by Debra Kristi
Sebastian’s face brightened, boasting a laugh and an unconvincing smile. Thrusting out his hand, he helped Kyra stand. His arms folded in and around her, lifting her with ease. “Nothing so grand. I’m more like his errand boy. There are a lot of bodies between me and the top.”
His touch sent a warmth and comfort through her she craved, desired. She never wanted him to let go. Why hadn’t she figured it out so much earlier? She had let her pride stand in the way. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. Sorry I didn’t listen. You were right; I shouldn’t have gotten in the way. Now look what I’ve done. This was Marcus’s fate, not mine. Sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“As they say, my friend, water under the bridge.” He looked pleased with his pun. He brushed a few pebbles off her arm and stepped back. Cold dug into her chest and carved out a chunk, leaving a hole in its wake. She was petrified. Deeply, immensely petrified in this place, this unknown, without his strength guiding her. Of course, her pride still wouldn’t allow the fear to show on the surface.
Instead, she pointed to his ribcage and watched as her name morphed into Marcus’s. “But the names?” A line moved across the name below Marcus’s, crossing it out while she looked on. Then that name disappeared from Sebastian’s skin altogether. Kyra gasped. “What!” She pointed to the space where it had been. “What happened?”
He glanced down and shrugged. “Their need for me is done. They’ve moved on.”
“Moved on? From where? From here?” Her voice hiked. “I thought this was death. Aren’t I dead?”
Sebastian glanced to her, then out over the warring landscape. “I can see where you might think that, but this is more of a holding cell. Purgatory, if you will. Death puts up a damn good fight to suck you in. Wouldn’t you agree? It’s not easy making a comeback from this place, but it is possible.”
A large boom, the sound of multiple cannon fire, blasted from the summit above, and there was a flash overhead, followed by spurts of flame bursting in all directions. Horrifying howls, enough to curdle one’s blood, accompanied the display. It shot across the sky and died away. They stared up and watched the dragon take to the sky. Kyra suspected that could only mean one thing.
She swallowed the desire to burst into hysterical tears. “The phoenix, it’s Higgins. Is it…?”
Sebastian grabbed her arm and held it tight. “He gave us time. He kept you safe.”
She wanted to throw herself into his arms and hug him tight. Instead she kept her cool, showed her strength. “But I’m only here because I was keeping Marcus safe. No one else was supposed to die for that cause.” She pulled her arm away from Sebastian and raked her fingers through the side of her hair, pulling it taut. Something squeezed all the air out of her. She couldn’t breathe. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know!” she screamed, and fell to her knees, whispering. “Not Higgins, it’s not fair.”
It felt like eons she’d crouched crying, Sebastian hovering above her, but it had only been seconds. Sebastian kneeled and ever so gently, the palm of his hand ran along the curve of her back. “Life is rarely fair. But I need to know. Do you want to live?”
She glared at him. If Kalrapura still dwelled within her, her eyes would be circled in fire. “Of course I do! I want nothing more, but Marcus…” And Higgins. She didn’t deserve to live after what had happened. She looked to the scuffs in the dirt at their feet.
“Forget what I said.” Sebastian’s tone was sharp, causing Kyra to look up again. The dragon circled the skyscape above them and Sebastian pulled Kyra back against the wall, under cover of the cliff overhang. The sight of the dragon weighed Kyra’s chest down with guilt.
She pointed to the dragon. “I need to figure out what to do about him.” The dragon roared, his body a mere silhouette against the dark heavens above, twisting and turning in a mad search for prey.
Sebastian took a finger to her chin and moved her until their eyes met. “I don’t care about Marcus or his dragon. That dragon can stay down here and burn for all eternity. It’s a good fit. But I’ll help you with him or Marcus if you so desire. All I care about is you. I want you to live. So did Higgins. As do you.” He squeezed her hand in his own. “That’s good enough for me. You fight, Kyra, and believe in yourself. Understand?”
