Descendant (Secrets of the Makai)

by Kerr, Toni

  "I can't believe a falcon would run personal errands or transport itself. Who would've done the training?"

  "In our surveillance...." Landon paused, finally shaking his head. "I've never noticed a bird like that."

  "All good things to know. Let's not ever mention the falcon coming to us." Alpheus leaned back in the chair, keeping his hands folded loosely in his lap. "Donovan and I will both seal the box. Gwenna never told me about a book, but I believe we should retrieve it immediately. If there is a correlation, I don't want Sabbatini to learn anything more from its inscriptions or design. And I certainly don't want it destroyed."

  "Maybe after Nicodemus was killed," Victor said, "there were no dragon descendants left to protect the emerald, or any of the other gems in the legend, and Gwenna was the next best thing? The falcon came to us because we have the means to keep it from Sabbatini…or society in general."

  "Maybe the falcon, or the emerald, allowed contact," continued Landon, "because it was absolutely necessary at the time. But now that we've agreed to take responsibility, Tristan could be turned to stone?" He searched the sky for the falcon while Victor kept an eye on the cliff house.

  "We shouldn't make such conclusions." Alpheus seemed completely content to wait, and changed the subject. "We need to pay close attention to what is said on this island. Tell Tristan to tell Dorian the box fell into the ocean at the cliff. If the story gets to Sabbatini, he'll start searching there. Perhaps he will find portions of the box, motivating him to continue a more thorough investigation. That should keep him occupied while we locate the book."

  "What can we tell Tristan about us?" Victor asked. "He's got great potential to be part of the Makai, don't you think?"

  "What if Tristan is a legitimate dragon descendant?" Landon stood to pace along the waterline. "Maybe historians are wrong about Seraphim dragons being extinct."

  "Couldn't be," Victor answered, half-laughing. "He's so naive and oblivious to everything, it's almost hilarious. Although...I think he'd have killed us if he knew what he was doing, or had any sort of reflex. It might be nice to have a dragon on our side."

  "He's not an actual dragon," Landon said. "He seems better, by the way. I think he's handling everything just fine."

  Victor nodded his agreement.

  "I vowed I would never encourage children into the Makai," Alpheus announced. "But you may invite him to live in Darnell, so he can get some structured education. I'll ask Donovan if he knows anything about dragons, if they mature from a human form at a certain age, or if they simply have a dragon ancestry background."

  "Why would Donovan know?" Victor asked.

  "You'd be surprised by the information he's collected over the years. Another thing, I don't want anyone knowing about this dragon theory. It's not certain, for one. Second, we don't know what it entails. We'll continue with caution. Perhaps a bit more caution."

  Landon relaxed when he spotted Tristan making the return trip along the far shore. He sat down and grinned.

  "We'll find him a place to stay," Alpheus continued, "assuming he wants to come. He mustn't be pressured, but he's becoming more dangerous. Ignorance won't last much longer and he can't ignore this kind of power. Also, I don't want him in a populated area if he starts having dragon issues with no one to turn to for help."

  * * *

  Tristan couldn't risk looking at the map. Not without someone to pull him out of it. Besides, it still looked pretty much ruined. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension with deep breaths. Every muscle seized with unreasonable anxieties. He carried the emerald in the silver box, his hands trembling, and faced Alpheus. He couldn't start freaking out now, not without cause.

  "I promise I will keep this safer than anyone in the world."

  Tristan gulped the frantic butterflies and held out his hands; the silver box in one and remnants of the original box in the other.

  Alpheus put the palm of his hand a few inches above the box—the seam between lid and body dissolved, leaving no trace of an opening. The silver cube, along with all the wooden fragments, vanished.

  "Wait!" Dread filled his thoughts, dissolving into the certainty of being misled and deceived. He'd never have a shot at getting the emerald back by force.

  "Is there anything else you'd like to give us?"

  Did they know about Gwenna's map—the puzzle of images? Whether he could figure it out on his own or not, whether it was still functional, he wasn't about to give it away. He shook his head.

