by Debra Kristi
She had just enough time to stop in and see Sebastian before her performance. She wanted—needed—to see where things stood between them.
The guy on the bed teetered and moaned. Kyra rolled her eyes and looked him over. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll be back to check on you later,” she said, turning to leave.
“Wait. Don’t go.” His voice, choked by half the lake, fought to be heard.
She hesitated, hand balanced on the doorknob. Fierce dragon that she was, she had a funny fear of facing humans. This one, at least. She turned toward him. “Need something?”
“You saved my life.” He started to stand, waivered, collapsed back on his butt. A wince etched into the lines on his face. “Not once, but twice. That was no easy task, and I don’t even know your name.”
She bit her lip, took a deep breath, wondered what troubles she’d created by saving this guy, then answered. “It’s Kyra. And it was nothing, really.”
She meant it—mostly. The no-big-deal part. Saving him had been easy. At the time, she had worried more about being seen. Now it was something more. Saving him may have invited a giant pile of dragon dung into her life, if Sebastian’s reaction was any indication. Or the creepy grab attack at the portal.
Still, she couldn’t escape the feeling, the deep-rooted emotion that pulled her to him, made her protective of him. Nothing about this flew straight with her, and yet it did. Therein lay the problem. She was accepting of things she normally wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like her.
He extended his hand, and as he did, his eyes lit up the most brilliant shade of sapphire. That twinkle of mischief returned. Kyra knew, just knew, her eyes widened at the sight of him. Embarrassing as it was, she couldn’t stop herself. She tried to play it off. Yank her emotions inside, shove them down deep, and close the lid. She tried to pretend nothing was amiss. She tried all that, and pushed forward to shake his hand. He kissed it instead. Her breath caught, clogged in her throat.
He rose from the bed, bringing his scrutinizing eyes closer. His heat closer. Everything closer. “Thank you, Kyra. I’m Marcus Blackall. I can never repay you, but I’d like to try.”
Her heart raced like the quick beat of her feeble wings attempting flight. Then wrecking-ball-guilt slammed her. All the time she’d spent building a relationship with Sebastian, and in one day she’d let a total stranger unnaturally affect her. On the eve of Sebastian’s admitted trust, no less. But she and Sebastian were friends, not lovers, so what did it matter? Only, it did matter. He’d acted so odd at the lake. She shook her head, dismissed the thought. Sebastian would never be interested in a volatile dragon. He had far too much patience and calm for her anger issues. She thrust away the guilt.
Marcus Blackall looked around with an appraising eye. “I take it we’re at your place?” He paused, then snapped a sharp look upon her. “Why here?”
Kyra hesitated, feeling very much the moth caught in the flame at that moment. “After what happened, I thought it would be safer.”
He nodded. Pulling at his wet shirt, Marcus looked uncomfortable. “You have a laundry facility around here somewhere?”
How absent-minded of her. Of course he would want dry clothes. “It takes forever to get things cleaned around here. Give me a second and I’ll bum a change off my neighbor.” Damn, damn, damn. Now she not only felt guilt regarding Sebastian, but for overlooking Marcus’s needs, as well.
“I’m not afraid of a long hike. Don’t want to put anyone out.”
Kyra paused, already halfway out the door. She almost hadn’t notice the Magician dart from her tiny front yard. He was so odd she thought nothing of it and returned her attention to Marcus. How could she tell him there weren’t any electric dryers at the carnival, like he might expect? They only had laundry lines. Didn’t matter. She turned back and barbed knots formed in her throat, impeding further speech.
Marcus stood bare-chested, wet shirt in his hand. If that weren’t enough to drop her chin, he wore a unique piece around his neck. It drew her eye like an impossibly strong magnet.
It was a tooth on a rope. And not the kind people bought in souvenir shops. Of that, she was most confident. It had once belonged to a dragon.
Maybe it was the tooth. The tooth pulled at her, not Marcus. She’d need to get a closer look, study it, if she wanted to know with any kind of certainty.
“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled, then ran out the door.
