by Debra Kristi
Kyra fumbled, her heart flip-flopping in her chest. “No!” she screamed and took off toward Sebastian at a stumble-run. She was too slow. Even her father could do nothing against the mammoth beast. Marcus swooped in, collected Sebastian with his mighty claws, and flew away.
Kyra fell to her knees, dropped her face in her palms, and let the floodgate open on a river of tears.
27
DEATH REAPED
Sebastian
A jolt, and Sebastian was pulled from the haze back to an agonizing reality. It had been so peaceful in the inky clouds of his slumber. Had he been dead? Now pain swam through his body like an electrical storm on holiday at a water park. But more painful than his physical state, was the knowledge that he had failed Kyra.
Or had he? He was slipping away, but he wasn’t dead yet. His body wrenched and wriggled in the clamp of a gigantic beast, and wind moved past at incredible speeds, sending his skin to shiver. The desire to close his eyes, sleep for an eternity, overwhelmingly strong. He struggled against it, laid his hands upon the claws, and allowed the beast’s emotions to seep through.
Swift, in a rush of heated lava, the rage leaped from the dragon and raced through Sebastian’s nervous system. In that instant he knew—Marcus had him in his grasp. If Sebastian could muster the strength, he’d be able to scratch two things off his list before saying his final adieu: reap Marcus and return Kyra’s dragon.
Sebastian struggled within Marcus’s firm clench to find his pocket. His desire to succeed pushing against his desire to sleep. He thrust through. It was a tight fit, but manageable he’d force it to be. The deck of tarot cards brushed against his fingers. His first instinct—grab a card—but he had to be smart with his choices or neither task would be completed. Grazing past the cards, his fingers groped for the trinket, the bibelot, he’d stuffed in his pocket a short while ago. The bibelot was unwilling to budge. He wiggled it back and forth and back and forth, and then rested.
The carnival spread out below, a hodgepodge of buildings and tents. No lights illuminated the shows. Instead, fireworks exploded through the Magician’s canon fire or the dragons’ flames. Smoke plumed and despair rained. Dragon-Marcus swept through the sky at breakneck speed, and they were already nearing the entrance. Soon they’d be over the lake, headed toward the tree line beyond. Time was winding down.
Everything muscle and bone wailed, begging for Sebastian to stop trying. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Be it out of luck or sheer will, he managed to yank the bibelot free of his pocket. It slid between his sweaty fingers, and he quickly pulled it to his chest before it could get lost to the sky. Marcus’s mighty dragon stirred in his hold, but kept flying.
Questions reeled in Sebastian’s mind. Had they traveled too far from Kyra for the magic to work? Would Kalrapura latch on to the nearest dragon—Marcus? Did he possess enough strength to finish the task? The questions were endless. Time was not. Sebastian had to put his faith in destiny and let everything else go. The design was straightforward and Sebastian had zero doubt which end of the funnel blade went which direction. His hands wrapped around the carved handle of the funnel, felt the dragon designs press into his skin, and then, using all the might he’d managed to gather, he plunged the pointed end into the gaping dagger wound in his chest.
Sebastian screamed, and it was worthy of a thousand bloody deaths. Torment convulsed through his soul, the essence of his being. Was the magic working? He had no idea. Wasn’t sure he cared at the moment. All he wished for now was a swift death.
The tingling began with a minute spark in his core, then spread in a flash, consuming every ounce of his interior. He was turning to ash.
Marcus’s hold shook, and Sebastian shifted, gazed down at the lake below. The beast’s mighty claws began to squirm, jarring Sebastian from left to right to left again. Something was happening to Sebastian, he knew that much. He prayed it was the magic at work, hoped Kalrapura was being released. Maybe, just maybe, Marcus felt the effects, too.
Task one, completed. Time for task two.
Sebastian lay limp, bouncing up and down, watching the water below swish this way and that. Bile rose up his throat and his head spun. He was so hot—how was his body not consumed by flames? He’d never thought he’d think the words, but he was ready to die. With considerable concentration, he slid a card from the magical tarot deck in his pocket. The particular deck that always pulled the right card for his calling. Feebly, he reached over and tapped the dragon’s claw with the card, tried to press it firmly in place.