His words rang in her ears, drowning out the sound of the crackling landscape, the sloshing water spirals, and the clamor of the dragon above. The weight of his speech and the beat of her heart overpowered all things. And as he pulled her to him she wanted nothing more than to meld into him and make them one. His lips descended upon hers, his kiss not rushed or rash like the one she’d pressed upon him earlier, but soft, gentle, and perfect. Everything a first kiss should be, tender and beautiful, and in the moment, she never wanted to let him go.
Then, without a word, he pushed her backwards with incredible strength. Her body shifted, lost traction, and flew up into the air, dragged by the pull of the twisting water spouts. She clawed at Sebastian’s forearms while her legs dangled in the open air. He was her anchor and she refused to let go. As she did, she saw the line start to form. It was faint, but it was there, wavering in and out across her name. She saw Higgins’s name, too, inked below hers. And then it wasn’t. She looked for an explanation in Sebastian’s expression. He was stone, gave nothing away. Until his hand betrayed him with one quick wipe of the eye. Confirmation that Higgins was gone.
“No!” she screamed.
A screech replied. The dragon descended, dived down on them from above. Her heart hiccupped and her hands jolted. Sebastian’s arm slipped through her grasp and she flew into the water stream.
She yelled with all the might she had, hoping her friend would hear. Her words went out to Sebastian. “I trust you completely!”
Water everywhere, rushed around her and caressed her. Sebastian. What will become of you? She gulped a mouthful of water as she pitched and spun in the whirlpool. Despair overtook her and tossed her around like a rag doll. No! She wasn’t going to give into it. Not after all Higgins had given up. She was making the decision to live.
Her arms moved against the force of the water, like treading through molasses. Still, she was determined, and so her limbs pushed forward. She pulled herself through the spiraling water like she was swimming upstream, directly up. Maneuvering herself to the center, she let the spin and the force of the water work to gently lift her.
Depression and despair continued to grope at her, nag her, but she focused on the light above. Maybe it wasn’t Heaven. Maybe it was simply a way out, a way back to life.
One stroke. A hard push through the water.
I should have told him. Told him I love him, she thought.
She focused on Sebastian and how he made her feel. She focused on getting back to life at the carnival, and she focused on her dragon. Little distance was made. Still, it was something.
Another stroke, and another, and she climbed a little bit higher in the tower of despair. It wanted to break her. It willed her to succumb to its power play of despair. She wouldn’t have it.
She thought of Marcus. Would she check in on him when she got back? She wasn’t sure.
She focused on Sebastian and the earthbound world. She could do this. She would get back to him and their life together.
A gulp of air for the edge and more treading. Her arms cut through the water six, seven more times, pulling impossibly hard up through the twisting current. She was strong even without her beast side, and she was determined. She continued to climb.
She focused on the scent of the morning after the rain.
She had to be close. She could sense it. Five more strokes.
Light flared out all around her, changing the blue water white, and the sound of the liquid moving at her ear morphed to a timed beep. She didn’t know what it meant, but she hoped it was a sign she was close. Her pulse accelerated. Sebastian had been right. It was working.
Her body grew tired and her arms ached from the work. She wasn’t going to le
t that stop her. She threw her left arm up again, cutting through the current in a stroke, focusing on the carnival and the smell of popcorn. Oh, how she hated that buttery smell.
The sound of the beep increased until it was all she heard. The force of the water vanished and the glow of the blue all around her was gone. Oxygen. She inhaled deep.
Pain rippled through her like the Fireball ride from the fun zone—top speed, no pauses. She screamed, but heard only a moan. Then the light exploded around her. It hurt to look. Hurt like Hades frozen over. Yet it was nothing but the overhead fluorescents of a room.
“Welcome back, sweetie.” A nurse stood over her. Something warm squeezed her hand. The pain of sharp knives slashing ran along her muscles when she turned her head.
