Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3) (14 page)

“I don’t believe any water had gone through the hatches of the main deck. But one thing was certain—I was not going to give up my cargo to a bunch of pirates.” I pull one of my old travel journals from a shelf and write down a set of coordinates on the back page before handing it to Donovan. “It wasn’t highly valuable back then, but if the seals have held, I imagine by now it would be of some interest. That is, if you’re ever looking for an adventure at sea.”

“Thank you.” Donovan bows his head and the unease in the air thickens. “I do not deserve such things in this life. Please—” He glances up at me with watery eyes. I know what he wishes to say and suppress the urge to tell him he’s already been forgiven. Because the words must be said aloud before he can forgive himself. “Please accept my most sincere apology for taking your life. Words cannot express the sorrow...I beg of you.”

“You are forgiven.” There is no undoing what is done. “Let go of the past and think of it no more.” I offer my hand and help my son rise from the floor. “I’m proud of you for prevailing over time.”

“It is a daily struggle.”

“I know.”

“May I ask, were you a dragon, then? Am I?”

“Your dragon heritage ceased to exist when you became this vampire of a creature. But it is not your fault.”

“It is. I chose this.”

“Perhaps. But you didn’t know there was something greater at stake—and that was my doing. I wanted you to enjoy your childhood, unburdened by a contract that could not be changed. But then you fell in love, and I hadn’t expected to die so early in your years.”

Donovan lowers his gaze, shame filling the room once again. “Tristan is in our family line, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” A proud smile gleams on my face. “The council didn’t want you to know. No one was permitted to contact you, ‘tis half the reason I landed in such hot oil.” At the thought of such things, my shoulder becomes an inferno that threatens my concentration to remain in this young body, and I find myself in need of support to stand.

“Sit down,” Donovan says. But I fear there is little time left to me in this realm. “He falls under your brother Ansel’s lineage, making you his uncle, thirteen times great. He’s currently the only one being held responsible for the contract, and there’s disagreement as to what he should do.”

“Are there other descendants?”

“A few, but none with Tristan’s potential. He is much younger than you were when I judged you too young, but I ask you to train him, keep him safe, help him through this confusing time. And for the sake of Grace and all that is Holy, do something about this shoulder. It’s practically unbearable.”

Donovan nodded. “I was beginning to suspect the coddling was more habit. Do you know how it can be repaired?”

I shake my head. No one has survived the poison long enough to figure out a cure.

“Do you want him to break this contract?”

I consider the unexpected gift of communication with my son, and find myself second-guessing the plans. “The faerie races were not meant to be kept imprisoned forever. Tristan might be their only hope of starting anew. But the humans will inevitably kill them all. So the question of right and wrong is difficult to answer in this case; it is the driving force behind the revolution we are in with the elders.”

“If the contract is broken, what happens to those who are bound to it?”

“We do not know. But it stands to reason our souls will no longer be required to stand as guardians. We should, theoretically, be free to continue a more natural path.”

“Which means what precisely? Will I see you again, as the falcon perhaps?”

“I do not know how to answer that.” The mind within my own is gathering strength—my vision blurs and for a moment I consider the ramifications of taking control like this. “We must do what is right.”

“How can I teach him to control such an ungodly amount of power? I am no match if he lets loose. In fact, I would rather face the dragon.”

“No one in our history has been permitted to take in the power of the stones, so I can only give you an inexperienced opinion. I would encourage precision over random experimentation, but perhaps the two walk side by side. He is strong-willed and stubborn, but thinks both in precise notions and creativity. He is currently fighting to regain control of this body, and be aware—he is winning.”

“I understand.”

“He will be angry with us both.” I smile with all the love in my heart, to be blessed with such a miracle. And the miracle of communication. “Serves you right to finally have a child as troublesome as you once were. I honor you for taking this responsibility to heart.”

“I fear he will die before me.”

“No one knows what the future holds.”

