Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) by Toni Kerr Page A

camping gear he'd been collecting and stuffed his bed quilt and some clothing in a duffle bag. When he was finished, he met the first officer back in the kitchen and looked for anything practical, like a steak knife if he couldn't have his own pocketknife. He watched as the cassette was handed to another officer, who promptly sealed it in a clear bag and took it away.
    An officer getting prints from the knife stopped what he was doing and stared at Tristan. "Aren't you the kid that ran...?"
    Tristan tried to look innocent, like he didn't have a clue what the officer was talking about, and searched for the cop who'd offered him a ride. "I'll wait in my room. Until you're done. I have homework anyway."
    "That'd be fine." The officer studied Tristan for an uncomfortably long moment until his face went blank. Tristan could only guess at what might be going through his head. If no one remembered freeing him because he had an alibi, but remembered him being at the scene...would they arrest him as a new suspect? Who brought him home if it wasn't the real police? "I'll need about ten minutes," the officer continued. "Then we can swing by the station on the way to your aunt's."
    Tristan nodded, careful not to run to his bedroom. He closed the door, grabbed his bags, and escaped through the broken window without making a sound.

9
    - J OURNEY OF D ILEMMAS -
     
    TRISTAN CROSSED THE TRESTLE for the last time, gazing through the passing trees from his window seat as the train gathered speed. He could barely make out the roof of his trailer and wondered what would become of his mother, sincerely hoping he would never have to face her again.
    He had enough money to go pretty much anywhere, but the first train out of town headed to Chicago, then after a four-hour delay, west to Seattle. The trip would take three days, costing him three hundred dollars.
    The thrill of leaving faded with distance, as did the fear of being wanted in every state for questioning. Or worse, for murder. Tristan vaguely remembered his classmates being involved at the woman's house. Would they be after him, too? He'd have to disguise himself just in case. He could cut his hair in Chicago, and color it if he had time. For now, he turned his attention to the folded piece of paper Gwenna gave him for clues about the emerald.
    The edges of the supposed map were ragged, but not from being torn, or over-used—more like an untrimmed piece of handmade paper. Tiny bumps in the texture looked like seeds and plant fibers. Something about the page clung to his mind with cold desperate claws for attention. It was still folded into quarters—he slipped his fingers between the third and fourth layers and all awareness of the train vanished.
    On the surface, the picture appeared drawn with a faint pencil. Closer inspection of the details sucked him into a realistic landscape, putting him on a solid cobblestone walkway.
    Where was the train? He found himself standing at the top of a cliff, overlooking a kingdom with brilliant colors shining from everything—the fields, the small dwellings...even the roads and wooden fences. Giant birds with golden wings soared above the valley, over trees the size of castles. Flickering lights glittered over everything.
    And music! Tristan closed his eyes and couldn't imagine what sort of thing would make such sound.
    A light breeze played with the hair at his face and neck. A floral scent, sweet and warm like apple pie, took his breath away. His eyes flew open in a flash, suddenly aware that he couldn't breathe. All sense of awe and wonder fell to a dark cloud that quickly overtook the valley, consuming colors like a swarm of insects devouring the fields.
    His vision shifted and he traveled among the darkness—soaring with the huge monsters that destroyed buildings with the flap of wings. Behind him lay piles of ash and rubble. Nothing alive. Nothing in color. Everything in ruins.
    At some point, Tristan was on his feet again, running through