  "Okay." Alpheus rested a hand on Tristan's shoulder. He flinched, determined not to step back. "I will keep the emerald protected with every aspect of my being. And now," the man announced to Landon and Victor, "I have business to finish." With a curt nod, Alpheus headed toward Gram's cabin.

  "I take it you're leaving, too?" Tristan kicked at rocks. Was it too late to change his mind? He'd only promised Gwenna he'd find the emerald, not that he'd keep it.

  "Yes," replied Landon, speaking carefully. "I know you feel like we've tricked you, but you can trust Alpheus. The emerald is in good hands. It'll be safer than you could ever imagine."

  It still didn't feel right.

  "We do have an offer for you." Victor changed the subject with a bright smile. "You can come with us if you want."

  "To Darnell," added Landon. "It really isn't much, but we like it. You can continue your education there if you'd like."

  It had been a long time since Tristan considered leaving the island. He searched for the falcon, seeing the move as a joint decision.

  "You have a few days to think about it. We want you to be sure."

  "By the way," Landon said, "tell Dorian you lost the box off the cliffs when you escaped through the tunnel. No one is to know what really happened."

  "You want me to lie?"

  "You have to," Victor said, rather quickly. "Think of what would happen if Sabbatini came here looking for it, and didn't find it."

  "If you care about her at all," Landon added, "this is the best way. We're counting on a spy to deliver the information to Sabbatini."

  Tristan nodded, understanding the bigger picture. "Dorian won't believe me, I'm a terrible liar."

  Landon glanced toward Gram's cabin, then out over the lake. "I could tell her, but it'd sound less contrived coming from you."

  "Besides," Victor added. "You did lose the box on the cliff. You just don't need to tell her you didn't lose all of it."

  Tristan agreed. And it was the least he could do to help. Had he decided to go with them, despite the villagers' opinion of the Makai? He could be on Gram's side.

  Landon's shoulders relaxed, as if aware they'd won the battle of gaining his trust. That alone made him doubt his decision.

  46

  - JUSTICE IS SERVED -

  TRISTAN HADN'T BEEN ABLE to find Dorian, and sat at the top of the mountain with an apple and a chunk of bread, gazing over her lake. Strange how he felt a certain ownership of the view. He wondered what Darnell would be like, if Victor and Landon would be real friends for him. They hadn't given him much of an impression at school. Good or bad.

  Maybe Darnell was close to where he used to live, and he'd be stuck in the same school, living with his mother if she wasn't in jail for attempted murder. He could never go back to that life. What if the police still wanted to question him about Gwenna's murder? He had to see Gram.

  She had less twinkle in her eyes, smoothing her long silver braid with a rhythmic motion before she noticed him standing in the doorway. Her face lit up when she saw him and she held out her hand. "I'm so proud of you, Tristan."

  He took her hand and sat on the bed beside her, guilt and regret riding heavy in the pit of his stomach.

  "You're such a fine, fine young man. Alpheus told me everything. He is a wonderful person, you must always trust him."

  "I will." He felt better about giving up the emerald and smiled at her. "I won't forget you." He couldn't pretend she wasn't dying. He stared at his hands to keep his grieving in check. "
Landon and Victor invited me to live in Darnell. They said it's up to me, but…."

  "You'll do well there, you should go."

  "It doesn't seem right to leave."

  "You'll be fine. But do stay a little while longer for Dorian's sake; she is having a hard time with my parting."

  "We all are." His voice cracked. He didn't bother hiding his tears.

  "You should be happy for me." She squeezed his hand. "I have lived a wonderful life, and I've been kept a prisoner of this body for quite long enough. I look forward to being free of it. God help us all if I'm forced to live without end."

  Tristan laughed, a silly sound with sobs lurking behind it. "I guess I can understand that. Thank you for taking me in, and...." He shut his eyes, unable to think of anything positive. Dorian warned him early on his training would cost Gram her life.

  "It is I, Tristan, who should be thanking you for coming to me. I can't express how much I admire your courage, for taking it upon yourself to save Dorian. She likes to think she's tough, and I'm sure she'd never admit to appreciating what you did, but I want you to know I am forever grateful for everything you've done."

