Plight of the Dragon

by Debra Kristi

  “No!” Another voice, unrecognizable. And yet, it pulled at him.

  The word drowned out everything in his mind. He swiveled and saw Talia with another he didn’t recognize. A blonde, pressed against the tents beyond the crowd. The blonde stared at him with piercing green eyes, causing his insides to tingle. Odd. Something nagged him, like he should know the girl, but he had never seen her before.

  Vortex. The word swirled through his head. “Hell.” He spun back toward Valentina, throwing his hand up to stop her.

  And then the volcanoes of Purgatory exploded at the carnival.

  Or really, dragon fire fell from the sky, exploding like pyre bombs upon the ground. Murmurs distorted, transforming into shrieks and screams, wails of pain. The tent to Sebastian’s right erupted in flames. In the darkening sky, Fire Dragons took to battle, fighting Marcus’s incoming army with no concern for the carnival or her occupants.

  “Told you Balidhug and his men were here,” Jon Davies yelled over the bedlam. He was crouched low to the ground.

  Bolsvck grabbed the queen into a protective hold and shoved Sebastian to the ground. Sebastian’s elbow slammed into the hard-packed earth. “What the Hell—” he said, stopped short by a fireball whizzing right through the space he’d been standing moments before. Sebastian sat up on his elbows and stared at the clash commencing.

  “Protect Kalrapura with your life,” Bolsvck commanded, yanking Sebastian back to his feet, then turned to Davies and his own clan. “End this now. Find Balidhug.”

  Fighting in the air, falling to the ground. Fighting on the ground, crashing into tents. When Sebastian peered down the midway, conflict could be spotted in multiple locations. Dragons with wings. Dragons without wings. Beasts that weren’t dragons at all. Sebastian searched his memory for what these others were called. He was sure he’d seen them in his research, but right now in the midst of the chaos, the species name escaped him.

  “Sebastian?” Valentina stood beside him now.

  “Don’t touch him!” Chelsea yelped, and groped at the girl’s legs in an attempt to pull her away from Sebastian.

  Although Valentina appeared scared, she showed no signs of being out of control of her gift. “It’s okay, Chelsea.” Sebastian reached down, taking her hand in his, and gave her a reassuring smile. It’s time, his mind chimed. Help her up, was what he should do, but then, what if she was safer on the ground? What did it matter? It was her time. Maybe she was more comfortable on the ground. He was making excuses, and he had no idea why. He needed to ease her suffering now. But first, before he reaped her soul he needed to deal with Valentina, move Vortex Girl along. Pulling away, he scratched his temple and focused on Valentina.

  “Dragons. They still exist?” Valentina’s voice was full of wonder.

  Through his relationship with Kyra, Sebastian was among the few aware of their existence. Long ago, they’d gone underground and stayed hidden for millennia. Now here they were, destroying Mystic’s Carnival.

  “They’re real.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Some of them want to hurt Kyra. Others want to force a change upon her she doesn’t desire.”

  “Kyra?” Valentina’s gaze flickered from him to the dragons in the sky, then back again. “She’s a dragon?” Her eyes widened. Sebastian nodded. “And her boyfriend?” Valentina asked.

  The veins in Sebastian’s neck pulsed, and his eye twitched. Even if he didn’t die this night, he didn’t think he would ever find peace with the thought of Marcus touching Kyra. “A bad man who is not to be trusted,” he said, his voice barely holding steady.

  Valentina caught her breath. “I’ve made a horrible mistake.” Her face flushed. “I found him going through your stuff. I even brought him here to find you.” She glanced over her shoulder and Sebastian followed her gaze, saw no Marcus. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s alright.” At least he knew Marcus’s general location. “I need your help.”

  “Anything.” She leaned closer.

  “Sebastian?” Chelsea grabbed at his arm, attempted to stand. He motioned for her to wait a moment and glanced into the crowd. Even now, fire consumed two tents and people were falling to injury, some even close to death. He could sense it, and he saw the other Reapers lingering, waiting. For all he knew, there were hundreds of them throughout the carnival, lying in wait. An arctic chill swept over him, wrapped around the dragon’s fire kindling in his belly.

