by Toni Kerr
“But…wouldn’t they be encased in something? Flashlights, remote controls, and whatever else needs batteries? And what if they’re in people’s houses? That’s beyond creepy. I’m not doing it.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Landon said. “You’re searching from here.”
“And it makes no difference what they’re in or where they are once you start searching. When you’re in the groove and know what you’re after, every battery will stand out like a big glaring flag.”
Tristan frowned at the battery in his hand. “You’re serious.”
By the time they were flying over land, and at an altitude below the layer of clouds, Tristan had charged half a dozen batteries of various sizes, courtesy of Victor. He watched the clusters of lights from the window of the plane, where the more populated areas would be. “Still seems creepy.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Donovan said, “go for batteries on fire alarms. You’ll be doing the people a favor.”
Tristan smiled at the thought. “At least it passes the time. How much farther?”
“Twelve hours at the most. Landon will watch your levels as we go…but don’t lose track of yourself, especially if you end up divided like you were with Dorian in Ireland. You are not to transport yourself, not even by accident, until we have real confirmation that it’s safe.”
Tristan let his mind wander, finding it easier to send his gaze far ahead of where they were, as if it would give him more time to search for the tiny signatures of manganese oxide and ammonium chloride—whatever Victor said it was. All he had to do was sense substance and push a bit of his own energy into it, reverting the compounds to their original state.
It was slow going until his awareness became more organized, gusting through the neighborhoods like a storm of current. He included car batteries and solar panel storage stations, then broadened his search for any electrical line that would accept his energy.
The plane bounced and slowed enough to startle him awake. Donovan was rambling in a foreign language.
“It’s fine,” Landon said. “We’re getting ready to land.”
“What?” Tristan rubbed his eyes, not realizing he’d fallen asleep.
“We’re in Austria. Donovan is on the radio making arrangements for a car to Vienna.”
“That was fast. How many languages does he speak?” Tristan raked his fingers through his hair, tempted to ask for a mirror. “Can we eat?”
“No,” Donovan said, switching back to English. “I prefer you rundown if we’re to face Lazaro. We should be there in an hour.”
Tristan groaned and pleaded with Victor, who was always up for more food. “Come on, Victor. What food is Austria known for? We should try everything. It’s part of traveling, isn’t it? You can’t tell me you don’t want authentic Austrian food, can you?”
“When we’re done with Lazaro, we’ll celebrate. Okay?” Victor glanced at Donovan for confirmation.
“I’m fine with that, but I don’t want to be on the ground longer than necessary.”
The plane hit the runway smoothly and slowed. They pulled off the straight stretch and turned toward the rising sun, where a line of buildings designed for the smaller planes waited. Tristan’s stomach grumbled.
“The battery operation seemed to work fine,” said Victor. “That’ll be a handy skill to have!”
“We’re going to Lazaro’s vineyard,” announced Donovan. “Tristan and I will walk in, you two will keep to the perimeters as backup. We shouldn’t be inside for more than half an hour, but if we take longer than an hour, contact Alpheus and bring support. I’m assuming we won’t have mental contact once inside, but check before you rally everyone.”
The plane came to a full stop. Donovan unbuckled himself from his seat and stood, rolling down the sleeves of his white dress-shirt.
“I know,” sang Pink, flying to Landon from the cockpit area. “I’ll stay hidden!” She gave everyone the thumbs up. “Is that the proper timing?”
Victor grinned with a double thumbs up. “Perfect timing.”
“Where’s the dog?” Tristan asked, happy to see Pink healthy and vibrant.
“She’s at home, guarding the island like she’s supposed to.”
Tristan glowered at the floor. Poor Jessie would have to face the ghosts alone.
“Get your own dog. Jessie is mine.”
Tristan kept his mouth shut and nodded. He had no grounds to object, and had no intentions of taking the dog. He could barely take care of himself at the moment.
