Plight of the Dragon

by Debra Kristi

  The ride was crawling to a stop, the melody fading into the rush and roar of the crowd. Kyra’s innards dropped like magma, and her throat squeezed shut. She never wanted this moment to end. Never wanted to get off this carousel with Sebastian. Didn’t want to know what came next—something told her she wasn’t going to like it. Parents and suitors waiting, wanting to do who-knows-what to Sebastian. Marcus coming for them both. And in his own family realm, something was definitely knocking Sebastian’s foundation off kilter. So much sadness in his eyes.

  “Ready?” he said.

  She wasn’t. Her fingers clutched at him as if he were her last breath in a life worth living. Her body pressed to his, trying with all desperation to drag him closer. There was no close that was close enough. They kissed with heated passion that would turn any normal man to ash.

  And then it was over. Sebastian pulled away and dropped off the wooden elephant. He extended his hand to Kyra. “Come on. Time to go.”

  A cold breeze swept through her. She blinked and stared down at Sebastian and his outreached hand, but he looked away. Her heart fluttered and sped up. She felt like a dragonling awaiting her mother’s punishment.

  She took his hand and slipped off the animal. They walked around the circle toward the carousel stairs. “Sebastian?”

  “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” He glanced over his shoulder, and the edge of his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite make it happen. He returned his attention to the path, blocking his face from Kyra and filling her soul with black, ugly dread. The This-is-Your-Life carousel was supposed to fix things, and yet it seemed to be pushing Sebastian away. Why was he acting so withdrawn?

  They descended the steps as if they walked toward Death’s door, slow and with hints of trepidation. When they’d ridden the elephant, Kyra had seen her life in a flash. Her time with Sebastian. Her time with her family. Was it possible he’d seen too, and didn’t approve? Or was his icy change the result of something more sinister? Something the ride had shared with only him? She watched Sebastian from the corner of her eye. Overhead, the sky continued to pop and sizzle, illuminating in every vibrant color imaginable in an unprecedented fireworks display.

  Talia sat on the gate. “Those dragon dudes are waiting for you.” She spoke to both of them, but her gaze narrowed in on Sebastian. “I think you should find yourself scarce.”

  “Done.” He glanced at Kyra and let out a long breath, then said to Talia, “Can you make sure Kyra gets back to her family?”

  Talia nodded acknowledgement, and Kyra yanked Sebastian’s arm, forcing him to pay attention to her. “I can find my way around the carnival just fine. I don’t need a babysitter. But that’s beside the point. I want to go with you.”

  Sebastian grimaced. “Yeah?” She hit him, and he flinched. “You’re gonna have to deal with your parents sooner or later. Might as well do it now. You can’t keep running forever.”

  “Listen to who’s talking.” She crossed her arms and squared her jaw.

  He shook his head, scratched his fingers through his tufts of hair. “My situation is different.”

  “Is it really? At the core, it all boils down to standing up for what you believe in and making sure your dad hears you.” She was talking about Sebastian now, not herself, but the words had just as much meaning in her own life.

  “Right here, right now, your folks might be able to put you back together. And you need that.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “You can’t go on feeling cold because you’re missing your dragon half.”

  She pulled at their hold, dragging him closer. “But you have my dragon, so it stands to reason I should stay with you. I’m complete when I’m with you.”

  It was as if all the lights went out at the carnival and Sebastian stood at the nucleus. He became a void of emotion, a void of life. A complete and utter black hole. His eyes were blacker than the blackest of nights and his aura a storm cloud of forsaking. He turned away. “There’s no fixing this, Kyra. I don’t belong in your world.” He pulled his hand away, and his face hardened, cracked with wrinkled lines of disgust. “You’re an irritating dragon. Who’s got time for that?” He turned and walked through the gate.

  Talia stared after him, a blank expression on her face.

  Kyra’s mouth fell open as she watched Sebastian walk away. Every cell in her body felt completely absent of life. He was her best friend, the only one she’d ever loved, and he was walking away. What did I miss?