In fifty beats of a dragon’s wings, she returned with dry clothes. Her neighbor, more than willing to help out, thrilled to rack up I-owe-yous from Kyra. She tossed the garments into Marcus’s arms, then moved about the trailer showing him the important things, like how to latch the finicky bathroom door and where to find her chipped Fiestaware dishes, mismatched silverware, and odd assortment of snacks in the kitchen. After not-so-subtly hinting he rest, she flew out the door for her afternoon performance, eager to put space between them and get a chance to clear her head.
Kyra was the only fire-breather at the carnival. She preferred it that way. She danced, spinning wands of fire around herself in a spectacular display of beauty and danger. Their heat tantalized her skin with each pass. She never revealed her true nature, so the children’s squeals of delight never surprised her when she swallowed the flames from the tips of her wands, then blew the fire high into the sky. She’d seen humans do it, but they never compared to her ability. Her flames often reached fifteen, even thirty feet high.
Dragons were rarely seen in public. Water Dragons and young dragons even less so. Her build was not what people expected to see when they ran into one of the elder race in human form. Of course, she was a Moorigad, the rarest of all. Not that Moorigads were considered a race among her people. Regardless, she had yet to bump into another dragon at the carnival. And she’d never seen one performing any kind of show—anywhere.
The truth was, no one expected to see a dragon in a bustling public forum. The supernatural community considered dragons a dying breed. Practically extinct. In actuality, their numbers were vast. Removed and hidden. Falling into myth like Santa and his elves.
Dragons tended to be a private lot, but she enjoyed the life of an entertainer. Maybe Sebastian was right. Maybe she was young, headstrong even. Maybe she would change her mind about the carnival someday. That someday wasn’t anytime soon. The carnival was the longest she’d ever stayed in one place. She didn’t foresee herself leaving anytime in the near future.
The carnival was a supernatural misfit haven. Those who didn’t fit in with their kind, fit in with carnies. No inquiries, no demands. That was Kyra—a misfit, a runaway. Not the typical dragon. Everywhere she looked were supernaturals. Every flavor, every shape. None of them a dragon, though.
With one finger in the air, she twisted and swirled her fire in a wide arc. It spun up like a tornado. She paused, allowed the crowd to take in the crackling splendor, then smacked her hands together, spread them wide. With the gesture, the flames evaporated.
Ribbons of lights strung above the audience came to life. Show was over. She bowed to the rowdy applause, then stepped down into the crowd. The talker had done a great job building the hype of the audience, her tip no doubt would reflect. Plastering a semi-sincere smile on her face and shaking hands, she pushed past the people, worked her way through the mob.
A short, ragged man ran after her—the talker. “Kyra, what’s your hurry? What about your cut?”
She tilted her head, barely glancing over her shoulder in a torn-between-two-actions way. She kept her gaze on the path between the rides and concessions, the ever-changing landscape of the midway before her. To keep her bearings. Keep her grounded. “Handle it. Will you, Higgins? I trust you.” And she did. Whole-heartedly.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist, skin rough against hers. The hand of a working man. “Kyra?” A mix of confusion and concern melded on his face.
She peeked down at him, at their connection. It felt strange. He felt strange. Why?
No chance to figure
it out. A strong, familiar scent wafted up around her. “Damn. Can you smell it?” The scent was always so strong in the minutes right before the transformation. Like the carnival was building up, preparing. The stink of a chemical reaction. Everything was warming up to move, change the design. The constantly shifting layout would once again confuse patrons and carnies, alike.
A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Higgins’s face and he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes blinked, appeared blank. His cheek twitched, curved up ever so slightly. She looked away, hiding the smirk his struggle to keep up evoked. “Smell?” he said. “Oh, yes. Of course.” He fell silent and watched her with an awkward discomfort about him.
Kyra bounced on her heels and glanced in the direction she wanted to be moving. “Would you mind handling my cut, please? I need to go.” Urgency churned like bile in her belly. She needed to make sure Marcus was okay. The necessity, the urgency, did not belong to her, but she possessed it all the same. That was bound to get old fast. Maybe she should have let Marcus die. Maybe she should kill him now. Pulling free, she turned, left Higgins behind, guilt nibbling at her heels.
