by Debra Kristi
“Just the two of them? No Sebastian?” Marcus had no idea who Talia was, but that caused him no concern.
“Why are you so interested in Sebastian?” Vortex Girl popped her hands on her hips. “I thought you and Kyra were an item. You’re not jealous, are you?”
Marcus’s lips pressed together in a firm line, and his hands flexed before clasping into tight fists. “What’s that way? Just rides and games?”
“There are plenty of rides and games, all right,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “but if you keep going, you’ll find yourself amidst the Big Top show area.”
Marcus regarded her. She was young and excitable, an unpredictable combination. “Other than, ‘they went that way,’ you don’t know anything else?”
Her body straightened, as if called to attention by a teacher. “Oh, sure. I know lots of things. For instance, did you know the first Ferris wheel was invented in—”
Marcus waved a hand, dismissing her ramble. “About Kyra or Sebastian, girl.”
Her eyes widened like the full moon. “Oh. No.” She shook her head.
“Then beat it.” He turned and resumed his strut. Moving through the Fun Zone, he watched patrons melting down various aisles. Like a receding wave, they flushed down the midway toward the main entrance and the portal. Little did they know, it was closed. Then he noticed another curious thing about the carnival. Static electricity, like lightning, every once in a while would randomly strike, run a course along the side of a tent or across the ground. It wasn’t natural and he suspected the electricity had something to do with the carnival. Interest stirred in him, and he wanted to amass the answers to the unasked questions, like a dragon lord amasses power. What was the source? What was the purpose?
The Fun Zone eventually dropped behind him, and he entered a city of tents. Every kind of tent imaginable surrounded him. Simple tents, ornate tents, monstrous tents, mousy tents. It was never ending.
And still, the shuffle of small feet followed him. He rolled his eyes and grumbled. He didn’t want to get sucked into a vortex, accidentally or on purpose.
Marcus’s stomach tugged. It was a minor pinch, but it meant his insurance policy worked and Kyra was somewhere in the vicinity. His piercing gaze searched the crowd. A multitude of people filed through this section of the carnival, like herded Behemoth. They pushed toward the exit, confusion, irritation, and disappointment their companions. But not everyone sought an exit. Some drifted with leisure from show to show, or chatted with carnies, while others pressed quick and purposeful toward a ruckus farther down the row. Marcus cranked his head to see what was drawing the people like a masterful trap.
A wail, sounding much like Davies’s, punched through the crowd, and the little vortex girl ran past Marcus. Feet stumbling, she paused and threw her flared hands up to her face. “Oh my beastie! Sebastian!” She disappeared into the crowd.
“Interesting.” Marcus stepped to the side, into the shadows one of the tents provided. He watched with keen interest as the boy, Sebastian, morphed into some kind of beast, shattering the glass box within which he’d been trapped into a bazillion miniature pieces. “This will be more fun than I first imagined,” Marcus muttered to himself. He flipped several of the stolen tarot cards in his right hand, as a dry smile squirmed into place on his face. First he’d deal with the carnie fuck, then he’d collect Kyra.
“Hey, boss.” Marcus jerked. Rick had silently slipped up beside him. “Where’s Chet?”
Marcus grunted. “Early departure.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Rick studied the commotion in the midway. “Good news. Bolsvck and Davies, both located.” He gestured to the crowd.
“Yes,” Marcus said, the word slipping slow and dark from his tongue. “Where are the others?”
“Toby and Darren are around here somewhere. Left Darren over there only a short while ago.” Rick glanced over his shoulder and pointed, then turned his attention back on Marcus. “What now?”
“We kill dragons.” Marcus peered at Rick, insidious intentions gleaming in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
18
NEEDS
Kyra
Kyra vaulted toward Sebastian. He needed her. She knew he needed her. Even if he wouldn’t admit it. Her heart ached to close the distance, to speed to his aid. She didn’t care about the hurtful things he’d said. They’d work through that later. Right now, they only needed each other. She had to get him out of that box.
Her momentum came to a screeching halt, wrenched back at the arm by Talia. “Are you trying to ruin everything?” she hissed.