  “You have a unique gift, Valentina.” Sebastian placed his hands on her upper arms, hoping to stress the importance of the message he was attempting to convey. She stared at him, unwavering. “Whether the dragons fighting actually mean us harm or not, what they are doing here is detrimental to Mystic’s and to everyone here. Do you understand?”

  Valentina nodded.

  “I need you to be strong and brave. Can you do that?”

  She nodded again.

  “I knew you could.” He leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “Send them away, Valentina. For everyone’s sake, send as many away as you can.”

  Valentina blinked, followed it with a hard swallow. “I can do that.” She turned to go then turned back. “You had me so scared when you appeared in that glass box.” Sebastian smirked and Valentia spun around, ran into the chaos and disappeared. Where she’d vanished, Sebastian’s father shimmied into shape and approached, hand perched in his suit pocket, fedora firmly in place. Nothing like a little family reunion in the middle of Hell’s welcoming party.

  Sebastian grimaced, then glanced down to Chelsea. He had unfinished business with the girl.

  “What the bloody dragon are you doing, boy?” Bolsvck yanked Sebastain by the collar, pulled him several feet to the side. “You’re supposed to be keeping my girl’s dragon safe, not standing out in the middle like a big, blazing target!”

  “I’m not…” Sebastian struggled against the man’s strong arm.

  “Exactly, you’re not doing as you were told.” Bolsvck tossed Sebastian to the edge of the midway. He fell onto his back, crashing into the side rigging of the nearest tent. Splinters of pain shot through his spine, and the pressure of his wings pressed against his back. Pressed to be released. Scrambling to pull himself up, keep track of where Chelsea and his father were, he searched the pandemonium.

  There was fighting and destruction, his home falling to ruin. Yet, with a tiny glimpse of a vortex, hope bloomed. Valentina was at work. And what was that? His gaze snapped in a new direction. The Magician was getting involved, using magic to protect Mystic’s. Acrobats vaulted off one beast to the next, knocking some off balance. Carnies everywhere were jumping in to protect their home, to protect Mystic’s Carnival, and they were using everything at their disposal—magic or magnificent ability.

  “Where’s my daughter?” Bolsvck grabbed Sebastian by the collar, lifting him till there was a mere breath’s space between them.

  “I don’t know. I left her…” His words trailed off, and his gaze wandered to the side, to where he’d last seen Talia. She was there, moving away from him now, and still with the blonde girl. “I made sure she was no longer freezing. I had to retrieve an important item so I can return her dragon. I assumed she would find her way back to you.”

  “She has not.” Something in the way Bolsvck spoke had Sebastian convinced he may not live to return Kalrapura if he didn’t give the man what he wanted—right now. He glanced at Talia once again, and the crazy little witch, it was as if she knew he was watching her. She glowered back. Everything about her said to beware and stay silent. The message hit him in the gut like the strongman’s hammer. What is she hiding? “What are you looking at?” Bolsvck boomed.

  “I’d thank you to take your hands off my son.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes and sighed, then Bolsvck released him, sending him tumbling backwards against the tent.

  “You!” Bolsvck said, pointing his finger at Mortifier. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Fantastic. More dad drama. Sebastian was fairly certain, ev
en not knowing what issue was on the line, that he would stand with Kyra’s father.

  Then he remembered Talia, and slipped from the scene to follow her. But if finding Kyra would appease Bolsvck, he didn’t really need Talia to accomplish the task…did he? She’d given him an extremely handy tool for such endeavors. He tugged up his sleeve and studied the compass, focusing his thoughts on Kyra. A needle appeared and spun, adjusted, then pointed. He followed, pausing when he realized it was pointed directly at Talia and the blonde.

  A flutter stirred in his stomach, and he stared down at his palm, then at Talia. She shoved the blonde into a tent, glancing back at Sebastian long enough for him to receive a full face-slap of her witchy don’t-dare-follow glare. His heart locked tight, then sped up faster than a charging were-cheetah. He took a step forward, paused.

  He couldn’t go to Kyra. Not if she’d gone to such lengths to hide her identity. He stepped back and turned away to stare into the crowd—right at Marcus.

