by Debra Kristi
He wanted to obey, and that made him feel weak. I’m not merely Mara, he reminded himself. I am Reaper. Somehow that had to make him stronger. Didn’t it? He detested himself for succumbing, if only one inch or one millisecond, to her Mara call. His head shook, fighting the effects, fighting to knock her hooks free. But look away, he would not. Miss the chance to witness or study or question a Mara? Wasn’t gonna happen.
“Don’t fight. Give in to the pleasure. Let us happen.” She glided up his body, her hands exploring everything, every inch of the way. She left nothing sacred, nothing to the imagination. “You are the only son of the nightmare, in a faction populated by daughters. I’ve wanted so terribly long to know you.”
A violent cough burst from Sebastian’s lungs. The craving for water helped him rein in his focus, fight the power of the Mara. Push her away or scramble out from beneath her was what he’d do if he were in full form. But he wasn’t at his best, and there was no telling what would set her off. Sebastian straightened his back, pushing farther up onto his elbows. She shoved him down and pinned him to the ground before he could take a breath. Bullets ricocheted like wild shrapnel, bouncing through his shoulder blades and ribcage. He grimaced.
All that move revealed was Sebastian had a damn inconvenient, drawn-out healing process to complete. Nothing new was gained from his pain. A different method needed to be employed.
Delving deep within his soul, Sebastian explored the darker corners of his mind—the playgrounds reserved for dreams and nightmares. Pulling forth his Mara, he let the spectacular beast seep into everything—every move he made, every breath he took, every word he spoke. “I’ve been keeping a low profile. How did you find out about me?”
A deliciously crooked smile crept across her face. “Oh honey, something like you can’t exist and there not be talk. People hear things. I hear everything.” Her hand moved to the most sensual and sensitive of areas, her fingers caressing the curve of his groin. Sebastian froze, every muscle going rigid. “Imagine if I were to sit on you instead of some waste of a human.” She straddled him with the speed of sudden, urgent desire. Her body immediately slow danced, so hot, so moist. “What would we create together?” She bent forward, bringing her lips close to his, rolling her breath across his cheek.
He closed his eyes and turned his head away. Fucking Hell, the pictures she was bombarding him with. The things she wanted to tempt him with. All the things she imagined them doing. He’d never dreamed the Mara magic was this intense or abusive. Sebastian started to pull away, drag himself out from beneath her weight.
A ripple ran over her figure. It morphed her dark hair to red. “I can look like anyone or anything you desire.”
Sebastian was staring into Kyra’s eyes. The Mara had taken her face. He wasn’t fooled, and yet—part of him wanted to be. He could pretend, if only for the length of a dream, and he would have Kyra.
He shook his head and pushed her away. It wasn’t Kyra. She wasn’t Kyra, and she never would be. “Get off,” he yelled. “You are not her. Don’t pretend to be.”
The Mara shed her Kyra disguise. The dark-haired beauty once again sat atop him, overpowering him. “You don’t like it?”
“No, I don’t. You are forbidden to take the form of another girl.”
She smirked, her smile taking on a wicked curve. The kind Sebastian had become all too familiar with after his time spent working the carnival. She placated him with little to no conviction in her stature. “Very well. You can see how we are meant to be, can’t you? Mara-à-Mara. It couldn’t be more ideal.”
Sebastian wasn’t so sure. Although—he could learn a lot from spending time with someone of the same nature. That didn’t mean he wanted to get personal with her. No way in Reaper’s Hell.
He scratched the back of his neck and scrunched his brow. “I suspect a Mara is involved in a small matter I’m having trouble with currently. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She torqued her head to the side, batted her thick lashes, and brushed her lips along his jawline. “What answer will result in us working together?” Before he could blink, she was on him again, pushing him down and pressing pelvis to pelvis in a slow grind.
The blood rush was quick, the hardening unstoppable. Not with her, he thought. Not with her. He shoved her away and yelled, “No! I am stronger than you. I am a Reaper!”
He bolted awake.
Chelsea sat across the room in his favorite comfy chair. Momentarily disoriented, Sebastian didn’t say a thing, didn’t move, simply searched the small trailer with a sweeping gaze. The dream came to him like a car slamming into a telephone pole. He pushed up onto his elbows. “How long have I been asleep?”
Chelsea bit her lip and delivered a timid smile. “A few hours.”
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up. His trailer was tiny. There were only a few feet between the top of his head and the ceiling.
Chelsea leaned forward in her seat. “What’s wrong?”
Sebastian stretched his shoulders and released. He no longer felt pain from his wound. “A few hours is a few too many.” He looked down and lifted his shirt. The bandage was new. He looked around the tiny space and stopped at the blood-soaked gauze wadded up and discarded with a small bundle of trash in his wastebasket.
Chelsea followed his gaze. “I hope you don’t mind. We took the liberty of cleaning you up and changing your bandage. It looked in need. The old one was in bad shape.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Talia and myself. She came by earlier, said she’d come back.”
