Plight of the Dragon

by Debra Kristi

  Light shimmered dimly through the trees, the sun barely beginning to peek its waking head over the horizon. Marcus caught sight of a small, battered pickup truck headed in their direction. Headlights flickered with each exaggerated bump in the road. It could be nothing, but if the fear emanating from the rusty wheel bucket meant anything, he was betting the little beater was someone tasked to follow him. And that someone had a pretty good idea of what they were following. He, or she, was scared out of their skin.

  Marcus stepped into the shadows. The black sedan purred quietly, waiting in plain sight. Even though the distance between the two vehicles closed with each breath, the rate of closure was decreasing. The truck was slowing. But stopping, no. It ambled up to Marcus, its engine pinging and tinging. A great getaway car, it would never make. Marcus hunched his shoulders, planted his feet, and narrowed his stare on the truck’s little cab as it drove passed. Two men sat side by side. They probably planned to move by like nothing was amiss. Just a couple of guys running their daily errands. And it might have worked, had it not been for the stink of fear and the one man failing to hide his gaunt reflection of terror when he glanced out the side window.

  His eyes said it all. He knew what Marcus was, of that there was no doubt.

  A roar reeled up Marcus’s throat. His leg swung back, throwing his body into a back twist-roll. A dark dance of the ages, limbs and shapes shifting, expanding. Garments ripping to shreds. Where once there was a man, now there was a gargantuan dragon. Dark and gnarly with innumerable sharp edges. A massive claw smashed down on the tailgate of the rambling truck, slamming it to a stop and smacking it into the road. Yelling erupted from the cab’s interior. Then an explosion of pops. Marcus was being assaulted with gunfire. The passenger hung out the side window, weapon in hand.

  Marcus’s dragon howled, and smoke poured from his nostrils. Sucking back the vapors and filling them with his internal rage, he let loose hellfire. The truck’s paint scorched, bubbled, and peeled. The man squealed and ducked back into the cab. Picking up the vehicle, Marcus waved it once in his left claw, then tossed it to the side of the road. Ginormous dragon wings flapped as he turned, hitting and spinning the truck farther into the tree line.

  “We’re under attack!” The words came from the wreckage, followed by an unrecognizable static reply. Damn two way radios. Marcus spun back and rushed the heap of metal. A man pulled himself from the vehicle, now sitting on its side, and stood on top of the wreckage. In his hand, he now held an automatic weapon. Marcus laughed, baring his teeth.

  “You think that will stop me? Tiny human, you can’t stop me.” He lowered his head and snorted, covering the man in dragon smoke.

  “Maybe I…” The man glanced through the window at his feet. “We won’t stop you today, but you can be sure Jon Davies will find a way.”

  The Black Dragon Marcus, now a mix of many dragons and their mighty gifts, straightened, stretching his neck high above the man. A dark cold swirled in Marcus’s heart. It grew, swirling faster and faster at the mention of Davies’s name. Marcus stood deathly still, like a statue, and then his tail twitched. It swung so fast the man only got off one shot before being smacked in the side by something the size of a fallen redwood. Automatic fire rang up through the trees and into the sky, and then fell silent, his body slamming into a nearby tree and slumping to the ground.

  “Hurry to the Den. Yeah, now.” The voice was a mere whisper from deep within the cab.

  Marcus’s lips peeled back, exposing ready-to-kill teeth. All his attention was now focused on the remaining man. The mousy human inside the truck sending men to his Den. He’d heard too much. Was giving away too much information. Marcus turned and swung. The dragon’s tail flattened the cab. All went silent.

  He chuffed, blew dark thickets of angry smoke, and thumped his tail upon the hard asphalt road. The little truck hadn’t been much to behold before, but now Marcus couldn’t pull his gaze from the mangled heap.

  Someone cleared their throat behind him. He swung around, wings extended, teeth exposed. Darren, the driver, stood next to the dark sedan, a small phone clutched firmly in his grip. “The men are assembled, sir,” he said, a mild tremor in his voice.