  “I love you, Sebastian,” she called out to him.

  He didn’t look back.

  6

  ECLIPSE

  Sebastian

  Sebastian let Kyra’s fingers slip from his grasp and saw his world eclipse into darkness. Arctic waters crashed over him, collapsing him into an unfathomably raw end. Frozen, he stepped into a sea of bodies, not seeing a single one of them.

  The fire within him had turned to ice even as Kyra’s voice rang behind him of love, his only possible salvation. Eyes glossy and with a chest pummeled with stone, he pushed forward. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t look back.

  How could Zeke or Talia not warn him? Up until the carousel ride, he’d believed he’d find a work around. That his Reaper side would somehow allow him a win, or at least a cheat. But the carousel had shown him the truth. It showed him what needed to be done and how it should be done. He couldn’t drag Kyra through more misery. To save her, he’d have to make her hate him. It was the only way.

  All around him, the world danced and sang with celebration. He couldn’t feel their joy, not even one ounce. The winter-wind fire had consumed his heart and left a void. One step at a time, his legs dragged him toward the lake, toward the bench where he knew he’d find the old man waiting.

  Embers flickered across his chest and neckline. A rippling sensation rolled up his back. Reflexively, his hands stretched, opening wide and then closing into a fist. He repeated the motion over and over, and paused at the sight of claws protruding where his nails should be. Did no one in the celebratory crowd around him see what was happening? Like an army of dragons swooping in on the attack, he was swarmed with thoughts and emotions of Kyra. Kyra and him. Him without Kyra. Could he still attempt a cheat? Keep the dragon and keep Kyra? His shoulders dropped. No. Kyra was dying without her dragon, and she couldn’t be less aware.

  He dropped to his knees, screamed to the heavens. It was not the scream of a man, but the sound of internal torment, morphing and changing from the pitch of a human into the roar of a dragon. Overhead, the fireworks exploded in a grand finale, then went black.

  The sound of the crowd was nothing but a hushed drum now. His weight collapsed in on itself, leaving Sebastian sitting on the ground, head down. All there was now was a shell of the misfit Reaper. He still harbored the lost dragon, and return her to Kyra, he would. But his longing for them, for a relationship, had turned to dust, like a vampire caught in the sun.

  “For Kyra,” he whispered, and stared at his clenched fists in his lap. His breaths were deep, measured, but he’d never been more hollow. If only it didn’t hurt so much. If only I could feel numb.

  For Kyra, he could do this. For Kyra, he would be strong. For Kyra…he would let her go.

  Concentration spread from his soul like the endless strings of lights threading their web across the carnival. The process was not for the impatient by nature. He had to relax and let it happen as it must, like a ride on the Ferris wheel. The Ferris wheel would never challenge nor try to become the roller coaster. So would the process of putting the dragon back in the box never be as easy as slamming the lid shut. Hands now flared out on his thighs, Sebastian sighed and let his body go limp. His fight gone. And with his fight gone, so did the claws slowly creep back to the sleeping dragon, receding into nothing. If things weren’t so bleak, he might have smiled at the small victory.

  He glanced up and grimaced. When did I sprout wings? Large, orange dragon wings wrapped around him like a protective
cocoon. He may have managed to put away the claws, but the dragon back in the box, not quite yet.

  Sebastian stood. The wings swung around and folded against his back. He took a step and froze.

  “That’s a new look for you,” Mortifier said.

  7

  REVELATION

  Marcus

  His carnal urges satisfied, Marcus pushed Leila aside and grabbed the flask from the floor, washing away any lingering desire with a long swig of fire water.

  Leila lazily wrapped her robe back around her body and sprawled out across the far corner of the backseat. “I know your secret.”

  Marcus snuffed a laugh. “What secret is that?” He handed her the flask and picked up his phone, checked the missed call. “Damn,” he muttered, narrowing his gaze on Rick’s name on the screen, and hitting redial. Leila’s fingers brushed his when she took the flask from him. The touch pulled Marcus’s attention away from the screen, if only temporarily, and he glanced sideways at her. “Consider it a peace offering.” He glanced between her and the flask.