Kyra’s head snapped back and forth between Talia and the mess in which Sebastian currently found himself trapped. She flung her arm in his direction. “He needs my help,” she murmured.
“If you go over there now, all the effort to disguise you will have been for nothing,” Talia responded. “Besides, when have you known Sebastian to get stuck in a situation he couldn’t maneuver his way out of?”
Kyra’s mouth dropped open to answer. No words came. She couldn’t think of any, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. After all, when he’d come to retrieve her from Marcus, he’d been damn well banged up.
“Catching flies there, beautiful?” Drakhögg said as he strutted past. He spun around playfully and swatted Kyra on the butt. Kyra’s mouth dropped open again, and she stared after him. He was following her father toward Sebastian. Davies was rushing the scene like a sideshow freak in need of a fix.
“Did you see that?” Kyra turned to Talia, feeling the astonishment on her face, and caught Ryhuu inspecting her with disdain as he, too, followed the leader.
Talia crossed her arms and glared at the back of Drakhögg’s head. “If you mean the asinine behavior, then yes, I did.”
Kyra minded Ryhuu, made sure he was far enough away, and then spoke no louder than a whisper. “He’s supposed to be betrothed to me, and he was just flirting with me.”
A terse giggle volleyed up Talia’s throat. “Rather serendipitous, the man actually making a pass at his fiancée.” Her eyes twinkled with unspoken laughter.
“But he doesn’t know it’s me,” Kyra huffed. “He thinks I’m some blonde girl he just met.”
“I don’t know what—” Talia started to say, and stopped abruptly at the sound of loud howls and roars and shattering glass.
Kyra’s heart clenched, as did her fists.
“You win,” Talia said. “Let’s move closer. We still need to stay out of the way, or you might be discovered.” Locking hands, they moved together along the edge of the tents toward the chaos.
Ahead, wings flashed above the heads of the crowd, and then disappeared back into the mass of people again. It was only for a moment, long enough for Kyra to know Sebastian had lost control, and Kalrapura had taken over. If only temporarily. Chelsea scrambled feebly at the edge of the crowd, attempting to push her way through, and Davies came flying backwards, as if thrown by an incredible force. Kyra’s throat squeezed tight.
It was a disaster. Sebastian out of control. Her family with front row tickets to the show. And her, trapped and unable to do anything, or she’d be forced to denounce her Moorigad status, choose a clan, and a man in which she held no interest. She stared at the scene, heart aching to be in the midst of the commotion, and then her attention was drawn to someone running at Sebastian from the other direction. Vortex Girl. Kyra’s heart dropped below her gut. Well-meaning or not, that girl was bad news. Kyra couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her desire to avoid her family put Sebastian in danger of getting shifted to another world or dimension.
“No!” she yelled and pressed forward at a quicker pace, following her need to help him. Eight steps in, she stumbled against the side of the nearest tent, overcome with light-headedness. Her heart panged and skin turned hypersensitive. She shuddered, wanted to hurl.
“What’s wrong?” Talia’s hand pressed gently against Kyra’s shoulder blades.
“I feel…” Kyra began and paused, feeling
a wave of nausea. “I feel like I should be going that way,” she pointed beyond Sebastian, toward a bend in the lane, “rather than over there.” She jerked her hand in Sebastian’s direction. “The feeling is overwhelming.”
Talia moved in front of her, studied her closely. Her lips twisted to the side and her nose twitched. “Did Sebastian get the tooth pendant from you?”
Kyra winced. “Marcus’s pendant? I haven’t seen that in…” Her eyes widened and her head jerked. “Why was Sebastian supposed to get it from me?”
Talia swayed her head to the side. “A while back I did some crystal ball gazing, attempting to get to the bottom of your condition. I saw the tooth pendant Marcus had given you. It felt significant to me. Like he was using it to control you.”
“But I’m not wearing it!” Kyra’s voice rose in pitch.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I saw it on you in the reading.”
“You could be wrong. I’ve never felt this nausea before. If he was somehow using the pendant on me the entire time, shouldn’t I have felt this misery before?” She raked her fingers through her hair, pulled hard as if she could pull the ugly situation out of her life with the simple motion.