  With a swing of his tail that countered the shake of his head, Marcus advanced on the car. Darren stumbled back into the safety of the driver’s seat and closed the door. By the time Marcus reached the car he was once again a man, having shed his dragon shape for the time being. Still burning with adrenaline, he didn’t feel the rough asphalt against his bare feet.

  Marcus slipped into the backseat and stretched his back, combing both hands through his hair. “Darren, get ahold of Rick. Tell him there has been a change. We’re moving to plan B now.”

  “Yes, sir.” The car engine came to life with a gentle purr, and within a minute they were in motion.

  “Feel better?” Leila handed Marcus a flask. He took it without hesitation, then paused before bringing it to his lips. He stared at the item in his hand and narrowed his gaze. Leila groaned, snatched it back, and took a swig of the liquid. “Satisfied?”

  Marcus smirked. “A man in my position can never be too careful.”

  “If I wanted you dead, I would be much more original in the execution. Poison is so ordinary.” She twirled a lock of her hair around her index finger and allowed her gaze to wander along the length of his naked body. “A species of your fine stature has far too much energy worth harvesting. It would be a waste to snuff it out in such a mundane manner.”

  Marcus’s face hardened. He knew what she was inferring, and he would not fall victim to any Mara. She would never suck his life force. Death would befall her long before she got the chance to even try. Maybe he’d kill her with some of her own medicine because, damn, she oozed of sex and longing, and the fires of passion raged through his blood after his little confrontation. She might be the perfect outlet for his current state of vexation. He dropped the flask on the floor.

  “Eyes front, Darren,” Marcus said and grabbed Leila, throwing her down against the seat.

  “My lord.” Her voice was breathless.

  “Do your Mara thing. Make yourself resemble Kyra.”

  “As you wish.” Leila’s dark hair faded to red and her bone structure shifted.

  “Good.” Marcus ripped open her robe, let his gaze soak in every detail. “Exceptional.” Threading his fingers through her hair, he yanked her head to the side and grazed his lips along the curve of her neck, pausing at the base of her ear. “This means nothing.” He thrust inside of her, fueled by all his frustration and rage.

  Leila screamed.

  Marcus’s phone rang.

  5

  CAROUSEL RIDERS

  Kyra

  Kyra’s gaze was fixed on the glow at her feet. She couldn’t remember ever riding a carousel, but what she was now admiring didn’t appear normal. Lines swirled outward from one center point, swinging around and curling back in on themselves. A pulsing green and orange light traveled the design, working its way from one end to the other and back again.

  Talia made a funny sound behind them, one of those move-along coughs. Sebastian dropped his hand from Kyra’s back, turned to Talia, and pointed at the marking on the carousel floor. “This your doing?”

  “It is.” She stepped past them and stood on the other side of the mark, appraising her work. “The lines represent all that was, all that is, and all that will be.” She glanced up and studied Kyra. “For you, of course.” Then she tossed Sebastian a quick lift of the brow before pointing to the moving colors. “The amber and emerald running through your lines should heal and clarify your personal memories through your mind, body, and soul.” She looked up and locked her stare on Kyra once again. “Your heart plays a big factor in the success of what we are about to do. You need to be true to your heart. Let it feel what it wants to feel, and don’t fight it.” She took Kyra’s hand in her own. “Don’t fight anything that comes to you, understand? Bad times, sad times, let them in.”
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  Kyra nodded and glanced back down at the moving glow at her feet. Muscles in her chest and shoulders tightened. Breathing had become a labored endeavor. She was a dragon. A giant, mythological dragon! What memories awaited her? Am I ready for this?

  Sebastian’s fingers brushed along her hand, fitting hers within the curve of his palm, as if his hand was molded for a perfect fit. When his fingers laced between her own, she stared up into his indigo eyes and found her strength.

  “All right. Let’s do this.” Pulling Sebastian behind, Kyra began to walk the circle of the carousel, heading straight for the dramatically painted dragon.