“One more thing. Is it safe to transport him? He was attacked during the last attempt, but time is essential to his plans. He fears hibernating before he can finish what he needs to do.”

“There are more of us on his side than against; I will tell them to stand guard as soon as I am able. Or perhaps you can? As I understand, they have already made contact.” I continue when Donovan nods confirmation to this. “Know that both sides need him alive. So even if he is captured, he will not be killed. As for hibernation, he is feeling the pull. But he will know when it is safe to slip into such a state. Warn him it’s common to be confused and lost during the first sleep, making it difficult to wake for some. Give him a minimum of five years before you try
waking him yourself.” I do not have time to give more warnings, and cannot speak from personal experience when it comes to being in a dragon form. “Be well, Libellule.”

Donovan wraps his arms around me as my hold on the boy’s mind shatters.

Tristan flung himself backwards, elated to have a brief moment of control over his own thoughts and body. Donovan seemed unconcerned by his actions throughout their long conversation, but then again, most of it had been in French.

Who knew what they were talking about?

It had to be Jacques, and Donovan would most likely prefer the man’s presence over his own. Did it mean Jacques was free? Did the man think he could have a body and live again?

Tristan fought the suffocating hold. He and Donovan stumbled against the wall, where Tristan bashed the side of his head against something encased in glass. The impact was both painful and relieving, in that he seemed to be the one in control of his actions. But the next impact was against something soft.

His bad shoulder seared through to his back, so much so that he considered whether Donovan would go so far as to pin him to the wall with a fire poker. Jessie barked hysterically behind the closed door. Tristan’s eyes shifted and the door flung open.

“I told you to leave her out!” Donovan shouted.

A bright orange, almost red, Jessie roared into the room with her claws digging into the wood and her teeth bared, leaping toward Tristan and Donovan. Who would the dog protect?

A rope appeared around her neck, yanking her back. She twisted once and got out of it, then took two leaps and smashed into an invisible barrier. Her neck snapped, or so it seemed, and she fell to the ground in a heap of keening howls.

Landon and Victor were forced to keep a safe distance as Jessie lashed out at anything moving toward her.

“Fine.” Donovan glared at Tristan. “Hurt yourself all you want. I’ve had enough.” He shoved Tristan into the corner and knelt beside the dog, who stilled almost instantly.

Tristan turned away, unwilling to watch, and made his way toward the door.

Now that he had the physical and mental freedom he’d been fighting for, the last of his strength seeped away. His legs and arms trembled with each step. Why did his body have to fail him so often, barely able to keep up with normal living, and work perfectly fine for Jacques?

Thermal versions of Landon and Victor blocked his way; recognizing them at all eased his heart rate. His vision returned to normal, and before he could remind them to stay away, they both lunged to catch him.

LAZARO’S VINEYARD

A HEAVY BLANKET
wrapped around him—so tight Tristan couldn’t move. He attempted to roll to his side and groaned at the pressure on his shoulder.

“We need you to wake up, Tristan.”

His hands were shaking and he couldn’t quite clench his fist. A wave of nausea threatened to erupt from his throat. He opened his eyes and squinted against the light of a lantern. His thoughts were a whirlwind and he wasn’t sure what was more important—asking where he was, who he was, or what time of day it was. And among the confusion, he craved a steak and didn’t care if it was cooked or not.

That was the thought that made his stomach convulse. “I want off this ship,” he said between heaves. Water blurred his vision. He was running out of time and pretending to be normal wasn’t helping. “I’m so sorry. I’m not—” Before he could finish the thought he felt himself catapulting out of the room. He panicked for an instant, a stab of pain in his shoulder and whiplash stinging his neck, but drifted off to sleep once he realized he was being carried.

“Tristan.” They were standing at the base of the trapdoor and Donovan was shaking his shoulders. “We need to get outside. You have to undo whatever you did to the security so we can get out.”

“Where’s the dog?” Tristan mumbled.

“With me. Take down this energy field.”

