in a class like this? He continued laughing. Are they punishing you for something?
Tristan stared at his stack of square papers. He couldn’t possibly tell Angelina there were voices in his head, ridiculing her class and assignments.
The children cut hearts and clouds and flowers from the colored paper, decorated them with glitter markers, and attached them to the cardstock with sparkle glue.
This must drive you absolutely crazy, Lazaro said, finally sounding serious. I wonder if that glue is flammable. You do know how to make fire, don’t you?
Tristan remained silent.
Use your power! Find out what it is to be powerful and make that little girl’s hair burst into flames. You can’t pretend you’re not capable in front of me—I know you way better than that.
Tristan shut his eyes, desperate to make his mind blank.
Don’t you want to see what would happen? I might be wrong about you, but I’ll bet a ham sandwich that your little redhead friend could do it.
He wouldn’t. Tristan glanced at Charley, who was in the process of pouring out all the glitter glue. Angelina was trying to convince him to share with the others.
Look at his ambition! He’s not afraid to use his mind. He’s not afraid of an interesting experiment, like you are. I’ll bet he’s capable of killing without a second’s thought.
You’re wrong. Tristan stood from the table, bumping against Talak. The blades of tribal tattoos along the man’s arms seemed ready to leap from the flesh. Tristan’s heart pounded so fast, he knew he must look guilty for something. “I know. I’m leaving.”
Talak gave his approval with a single, harsh jerk of his head.
“Tristan?” Angelina said, her eyes darting between him and the guard. “Is everything okay?”
Oh, lighten up. I was just having fun.
Tristan swallowed hard. “I’m not feeling well. I need to leave.” He paused to think of a better reason.
Don’t leave your little class on my account—it’s great fun!
“I might be contagious.” He squeezed his eyes shut when he realized he was getting a good look at each child. “Can I go?”
I’m sure you could find something to learn if you stayed. I’ll teach you myself if she can’t.
“I’ll agree you don’t look well.” She sighed, giving him a paper bag to carry homework supplies. “Do you want me to call Madam Galina?”
“No.” He avoided looking at the kids as he collected materials. “I just need some sleep.” He turned from the table and left in a hurry.
There’s something I’ve been meaning to find out.
Tristan didn’t answer, increasing his speed to a jog toward the trail.
How did you know about the emerald? I mean, I remember you being at that woman’s house...Gwenna, was it? But I guess I didn’t think you had anything to do with the emerald at the time. Did she show it to you?
No. Tristan skidded to halt so as not to run over Shaely.
“You’re not leaving, are you? Without saying hi?”
Shaely looked hurt. Or mad. Probably both. “I’m so sorry.” Tristan gulped. “I wanted to talk to you, but right now I need to get home.”
“What’s the hurry? I thought—”
“I....” Tristan cringed as Lazaro’s laughter drowned out his own thoughts. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then? Just tell me. And I’ll be on my way.”
Just lie to her. Or bury her—that’d probably set her off just as much.
Tristan grabbed her shoulders to keep her from walking away. “Please trust me right now. I like you a lot, and—”
“How much?” The anger melted from her face and a wry smile drew his attention to her lips.
He kissed her quick, before he could think too much about it, and almost forgot about Lazaro. “I have an emergency to deal with, can I see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I might have to do my hair, or paint my nails....”
“Please, Shaely. This is important.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll be here if I can.”
He pulled her into a sincere hug and whispered in her ear. “Please be careful.” He kissed her forehead instead of giving more details and left her behind.
Well that was a sorry disappointment. Back to me. How did you track me to Dorian’s island?
I didn’t.
You expect me to believe you just happened to be there, and had no idea I was involving them?
Yeah, that’s about right. Even he found the circumstances a bit too coincidental, but what else could he say?
So if you weren’t trying to save Dorian, then you were there for the emerald. What did you hope to gain by stealing it from me?
Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He was digging a deeper hole for himself and tried occupying his mind with singing, though it didn’t override Lazaro’s anger.
Seemed like a good idea? Do you know what your flippant idea cost me? Seven of my dearest friends stand petrified in stone because of that emerald, when it was supposed to grant immortality! And one of them is my only brother. They all had families who are suffering. A lot of lives depended on my brother, now they depend on me—
None of that is my fault, Tristan said, dreading the direction of the conversation.
It is your fault that they remain that way. That emerald is the only thing with the power to save them. And thanks to your ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’, you have destroyed their best chance of returning to life. You, personally, have pulled the proverbial trigger.
Lazaro continued with descriptions of each man’s life, along with the families that fell apart in their absence.
Tristan stumbled into his cabin in a dazed depression and set up his homework at the table. Deciding to do something bigger than a card, he removed one of the canvas rolls Eleonora had given him, with a goal to tune out Lazaro by tuning into something else.
You’re not seriously going to do that homework, are you?
Tristan found a kitchen knife to use on the tissue paper. A clear image came to mind and he got started.
23
- GRUMP
Y GAMES -
THE KNIFE SPUN out of control, stopping an inch from puncturing the canvas artwork.
“I didn’t think you were paying any attention,” Landon said. Tristan leaped from his chair, clutching his chest in the darkened room.
“I did knock, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” Landon lit a lamp on the wall. “How can you work in the dark?”
Tristan eyed the incomplete project on his table, confused by the loss of time. Could it really be night so soon?
“This is really good.” Landon admired the scenic view of river, which happened to be his favorite fishing spot.
Colored tissue paper had been torn, sliced, and layered into textures of grass, water, and distant trees. Multi-colored rocks wavered beneath sky-blue ripples. A large fish leaped from the water in a graceful arc, as it had done along the bank, mouth open for a fat grasshopper.
Landon sat at the table to take a closer look. “It’s actually amazing! The details seem...perfect.”
“It’s yours. Take it.” Tristan dropped to the couch, letting his head fall back. There had been no sign of Lazaro’s presence since Landon’s arrival, or during the whole art project for that matter.
“I couldn’t.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight. That’s why I’m here. Victor, Alvi, and a few others are finishing a tournament. You can play along if you want, or just watch. I know you’ll like it and you can take a break from this.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can! Besides, I’ve been instructed not to come back without you.”
“Fine.” Tristan put on his poncho and stood by the door, waiting for Landon to pull his attention from the picture. He gave up and sat back down.
“I know—we need to get going. Do you mind if we just, you know, get over there without walking?”
“I don’t care.” Clashing lights and tones ripping at his soul during transport couldn’t possibly be worse than having Lazaro in his head.
Tristan gripped a handrail when they arrived in the loft of Grumpy’s, dizzy while adjusting to the new surroundings.
The room below seemed impossibly large compared to what he remembered from the outside. The air was thick with a smoky scent of cinnamon and sage. A long row of tables divided the room in half and a long kitchen counter spanned one of the walls.