  “Not the dragon,” Talia called from behind them.

  Kyra paused, and both she and Sebastian peered back at Talia. “I thought…” Kyra didn’t finish her statement, but rather stood with puzzlement on her face. Her thoughts swam around the carousel dragon. She was supposed to be a dragon, and Sebastian had a dragon inside of him. The dragon seemed the logical choice.

  “It has to be the elephant.” Talia pointed past them.

  Kyra glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t see an elephant.”

  “Keep going. He’s around the curve.”

  “Why the elephant?” Sebastian asked.

  “Memory,” Talia said with a shrug.

  Appearing satisfied, Sebastian took the lead, taking the curve in long, strong strides. Kyra and Talia followed. The elephant was there, waiting for them as soon as they cleared the bend. The animal stood taller and wider than the others, taking up the space of one and a half horses.

  “I’m supposed to get on top of that big thing?” Kyra pointed and wrinkled her nose.

  “Not just you,” Talia said to Kyra. “Both of you.” She turned her attention to Sebastian. “For this to work, we need to have both elements of Kyra’s life on the elephant.”

  Sebastian exhaled, then extended his hand to Kyra. She scanned from his hand to the elephant, then back to his hand. “All right.”

  Once again, a musical voice sang over their heads and throughout the park. “Commencement time is almost upon us. Be sure to grab your party supplies!”

  Kyra took Sebastian’s hand and stepped up to the elephant. “What’s going to happen at commencement time?”

  “The celebration will begin with a grand fireworks show.” His lips pressed firmly together.

  “Something’s bothering you,” Kyra said. “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing.”

  Kyra narrowed her gaze.

  “I’m uncomfortable having a bunch of unpredictable dragons on site when the park is overfilled for the celebration. That’s all.”

  Kyra smiled. “Well then…let’s get this over with, so they have no reason to linger.” She turned, placed her foot in the stirrup, and hoisted herself up to the top of the giant, shiny, wooden elephant.

  After making sure she was secure, Sebastian turned to Talia. “What happens now?”

  “You two will take a ride on the carousel. The magic will do the rest.”

  Sebastian scratched the back of his neck. “How will we know it’s working?”

  “You’ll know.”

  The ride jolted, and merry-time music started to play. In slow, rhythmic motion, the animals began to move up and down and up and down.

  “Time to join her.” Talia pointed to Kyra at the top of the elephant, then turned and left.

  “What happens now?” Kyra bent down, lowering her hand to him.

  “No idea. Guess we’re going to find out.” He climbed up and swung onto the elephant behind her.

  His warmth surrounded her, and if she were honest with herself, she liked it, desired it, even. Talia had said she had to be true to her heart for the magic to work. Did that include what she was feeling toward Sebastian? “You smell like soot,” she said.

  “Sorry. I’m afraid I don’t have much control over this new arrangement.”

  She studied him with tenderness and affection pressing to expand her heart a thousand-fold, and yet that word arrangement nagged at her. She smiled as if nothing worrisome touched their lives, allowing the sun to sparkle in her eyes. “I don’t mind.” She leaned into him, tilting her head to better see him. She spoke at a whisper and hoped he couldn’t hear the erratic dance her heart was performing. “Did you know about my arranged marriages?”

  His gaze was soft, understanding. With the slightest touch, he swept a hair from the edge of her face. “I did not. But it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Why’s that?” Kyra relaxed into him and watched the colors move dreamily past. The carousel was building momentum.

  “You told me they were forcing you to make a choice between the Water and Fire Clans. They probably thought pairing you with a suitable companion would make your decision easier.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

  She continued to hold onto the pole, even though part of her wanted to take hold of him, instead. “Why do I have to choose?”

  “I don’t pretend to understand the ways of dragons, Kyra, but you are a Moorigad. It means both traits of your parents run through your blood.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “You once told me about a legend of the first Moorigad, Anguis the Angry, you called him. He refused to choose. Like you, he was a hybrid of water and fire. And as you know, it can be an explosive combination. The war that raged within him not only drove him mad and destroyed him, but through his madness, caused unmeasurable devastation and death in the process. Since then, every Moorigad has chosen a clan. Given one side of themselves up, so that the other side might survive.”