An understanding smile wrapped Talia’s lips, yet her eyes remained somber. “I’m pretty sure I understood the viewing correctly. I think the change in your reaction is due to the change in you, and your memory or self-recovery.”
Kyra blinked, became numb. “All right. But like I said, I’m not wearing the pendant.”
Talia nodded, her lips drawing into a thin line of scrutiny. “I think the vile thing is on you somewhere. Would you trust me?”
“If the thing is on me and affecting my actions, by all means, find and destroy.” Kyra smiled—sort of. Her smile failed even before she’d finished the delivery.
Didn’t matter, Talia wasn’t paying attention. She was already pulling a stone from her pocket, wrapped between her thumb and palm. She placed her hands together, angled away from each other. “A somewhat unconventional witch in my coven showed me how to do this,” Talia said, and then silently moved her hands, shaped somewhat like a divining rod, around Kyra’s body.
Kyra fidgeted and stared at the crowd, caught a few people glance their way. She didn’t care. No one’s approval mattered to her. No one’s but Sebastian’s. And as long as none of them tried to stop Talia, or were Marcus, they could gawk all they wanted.
“Found it!” Talia said, clear triumph in her voice.
“Seriously?” Kyra tried to turn, see where Talia was talking about. She couldn’t. It was at her back, and Talia held her steady. “But I’m not wearing any pendant.” Her voice hitched an octave higher.
“Are you a sound sleeper?” Talia’s hands smoothed along a square on Kyra’s upper butt cheek.
Anxiety rose like a whirlwind in Kyra’s chest. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t need Talia’s answer. Since the carousel ride, her memories had slipped back into place. Sebastian had come to take her away from Marcus, she remembered, and for some inexplicable reason, he hadn’t come inside. That didn’t feel right to Kyra, and her mind wrapped tight around the thought. Maybe he couldn’t come in. Oh Rajũn, what had she done? Marcus had forced Sebastian to leave, and she’d done nothing to stop him. She’d even lain with Marcus, enjoyed every moment envisioning Sebastian in Marcus’s place.
But then…there was whiskey, lots of it. Fighting and hitting, too. Marcus had a propensity for firewater and a heavy hand when liquored up. A vague memory of blood. Blood on Marcus’s hands, blood on the sheets. She never saw those sheets again. What happened that night? In the morning she had been sore, so excruciatingly sore. She’d lain in bed for three days before feeling well enough to shuffle around the condo. Why hadn’t she questioned it more at the time?
Talia came around to face Kyra, her face drawn and absent of color. “The tooth pendant is embedded just above your right cheek.”
Until Talia’s confirmation, Kyra could have gone on convincing herself it was all a bad dream. No longer. Kyra’s mouth dropped open, and emotions pelted upon her like the raging storm. Anger, annoyance, shame for allowing herself to fall into this mess with Marcus. Disbelief and rage at his actions. Frustration and fear for her current situation. Strongest of all, hatred for the man who had caused this wreck.
“You have to cut it out,” Kyra said, feeling a storm of conviction she had not felt in a long while.
Talia blinked. “Um, right.” She glanced around the midway, searching for what, Kyra hadn’t a clue. “Not out here. Somewhere private.” Her gaze locked on a dark tent several feet away and Talia pointed. “Over there.”
Kyra didn’t need to be told twice. She needed the pendant extracted now. Grabbing Talia’s hand, she ran for the tent, bursting through the entrance as if there were fire on her tail. Inside, the tent was empty. Chairs circled a center stage in neat and orderly rows.
“This will do,” Talia said. “Take a seat. I just need to find a knife.”
Kyra reached down, lifted her skirt, and pulled the small blade from her boot. She held it up between them. “Use this.”
19
COMPASS
Sebastian
Crystals fell from the sky like rain, yet Sebastian felt not a single one. His focus was solely on Davies and Chelsea. Because of Davies’s insensitive shove, the poor girl was battered, dropped to the ground like a pile of used rags. The harsh visual clawed deeper into his emotions than he had expected. No one should be handled with such severity. Especially a girl. A dying girl, at that. At the end of life’s impossible road, most people deserved better treatment, an earnest adieu. For Davies to take issue with Sebastian was understandable, but to take his fury out on others, unforgivable.
