Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai)

by Toni Kerr

  “It is. Trust me.” Tristan blinked at the black spots invading his vision. The fighting commotion seemed to come and go in waves. But he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. And he couldn’t risk anyone touching him, mentally or physically, while he carried the gems. “Promise you’ll get them out.”

  “You can’t transport from this room. You’ll have to walk, or leave the gems—”

  “Landon and Victor come first. I’ll survive no matter what.”

  “That isn’t true—”

  Tristan didn’t stay long enough to hear the rest.

  33

  - REACHING OUT -

  TRISTAN STOOD LONG ENOUGH to confirm he was in the right spot. Pearly, iridescent colors shimmered along the cave’s smooth walls. A small waterfall fell into a crystal-clear pond, where sparkling sand from the bottom cast ripples of light in dizzying waves.

  He’d ordered the cave to seal itself not long ago; to open for no one. Suddenly, he was alone. Safe. Hidden from everyone and everything. He had all the time in the world to get himself healed.

  He dropped to his knees and fell to his good side, wincing as he realized too late that he couldn’t quite use his arms to catch himself.

  Get to the water, Molajah said.

  He should have known Molajah might have access. “I did what you wanted, now leave me alone.”

  Tristan loosened his grip on the stones, unable to get his hands out from under the poncho. It tugged at his shoulder, tacky with drying blood. He couldn’t remember how many gems he held; he’d never even know if one was missing. Or lost in the sand. What kind of gems were they?

  Forget the gems. A silver apparition squatted before him.

  “Gwenna?”

  Get to the water, little one.

  “I thought—” The last time he’d seen her, her body was dissolving into a black hole.

  We want you to survive.

  “We?” Tristan glanced around the perimeter of the cave, where crowds of ghosts stood shoulder to shoulder. Some nodded for him to get to the water, others chatted in hushed whispers.

  So much for being alone.

  He turned back to Gwenna. “I didn’t know what you wanted me to do.”

  “I wasn’t very clear.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’ll be fine,” she said, reaching out to touch his face, then apparently thinking better of it.

  “Just need some sleep.” The moment his eyes fluttered shut, the trickling sound of the small waterfall ceased to exist.

  * * *

  Tristan woke to someone humming something familiar.

  He opened his eyes and found himself lying in the water with his head barely on dry sand. His right shoulder seemed much better as he crawled to higher ground, but his left burned too much to move.

  He could still feel the metal band clamped to his skull, though there didn’t seem to be any traces when he felt for it.

  The humming continued.

  Tristan rolled to his back and took in the shimmering textures of the ceiling. Would he be shocked if he tried to follow the music?

  He took a reassuring breath when nothing terrible happened and let his mind wander, seeking a direction from the tones. It was dark outside, above the cave, with just enough moonlight to see the shapes of trees. The forest sped past as he followed the music, until a strange green light appeared in the distance. He stared, trying to make sense of the floating figure.

  Was it Dorian?

  Long, weightless hair covered her face and she appeared to be prying at a boulder with a large stick. It took a minute to realize he was underwater.

  He panicked and took a painfully deep breath. But doing so assured him that his physical body was still in the cave, well above the waterline.

  Dorian continued humming to herself, then shoved at the boulder with all her strength until it rolled out of position.

  You were humming that song when we were in Ireland.

  Tristan?

  Yeah. Were you expecting someone else?

  I’m trying to work. Where are you?

  And you said I wouldn’t survive thirty seconds underwater. Tristan smiled to himself and settled into the sand.

  I think I gave you a minute. So, you’re here? You can see me?

  Sort of. You look good.

  I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while, she said, gathering her drifting hair away from her face. She made a tight circle, searching for him. But it’s not a good idea for you to be here. You know how Oliver gets with security.

  I’ve always wanted to know...how do you hold your breath for so long?

  Why are you here?

  Are you really working in the middle of the night?

  I’m transplanting. It’s easier on the plants if I move them at night.

  That’s really nice. Quite considerate, actually. Tristan grimaced as the throbs in his shoulder became harder to ignore. Are you doing okay?

  Great! she said, resuming her work. Been busy. Same old thing.

  Tristan watched in silence as she pried at more boulders, finally snapping her stick in half.

  I’m not used to being watched. I’m glad you’re doing well but Oliver would have your hide if he caught you—”

  I’m not worried about Oliver. I just wanted to see you, that’s all.

  Oh. She seemed speechless at that.

  I’m sorry about Gram, and how it all worked out.

  I’m sorry, too. But what’s done is done.

  Come on, Dorian. Would you have stood around while people were actively trying to kill you?

  That’s not the point.

  Yes it is! What would you have done—? Tristan held his breath as a stab of pain shot up his neck.

  I have a boyfriend.

  You said that before. I had a girlfriend. Sort of.

  So I heard.

  You did? Tristan retreated to the cave with his heart constricting. A million things went through his mind. Did she get the message and hope he would die in captivity? Suddenly the pain was too much to swallow.

  It’s not like we were dating, she added. I mean, we’re always fighting with each other. You know? I always say the wrong thing, or take everything the wrong way. I don’t really understand why you keep trying.