  20

  PENDANT’S TUG

  Marcus

  The fact that he felt nothing caused Marcus’s scalp to prickle. Watching Sebastian flounder under Bolsvck’s iron hand should have tickled him with endless joy. And yet, there was nothing. For so many years, he had planned for this moment, prepared for his revenge, and now it was...he paused, pondered the thought…hollow.

  Something was missing. He remembered Leila’s words, 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.

  He didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe Bolsvck could be a pawn in anyone’s game. But still, more of her words rushed back. Did you ever wonder why Bolsvck never claimed his birthly right?

  Marcus stepped away from the shadows, his body stiff and ready to fight. He did want to know the name of the man responsible for his years of misery, and maybe, just maybe, he would squeeze that information out of Davies before killing him. Maybe. But Davies’s death had to happen.

  A grin flirted with the edge of Marcus’s lips. Convenient how the three people Marcus most despised could all be found in one place. And if he didn’t have the patience to make Davies talk, maybe Bolsvck would feel loose-lipped on his deathbed, divulging everything Marcus had yet to discover, like in some ludicrous movie. He marched right into the mania, heading straight for Bolsvck.

  Davies walked the opposite direction, tending to his own men and the riot brought down upon them. From the corner of his eye, Marcus kept track of Davies’s movements. Bolsvck was parked. He argued with someone Marcus didn’t recognize. Deep in their war of words, they failed to notice the damn carnie fuck slinking away. Didn’t matter, Marcus would catch him soon enough.

  “Go after Davies,” Marcus said to Rick. “Don’t kill yet. I want him alive. But feel free to disfigure him and kill his men.”

  “On it!” Rick jogged into the crowd and headed in Davies’s direction.

  Marcus strode forward, never moving his stare from Bolsvck. A few steps away, ready to surprise Bolsvck with a slap on the shoulder, a reflex snapped around Marcus, tugged at him like a tow line. No longer a small pinch in his stomach, Marcus’s senses were heightened and mouth dry. His insurance policy, the pull of the tooth was strong, almost too strong to ignore. The tooth was nearby. And if the tooth was nearby, that meant Kyra was nearby.

  Marcus turned away from Bolsvck and moved in a new direction. He ran a finger along his hairline and checked his suit. Still suave as ever. Damn flutter in his chest had him hoping Kyra thought him alluring.

  Tugging and pulling, the feeling yanked him through a mess of disquieted carnies, dragons, zilants, and more. There would be no engaging, no messing of the suit. A smile sparkled in his eyes when he saw one of his own, Darren, delivering a beating to the royal Water Bitch.

  Then his eyes locked on the damn carnie boy.

  Marcus’s lips quivered, revealing his canines, and a low growl rolled up his larynx. Kyra or kill? Heat rushed around every muscle in his body. Curious how the sight of Sebastian stirred such emotion in Marcus, yet he’d felt nothing when it came to finally seeing his master plan put into motion. Was it jealously? He came to a full pause mid-stride, glared at Sebastian, then took a step in the carnie’s direction. To kill would be to defile the suit, yet he wasn’t sure he could endure the boy’s existence any longer.

  A girl’s scream burst from the tent ahead, and the tug pulling him in that direction tightened, then snapped like a broken rubber band, and faded. Marcus’s thoughts froze and his attention glued to the tent, where he believed Kyra to be.

  “Leave Sebastian alone!” A body dropped on top of him. A savage assault of claws and kicks.

  It was a blonde girl. A sickly blonde girl with black eyes. Fingernails dug at his eyes, teeth bit into his flesh. Fangs like shears of lava cut through his muscle as if melting chocolate. He tore at the girl’s arms. She held on unnaturally well for someone of her apparent health and humanity. Pulling and wrenching and heaving her to the ground with a hefty thud, he wiped the blood from the wound and stared down at her. “What the fuck?”

  “I know your plans for Sebastian,” she wheezed.

  Marcus glanced back to Bolvck and Sebastian. But Sebastian was gone. Marcus turned and bolted toward the tent.

