Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) (34 page)

"What makes you think that? Ireland is thousands of miles from Alaska. It would've taken days...." Gram's comment about distance being irrelevant came to mind.

"You can't possibly believe that matters?"

"No." Tristan kicked himself and searched the bathroom for the robe. The concept of instant traveling…halfway around the world…. Tristan shook his head, exchanging the cloak for the black silk robe. He straightened, then decided slouching would make the robe longer. Thank God he didn't have a mirror.

"At least it isn't pink and fluffy," he said, tossing the cloak to the floor beside the bed. "What makes you so sure we're in Ireland?"

"Dr. Morley let it slip when I asked about the forest."

"What about it?"

"I also identified plants he later said were native. Trust me, I know my plants. If they're native, it means we're in Ireland. Weren't you there?"

"Maybe we're just near Ireland?"

She rolled her eyes. "Plants aren't native when they leave their homeland. You'd argue with me no matter what I said." She hopped down from the chair with the clear container and spilled its contents onto the bed.

Tristan ignored her comment, but joined her to see if there was anything useful for escaping. "What's all this for?"

She lifted a colorful jeweled necklace from a small box and put it to her neck. "What do you think?"

"Gaudy." He returned to the window to see if the view looked anything like tour-guide pictures. "I guess it could be Ireland."

"It is. I also found out why the plants are protesting."

Tristan cringed at the thought. "Why?"

"They're being abused. Didn't you see the third greenhouse?"

"I figured it'd be the same as the first two."

"The first two were nothing alike!" She snatched the cloak from the floor and slapped it back on the hanger. "The first one contained all southern—oh, forget it." She exchanged the cloak for a dark red dress and vaulted onto the bed. "The plants seem leery of a tool he uses. Stir it one way, 'miraculous' they said. Stir it the other, things clash and disintegrate." Dorian chewed on her lip and thought for a moment to herself. "Dr Morley has a few good intentions, but I'd be curious about that tool." She shrugged. "It's just strange that he doesn't understand the consequences of what he's doing. Now, if you don't mind, I want to try some of these dresses on. I'd change in the other room, but it's not big enough. So, can you give me some privacy by staying under the bed, or in the bathroom? Please. Go exploring, or whatever you do for entertainment."

Tristan debated arguing the definition of entertainment and crawled under the bed.

The concentration to be free of himself seemed to come easier. He headed to the meeting room to take another look. White sheets covered each of the statues, making them look like people pretending to be ghosts.

Sabbatini entered the room without warning and Tristan froze, afraid he'd be noticed. The man cradled a large, leather-bound book in his arms and walked to the head of the table, where he sat the book down slowly. Tristan eased against the wall, right beside the last covered statue.

Sabbatini eyed the room with his wand drawn like a weapon, then lowered himself to peek under the table. And then he studied each statue. Tristan exhaled as Sabbatini slipped the wand to an inside pocket and sat before the book.

Tristan approached the table, daring to get a closer look. Sabbatini traced the engraved design with a fingertip and lifted the cover. Inside, translucent pages were cracked along the edges. The text appeared to be a collection of random scribbles and scratch marks. He thumbed through more pages, pausing only when abstract drawings came along. Tristan stared over Sabbatini's shoulder, overcome by the complexity. The style though…it felt familiar.

"I need a translator," Sabbatini hissed, slamming the ancient book shut.

Tristan leapt out of the way as a faint cloud of dust billowed over the table. The man used the blade of his hand to sweep bits of pages, like flakes of skin, to the floor.

"Who would know?" Sabbatini asked, approaching the pedestal in the shadowed corner. "Tell me how to conquer you." He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, addressing whatever lay beneath the black cloth. "What is your secret?" Desperation rang through his demands. "What keeps you in power as well as imprisoned…?"

Turning from the pedestal, Sabbatini uncovered one of the statues and placed a hand on its shoulder. "Is this the immortality they speak of—forever in stone? Surely not."

It was the one statue that did not have fear in its stone eyes.

"When Dorian completes the potion, my dear brother, we will fix this mess and proceed more cautiously. I promise you, you will not be locked in this stone forever."

Tristan watched, horrified, realizing all the stone statues were actual people.

"I can sense you here with me," Sabbatini continued. "I know you are trying to communicate."

Tristan retreated, half-submerging himself into the density of the wall behind him.

"Our plans will not be hindered much longer. The world is all but in our hands and we will annihilate the Makai and anyone else who interferes. But first, tell me how to undo this! One clue. Is it the emerald itself, or the life within that has brought this fate? Send me a message I can understand."

Sabbatini turned from the statue and very gently carried the covered box from the pedestal to the table, placing it next to the book. He tossed the black cloth aside.

Tristan recognized the box immediately—Gwenna had showed it to him. It was the same box she'd meant him to have. The box containing an emerald. A Valkyrie. Sabbatini compared the engravings from its metal braces to the drawings on and in the book. None of the artistic styles matched.

"How does one acquire…?" Sabbatini pounded his fist on the table. "There must be a way." He re-covered the box and placed it on the pedestal before returning to the book. A quick tap on the door had him slamming it shut again. The book would be in crumbs if he kept it up.

"What now?" he shouted, brushing more flakes to the floor.

Tynan entered, bowing his head. "Master. Lady Dorian is very pleased with the surroundings and appears to be quite willing to join us this evening."

"Finally. I want this done by tomorrow. Time is precious." He glanced over all the statues, then to Tynan. "Tell the cook to prepare his finest, he's to spare no expense."

Tynan bowed again, shutting the door behind him.