  Tristan nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

  "Now run along and let me rest."

  "Before I go, I wanted to ask...about Dorian." Tristan hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake and paced alongside Gram's bed. "Is it okay if—I mean, I don't really even know if she's interested or not...."

  Gram held out her hand for his, he took it. "You have my blessings if you wish to court her. Just be patient, she's going through some difficult times right now."

  "Thanks. I will." Tristan kissed her cheek, feeling a loyalty and obligation to stay on the island even after her death.

  As he closed the cabin door behind him, he heard clanking rocks echoing through the trees from the village. Tristan found Dorian carrying river stones through the rubble to an organized pile, just outside the foundation of the medicinal shop. She tossed the broken ones down the hillside.

  "Won't someone rebuild?" Why hadn't Alpheus or someone just magically repaired it already?

  "We have a mason on the island," she answered, not looking at him. Her hair was knotted at the back of her head and her smooth skin glistened with sweat.

  The comment reminded him about the spy. "I lost that box. It fell in the ocean."

  "Oh well." She shrugged, smearing a streak of dirt on the bridge of her nose. "Sounds like it wasn't for anything good anyway."

  "I guess." He breathed a sigh of relief, glad the lying part was over with. The scent of charred wood and pine lingered in the still air. The neighboring building to the right had been removed completely, the one on the left stood untouched. "So, what will you do now?"

  "There's a lot to do, having missed a week. Just means I'm further behind than I was before."

  "Maybe I could help?" He stepped into the debris, kicking burnt wood aside to expose more rocks. He picked them up two at a time and added to the pile.

  "Alice has two kids who've shown interest. Gram's been bugging me for years to take them on as apprentices. I haven't because I prefer to work by myself. You wouldn't understand."

  "I completely understand." He'd gone to extremes to avoid people and their thoughts, preferring life simpler by himself. But now, for the first time, he wanted friends. Maybe even a girlfriend, if Dorian felt the same about him. "I used to be the same way."

  "Yeah? Then what? You grew out of it and I'm still a baby? You still think you're better than I am?" She started throwing rocks, destroying her neat pile. "You are a piece of work."

  "What is with you?" Tristan clenched his fists, controlling his temper. How patient should he be? "I like you, I really do. But I didn't say any of that and I don't think this is the right time for us to be arguing."

  "I'm glad you helped me in Ireland, but just…don't talk to me right now."

  Tristan covered his face and took a breath. "Before I go—"

  "You're leaving?"

  "Well, I don't want to fight, and it sounds like you want to be alone." Did she care about him after all? "I have something for you." He pulled Dr. Morley's tool from his back pocket. "He dropped it just before…. Anyway. I picked it up because I thought it was a flashlight. You said you were curious...." He'd forgotten all about it until he emptied the pocket for box fragments.

  Dorian's eyes narrowed. She stared at the tool in his hand, still caked with mud. "Do you know what that thing has done?"

  Tristan shrugged. "No."

  "It destroys. It mutilates cells." Her lips pinched and twisted into a smile. "If you really want to do something for me, there's a place I've wanted to take you for a while now."

  "I just thought you might be able to use it for something." He shoved the tool back in his back pocket and scratched his head as she walked into the forest. He kept his mouth shut and followed her for an hour. Silent. She was so hard to figure out; dating her would be a nightmare.

  They came to a hole in the ground with a ladder jutting out. Dorian stood with her hands on her hips. "This is a cave. Everyone on the island takes shifts to keep it company. If you really want to do something for me, take a shift."

  Tristan peered into the dark crevasse, barely able to see the bottom. "If you all take shifts, shouldn't someone be there now?"

  "Yep. Flynn's down there. Just tell him I sent you to finish out his shift."

  "I don't know...." Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, not liking the idea of underground confinement.

  "I'll relieve you in two hours. Don't you remember Oliver talking about a cave? All of our security depends on this cave."

  "And you'll come back in two hours?"

  "Of course." She smiled, her lips pinched tight. "It would be a really nice thing for you to do."