  Her eyes sparked, and she took a sip, then smiled a wickedly know-all grin. “Do you fear your followers would think less of you if they knew the truth?”

  “What are you talking about?” Marcus’s voice was gruff and filled with agitation. He hated games. Hated them almost as much as he hated Bolsvck.

  “When you were…”

  The phone in Marcus’s hand stopped ringing. Rick’s voice came across the line, and Marcus threw up his hand, signaling Leila to pause their conversation. Cupping the phone to his ear and tilting his head toward the window, seeking what little privacy he could in the car’s interior, Marcus talked low and quick. “What do you mean—how is that possible?” He listened, his face hardening by the second. “We don’t have time for this. Cut our losses and move forward with the new plan… Yes, plan C.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll be there in…” Marcus leaned forward and tapped Darren in the front seat. “How long till we get to the Wilkes Barre Market Street Bridge?”

  Darren tilted his head toward the back without taking his eyes off the road. “We’re a ways out, sir. I’d say we still have an hour twenty before we get there.”

  “We’ll be there in an hour,” Marcus said to Rick. “Right, see you then.” He ended the call. “Speed it up, Darren. We’re taking casualties, and an hour to get there is just too long.”

  The momentum of the sedan increased, speeding down the tree-encroached road as if escaping, as if the trees might swallow them any moment. Marcus bent down and picked up a parcel from the floor. He had ignored it up until now. Hadn’t felt a sense urgency. Now…now he wanted to be ready to move at the swing of a dragon’s tail. He tore open the box and pulled his grey suit free. Rick always knew exactly what Marcus needed. A cocky smile found his lips, and warmth blossomed in his chest. He’d be one damn sharp gentleman when next he saw Kyra.

  Leila rustled in the seat beside him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Continue with what you were saying before.” Marcus shook out his clothes and began dressing.

  Leila studied him, her index finger running back and forth along her lower lip. “I only wondered if it concerned you.”

  Marcus raised a brow and waited for her to continue.

  “When you were tossed into Purgatory, you were done so without provocation. You had done no wrong.” Marcus’s gaze narrowed. Leila’s eyes widened, and she began to talk faster. “Everyone knows your father was guilty of horrible things. Nasty, vicious, atrocious things.”

  “Enough about him.”

  “But you were clueless. A young boy too full of himself to notice what was going on in his own family.”

  Marcus growled.

  “Do you think your men would think less of you if they knew the truth?”

  Marcus grabbed Leila around the neck, tossing her flat against the seat. “What’s your point?”

  Leila wheezed, and her voice came out strained. “I know you hold Bolsvck responsible. Davies, too. But Bolsvck, like you, was just another pawn in a larger game. I know the name of the man who actually tossed you into that Hell. The man who helped Davies orchestrate the undermining plot.”

  Marcus released his grip, sat back, and regarded her. “How do you know this man?”

  “My mother told me.” She smiled, and it reached into her witchly dark eyes.

  “Your mother knows a Grim?” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “She does, indeed. Or, she did. He came to her once, took pity upon her and granted her more time.” Leila nibbled on her little finger. “Some might say he took a special kind of liking to her. He told her things. Your story was among the things he told her.”

  “Tell me who this man is.” Marcus leaned forward, his voice fully demanding.

  “I’ll do better. I’ll take you to him.” Her eyes fluttered to the car floor and back. “But tell me first, how did you get out of Purgatory?”

  Marcus groaned, leaned into the door, and dropped his head. “That was a low point in my life. The year in Purgatory was equal to a thousand Hells beat into my soul. On the 367th day, I stumbled across the devil. I made a deal.” He flashed a look that was bitter and blithe and bleak, all in one. “You know how that turned out. Traded my dragon half.”

  Leila pursed her lips. “You met the devil?”