  21

  EXTRACTION

  Kyra

  She wouldn’t scream. No way. No amount of excruciating pain, slicing her to bits, would be satisfied by her wails. At least not today, not now. Kyra sat straddling a chair in one of the exhibition tents, she wasn’t even sure which one. When Talia had pushed her through the entrance, Kyra hadn’t been paying attention. From what she could now see, beneath her furrowed brow, they were possibly in the tent housing the acrobatic show. Not that it mattered, or that she really cared.

  Her tummy flopped and bile rose up her esophagus. Glancing to the side, she sought a reachable spot, clear of her skirt. She’s likely experience a dry heave response, but she planned for something messier, just in case. With the back of her outfit undone and her skin exposed, Kyra attempted to keep her back flat and her mind distracted while Talia extracted Marcus’s horrifying talisman. The distraction part, she was finding rather impossible. Still she tried, focusing on Marcus and how she planned to repay him. Severed balls sounds pretty fitting.

  With a white-knuckled clutch on the chair’s back, Kyra leaned deeper into her straddle. The muscles in her jaw protested and her teeth threatened to crack. “Do you have it?” she spurred between clenched teeth.

  No verbal answer was received. Instead, Kyra experienced a miserable probing, a pushing through her skin. Her right gluteus spasmed. She screeched. Pressure, pulling, tearing. And then nothing more than a dull ache.

  “Got it,” Talia exclaimed.

  “Fantastic.” Sweat beaded Kyra’s brow, and the room swam around her in a hazy jumble. Steading herself against the chair, she turned and saw Talia, fingers covered in blood, holding a brown fang-like object. An object Kyra knew to be the traitorous tooth. Kyra’s stomach lurched. No time to jump from the seat or run across the room—Kyra barely cleared her skirt, throwing her upper body to the side and retching on the ground at her feet.

  “Gross.” Talia tossed the tooth on the chair beside her and wiped the blood from her hands and blade, using the edge of her shirt. She handed the blade to Kyra, and Kyra swiftly slid it back into her boot.

  “You call me gross?” Kyra motioned to Talia’s bloodied clothing.

  “It’s not like there’s a bathroom handy,” she said with a shrug.

  “Right.” Kyra shifted, then stiffened. “It hurts. Can you magically stitch me up or something?”

  Talia made a funny noise. It didn’t instill confidence in Kyra, so again she shifted to see her better. Talia was staring at the ground, but not just staring, searching. Searching the ground, the chairs lining the perimeter of the tent, her gaze moving all the way to the tent’s side wall.
<
br />   Biting her lip, Kyra followed her gaze and saw nothing. Nothing but sawdust and dirt and canvas.

  “I want to, Kyra.” Talia’s voice sounded distant, as if her mind had drifted elsewhere. “It’s just—I need—”

  “Will these do?”

  Both Kyra and Talia jerked, snapping their attention toward the entrance.

  22

  FOUND

  Sebastian

  Sebastian’s head snapped to the side, tilting to the sound. A scream, he’d heard a scream. What if it was Kyra who’d screamed? Sebastian scrambled to his feet, his need—his desire—to follow, to run straight for the tent where he’d seen Talia and the blonde girl disappear. But he hesitated, stared at Chelsea and the way she was attacking Marcus. He should help her, only it was clear to him that whoever or whatever was in control of the girl’s actions wasn’t really Chelsea. At least, not in that moment. He turned away from her and ran, his feet incapable of carrying him fast enough.

  When he got within a stride’s length of the tent’s entrance, awareness kicked him in the gut. The blonde with Talia, she wasn’t Kyra, and yet she was, in every sense that mattered. What manner of magic was at work, and what would be the cost? Sebastian flew through the entrance of the tent, then stopped dead. The two girls had their backs to him, and between them there was a whole lot of exposed skin. Breath lodged in his throat, he turned away, stared at the chaos of the midway. With hammering heart and exasperated breath and heat flushing his cheeks, he shyly peered over his shoulder toward Talia.

  She fussed over the blonde, and the blonde—Kyra—she was dressed, or mostly dressed, sitting on a chair looking like a wounded victim. Neither of the girls had noticed him yet. Sebastian expelled a sigh of relief. He’d seen so much skin, he’d thought she was undressing. Now, he could see that was not the case. He studied Talia and Kyra. What in the name of Hell’s admission are they doing?