  The ladder wobbled and a woman wearing a straw hat and sundress climbed out of the hole. Tristan recognized her from when Dorian was first attacked. "Oh! Hello, Dorian. Tristan." She extended a hand and Tristan shook it, nodding at the strangeness of it all. "I was just visiting with Flynn."

  "Tristan agreed to take the end of his shift, if you'd like to wait for him," Dorian said, sappy friendliness spewing from her mouth. Angry darkness flittered in her eyes. If only he knew how to make her feel better—he didn't dare try hugging her.

  "Sure," Tristan heard himself say. How bad could it be if they all did it? And the woman, Alice if he remembered correctly, didn't seem filthy or stressed about anything. Nervous maybe, but not afraid.

  "I'm meeting with the baker, so I better just hurry along." Alice giggled and her cheeks flushed. Tristan lowered himself into the hole."I think Flynn's planning something special for our anniversary."

  "Just keep going until you see Flynn," Dorian called from the top of the ladder.

  Tristan followed the line of flaming torches, descending deeper underground. Firelight reflected on white sand; much better than the mud and cobwebs he'd come to expect in caves. He looked down on a circular cavern with torches along all the walls. A crescent shaped pool of spluttering mud covered a third of the space. A man had just settled on a cot in the sand.

  He could handle this for two hours. No problem.

  "Did someone see me?" said the man. He glanced up at Tristan and sprang to his feet. "I thought you were Alice."

  "Um, no. Dorian sent me to finish your shift." Tristan made his way down the boulders, pulling Dr. Morley's tool from his pocket, remembering one of the ends glowed like a flashlight. If it had batteries, they weren't going to last much longer.

  "That's Dr. Mor—"

  Flynn's cut-off words caught Tristan's attention. "How would you know that?"

  Flynn rushed him. Tristan dove to the side and scrambled backwards in the sand, skirting the mud. Flynn flew at him again, catching his ankles. Tristan threw handfuls of sand, kicking to get free and out of reach, but Flynn gained on him faster than he could move.

  "You're the spy?" Tristan asked, buying time with small talk. "How could
you betray everyone?"

  "Easy. Eric was the only one who caught on, and he don't remember squat." Flynn grabbed a fistful of Tristan's hair and shoved him face-first into the mud.

  He flailed uselessly, holding his breath. He had to warn Dorian. And Alpheus. What if Flynn killed him before he could tell anyone? He didn't have any weapons. Flynn pressed harder.

  Tristan forced his body relax, on the off chance Flynn might think it was over, and calculated where the man's head might be. He tightened his grip on Dr. Morley's tool, working his grip to the end for better depth if he got lucky.

  On the count of three, Tristan jammed his elbow back, knocking Flynn off balance. He followed through with the pointy end of the tool.

  Flynn's eyes widened as blood pulsed from the stab wound on his neck. He still had Tristan's hair in his fist and pulled him close. "You're too late, I already told him where the box is."

  It took a minute for Tristan to understand what he meant. "You couldn't have, I told Dorian an hour ago and you were in here."

  Flynn gurgled a laugh with blood coating his teeth and oozing down his chin.

  Tristan clenched his jaw and let his rage fly. He dug the tool in deeper and snapped the handle off, leaving no way for Flynn to get it out himself. He pried the man's weakening fist from his hair and staggered back, staring at the broken murder weapon.

  It glowed brightly through the blood. Tristan threw it in the mud, hard enough to bury it, and wiped the filth from his face. Dorian would believe him about Flynn, wouldn't she?

  "You—" she breathed, standing at the top of the boulders, slapping her hands over her mouth.

  "Dorian!"

  She ran.

  "I can explain!"

  47

  - RESURRECTION -

  TRISTAN DIDN'T BOTHER chasing after her. He grabbed the aluminum cot and slammed it against the rock wall instead. Of course he could explain, if she'd let him. He glared at Flynn's dead body, leaning against a rock with open, unblinking eyes.

  The mud bubbled more fiercely where the weapon had landed, bits of splatter landing on the dry sand.