Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3)

by Toni Kerr

  “Meanwhile, a backup dragon on hold for filming in New Zealand, designed to be flown rather than controlled from the ground, was stolen and blasted to smithereens by hardworking men who truly felt their lives were in danger. The two young pilots were lucky to be rescued from the freezing waters, and less than ten percent of the dragon parts were recovered. Charges against the two thieves were dropped, and it is unknown whether Mr. Christoph will be suing the townsfolk for loss of property and damages. Working against him, permits for the experimental flying device were not acquired in advance, however, the machine in question had not yet been tested, except by the young pilots, who were unsolicited and unsanctioned for their short-lived joyride.”

  Everyone in the room was silent. The group of people sitting at the table stared at him. Some he recognized, like Alpheus, Eleonora, and Talak, with his exposed skin covered in tattoos, and Alvi, Victor’s future bride. Others seemed only slightly familiar, and a few, he was fairly certain, he’d never seen before.

  A woman in long skirts, Madam Galina, the doctor, strode through the trees and stopped when she saw him. “Donovan! Does he look fit to be part of this meeting? Unless you feel like eating something, I’m ordering you back to bed, Tristan.”

  Donovan ignored the woman. “Shall I repeat myself?”

  Tristan looked at Landon, with Pink sitting comfortably on his shoulder. “Come on, Tristan. Say something so we know you understand what’s going on.”

  Tristan blinked, finding it difficult to open his eyes afterward. “China?”

  Landon smiled as Donovan spoke. “We left a noticeable trail and some suspect a fault line of some sort, though no one can prove or disprove any speculations without trace evidence.”

  Madam Galina tugged on his arm, pulling him back toward the cot in the woods.

  As much as he needed sleep, he needed to keep moving. He stumbled before he could take a full step and Donovan lowered him into a chair with wheels. A solid path formed in the leaves, leading to the table with the crowd of people to the left, and through the birch trees to the cot toward the right.

  “Food and business or sleep. The choice is yours.”

  “How much time has passed?”

  “You’ve been in and out for the past week.”

  “Why am I so tired?”

  “You lost most of your blood when you shifted. Next time, I’d suggest keeping some of it in your system.”

  Tristan pointed to the table as a direction. “How did you explain that to the press?”

  “We had a large bladder fitted around the belly of the machine, filled with red fluid to make for more authentic battle scenes. It was clearly a design flaw, as the pilots were not able to fly as straight as they would have preferred, with the sloshing liquid. Nor were they able to maintain a proper altitude.”

  “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” Tristan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “The expense must be outrageous.”

  “As I told you before, the cost is not a concern. The news stories have been going viral, as Victor calls it, and funds have been pouring in to keep the project running.”

  “Won’t you have to make a movie to show for it?”

  “Victor isn’t opposed to the idea, though I refuse to hand over any top secret blueprints for my flying machine.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “We will be meeting here from now on.” Donovan wheeled Tristan around the table to give him a clear impression of each person. “Get to know our voices, our scents, and our general appearances. Stare at us, especially if your eyes shift. Ask us questions. Learn our mannerisms and habits. Predict our verbal responses and thinking patterns.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this at all—”

  “You aren’t comfortable with anything, period.” Donovan pushed Tristan into a gap beside Victor and continued walking with his hands clasped behind his back. “If you shift, these are the people who can be trusted. They will help you find safety. They will transport you home if needed. If you are in hiding, they will bring you food. If you are captured, they will risk their lives to rescue you. They will be your voice if you are caught in a public situation. Do not flee from them.”

  Tristan glanced up from the table to see if anyone else found this conversation as creepy as it sounded, but no one paid him much attention.

  “Pink says you were able to communicate with her, yet you would not communicate with Landon or Victor. Why is this?”

  “I was distracted.”

  “Could you understand what they were saying?”

  “I think so. I’m not sure now.” The group around the table seemed to be getting restless. “Do you guys even know what you’re getting into?”

  “We know there’s a possible language barrier,” someone said.

  “We understand the effect food has on your power levels in a human form,” followed Talak. “And handling that power is often a strain. Yet you don’t seem to use any power as a dragon.”

  “You’ve never shown aggression toward humans as a dragon, even when they’re shooting at you.”

  “Flight and escaping humans seem to be your highest priorities.”

  “You aren’t as starving when you are a dragon, though you don’t appear to be starving now.”

  “You’re unlikely to recognize anyone when you are a dragon.”

  “You’re constantly fighting the need to hibernate,” Landon said, when it was his turn, “and if you fall asleep mid-sentence, no one will judge you for it.”

  He felt a tear roll down his cheek and glanced at each person—a room full of people who knew him better than he knew himself.

  “Classical music calms you.”

  “The plants will assist you if needed.”

  “You are very acrobatic when it comes to flying, but you don’t appreciate people on your back.”

  Tristan smiled. He hadn’t thought of that. Flying at all wasn’t something he’d been taught.

  “You have a sincere heart and a fine appreciation for art and what matters most,” Eleonora said.

  “You’re not exactly battle ready, but you’re a quick learner when it comes to figuring something out under pressure on your own.”