Sebastian nodded. That was good news. He needed to talk to Talia about Kyra’s pendant. Curious, he pulled back the bandage, then glanced at Chelsea.
“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s not anything I haven’t already seen.”
He suspected not. He had the strangest feeling where Chelsea was concerned. Tension built in his brow and his eyes narrowed in at her, but he didn’t see anything screaming guilty, so he looked down at the wound. Only there was no wound. He was completely healed.
“How…?” Sebastian began, then cut off his own words.
“I think it was a combination of things. That stuff you slathered on did a miraculous job fixing you up quick. Zeke said it was the best medicine you could have found. Although, he didn’t look too happy about it.” Chelsea’s lips drew into a tight line. “Then Talia came in with some wild mojo of her own while you were sleeping.” Her face lit up. “You should have seen it. There’s nothing like it in this world. It was magic!”
Sebastian shook with laughter. “That’s most likely what it was. Magic. Talia is a witch.”
The small room grew quiet and Chelsea absorbed her “oh-wow” moment. Sebastian could see it was a process for her. He was surprised that with as many visits as she’d made to the carnival, she hadn’t come to the realization already. Sebastian chewed on Chelsea’s comment. Why was Zeke bothered by the medicine used? Something didn’t feel right. Tension crept into his back and shoulders. “What was it, the medicine used on me? Did Zeke say?”
“I have no idea. He didn’t mention. I assumed you would know. Said all you needed was some downtime, and you’d be good as new.” Chelsea leaned forward in the chair. “You really don’t know what it was?”
“Nope. Alice wouldn’t—” Sebastian halted mid-sentence. Memories of what his father had done to Alice flooded his mind. Of Alice and Sophie—sisters, both now deceased. He should go to Purgatory and look for Alice. Except, if she went directly to one of the destinations beyond Purgatory—Heaven or Hell—he wasn’t welcome there. His father had made it sound like she’d been sent straight to one of those places. If that’s where Alice had gone, there was nothing left to do. No apology could ever be made.
The atmosphere in the trailer thickened, pressing him from every angle, pushing the oxygen straight from his lungs. Ties with his father must be severed. Sebastian needed to get out from under his control. Except, would that mea
n embracing his Mara half? He wasn’t so sure that was the best thing. Sebastian frowned, considering the consequences of cutting his father out of his life. He couldn’t do it. Not right this second, anyway.
Now, he needed to focus on the blonde in the dressing gown sitting across from him. “How long have you been sitting here watching me?”
“The whole time, of course.” Her answer implied it had been a silly question, with which Sebastian did not agree.
“Why would you sit here that long?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” When Sebastian didn’t answer, Chelsea continued. “You looked like you were going to die. You had a hole punched through you. A hole! Somebody had to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were healing and not getting worse.”
Sebastian shrugged. Her explanation actually made a lot of sense. So did his thought of keeping her outside of his friends circle. Friends. His heart panged at the thought. He yearned for Kyra’s return.
Still, it was clear he and Chelsea were fated in at least one way, if not several. He watched her move about the trailer with caution. Black Death curled up cozy inside her. It would eventually call them together in an official capacity, and that’s exactly why he hated that she’d wiggled her way into his life. He didn’t want to feel something meaningful and painful when that day came. But there was something more to the girl. The puzzle of Chelsea had been bothering Sebastian for some time now. Yes, she was dying, but the more needed to be discovered. He didn’t like not knowing. It left the door open for unwanted surprises. Only, dealing with her now would slow down his rescue of Kyra, and nothing was more important than Kyra. Not in his world.
Sebastian stood and stepped over to his tiny chest of drawers. “Chelsea, do you live at home?” He grabbed a clean shirt and switched out the tattered, bloodstained one he was wearing. Before closing the drawer, he grabbed a tiny bottle of Talia’s Spiritual Peace tonic and shoved it in his pocket with Alice’s locket. As a Grim reaps, no doubt he’d be needing a sip or two soon. He glanced at Chelsea. Funny how I never pick anything up from her.
“Where else would I live?” Chelsea asked. She sounded perplexed. Sebastian decided she was probably unaware of the severity of her condition. If she knew, she’d probably be in some kind of hospital where she could be treated, as he had envisioned her. It was most likely her unusual cancer that made her a void in a sea of memories and emotions of the dead and dying.
“Maybe you should…” He stopped and looked at her, letting his gaze take in all of her in silence. She deserved better than having her final days void of hope, trapped in an institute, hooked up to machines, slave to a regulated medicine routine. Sometimes ignorance was a blessing. He’d allow her that.
She stared at him expectantly.
He averted his eyes and instead grabbed his jacket off the edge of the bed. “Help me find Talia and my way back to Zeke.”
