Free Descendant (Secrets of the Makai) by Toni Kerr

clumps of stuffing piled everywhere. Kitchen cupboards were open and bare.
    His mother let the smoldering cigarette fall to the floor, then ground it into the vinyl with the point of her hot-pink shoe. "Looks a lot like you were going somewhere. Were you?"
    Tristan shut his mouth, half-gagging in the smoky haze and perfume.
    Where else could a kid hide money? A man came from the hall, adding the smell of fermented body odor to the cigarettes. "Nothing in his room," he said aloud. Sleeves of tattoos covered his arms and Tristan caught himself staring.
    "We're being evicted," Tristan said, in answer to his mother's question. He pulled his gaze from the man's arms and looked him in the face. "What's going on here?"
    "I heard you were back," his mother said smoothly. "Thought we should drop by."
    "I'll be honest, boy," said the boyfriend. "I don't like your hiding and I don't like the way you've treated your flesh-n-blood mother."
    I was in jail, you idiot. Why would they think he was hiding?
    The man was probably dangerous, but Tristan had heard it all before. He could guess how things would go if he took the man's bait. "Joe's giving us one day to get moved."
    The deadline was his, not Joe's. He hoped his mother hadn't already talked to their landlord. "I was packing. To make it faster. Assuming you want this stuff.... Do you?"
    The man growled and Tristan clamped his mouth shut. No point in packing up the furniture, destroyed as it was. He needed to seem less anxious about getting to his bedroom. The man tugged his pants up and folded his arms over his Buddha belly.
    "What's the plan, then?" Tristan asked. He could've been long-gone by now, if he hadn't considered his mother's truck the quickest way.
    "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" His mother left the table for the liquor cabinet, finding it empty.
    "Are we moving or not?" Tristan asked. "Can you pay back rent?"
    "One more word in that tone, I'll beat you to high heaven and enjoy every minute." The man stepped between Tristan and his mother, pounding his fist in the palm of his hand.
    Tristan raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender and walked around the man, toward the hallway to get to his room. He didn't usually feel so driven, but he wasn't about to think he could fight the dude.
    He had to get away from this place. Now.
    In his room, he found books ripped open and thrown to the floor. Boxes from the corner were dumped upside down, along with drawers from his desk. His mattress lay slashed and thrown aside. The removable molding was clearly visible where the bed had been, but not out of place. Which hopefully meant his cash was safe.
    His backpack must have been one of the first things searched—before the desire to destroy everything came into play. A quick glance in the side pocket proved what he suspected—his pocketknife was missing, his only real weapon.
    He retrieved the money and quickly stuffed half the stack in his front pockets, the second half in each of his socks. If they searched him, hopefully finding a quarter of the money would be enough. If they weren't satisfied and searched both pockets, they'd only get half. He replaced the molding and dropped beside his backpack, making to look as though he'd been putting school papers back in place. He didn't think the man was looking for the map, but tucked it in with his lecture notes to be on the safe side.
    "Find anything interesting?" said the man, filling the doorway.
    Tristan kept his eyes on his notebook, stuffing it into the backpack. "I have homework to do at the library." He'd leave tonight, though the thought of packing schoolwork instead of clothing made his teeth clench.
    "Don't look at me like that."
    Why was the guy so desperate to start a fight? "Whatever." Tristan regretted it instantly and the man stepped forward. A crash in the closet startled them both. The man crossed the room, ripped the sliding door from its track, and threw it against the wall.
    With nothing but