  “I think you would kill anyone threatening Landon or Victor, and I applaud that kind of loyalty.”

  “Your mother is a gold-digging wench, and I feel sorta sorry for Lazaro for getting involved with her in the first place. I vote we put her back in prison to finish out her sentence.”

  The mood lightened significantly as people came up with ideas on how to frame her for various crimes. Tristan noticed a woman materializing along a distant wall, and then five others. The temperature in the room dropped and everyone stilled.

  Tristan broke the nervous silence. “Don’t forget ghosts.”

  19

  MEANS TO AN END

  A CHILL SETTLED over the table and the people tensed.

  “It’s fine, actually,” Tristan said. “Now they can see who supports me in the land of the living.”

  “I don’t want to be killed or anything,” said a man with curly red hair and broad shoulders, “but I’m actually not very comfortable with this. I think you’re a nice kid and it doesn’t bother me at all that you’re a dragon. Ghosts don’t bother me much either. But introducing unknown, magical species into the human population seems a little risky to me. Surely they’ll expect a territory to live in, and I doubt they’ll want to share with humans.”

  The room was silent until Donovan spoke. “I require full support—”

  “It’s a good question,” Tristan said, interrupting Donovan. “I don’t know what will happen.”

  “But you could start a war with this. Us against Them. Thousands could die. The humans could be wiped out.”

  “I know.” It was the core of the equation that made the decision so hard. “But if something was wrong a thousand years ago, does it become right over time? I can’t pretend they don’t exist, especially when I can set them free.”


  The redhead kept his mouth closed, as did everyone else. “Easy to say when you’re one of them,” he finally said. “Whose side will you be on if a war breaks out?”

  “I don’t know. I’d hope to remain neutral, but I’ll pick the side who’s fighting for a cause I can believe in.”

  “This is uncharted territory for the Makai,” Donovan stated. “None of you are required to support this mission. We’ll still operate as we have, but this may very well soon be taking precedence over everything we’re currently involved with.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re willing to let certain people run their evil schemes, while we sit around researching mythology all day?”

  “It may appear that way for now,” said Donovan.

  “Sooner or later, there could be a true World War III,” Talak said. “Us against the Fae. Or perhaps it’ll be us and the Fae against mankind. Or perhaps we’ll simply be there to help everyone get along. Because technically speaking, we don’t know if we’re releasing single infants or hundreds of trained military forces.”

  Tristan stared at the gathering ghosts. Their numbers were increasing rapidly.

  “We don’t even know the specifics of this so-called contract,” said someone else. “What if, when he breaks the contract, all the magic involved strikes him down because he misunderstood? Maybe he really is supposed to wait until the humans have gone extinct.”

  “There’s a chance the earth itself won’t be able to support life if we wait that long,” said Tristan. “Just look at what’s happened in the last hundred years.”

  “Those races are sure gonna be one stirred up hornets’ nest.”

  Everyone’s lives were at risk, along with the population of the entire world. Tristan stood from his chair and leaned on the table, watching the ghosts as they piled on each other and wiggled into gaps for a better view. There was hardly any room left between the backs of the Makai and the crowd. Samara, can you make them visible?

  The sunlight faded to darkness. Everyone at the table stood and froze, waiting for instructions, but clearly tempted to run for the door.

  “Explain,” ordered Donovan.

  Tristan regretted standing, fighting the waves of dizziness along with everyone’s fear. “Samara is going to experiment to make them visible.”

  People around the table shifted nervously, with whispers of ‘who’s Samara,’ and ‘experiment on us?’ ‘Ghosts?’

  A full moon brightened and dimmed, and shifted from white light to purple to red to blue. The temperature spiked and dropped and buzzing vibrations had everyone grasping their heads. Tristan turned away from the table to face the ghosts gathered behind him. His shoulder ached but he felt calm, more tired than frantic. “Can’t you just show yourselves?”

  There were a few shrugs and shakes of the head.

  “How many?” Donovan asked. “Will we be attacked? I need to know now.”

  Swords and guns and energy fields appeared around the table in a heartbeat.

  “It’s like the blind leading the blind,” someone said.

  “I’m sorry.” Tristan clenched his trembling hands tighter to his chest. If only he could find that chair. Where was the staff? “A hundred, maybe more. Will you attack us if we can see you?” Tristan asked.

  “He doesn’t even know?”

  A man stood from his chair and before he could take a full step toward Tristan, Donovan was standing between them with the tip of his sword pointed at the man’s throat.

  Tristan backed into the table and sent a jolt of power through it, zapping everyone who happened to be touching it. Everyone froze with their palms in the air. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

  People nodded skeptically and scooted away.

  “I wasn’t going to do anything!” pleaded the man, trying to sound calm, sitting back down.

  “We’re all a little jumpy. Tristan, are they going to attack or not?”

  “Not,” Tristan said. “I don’t know why there are so many, or why they’re here.”

  Suddenly, every single ghost was visible to the people around the table. There were a few shouts of fright and weapons raised. A gun went off and Tristan dropped to his knees and covered his ears. “Don’t shoot!”