The instant the edge of the card brushed against the beast, it released him. Wind rushed past Sebastian. He was falling, card still in hand. He crumbled Death in his palm and held it to his chest. And with a whack, was enveloped by the glacial tide.
28
CHASING REAPERS
Marcus
Marcus’s clutch on the carnie loosened. The bastard was burning up, it wasn’t normal. It was like…well, shit. He had no idea what the intense heat was like. More pain than fiery temperature. Pinning and pocking at his claws, whatever was happening in his grasp was gouging chunks out of his feet. Bolsvck was on his tail, too, making the situation more difficult. Not impossible, of course, but not ideal. He’d hoped to put off handling the irritation of Bolsvck until after the Moorigad thing was sorted. Marcus jostled the boy back and forth, making the sensation bearable.
But then a sudden rush of nausea swept through him, ran up his claw, through his leg, and attacked his stomach. The source, a triangle of a space near his nail. Realization slammed into him like a wrecking ball. He released the boy.
Sebastian dropped with the speed of a rocket, headed for the water of the lake below. And with him went all signs of nausea. Marcus roared. Damn carnie, trying to reap Marcus with those stupid tarot cards. Like a card could reap a dragon, Marcus scoffed, but continued to watch the boy plummet. Bolsvck had eyes on the carnie, as well. It increased Marcus’s desire for the boy all the more. He did want the Moorigad, and if what the girl back at the carnival had said was true, then the damn boy had what he wanted.
Marcus huffed and broke into a dive after Sebastian, his large hide cutting through the wind like a magic bullet. Bolsvck dropped into the jetstream behind him. It was exciting, adrenaline-inducing, and Marcus’s blood boiled with the thrill of the chase. Then Sebastian splashed into the water, disappearing into the murk. Marcus, a mere dragon’s leap behind, would snag his catch soon enough.
He inhaled and slammed into the water’s surface, jarring to an instant stop, Bolsvck caroming into his backside, when he smashed into a solid bed of ice.
29
ZEKE, NOT ZEKE
Kyra
Crying wouldn’t better her situation. It wouldn’t bring Sebastian back. And yet, Kyra remained on her knees, rubbing her hands through the dirt and allowing the tears to stream down her face.
“Kyra!” Talia’s call was insistent, urgent, and yet Kyra didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to face a soul. Not until she could pull herself together. Talia called her name again. This time she sounded far away, and this time Kyra’s fingers began to tingle.
She raised her head and saw the lights of the carnival blinking an erratic, pathetic flicker. The massive Ferris wheel had begun to spin again. And dangerous fingers of electricity shot from and between tents and rides and game booths. Pedestrians, carnies, dragons, and foes were vanishing like popped bubbles. The chaos turned to quiet. Talia was now gone. Her father was gone. They were all gone, and Kyra stood among the few left in the dusty midway. Where did everyone go?
With a kick, Vortex Girl sent a zilant away from the carnival via a black hole. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Kyra stood and turned in a circle, searching for signs of life. A metallic smell lifted off the ground and swirled around her. Tiny sparks of light ignited like fireflies, exploding all around her, fingers of electricity reached for her, and then she was no longer standing in the midway between the many exposition tents. She stood outside the front gate, ne
ar the exit portal, now closed. Vortex Girl didn’t do that. Kyra sniffed back her tears and straightened her shoulders. The lake spread out under a moving mist to her right, and above, in the sky, her father flew after Marcus, both of them in dragon form.
Her heart stilled at the sight of the body in Marcus’s clutches.
Someone behind her groaned, and she turned to find Zeke sitting on the ground, rubbing his head. She dropped beside him. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine, child. Should have seen that coming.” He groped at the ground for his cane.
“Seen what coming?” Kyra asked, pulling his cane to his grasp and helping him stand.
“Why, Marcus, of course.” Zeke sniffed, twitching his nose from side to side. “How long was I out?”
“I don’t know. I just found you.” She guided him toward his usual seat, the red bench by the lake, her gaze continuously darting between him and the dragons flying in the sky.