  I’m not trying. I didn’t come here to date you, or flirt with you. I just wanted—

  What did you want?

  I sent the message because you were the only person in the world who could’ve helped me. But I keep forgetting how much you despise me.

  I don’t despise you. Wait. It was a message?

  Don’t bother.

  Tristan, all they said was that you were dating some crazy chick who wasn’t much competition.

  She was nice for a while. Too much had happened since he’d last seen Dorian. He wasn’t about to fill her in on everything. I’m hurt, tired, and I’ll talk to you later.

  Wait! You’re hurt that I have a boyfriend? Or hurt literally?

  Maybe some of that stinky goo stuff you gave me before...for cuts and scrapes.

  So you came here for medicine?

  I just needed a friend. Forget I asked. And you’re right—I’m a terrible judge of character.

  Tristan!

  Goodnight, Dorian.

  If you’re seriously hurt, just say so.

  I’ve survived worse.

  Why don’t we meet somewhere? Like the cliff house, or the rock you used to fish from. I can be there in five minutes.

  As much as I’d love to argue face to face, I don’t want or need your help.

  Then stop whining!

  Tristan severed the connection.

  34

  - AMBUSHED -

  TRISTAN!

  Tristan’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name. He felt for the band on his head, relieved it was still gone. “Molajah?”

  He waited for a response, staring at the cave ceiling where the shimmers looked like faraway galaxies of another universe, where normal constellations didn’t exist.
>
  Water trickled into the pond—Tristan tried to wet his lips and rolled to his good side, intent on getting a drink. His muscles and joints were weaker than he’d anticipated, but he managed to crawl a few feet with one hand before crashing.

  Maybe he needed to soak longer. He twisted himself around and backed into the icy water, using his good arm to stay balanced as the melted poncho and open chest wound became submerged.

  The shimmering sparkles embedded in the walls of the cave wavered.

  He shivered against the numbing chill, settling onto his back with the water once again up to his neck. So long as he didn’t slide under, he’d be okay.

  Tristan?

  Not now, Dorian. Soon, he should be too numb to care about the cold and pain.

  I’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you?

  Tristan ignored her, gripping his bad arm as it cramped into a tight ball against his chest. He kicked at the sand, nearing a state of panic when it proved to be a helpless way to get a bit higher out of the water.

  I’m sorry about last night. I’m just not used to anyone talking to me mentally.

  People do it all the time.

  Not with me they don’t.

  Can’t talk right now. He held his breath. His legs had gone numb, as well as his good arm and the back of his neck. It was just his left arm and chest that burned. He glanced down at himself, unable to see the wound clearly.

  What are you doing?

  Leave me alone.

  If you’re hurt, let me take a look at you.

  I can deal with it.

  So you are hurt!

  Every second would have made a difference. But you ignored my message and left me to die. Would that have been a fair price for what happened in Ireland? Is that why you didn’t tell anyone where I was?

  What are you talking about?

  Forget it. Forget me. Forget everything.

  Tristan—

  So cold.

  Where are you? I’ll bring you the salve, just tell me where you are.

  Tristan opened his eyes warily.

  Donovan was here a few weeks ago, she continued. He said if I saw you, or heard from you, I should have someone send him a message immediately.

  Tristan tried to relax his shoulders—breathing seemed like a losing battle.

  Well? Do you want me to have a message sent or not?

  No.

  If you’re seriously injured, you might not be thinking straight. If you don’t want him, then let me come see you.

  I’ll be fine.

  You don’t sound fine.

  Just tired.

  You need more than sleep and you know it. Why won’t you let me help you?

  I don’t know. Maybe because I keep trusting the wrong people.

  You’re in the cave, aren’t you?

  Tristan couldn’t think of a lie fast enough.

  I’m on my way!

  No. Please, Dorian. I don’t want to see anyone. Not now.

  You don’t have a choice.

  Yes I do.

  I will personally re-dig the tunnel.

  A terrible thought crossed his mind. What is this place?

  Gram said the cave is where the dragons went to die, or to commune with the ancestors...something like that....

  Tristan scanned the brightest bits of sparkle in the ceiling, looking for depictions he might recognize. Why did it seal up when I told it to? Back when Lazaro was going to use it?

  Well, duh...aren’t you a descendant or something? Isn’t that what everyone kept saying?

  No. Everyone seemed to believe it except him. Even now. That’s not true.

  I’m on my way. Philip might be with me, unless I can get away unnoticed. Don’t hurt him, okay?

  Why would you think that? Tristan rode the wave of emotions, tired one minute, glad to argue the next.

  Philip thinks you’re...I don’t know. I think he feels bad that he ran away with his tail between his legs, and that he should have been here for me, instead of you. Of course, he believes he could have saved me faster. And without anyone getting killed....

  Ha! Tristan smiled at that. So you can finally admit I saved you?

  You didn’t save me. Eric and Oliver did.

  Whatever.

  So, are going to let me in? Or should I bring a shovel....

  I’ll meet you. But don’t tell Oliver, okay? The cave was the only place I could think of, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.