Her efforts didn’t go unrewarded. Marcus sat at her bedside. Bandaged and bruised, but healthy. Alive.
The nurse checked a few things, then patted Kyra’s shoulder. “I’ll get the doctor.” She stepped into the hall. “Room 206 is awake.”
Two weeks had passed since Kyra had been discharged from the hospital. Two weeks since Marcus swept her up and brought her back to his place. Two weeks and he’d let her do little more than hole up, relax, watch television. Playing the overprotective Romeo, he wouldn’t let her make a meal or wash a dish. He insisted she stay in, rest, and fully heal. He seemed more worried about her condition than she was.
She was bored.
Kyra rolled over, found the space beside her in the bed cold. She sighed and traced her fingers along the line where Marcus should be. He’d let her sleep in again. He’d been doing that a lot. She honestly did feel better. Mostly. Wished she could get him to believe her. All the sleeping filled the hours. What else was she to do?
A short stack of magazines sat haphazardly on the nightstand, right where she’d left them a day, maybe three days, ago. Picking one from the middle of the pile with a lazy hand, she pulled it free and dragged it across the bed closer to her. It was some variation of entertainment publication. She flipped through the pages, looking at the photographs and showing the articles no interest whatsoever. Everything and everyone pictured looked foreign to her. Nothing sparked the slightest memory.
Abandoning the exercise, she flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Shouldn’t she remember something by now? Anything? Her hand dug into the pillow behind her head. Anxiety and frustration boiled inside of her.
Something was missing. Something big.
“Marcus?” she called, and sat up to listen to the sounds in the other room.
The rustle of paper responded from the kitchen. “Yeah. What is it?” He sounded distracted.
Kyra leaned forward, extending her neck. “Do I have family?”
There was a pause. Kyra didn’t know if she should contribute it to preoccupation or to him looking for the best possible answer.
“You never mentioned any.”
She stared at the white sheets. Boring white sheets. Her gaze moved to the wall. Beige. Boring beige wall. The carpet was boring too. Everything about this place was boring. Somehow it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like her. Not that she knew who she was. But her gut told her she’d go wild with color and design.
Do I really belong here? she thought, and fell to the surface of the bed, letting out a huge sigh. “I’m bored. Can we go out?”
“What did I tell you about that? I’m keeping your best interest in mind.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. Reluctantly she rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, grabbing Marcus’s robe off the bed along the way. Wrapping herself securely in thick white terry cloth, she turned the water on in the shower and wandered toward the mirror to fix her bedhead state. If they weren’t going to go out, then she could pass the time using all his hot water. Should it worry her she preferred the water at scalding temperatures? It sometimes hurt, turned her skin a tender pink, but it reminded her she was alive, and that meant something to her for some reason.
Tangles removed from her hair, she slipped in under the water’s spray. This was the only place in the entire apartment that invoked any memory for her. If you could call it that. It was more like a feeling, really. A horrific feeling. Her body trembled and she crouched on the floor, pulling herself into a ball. Here, hidden within the noise of the shower, she cried.
Why she cried, she did not know. She knew nothing about the origin of the emotion, only that it was hers, the only thing she knew to be honestly and truly hers. And so she clung to it like a lifeline.
On occasion, hidden within the sorrow and despair, warmth would spread through her chest, radiating from her heart. She yearned for those times, longed for that feeling, but didn’t understand its origin. If Marcus was the source, where had that intense spark gone in his presence?
She sat in the corner of the shower, the hot water doing little to warm her frozen soul, shifting through the emotions, searching for a tangible memory. She felt something there, on the brink of recall.
Three knocks came from the other room.
She sat up straight. She almost hadn’t heard them. Wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t been concentrating.
Another knock.
And voices! Did they have company?
Kyra hadn’t moved so fast since, well, since she could recall. Water off, robe on, finger-combed hair, and she was moving through the bedroom, picking up bits and pieces of a conversation. Marcus was talking about her with someone. She didn’t give a flying circus tent what he had to say about it, she was crashing that chat.