  “Not the actual devil. Don’t be so gullible.”

  She shrugged. “It could happen. You were in Hell’s waiting room.”

  Marcus huffed, rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe Bolsvck was a pawn. He’s too smart for that.”

  “And too selfish? You think he purposely stole the crown from you?” She smirked, and Marcus frowned. “It was your family who took the rule from his a generation ago. He is the rightful king. And yet, he still refuses to officially claim the crown. Don’t you find that odd?”

  Marcus’s jaw seized and lava surged up his esophagus. Clenching his hands into fists, he fought the urge to strike down right there in the car. And yet, he needed to hear, and to know. “It doesn’t stop him from leading them!”

  She grinned and her dark eyes gleamed. “It’s a popularity thing, my lord. The dragons refuse to listen to anyone else. Except for the fraction, of course.” She licked her lips.

  “The fraction?”

  “The rebels.” She tapped a finger on the window’s edge. “Davies was the one. He led the rebellion against your father. It’s because of him your parents are dead, and he played a huge role in sending you to Purgatory.” Leila shifted in her seat, moved her back against the far door. She blinked and flashed a bedroom-eyes gaze at him. “Would your men think less of you if they knew?”

  “Knew what?” Marcus’s fingers dug into the leather seat.

  “How clueless you really are.” The side of her cheek lifted in a deadly grin. “In all your years of planning to take back the throne, did you ever wonder why Bolsvck never claimed his birthly right? And yet, all the clans follow him willingly. Or…” She paused, thoughtful. “Did you ever stop to wonder how Davies was disgraced enough to land him where he is now? No longer a dragon, but neither a man?”

  Marcus’s spine shot tent-pole straight. He stared at Leila with blood-boiling intensity.

  “I see I’ve hit a sore subject.” Her hands pressed against the door, pushing her up to appear taller. “Things are going to get interesting.” Her face darkened, contorting into something else. Something monstrously magnificent.

  And then the door behind her flew open, and Marcus’s lunge to stop her was too late. She was already vanishing from the car in a shadowy, black fog.

  8

  SUITORS

  Kyra

  “Why?” Kyra stared after Sebastian, her thoughts and emotions an obliterated devastation zone. The cracks and pops of the fireworks overhead were like bullet fire to her heart. “Why is he walking away, after all we’ve been through?” Her voice was weak, feeble, and she hated it.

  Talia stared at the crowd, her face draine
d of color. “We should get going.”

  Kyra grabbed her by the arm. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing,” Talia said, her eyes growing wide.

  “Don’t lie to me. I can see it all over you.” Kyra released her. “You’re as pale and as stiff as a corpse. Something’s going on.”

  “Kyra, everyone here is trying to help you—”

  “Don’t try to placate me. Spit it out, before I’m forced to torture it out of you.” Kyra planted her feet, jammed her fists onto her hips, and seared Talia with her stare.

  Talia opened her mouth and said…nothing. She glanced to the spot in the crowd where Sebastian had disappeared, then back at Kyra. Her indecision couldn’t have been more evident.

  “There you are!”

  Kyra turned to see Drakhögg and Ryhuu striding toward her. Great. More dragon dung to deal with. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you doing here?” she asked them. “You were supposed to wait.”

  “We got tired of waiting for you to return and grace us with your beauty, so we decided to sniff you out,” Ryhuu said, with what Kyra assumed was meant to be a charming smile. Really not.

  She rolled her eyes. “Sniff? Seriously? Gross.”

  “Sniffing was necessary,” Drakhögg said. “We were beginning to think this crazy carnival didn’t want us to find you. It kept changing, setting us on a different course. Insane place, this Mystic’s Carnival. But hey, we’re finally here because of this.” He pointed to his nose. “You used your sniffer all the time…when you were complete,” he added with a hint of arrogance. “Do you remember now?”

  “I remember why I don’t like you, so you can stop trying.” She threw her hip out to the side.

  “I do love when you play hard to get,” Drakhögg said, placing his arm around her waist.