  Are you so hurt, that you can’t leave now?

  Too tired to know for sure.

  Okay...I’ll grab my medical bag and be there in thirty minutes at most.

  He’d need an hour just to get out of the water and climb up the hill of boulders to the exit. “Molajah?”

  Tristan rolled to his good side and saw fragments of the gems peeking through the sand. He crawled toward them, inch by painful inch, and gathered them all into the palm of his hand.

  “Molajah?” His voice echoed with the trickling waterfall. “I really could use some direction here.”

  Why wouldn’t the man show himself? Maybe the twinkling patterns on the cave walls were supposed to tell him something. Where were all the ghosts?

  “Hello? Gwenna? Would someone please tell me what I’m supposed to do? Where do they go from here?”

  At least there were plenty of rocks on the way out—plenty of places to hide the gems temporarily. He got to his numb feet, determined to walk. Especially in front of Dorian.

  Tristan? I’m here!

  Tristan opened his eyes, halfway up the rocks to the exit.

  It’s me. You said you’d come out!

  Must have fallen asleep.

  Get out here right now, or I’m going to start digging!

  Tristan followed her voice, searching the surrounding sunlit forest in his wraith-like state for signs of danger.

  There were at least twenty people hiding in the shade of trees. Some had crossbows, others had rifles. They all pointed weapons at the area where the entrance would rise from the ground.

  A dark-haired teenager stood beside Dorian, his arm draped possessively over her shoulder.

  Tristan could barely stomach the disappointment. She didn’t trust him...he didn’t trust her.

  Come on, Tristan! This isn’t funny! It’s just me and Philip.

  He couldn’t really blame her, could he?

  We’ll start digging if you don’t come out. Is that what you want?

  No. It wasn’t.

  Tristan circled the perimeter again, touching each mind with a command to sleep. The realization of doing such a thing had him retreating in a hurry.

  When he stepped outside, would it be like Ireland all over again? Letting unidentified powers from the emerald flow through him had caused enough trouble. But now he had.... How many gems did he touch?

  “When I go,” he said to the cave itself, “don’t open for anyone except me. And be aware of tunneling. No one gets in. Ever.”

  Did he truly have authority to command the cave? His mind drifted to what sort of creature or thing the cave might be, if it had a personality.

  “Please. And, thank you,” he added, just in case.

  The walls were certainly spectacular to watch, with all the multi-colored twinkles of glowing sand to light the place.

  Mesmerizing.

  Tristan shook his head to get back on track. “It’s not that I don’t want to share, it’s the gems. No one can find them.”

  Tristan, please! What’s taking so long? Do you need help? We’re right here, we can come get you.

  Tristan shook himself again, losing his ability to concentrate.

  I’m coming out, just give me a second. He refocused on Dorian and Philip, still standing together with the sun at their backs. They seemed like such an odd couple; Philip with his jet-black hair and ripped jeans, bright red sneakers and T-shirt; Dorian a mirror of mother nature.

  Please be careful, Dorian pleaded. Don’t do anything aggressive.

  Dori
an’s hair hung in silky smooth waves, with tiny violet flowers woven into the copper-colored highlights. She had on the same dress she usually wore, something like a skirted swimsuit made of natural leather.

  What could she possibly see in Philip? Not that he really cared.

  Tristan hugged his bad arm to his chest tighter, double-checked the surrounding people to make sure they were unconscious, then transported himself out of the cave, making a silent promise to respect whatever relationship Dorian had with Philip.

  The smash of blinding light to his eyes was the last thing he expected, but he did not try to shield himself.

  You’re shifting. I can no longer tune myself with you.

  Molajah? The voice definitely fit. What is this place?

  Remember what I told you about shifting?

  No. What? Where’s the falcon? Is he alive? He hadn’t felt the pain in his chest for a few brief moments, but now the pain was back with a vengeance. What’s happening?

  Stop the shift at all costs. It doesn’t work like it used to.

  What doesn’t work? Tristan spun in the light, taken aback by how clear the words were. Usually this place was pure chaos.

  And then he was standing in front of Dorian and Philip, gasping for air. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open at the sight of him.

  Philip lunged, knocking him to the ground.

  Just as well, since he was about to collapse anyway. Tristan shut his eyes as Philip pulled back his fist; he could certainly take a hit. But the punch never came.

  Donovan knelt beside him, forcing his eyelids open.

  “What are you doing here?” Dorian asked, outraged.

  “Go check on Philip. And the perimeter of people who appear to be unconscious.”

  “What?” Dorian looked furious. And scared.

  “You set me up,” Tristan whispered, barely able to catch his breath. The branches above him seemed to grow into tangles.

  “Oliver found out we were meeting and didn’t want me to go alone. I couldn’t warn you, because then you wouldn’t have come out. And no one told him,” she said, eyeing Donovan. “If anyone out there is injured....”

  “They’re sleeping,” Tristan said. “Nothing more.”

  Donovan frowned for a moment, then nodded. “I agree. No need to check on them.”

  Dorian bit her lip, but didn’t run to check for herself. “I’m so sorry, Tristan. I had no choice!”