They were standing at the front door when Kyra stepped out of the bedroom. Neither had noticed her yet, but her resolve floundered at the sight of their visitor. His foot was placed in the threshold, as if trying to keep Marcus from closing the door.
Kyra glanced between them. Why would he do that? she wondered. What is going on?
The stranger didn’t look familiar, but he was rather cute. She bit her lip and looked him over. Definitely needed a few minor tweaks in the style department, but she could work with that.
She blinked. What am I doing? I’m with Marcus.
“Oh, you think, do you?” the visitor was saying as he placed a firm hand on the doorframe.
“Yeah, I do,” Marcus retorted.
A testosterone-driven pissing war. Fantastic. At least it was something different. Something not boring.
Kyra coughed into her fist and waited. Uncomfortable in her skin wasn’t something she was used to feeling, but it had her in its steely grasp now. Maybe she should have slipped on something more modest. The visitor was a total stranger, and the way he looked at her… She pulled the neckline closed tighter, feeling naked under his gaze. She glanced down at her terry robe. It stopped at the top of her thighs. Too much leg, far too much leg.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. Too late now.
One step for bravery, two steps for curiosity. Kyra moved deeper into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but it sounded like you might be discussing me.” She looked to Marcus and knew by the look on his face she was right. “You wouldn’t be doing that without me, would you?”
“Sorry our conversation disturbed you.” Marcus looked at the towel in Kyra’s hand, then to her hair, still dripping wet. “Why don’t you finish what you were doing? I got this.”
The visitor pushed his way into the apartment. “Kyra, you’re all right?”
Kyra’s gaze moved from Marcus to their mystery visitor as she walked across the room. Her head spun with so many questions it was practically impossible to pick one out of the jumbled mess.
Marcus’s arm shot out and pulled her into his side before she could protest. It felt more like a show for the other guy’s benefit, than affection for her. Not that she would call him on it. The beast had a temper she preferred not to stir. “No worries, I enjoy a break in the monotony,” she said to Marcus, then looked to him. Something deep within her soul wanted to know him. “Thanks for your concern. I’m good. Do I know you?”
He blinked and took a sh
aky step back. “You don’t remember?”
Something warm blossomed in her chest. It spread to her limbs and tingled at her hair follicles. He may have sounded concerned, alarmed, dejected even, but his presence did something to her. More than Marcus’s did. Was this supposed stranger sparking a memory?
“I told you she needed more time. She got a fucking skull fracture. Lost a scary amount of blood. And it’s only been a few weeks. She needs more time to heal,” Marcus said.
Kyra patted his chest. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I’m fine.” She looked to the man in the doorway. “Doc is amazed at my recovery.”
He stared at her, a glazed-over look taking up residency on his face. “I’m sure he is.” A smidgen of hope lit the corner of his eyes. “Do you remember any of it? Higgins? The carnival? Zeke? What about dragons?”
The questions made her mind feel like a void. A vast hole of nothing. She shifted, crossed her arms, and scratched her elbow. “Dragons? As in that game people play, or collecting them?”
His eyes darkened and a deep crease set in across his forehead. It made her wonder how far off she was. “Neither, actually,” he said.
Marcus grunted under his breath. Kyra decided to ignore it. She’d never been fond of males getting piss-happy over anything they considered territory violations.
Curiosity had her shifting closer to the front door, inch-by-inch, allowing extra air between her and Marcus. There was something about the stranger at their door she wanted to know more about. Maybe it was what he knew about her. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t fight it.
“I’m sorry, I never caught your name.” She heard it as soon as the words left her mouth. She was flirting. Right in front of Marcus! What was wrong with her?
If she realized what she’d done, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind Marcus would be on to it too. She didn’t want to look, see his reaction. Her gaze remained glued forward.