Heat flushed up his neck and face, and the lights flashed on in his mind’s eye. He knew. It was his job to see that Chelsea and others like her received the mercies due at the end of the path. His hybrid anomaly status was not a mistake, but rather served a purpose. Not only could he help them move to the other side as a Reaper, but as a Mara he could do so using their dreams and deepest desires to make the transition less traumatic. The dragon inside him roared once again. Or maybe it wasn’t the dragon, maybe it was something closer to home, something he didn’t want to admit to, something belonging to his true identity.
Clenching his hands into fists, talons cut into the skin of his palms, and he growled with deep-seated fury at Jon Davies. Davies lunged, and then was stopped cold, slammed in the chest by Bolsvck. Davies flew backwards out of sight.
“Calm yourself, boy,” Bolsvck said, burning a steady glare upon Sebastian. “Such theatrics are unnecessary.”
Guilt crashed upon Sebastian with the force of a tidal wave, yet he managed to bring his breath to a steady rhythm, allowing his heart to settle and blood to slow. Any regrets were his own to face, so he met the fiery dragon lord’s gaze and did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he swallowed against the thickness in his throat, the upset in his stomach. Focusing on the things he hoped he could control, he breathed in and out, in and out, in a controlled metered rhythm, and gradually the wings and talons receded.
He let out one last deep breath, pulled from deep within his core. “What’s going on? Why is the power out?”
“You tell me.” Bolsvck glanced at the dark tents beside them, then stared at the bits of crystal at their feet. “Trouble seems to circle you like buzzards around a dying cow,” he said, a new, curious appraisal in his eyes. “What species are you?”
Bolsvck’s question was a kick to Sebastian’s gut, and he found his sight blurring, turning to a haze. No longer did he see the man before him. Sebastian had no control over the lot he’d been dealt in this life. He was what he was, a Bringer of Death. He hated to think that meant bad luck in all things, not only for himself but for anyone close to him.
Queen Shui pushed through the crowd. “Where is my daughter?” She grabbed Sebastian by the arm and shook him, rattling his thoughts. “Y
ou still have her dragon. What have you been doing all this time?”
“Easy, woman.” Bolsvck ran a tender hand along her arm, pulling her into his. It appeared to soften her storm, if only mildly.
Sebastian straightened, his face lifting slightly. He had been under the impression Kyra’s parents stood on opposite sides of some unbreakable barrier, divided by clan and dragon rituals. And yet here they were, united. If only for a moment, Sebastian’s heart lightened, and he had hope for Kyra’s future relationship with her parents.
Bolsvck returned his arduous glare upon Sebastian. “I, too, would like to know the answer to the question. Where is our daughter?”
Sebastian realized he had been ogling the pair. With a gasp, cheeks burning, he snapped back to the moment. Only, the moment brought voices, so many voices crowding his thoughts, his head. He couldn’t… He braced his head between his hands and pressed.
Need Talia’s tonic.
“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Bolsvck’s voice cracked through Sebastian’s skull like the hammer against the bell, ringing so loud it could yank the dead from their slumber.
“Sebastian.”
The sound of his name was a whisper among the utterings. Still, he fixed on the source and let all others fall away. He found only mild relief, at best. His eyes burned, felt bloodshot, and when he turned his gaze to the crowd, he realized he had yet to answer Bolsvck. Except, Bolsvck didn’t hold his attention. His gaze was drawn beyond Chelsea to the girl running directly for him. His heart leaped, thoughts of Kyra filling his mind, and then his gut dropped. It wasn’t Kyra, nor did he want it to be. Not with what he needed to do. To spare her the most pain, Kyra needed to hate him.
It was Valentina. Daughter of Destinations, or Vortex Girl, as Kyra liked to call her. Sebastian smiled inwardly at Kyra’s fun quirks. Wondered if she secretly called him Card Boy.