  Kyra straightened, a chill running through her faster than lightning. In a split second, she was a tangle of arms and legs, turning around in her seat to face Sebastian.

  His hands went up in a defensive blockade against her not-so-graceful turn. “Woowa! You trying to knock me off the back of this thing?” He leaned back, avoiding her leg swinging across the front of him.

  “Sorry.” Kyra flashed a sheepish smile up at him and settled into place with her back against the pole and her legs crossed over his. “It’s just…” She paused and stared down at her fiddling hands. They rubbed up and down her legs, warming her thighs. “When is this thing, whatever it is, when they make me choose, supposed to happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Will I be the same afterwards?” She tilted her head and gazed deep into his eyes. “Will I feel like the me from before?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The carousel was spinning at top speed, but Kyra no longer concentrated on retrieving her memory. All her concern huddled around the thought she might lose herself over some dragon ritual she didn’t want any part of. Her insides fluttered, then tightened. “Will I remember you? Still care for you?”

  “I don’t know, Kyra. I’m not privy to the ways of dragons.”

  “What do you know?” Her voice pitched and jumped an octave. Sebastian arched an eyebrow, watched her with quiet concern moving across his features. With a flop in her belly and a tightening of her throat, Kyra bit her lip and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She sighed and gazed up into his dark, caring eyes. Love and sincerity gazed back at her. It washed over her like a storm at sea. And in that moment, she remembered the power of the Water Dragon rushing through her veins, pumping in her blood, invigorating her soul.

  The world exploded in a hundred and one colors and sounds, fireworks filling the sky, a jubilee of music and merriment rising all around them. She grabbed Sebastian and kissed him with everything she had and everything she was.

  Sebastian kissed her back, opening up to her like the night unfolding to the dawn. It was shadow and light, the moon and the sun, night and day, the arctic ice melting the earth’s molten core. Polar opposites coming together as one, and within that magical moment, the most perfect moment, Kyra remembered.

  Her fingers laced through Sebastian’s hair, and she kissed him harder, never wanting to let him go. All the while, who and what she was flooded back to he
r, memories exploding into existence out of nothing, like popcorn from a hot oiled tin. She remembered the Water Dragon, Ryhuu, trying to push her into a submissive role. Her mother thrusting the Water Clan life upon her, denying Kyra her fire side, and their many fights as a result. Kyra had fled. Her father hadn’t acted much better, verbally assaulting the Water Dragons with every conversation. And then there was the irritating match with vain Drakhögg, a man too full of himself to appreciate anyone else.

  Why were male dragons such dragonic dicks?

  Dragonic dicks like Marcus, trying to control her by blocking her memories, her own free will, and individual thought. Her cold abated a smidgen at the thought of him. At her hatred for him. Yet it was herself she despised more, for falling into his trap and allowing herself to befall a damn-foolish weakened state. Be ripped in two.

  Her heart squeezed. Chelsea. What had happened to the cancer-riddled girl she had dragged away from the carnival to help the lying-sleaze Marcus? Emotion rushed Kyra, crushed her, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. It was because of her Higgins had died. She remembered everything. And it was for her Sebastian had fought fire and fate in Purgatory, and had come to knocking on Marcus’s door. She pulled back, caressed Sebastian’s cheek with her palm.

  “Are you okay?” His thumbs brushed tenderly at the sides of her face.

  She shook her head, peered down. “I remember. I hurt you atrociously, and the memories claw at my core.”

  Using his index finger, Sebastian lifted her face till their eyes met. “Kyra, dragon-darling.” Ever so gently, he kissed her forehead, then whispered, “You never have to apologize for what was. Besides, you weren’t yourself.” His thumbs erased the tear tracks from beneath her eyes. His lips lifted in a reassuring smile, but it was sadness she saw staring back at her.