“Victor, stay with the plane and make a show of doing the cool-down drill. You’ll have thirty minutes to kill while we drive to the vineyard. If anyone’s watching us, they’ll see Tristan and I have left alone, as per our agreement. They know I’ve hired a car. In fact, I’m expecting the driver to be one of Lazaro’s men.”
A doorway along the side of the plane opened and a panel of stairs extended from beneath the floor to the tarmac. Hot and humid air rushed in, a sharp difference from what they’d gotten used to.
“What about Landon?” Tristan asked. His body ached with exhaustion, and suddenly he didn’t want to get out of the plane.
“He knows the coordinates. Let’s get this over with.” Donovan exited the plane and waited at the base of the stairs.
Tristan paused at the open doorway. “This is crazy. I need more food.” His legs trembled and the air seemed too thick to breathe.
“Do not fear, Tristan. You’re the only one who has a shot at saving his brother and he knows it, so even if he threatens you, he won’t kill you.”
“But he could kill you.” Tristan took each step carefully. “The staff!” He turned around to backtrack, but Victor beat him to it. “Thanks.”
“I expect his estate to be heavily guarded, but for this meeting, we’ve agreed to set our differences aside.”
“Serious?” Three more steps and he’d be on the ground. “I wouldn’t trust either one of you to keep an agreement like that.”
“Despite how it looks, neither one of us enjoys killing people.”
“He calls you the executioner. Kill first, ask later.”
“It’s just a reputation. He knows I am more powerful than he is, and he has much more to risk if either of us should go against our word.”
Finally past the stairs obstacle, Tristan leaned on the staff with his eyes closed. The mental war between food and sleep was beginning to take all his concentration. “I need to sit down.”
Donovan put a hand on his back and pushed him onward. “Jet lag. Rest in the car if you must, not in the open.”
He stumbled and Donovan caught his elbow. “I’d prefer not to carry you, but I will.”
“No,” Tristan whispered. Were Lazaro’s men watching him? “I got this.”
They walked toward a long black limousine with tinted windows. It seemed to get farther away with each step.
“Do not speak in the car or to Lazaro unless I ask you something directly. Try to play along if necessary. Look at me directly if you need my attention. I will do all the negotiating and I will decide if he has met the terms of our agreement before we enter his house. Do not draw attention to yourself. He knows you’ve been ill and assumes that’s the reason you’ve not been able to come sooner.”
“I need food. Anything.” Why did Landon let his levels get so low?
“I don’t want any power surges while we’re attempting a peaceful assemblage. As much as I dislike Lazaro, I do not wish to be the one to break the agreement. You’ve gone weeks without eating, I’m sure you can manage for another hour or two.”
“That was before….”
“Before what?”
Tristan stopped again, too tired to take another step. “Before—” He couldn’t remember what he was going to say.
Donovan scooped him off his feet and carried him the rest of the way, stopping briefly to pick up the fallen staff. Tristan didn’t resist and felt nothing when a man in a black suit opened the rear door of the lim
ousine, speaking in a different language. Donovan responded with a single syllable.
And then Donovan was gently slapping the side of his face, forcing him to open his eyes. “We’re at the vineyard. Get to your feet.”
“Food.” A hamburger. Steak. Ribs. Anything would fill the widening gap in the pit of his stomach. “Please—”
“Do not eat anything Lazaro might offer you. Is that clear?”
Tristan nodded, though he would have agreed to anything at this point.
“Stay in the car until I say so.” The door opened and Donovan stepped into the glaring sunshine. Within a moment, he motioned for Tristan.
Tristan stood, shading his eyes and struck by the beautiful landscape. Plants around him hushed, then began whispering excitedly, spreading the word.
Donovan wrapped Tristan’s fingers around the staff. “Perhaps you are correct, and we should do this another time.”
Tristan smiled, encouraged by the welcome. “It’ll be okay.”