“Of course you did.” He took a seat and peered up as if he could see her despite his blind eyes. “How long was Mystic’s dark?”
Kyra’s body jerked straight as a flagpole. “What does that have to do…” She stopped, realizing there was so much about Zeke and the carnival she had yet to understand. “I don’t know. Thirty, forty minutes, maybe.” She glanced again at the dragons. Marcus was flying strangely.
He nodded. “She should be working on the patches now.”
“Patches?” Kyra asked.
Zeke tilted his head a smidge. “Mystic’s has a way to go before reaching full restoration. For now, she’s transporting people to the farthest corners of the park, out of harm’s way. Separating foes from one another. Damage?” he asked, his face hinting he already knew the answer.
“Extensive, I think.” She glanced again to the sky, and to Marcus. “Sebastian is dead,” she said with a crack in her voice.
His hand found hers and squeezed gently, yet he did not appear surprised. This bothered her. The way Sebastian had acted, that bothered her, too. Even Talia, she’d known something and kept it from Kyra.
She pulled away from Zeke and stared at his cloudy white eyes. “Did you all know? Know he was going to die?” Her voice pitched, bordered on hysteria, but then something out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Her head snapped up to the sky. Sebastian was falling!
Kyra inhaled an exasperated breath and bolted around the bench, heading for the lake. She had no idea what she was going to do, or if she could do anything, but she had to go. Something supernatural had happened. Clearly it had. The sky circled and swirled in the most brilliant array of tangerine, maroon, and indigo from the spot Sebastian fell. Maybe he wasn’t dead yet, after all.
“Let it be, child,” Zeke called after her.
She ignored him and kept running. The mist kept her from seeing Sebastian hit the water, but she heard it. The sound sent a wave of ice through her soul. If she’d had even an ounce of hope before that moment, how could she find any when his battered body was sinking to the bottom of the lake? She screamed senseless at the lake, at Marcus, at the situation. And then the lake froze over.
Kyra wanted to drop to her knees and cry again, but she didn’t. She stood strong. Watched her father dive to the surface of the frozen lake, right behind Marcus. In a thunderous crash worthy of a volcanic eruption, they collided with the ice in a mess of dragon limbs and wings.
They were far from reach—and Sebastian, he was trapped beneath the ice. She dropped and pressed her hands to the surface. It was impossible to tell where the ice ended and the water began. Or worst yet, if there was even an end to the ice. What if it simply went on and on and on…
No. Such a thought wasn’t allowed in her head. She glanced back at Zeke, and although she suspected somewhere deep down inside he had the power to help, she didn’t believe he would. Not this time. She scanned the shoreline, away from Zeke and toward the main gate, and saw her mother and Ryhuu.
She jumped to her feet and ran toward them as fast as her human legs could carry her. “Mom!” she screamed. “Please, Mom. Undo the ice!”
Queen Shui stared, then took a step back, allowing Ryhuu to take point and block her from Kyra’s view. He drew his sword.
30
REVELATIONS
Marcus
Marcus spat a mouthful of crushed ice to the ground and cleared his throat. Despite the slush that covered his body, little to no dent had been made in the frozen cover of the lake. A five-year winter’s storm couldn’t produce an ice layer as solid as concrete. Tremendous magic had to be at work. Smoke blew from his nostrils, and his nails scratched at the frigid surface. “Damn… irritating…” Marcus slammed his claw down, saw no effect. “Water Clan!” Another pound. Still nothing.
An “ahem” rose behind him, and Marcus spun to face the illustrious Bolsvck. Somehow, in Marcus’s race for the boy, he had managed to forget about the commanding dragon. Now Bolsvck stood before him, larger and severely more formidable than he remembered. Marcus’s lips pulled back in a quiver, displaying his ready-to-devour canines and his claws splayed wide against the frozen ground. Marcus would have snapped Bolsvck’s neck right there and then, only the elements swirling above caused him pause. He torqued his head and stared at the anomaly in the sky. Shades of red, orange, and blue whirled in a mysterious cyclone.
“Need we continue in this manner?” Bolsvck said, lowering his head.
Marcus returned his attention to his foe. The attempted show of truce was not lost on Marcus, but he wouldn’t be fooled by such acts.