  “Stop!” Donovan shouted. “We are NOT under attack here. Tristan, stand up.”

  Landon rushed from his chair to help Tristan get to his feet.

  “I’m sorry,” Tristan muttered. “I seem to have an unreasonable fear of guns blowing my head off.”

  “We’ll make a note of it,” Landon said, trying to make light of the whole situation and failing.

  A ghostly man was rushing to get all the ghosts down on their knees, and while Tristan had not seen so many ghosts in one place, he was more curious about the Makai’s reaction. One word from Donovan and they’d be a killing force, already focused and set on going to war. But what did they really think they could do against a bunch of ghosts?

  The clearing around the table and surrounding forest was so full of misty beings, there was no way to see them all or even count. Those in the back, who wouldn’t be able to see if they kneeled, were standing with empty hands in the air. Behind them were dragons. Dozens and dozens of them.

  Tristan leaned against Landon, needing more support to stand. “You have no idea how glad I am that you can finally see this.”

  “It’s not like we didn’t believe you,” Landon said, as Tristan caught sight of Pink hiding in his hair. “Shhh.”

  Tristan nodded as Donovan addressed the crowd. “Tell us what you want and why you’re here.”

  The man who’d gotten everyone to kneel moved his mouth soundlessly.

  Tristan started laughing, then tried not to when everyone scowled at him. “I’m just glad. I mean, I’m glad it’s not just me, that you can’t hear them either.”

  “Room, adjust for sound. You,” Donovan ordered, pointing at the man who seemed to be leading the ghosts, “pick ten who share a variety of opinions about this whole situation and send the rest outside. I want at least one dragon to be amongst the ten.”

  Tristan let his forehead plop against the table as the ghosts appeared to object over the demands. Some immediately wanted to be among the chosen, some were clearly upset, probably about being asked to leave.

  “If you do not wish to be a part of this,” said Donovan to the group at the table, “now is your chance to walk away. I can’t guarantee your safety, but when have I ever?”

  “I’d like to leave,” Tristan said, though no one paid any attention to him. In fact, Landon draped a warm blanket over his shoulders. Alpheus nodded with half a smile. Eleonora’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. No one left. In fact, they all took their seats and pretended the surrounding commotion amongst the crowd of ghosts didn’t exist.

  “But this is your chance,” Tristan said. “Why risk your lives if you don’t have to?”

  No one had a great answer, and most shrugged off the question. “We’ll be a secret society within a secret society,” someone said.

  “Maybe we can do more to save not just innocent people, but the Earth itself.”

  “Yeah, you never know,” added someone else. “This whole global warming thing could be fixed by next year.”

  “Even if it means picking up trash and cleaning radioactive water?”

  “The general public might think it’s stupid and a waste of time, but I’m sure we can rally a few to help.”

  “Maybe we could develop a public organization to run it,” added Victor. “Then we can focus more of our energy on supporting whatever these mystery races need.”

  The plan was beginning to sound completely reasonable and possible. “Thank you,” Tristan said, hopeful that they might actually accomplish something positive. He glanced back at Landon, his mind going blank. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “We’ll wake you up when things get started, if you want to rest your eyes for a minute.”

  Tristan laid his head on the table and in wha
t seemed like a blink, the table was much longer. There were ghosts at one end and people at the other. On the ghosts’ side, there were five men, two women, and three dragons sitting behind them on large rounded haunches. They were more defined than before, but sound seemed to still be an issue.

  “Where’s Jacques?” Tristan asked. He glanced at Donovan, unsure if he was stepping over some sort of line he didn’t know about, then returned his attention to the ghosts. “Has he been freed? Is he still alive? Around, that is.” Would Jacques have been chosen to be in the top ten?

  “They, and the room, are attempting to work on sound,” said Donovan. “Unsuccessfully, I might add.”

  “Molajah didn’t have a problem with it,” Tristan mumbled. “Neither did the dragon from the Forest of Darkness. But whatever. I can handle the yes-no questions.”

  “Who’s Jacques?” asked Talak.

  “Jacques is Tristan’s falcon.” Donovan shot a warning glance at Victor and Landon. “He’s being held for treason by the council, for bringing Tristan to my attention.”

  “Sounds awfully personal.”

  “It is.”

  The ghosts stilled, waiting for Donovan to continue. Tristan wondered how many knew the truth about the relationship between Donovan and Jacques.

  “The council had reason to keep Tristan from me, so I don’t blame them for their caution.” Donovan paced the living side of the table with his hands clasped behind his back. “In my past, I have killed a few, make that a few too many, dragons. I was bitter, and there is not much I can do about it now,” Donovan said, addressing the ghosts, “but I do ask for your forgiveness. Tristan is my sole priority and I will surely die so that he may live.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Tristan said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “I don’t care if you’re immortal.” Donovan smiled down at him. “You are young and naive and full of inexperience, but my way of righting a wrong hasn’t been very successful. I’m tired of manipulating people in an attempt to make the world a better place, of taking out the people who would abuse their powers in my eye. So maybe your way will make a better difference. Maybe these races can fix what we have destroyed, and the world as a whole will improve. But I fear the human race will never change.”