Sabbatini spun on his heels and ripped off the cover of another statue. He stared into its ash-gray, stone eyes and gripped its arm at the wrist. In one motion, the stone arm snapped above the elbow. Inside, the granulated texture was dark red, but solid and dry throughout. The color lightened where bones would be.

Tristan shrank back farther, covering his mouth to keep quiet.

Sabbatini swung the stone arm like a baseball bat through the statue's head. It broke at the neck, shattering to pieces when it hit the floor. He lifted the headless body and heaved it against the rock wall, smashing it into a thousand blood-red fragments, no larger than a few inches each.

A bewildered apparition of the man stretched above the pile, his expression altering to a cold hatred when he noticed Sabbatini.

Sabbatini had no reaction for it; he re-covered the statue of his brother with the sheet, then casually retrieved the book and left the room.

The ghost locked eyes with Tristan. Before either could speak, a black shadow seeped up from the floor between them. It crept through the pile of fragments and onto the ankles of the man, continuing upward.

Tristan gasped, uncomfortably aware that he himself lacked any physical substance. The ghost let out a scream of terror, cut off when the shadow swallowed his head.

The darkness maintained the shape of the man for a few seconds before melting into the pile of debris. It didn't disappear, but started undulating toward Tristan. A hot sting radiated at his chest. He glanced down to where the Cyanea coral would hang if it was physically with him, and watched a misty haze swirl with blue and pale-green vapors, as if the essence of the coral was its own expanding universe.

"Dorian!" Back in his body, clutching the coral pouch, Tristan clawed frantically to get out from under the bed. He imagined the shadow snatching at his ankles, threatening to seize his soul if he didn't get away.

"What are you doing?" Dorian asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Tristan hurried to the window, gasping for fresh air. "What happens when…you know?" He had to get the window open fast.

"No, I don't. I guess you'll have to fill me in."

He pried at the wooden trim with his fingertips, trying to break through, trying to conceal his trembling limbs.

"What happened?"

Tristan faced the bed and expected something to show itself. "What happens to your body when your mind isn't with it? I mean, when I'm out wandering around, what goes on here?"

"Nothing's going on. You're just losing it. Big time."

Tristan shook his head, daring himself to search for monsters or the Grim Reaper. "Sabbatini just killed someone. I felt like death itself knew I was watching. And then it followed me."

"There's nothing under the bed." Dorian dropped to her knees and lifted the bed covering. "See? Nothing." She got back to her feet and gathered her hair into a pile at the top of her head. "What do you think?" she asked, spinning a tight circle.

Tristan stared at her, confused, half-admiring her courage to look under the bed for him. He took in the dress she was wearing and tried not to grimace. "It looks…." The color reminded him of the blood-red pile of shattered statue. He stared at the base of the bed again, still expecting something to emerge.

"You can say it, I'm a big girl."

It wasn't just the color. He'd gotten used to seeing her in the short little tennis outfit. This just didn't fit. "It looks horribly heavy. Restricting."

"You don't have to say it like that. I think it's quite lovely." She let her hair fall over her shoulders and pulled a different dress from the armoire. "But I'll try the blue one. Back under."

"I found out some things." He needed better motivation and more time to calm down before crawling back into the depths of whatever lurked.

"Like what?"

"Those statues I told you about are real people. I think Sabbatini wants you to make the potion so he doesn't keep losing his own men. There were eight. Now there are seven."

"He really just killed someone?"

"Well, one of the statues broke." Tristan kept the details to himself, considering she'd have to play nice and dine with the man. "There's this little box he keeps covered on a pedestal, and I think whatever's in that box is turning the men to stone. There's a book that practically crumbles to dust every time he touches it, with strange writing. Maybe Egyptian or something. But it's very technical-looking." He stopped, considering a plan. "I think we should steal it, the box that is."

"We're not thieves. At least,
I'm
not. Besides, don't you think he'll notice?"

"He keeps it covered, and he said something about the world being his. Do you really want Sabbatini to run the world?"

Dorian rolled her eyes. "Let's say you can steal it, what then? He'll find out soon enough and then he'll think I did it."

"While you're having dinner, I'll switch the box with one of these." Tristan scattered the collection of jewelry boxes on the bed. "It's about the size of this." He dumped a string of pearls from a white box shaped like a treasure chest and turned it for inspection. "We'll have to make our escape tonight. You could agree to make the potion, only you need to look in one of the greenhouses to be sure of something. I'll think of a distraction and we'll make a run for the forest." He slipped the box into the pocket of his robe to make sure it would fit.

"Are you out of your mind? You can't outrun people like Sabbatini and I'm not about to give up on Oliver."

"Do you plan on waiting 'til they use Gram against you? Sabbatini doesn't care if he kills people."

"But there isn't anything useful for the potion in any of the greenhouses."

"I don't care!" Tristan paced, unable to think of a better plan. "You're the one who's 'legendary'. Can't you make up something? We've got to do this now. Tonight."

"Why? What's the sudden hurry?"

"Because…." Urgency raced through his veins, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the shadow chasing him. He'd been unable to even guess at how to get the emerald back, and now he knew exactly where it was. "We just can't sit here anymore and we might never get another chance." Tristan turned toward the window, afraid he wouldn't be able to convince her. He'd never be able to leave without her.

"Maybe I could get some of the plants to help us. A few can move on their own. We'll need to be at the third greenhouse, closest to the cliffs. How will I know when you're ready?"

Tristan grinned with relief and resisted the urge to hug her. "I'll try to give you some sort of signal when you get outside. There won't be much time."

She couldn't possibly think the plants could move on their own, but he decided to be thankful she'd at least try an escape. "What if you get caught stealing the box?" she asked. "We should leave it."