White flowers, like snowballs, opened as he and Donovan walked along a brick path. Tristan stopped to inhale the fragrance. It had been so long since he’d been able to think of anything but food and sleep. Now it was summer and flowers and open fields.
“You are drawing attention to yourself, Tristan.”
His eyes drifted to the man standing behind them at the car, a reminder of why they were here. “Right. I can do this.” Thank you for the welcome, but I...I can’t talk right now. He’d have to learn to control his thoughts better, so as not to ramble and make a fool of himself. If Dorian were here, she’d be laughing her head off about now. He smiled at the thought and shook it off.
A sweet scent led him to a hedge of roses. “May I?” he whispered, pausing with his fingers lightly on the woody stem.
Of course, Dragon King.
I am not a king. But I would like one of your flowers with me, to keep me grounded.
It would be my honor.
Tristan severed the stem, apologizing for any pain it might have caused the shrub. Other plants along the formal trail offered their flowers as well. Tristan’s smile grew wider.
“Focus, Tristan.”
“Wait.” Tristan leaned toward a rose bush a second time. About Lazaro, the man we are meeting. Do you like him?
Murmuring whispers spread through the manicured gardens. Tristan waited.
“We’re sitting ducks in this location,” said Donovan. “We should keep moving.”
The man you call Lazaro is not as skilled as our previous gardener, but he tends to us daily and talks to us. We have no complaints, except to say there is a leak in the watering pipes, swamping the ground near the grape line, and two of the apple trees have fallen ill to an invasion of insects.
Thank you. I’ll see what I can do. Tristan walked beside Donovan, unhurried.
Lazaro waited at the top of a long staircase. Tristan groaned. “Why are there always stairs?”
Donovan sighed. “No talking.”
Tristan held the flower to his nose and inhaled the scent before continuing up the path. He does his own gardening? That alone had to count for something at least.
The man spends a few hours with us each day before the sun is high. Often he meanders on the lesser paths, which is something the previous groundskeeper rarely did. We are happy with his service.
Tristan frowned. What was Lazaro up to? Is he by himself when he does this?
Yes, though there are always men with guns in their pockets, protecting us from those who would do us harm. But they do not talk to us. They keep to paths most of the time, except for today. Today they are crouching among us and they are not at ease.
“We’re surrounded,” Tristan whispered.
“You just now noticed? Five on the roof, twenty to the left, eleven to the right.”
Tristan confirmed the numbers, sensing heartbeats and heat signals. “Wait!” His vision must have shifted and he wasn’t even aware of it happening. “I shouldn’t be out in public. We shouldn’t do this.”
“You’ll be fine. Close your eyes and stay focused on walking.”
Tristan did as instructed, willing his eyes back to normal, breathing in the peaceful smell of the flower as Donovan kept a guiding hand on his elbow. When a pounding vibration echoed through the brick path and the plants hushed, Tristan opened his eyes and watched Lazaro rush down the stairs with his tight curls bouncing at each step.
Donovan stopped, halting Tristan as well, and waited for Lazaro to close the distance.
“Thank you for coming.” Lazaro bowed nervously.
This was not the same man who’d kidnapped Dorian and killed people for looking at him funny. Tristan kept his head down and let Donovan handle the conversation.
“You have not held to the terms of our agreement,” Donovan said. “We could leave and not think of your brother again.”
“The guards. Yes.” Lazaro glared at the landscape as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I asked them to stand down, but they think this entire idea is terrible, and to invite you of all people…well, I can’t blame them for their loyalty. BUT NO ONE IS TO FIRE UNLESS FIRED UPON!”
Tristan flinched at the yell and kept his attention on the ground.
“You really are ill.” Lazaro eyed Tristan for a long moment. The air became too thick to breathe. “My apologies for thinking otherwise.”
Lazaro reached out with a finger to lift Tristan’s chin and Donovan grabbed hold of his wrist. “Don’t touch him.”
Bushes jostled as guards stiffened, taking aim.