“How do you know it’s safe?”

“We’re running out of food and Pink is getting lethargic.”

Tristan nodded, closing his eyes. He needed fresh air as much as anyone, and why prolong the inevitable? He would have to face the ghosts eventually. “What were you guys talking about?”

“You.”

Tristan doubted that was the case and set to finding the threads he’d set into motion, but the original pattern was scrambled. “It’s messed up.”

“I was trying to take it down myself, but it was taking on a life of its own, resisting me.”

“Is Jacques free now? Is that why he came?”

“No, but he says they’re working on it, and there’s nothing we can do to help him right now. Here, drink this.”

Cool glass pressed against his lip and he took in the salty liquid, finding it difficult to swallow. He refocused on the cords of power surrounding the property. It was such a tangled mess, there wasn’t even a place to start. Donovan shook him again as he slipped back into a numb slumber. “Too tangled.”

“I don’t care if it’s tangled,” shouted Donovan. “Dissolve it. Start at the trapdoor if that’s all the strength you have.”

Tristan focused on a small section of security by the latch, slicing through the tangled mesh along a seam; it stretched to heal itself before a gap could grow. Tristan changed tactics and obliterated all the mesh covering the door, and before the cords could close the gaping hole, they snapped back into a disintegrating wave expanding outward around the entire perimeter.

He breathed in the rush of cool air as the trapdoor flew open.

“Stay here until I clear the house,” ordered Donovan.

The next time Tristan opened his eyes, they were on a different plane, flying above the clouds in a silvery moonlight. “Where are we going?”

“Vienna,” answered Donovan from the cockpit. “We have an appointment with Lazaro and his brother.”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t know how to fix his brother.”

“You can try. And you said yourself; experimenting on Stephan seems a better first step than experimenting in the Forest of Darkness with a ghost dragon breathing down your neck. Besides,” Donovan added, “Lazaro knows you might not be able to do anything and is satisfied with your willingness to try.”

“What happened to the other plane?”

“It sank in the storm, so I bought a better one.”

“Convenient.”

Victor unpacked a bowl of white rice and vegetables. Tristan stared at the steaming dish, barely able to get his mind to register it as food. “You need to eat, Tristan. It’s fresh, I promise.”

Tristan shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. Should he or shouldn’t he? “I-I think I need meat.” The battle to maintain a vegetarian diet was lost. “I’m so sorry. I can’t fight it. I don’t care how it’s cooked.”

“You can eat meat, Tristan, but eat the veggies too. I’ll be right back.”

“It really is okay,” Landon added, after Victor disappeared from the plane. He handed Tristan the steaming bowl. “It’s a fact of life—some beings need meat.”

“Animals, you mean.” Tristan cradled the bowl close to his chin and began shoveling the food into his mouth, unable to stop until every grain of rice was gone. By then, Victor was handing him barbecued chicken, ribs, and beef brisket coated in a sweet tangy sauce. After two more trips from the plane, Donovan cut him off.

“Aren’t you guys eating?” Tristan asked, finally noticing they hadn’t eaten a single bite of the food Victor provided.

“We ate while you were sleeping,” Victor said quietly. “That’s dang impressive. I think instead of artistic contests, we should get you into some eating contests.”

Landon smacked Victor before he could suggest where and why and how much fun it would be.

“Here’s the plan,” Donovan said from the cockpit, tossing a AA battery to Victor. “In thirty minutes we’ll be flying over China. Tristan, I want you to seek out every battery you can find and recharge it. Understand?”

“How on Earth would I do that?” Tristan glanced at Landon and Victor to see if they found the idea as ludicrous, and scoffed. “You’re serious?”

“You should expect an energy surge after so much food, and I want it dispersed before it builds up. If you do well, I’ll let you eat as much as you wish.”

“Here.” Victor held up the battery and tossed it at Tristan. “Let’s see what you can do. Memorize the internal structure so you can spot them on the ground.”

“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?”