“Why shouldn’t we?” countered Marcus. “You are my enemy. Always have been. Since the day your family destroyed mine.”
Bolsvck narrowed his gaze and extended his long, scaled neck, but folded back his wings. “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. I told you this already.” He paused and studied Marcus. “Have you lived with the deception for so long, you refuse to see the truth as it is?”
Marcus growled; a low, surly snarl. If Bolsvck was insinuating Marcus was stupid or an oblivious man, then Bolsvck would eat those words. “I know plenty,” Marcus snapped.
“I don’t think you do.”
Marcus refused to satisfy Bolsvck with a display of words. Things were fitting into place. It was clear Bolsvck didn’t want to fight. He probably knew, as Marcus knew, the ruling Fire Dragon stood no chance at winning—or surviving. Marcus was bigger, stronger, more powerful. He lashed out, swinging his claw across Bolsvck’s snout. The nails cut through Bolsvck’s thick hide like razors, sent his head reeling to the side and blood splattering to the stark, white ground.
With a hiss and a huff, Bolsvck backed away. “Stop it, son!”
“I am not your son!” Marcus said, seeped in finality, and attacked again. They rolled and tossed in a fluctuating rhythm of shove, slash, and sting. Monstrous limbs thrashed out at each other and at the ground. Wings beat and battered.
“Listen to me, Balidhug! Your mother did not die.” Bolsvck thrust Marcus away, and he dropped onto his back with a solid creeeach.
In a blink, Marcus had righted himself, shook the ice from his wings. “You lie. You killed them all. Incinerated the line. And then banished me to grow up in the fires of Purgatory.” He lunged at Bolsvck, chomped at his neck.
Throwing himself backwards, Bolsvck countered with his tail, slamming a solid hit at Marcus’s side. “Neither my father nor I can ever atone for what happened to you.” Claws clenched upon one another, and they rolled in a frost cloud of muscle and mayhem. “But we have tried.”
They broke apart, dropped into a deadlock stare, moving foot by foot in a circle. “Stop talking,” Marcus said in a raspy growl, and bared his teeth. But Bolsvck kept on talking. The irritating scratch of the dragon’s voice brought Marcus’s blood to a boil.
“You need to understand,” Bolsvck continued. “She was near death, but didn’t die. Your mother lived for many long years after what happened.”
“Lies. All lies,” Marc
us spat, and swung his tail. Bolsvck took the hit, but kept staring Marcus down.
“My father had me take her as my mate, and I cared for her, kept her safe. It was the least either of us could do in the light of what Davies had done.”
“Davies.” The name slithered from Marcus’s mighty jaw like a spilled pot of decaying snakes. Then his stare locked on something beyond Bolsvck. Something stirring at the lake’s edge. Reapers, lots of them. “They’ve come for you,” he said with a nod.
Bolsvck’s head spun to the shore, if only for a moment, then returned to the safe watch of Marcus. “No,” he said, taking a step back. “They were part of the deception from the beginning. They worked with Davies.”
Marcus bit the air and shook his head. Lie upon lie upon lie. His eyes burned, and he locked a penetrating stare on the monster he was soon to kill. But then…he watched the Reapers turn, focus on something other than the dueling dragons on the ice. What are they doing?
The Reapers moved away. Marcus hissed, then swung at Bolsvck. This time, Bolsvck swung back. But neither were serious in their attack, and Marcus began to doubt himself. He wanted Bolsvck dead, didn’t he? He didn’t care about any alliance between Davies and the Reapers. He was sure he didn’t. His head snapped, a quick glance at the Reapers again. Now they moved back toward the ice. Only this time, there was a girl. A girl between him and the Reapers.
Marcus blinked. Hadn’t she been a blonde when he’d first seen her?
Bolsvck turned, his scales prickling, and pushed off the ice, wings flapping for flight.
How did she deceive me? The girl was Kyra. Marcus lunged up into the sky, dug his nails into Bolsvck’s back, and climbed the dragon, shoving him to the ground. Marcus pushed off the fallen dragon’s shoulders and took to the air, Kyra in his sights.