“For god’s sake.” Lazaro rubbed at his wrist the moment Donovan flung it away.
“Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”
“There’s a leak in the sprinklers by a grape line, and the apple trees need to be sprayed for insects,” said Tristan, before he might forget.
Lazaro scowled. “How can I know if he’s well enough to give it an honest attempt? What I mean is, if this is a one-shot deal, maybe I’m better off waiting?”
“And maybe he’s dead by morning.”
“Oh.” Lazaro frowned. “Tristan or my brother?”
“Take your pick.”
“I see.” Lazaro pulled a white cloth from a pocket and sopped up the sweat on his forehead. “I suppose I should be more grateful that you’re here at all.”
Something made of glass crashed from an upper floor of the house. Tristan’s eyes shifted in an instant as he peered through a central window, pinpointing the exact room where the sound had originated. Inside, two figures were fighting and one was knocked to the floor. It remained still. “Donovan—”
“I see it.”
“Damn.” Lazaro spun to face the front of his house. The heat signal ran down a set of curving stairs and headed for the front door. “Put your guns down!” Lazaro ordered before facing Donovan again. “I promise, she was here before this arrangement with you and Tristan. I was thinking bloodlines, you know? And then she seemed to be enjoying herself, and wouldn’t leave, and it really wasn’t my plan to have her here this long. But then I thought maybe she might come in handy if Tristan needed incentive. It was a terrible thought, I know, but please don’t—”
Lazaro was a wreck, begging for forgiveness before the person could even walk out the door.
“Whatever she says, she’s not speaking with my approval or permission. I would never endanger my brother’s life by pulling a crazy stunt like this—”
As Lazaro rambled on, Tristan locked eyes with his mother, and vaguely heard Donovan telling Lazaro to shut up.
She looked decent enough with her hair a lighter shade of red than usual, wearing a jade-green skirt and white blouse. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her in something more businesslike than nightclub-ish. He’d almost forgotten she’d existed at all.
She said something to him, but with the rush of blood pulsing in his ears, he missed it. “Shouldn’t you be in prison or something?”
“Halfway around the
world and I still can’t get rid of you!” She pulled her hand back to slap him, only to have it caught by Lazaro. “What are you doing here?”
“Come along, darling.” Lazaro wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her toward the door. “We’re just discussing a bit of business with the wine production. This man is a connoisseur from France.”
“Stop manhandling me, you chauvinistic brute!” She yanked herself free. “I don’t believe a word you say.” She stomped back to Tristan, breaking a heel on one of her shoes. “You ruin everything! And just when things are going good. What’d you do, drop out of high school?”
He knew he should hide his eyes when they shifted, but he couldn’t tear away from the sight of his mother and her shrill accusations. Donovan stepped between them with his arms outstretched.
“Get away from me, you big buffoon.” She tried to shove Donovan aside. “What kind of drugs are you on?”
The heat signals in the surrounding gardens were getting restless, their heart rates increasing. Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing away the chaos, and smelled the flower one last time.
His mother.
Donovan and Lazaro each held an arm to keep her from attacking him. How had Lazaro explained her being here? Tristan glared, unbothered by the fact that his eyes were all wrong. He let them look—let them see that something inside wasn’t human.
“Tristan,” Donovan warned. “Focus.”
Why should he apologize for her hatred? Nothing about her was his fault. He stepped forward and held out the white rose.
She glared at the innocent flower and snarled. “You’re a monster.”
“I know.”
17
CALL OF NATURE
THE STAFF FELL to the ground. Tristan clutched his head, unable to stop the pain rippling through every bone and muscle. He dropped to his knees.
Donovan knelt beside him and whispered in his ear. “I can’t transport you while your DNA is fluctuating.”
“Can’t breathe.”
Guards from both sides of the walkway revealed their positions and stood, keeping their guns aimed at Tristan and Donovan. Lazaro held up a hand to stop whatever they might be planning. “What are you up to, Donovan?”