Metallic. There was always a fresh metallic scent in the air when things at the carnival changed or moved. Quick, sharp sound bursts, clicking and clacking and ticking like a chorus of finger snapping, invisible to the eye. Minuscule light flares flashed this way and that, as if hordes of fireflies fazed in and out of time. Swiftly as it began, it ceased. The magic complete. The carnival had shifted—melding from one scene into another. What had been her surrounding was gone to be replaced by another, new location. Sometimes the people within were moved, sometimes the fixtures, sometimes both. It was disorienting, frustrating, and yet, part of the carnival’s charm.
A quick survey confirmed the relocation of the ring toss and cotton candy concessions. But the carousel stood fixed, as it should. The two-story marvel never moved. Like a fixed point. A beacon amidst unstable chaos.
She made her way to the colorful host of horses, calculated her journey beyond, past Big Eli—the Ferris wheel—on to her trailer. It was a guess, at best. Tonight, she hoped things would remain constant.
When the sun went down, the carnival sparkled. A magical array of illumination and merriment. Kyra relished it. Usually found it fun getting lost. It was a game, finding where she needed or wanted to be. Not tonight. Tonight, as much as she hated it, she felt obligated to get back to Marcus. Make sure he was all right.
Obligated? Maybe that was the wrong word.
She wandered forward, thoughts swirling around the mysterious man. Him standing half clothed in her sleeping quarters. The indescribable pull that drew her to him in the water. The dragon tooth hanging around his neck. Sebastian’s heavy frown planting so beautifully on his face. Clear disapproval as she’d pulled Marcus from the brink.
The carousel’s song chimed to a stop, kicking her out of her daydream. Like a dragonet stubbornly clinging to foolish desires, she didn’t want to wake. Not yet. She wanted more time to figure things out, but a fresh rush of delighted patrons poured around her, a mix of humans and supernaturals. Caught in a cluster of shimmering lights and jubilant laughter, Kyra found herself bumped, pushed, and knocked, disjointedly ricocheting here and there.
“Ouch!” She glared downward. A bulky, black boot peeled its tread from the top of her foot. No apology, its owner vanishing into the crowd.
More metallic. More lights. More snapping. More shifting.
A gentle hand hooked around her fingers. “Kyra! So happy I found you. Have you seen Sebastian?”
Her gaze met Chelsea’s bright blue eyes. They glistened with excitement, sending a funny pang zapping through Kyra’s chest. The girl was dolled up, and boys were gravitating closer. Fancy makeup and hair wouldn’t help with Sebastian, though. Not if he was her goal, which Kyra suspected he was.
Kyra pulled free and shoved her hands into her pockets, but allowed Chelsea to fall into step beside her. “What are you doing here? How do you keep finding your way? This place isn’t safe for your kind traveling alone.” She kept watch of the space in front of them and avoided looking at Chelsea.
Chelsea leaned in as if whispering a secret, her blonde hair falling around her face in a waterfall of forever-spiraling curls. “I love it here. I’m addicted. I want to keep coming back, and back, and back. I may ask for a job. And what do you mean, ‘my kind’? Got a problem with humans?”
Kyra scoffed, ignored the question, and grinded to a flat halt. She watched the activity ahead, not really seeing anything. Am I in danger of thinking like Sebastian? Am I becoming human intolerant? Humans finding their way to the carnival without guidance was an anomaly. Or so Kyra had thought. The idea of one working at the carnival bothered her, but it shouldn’t have. Maybe it was Chelsea working at the carnival that bothered her. Chelsea being close to Sebastian almost daily. The possibility Sebastian might like Chelsea back. But it shouldn’t, she reasoned. Not if I’m a good friend to him. The kind of friend he deserves.
A quiver swam through Kyra’s upper body. “You get a job here? That could be interesting.”
Chelsea searched the crowd, acted like she hadn’t noticed Kyra’s scrutiny. Her watchful eyes feverishly darting to and fro.
“What are you doing?” Kyra asked.
“Oh, you know.” Chelsea bit her lower lip and continued to glance from one person to the next.
Kyra resumed a strong, steady stride. Chelsea followed, and Kyra threw a resolved glance in her direction. “I haven’t seen him since before—” She froze her tongue. Nearly let the gems of truth spill from the bag, forgetting, if only for a moment, Chelsea wasn’t one of them. Kyra’s face softened even as the curve of her mouth inverted. “Listen. You’re fighting fire with paper. He’s never going to like you, because he won’t even notice you. I’m sorry, Chelsea.”
Chelsea twisted her hair in her hand and avoided eye contact. Her body language read awkward and embarrassed. “It’s all right. I’m no longer jealous of you.”
Kyra stumbled back a step, heat flushing her cheeks. “What do you mean, jealous?” She hated the audible crack in her voice.
A deep ‘v’ creased the center of Chelsea’s brow. “Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you? I mean, who can blame him? With your eyes of gold and personality blazing brighter than the sun.”
Kyra’s heart somersaulted. “Sebastian isn’t…he would never…” Truth was, Kyra didn’t know. He kept so many secrets.
Chelsea played with the edge of her nightdress, a faraway look flittering in her eyes. “He doesn’t mean to ignore me. It’s just that he doesn’t want to see. Not yet. He needs some time. Or maybe something. Someone to open his heart to the possibilities.”
The words prattled from Chelsea’s lips, and Kyra’s fists clenched and unclenched, attempting to strangle the oxygen out of the air. Chelsea obviously wanted to be that someone, and for some inexplicable reason, that made Kyra nauseated. She felt fire rolling within her belly and imagined Chelsea as a tasty dragon treat. Kyra knew it was absurd even as the thought popped into her head. She had no romantic claim on Sebastian. Besides, Chelsea probably tasted like charred crud. “And you’re willing to put in the time?”
Chelsea nodded and her face brightened to match the confident resolve she wore.
“You’re a better person than I am, Chelsea Briggs. I hope he comes around.” If Kyra were honest with herself, she’d have to admit Sebastian was definitely worth the effort Chelsea was investing. But there were times when the truth was better left unsaid. This felt like a moment most worthy of a non-truth.
Chelsea’s delight showed in a dazzling display of teeth and dimples. Guilt dropped like the Blarney Stone to the pit of Kyra’s stomach. Thankfully, Chelsea couldn’t detect the lies Kyra spouted. Part of her despised the omission and knew she should spill the truth, but she wanted to die before giving Chelsea the satisfaction of knowing how much Sebastian meant to her.
What if Chelsea was exactly what Seba
stian needed? What then? A good friend wouldn’t stand in the way, regardless of her personal feelings. The girl had never given Kyra any real reason to dislike her. It was just one of those things. Sometimes people don’t click, no matter what. Kyra glanced at Chelsea, assessed her. I guess she’s not all bad, she thought.
Kyra took a deep breath and exhaled, rolling her eyes, then slid her arm around Chelsea. The action was stiff and unsettling, but she did it anyway. Maybe she’d earn a few points with the dragon gods. Fire, Water, either one would do. She was going to do Chelsea a favor. She hoped it’d be good for Sebastian too. That whole thing about him being into Kyra had to be a gargoyle gag. She was a dragon and he was not. What kind of future would they have? All odds were against them. Her parents would never allow it. They had already chosen her a suitor. Another reason she had run away. And a reason any relationship with Sebastian was over before it’d begun.
“Come on,” Kyra said. “Maybe this time he’ll notice you.”
Together they pushed through the crowd, Kyra leading the way. All the while, she worried she would lose Sebastian to Chelsea. Her mind struggled with the notion, but she knew in her gut her friendship with Sebastian was stronger than some young girl’s crush. No dalliance could destroy what they had, right?
Moments before, Chelsea’s body language, her words, had lit up like a beacon, blinding Kyra to all other thoughts. She had missed the implication when spoken. “Wait!”
Chelsea snapped to a stop and watched her with the anticipation of a bored cat.
Kyra blinked hard. “What did you mean, ‘he doesn’t want to see’?”
“Sebastian doesn’t know I remember.”
“Remember what?”
Chelsea tipped her head, as if recalling. “The first time I saw him. Outside of the carnival.”