“Looks like you’re doing fine on your own.” She rose from the chair and took a slow look around. He was doing fine, but he needed an excuse to pull her out of his trailer. Leaving her alone with all his personal belongings was not something he wanted to do. “I finally get to see the inside of your place, and it’s so short-lived.” She sighed.
He walked toward her. “Sorry.” He paused for a moment. “Come on, let’s go. I need to talk to Zeke.” Sebastian opened the door and stepped into the brisk night, Chelsea instantly at his side providing support.
“Back from the dead, my boy?” Zeke waved Sebastian to the bench. “You had us all concerned. Glad to hear you up and about.” Zeke spoke with a mere dash of emotion, and stared at the front gate. He sat on the usual bench, leaning forward on his cane.
Talia jumped in front of Sebastian, bursting from a cloud of smoke. Finger repeatedly jammed in his chest, she poked him and then spun around. “Everyone’s all like, dead, Sebastian’s dead. I’m all, gah. No way. Watch this.” She spun her hands around each other real fast. “Magic delivered.” She bowed. Her brown hair sprung from her head in a wild mess, but she was always impeccably clean. Just fashionable Talia with a wild personality, wild hairstyles, and a wild wardrobe.
“Thanks for fixing me, Talia. I’m forever in your debt.” Sebastian bowed his head. Working with her was always refreshing. Never the same thing twice.
Talia skipped backwards, toward Zeke on the bench. “You owe me for so many things, pretty boy, I’ll be collecting until you collect me.”
Right. Sebastian didn’t care to think about collecting the souls of the people he knew. Why did Talia have to bring that up? “I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bring it on, hot stuff.” She spun in a circle before plopping on an arm of the bench.
“The tooth pendant. The one you told me to look for. Kyra wasn’t wearing it.”
Talia flicked her fingers together so fast she could probably start fire with the proper friction. “You didn’t look hard enough. She has it on her person somewhere. If she ain’t wearing it around her neck, then it’s someplace else.” Talia’s face began to twitch. Her eyebrow danced and a wicked little grin snuck across her lips. “Strip her naked if you need to. You find it.”
Sebastian laughed, felt his cheeks warm.
Chelsea coughed.
“Wait,” Talia said, and produced a ball of white smoke between her open palms. She studied it for several seconds before waving it away and facing Sebastian. “I had it wrong. Check even closer. It may be deeper than on her person.”
“What does that mean?” Sebastian stared at her, confusion and disbelief flooding his system.
Talia slapped him on the back. “Think about it, pretty boy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re a smart guy.” She danced a couple of steps back, a wicked grin gracing her delicate features.
“You done here? Sebastian and I need to talk.” Zeke’s tone was neither agitated nor annoyed, but Sebastian felt a psychic push telling him to hurry up.
Sebastian turned toward Chelsea. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it, but I’ve got it from here.”
Chelsea looked stunned and disappointed, but didn’t argue. “I’m so glad you’re going to be fine. I was worried.” She kissed him on the cheek and ran from the scene.
Sebastian watched her go. She was a curious girl. Falling for her Reaper. Did her subconscious mind remember he’d let her live when she was supposed to die? Whatever bothered him about her, had he actually created it? His thumb and finger rubbed at his chin, attempting to coax the answer out. Only it wasn’t there to be found. He moved toward the bench.
Talia hopped off the bench, pranced around the fringe, and eyed Sebastian. He stood with fists jammed in his pockets and feet planted shoulder width apart, prepared to go to war for the answers he sought. She leaned in with a small piece of folded paper between her fingers, shoved it at his chest. “Here’s the deal. Old man there is going to gnaw your ear off, talk to you about...stuff. Listen to him, but add this to your to-do list. Don’t forget the dagger.” Sebastian’s brow pinched, and Talia pointed to the paper. “It’s all there. Read it.”
“Time’s short,” Zeke reminded.
Talia jumped on one foot. “I know! This is important.” Talia grabbed Sebastian’s arm, yanking it free of the pocket. “You’re going to thank me for this, too.” She winked and began to rub and roll her hands over the bare skin of his forearm.
The friction warmed, sizzled, then roasted his skin. Concentrated in a circle and splaying out along his artery, he melted. He tried to hold still, but damn, it wasn’t easy. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” She blew lightly across the burn. Something looking spookily like a tattoo now marked up his arm. “This will help you get wherever you need to be.” She pointed to the design. “It will lead you to the nearest Gatekeeper, or whatever else you need.”
“Gatekeeper?” Sebastian stared at the new art decorating his skin. White lines swung around, creating an elaborate compass of sorts, minus any polar markings.
“For when you need a shortcut.�
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Sebastian didn’t look up, but continued to study the design. Watched the hand within the compass rotate. “I’m familiar with Gatekeepers.” When Sebastian finally looked up, Talia was gone.
It was only the two of them now, Sebastian and Zeke. He turned to the old man sitting on the bench and leaning into his cane. May he be as wise as he appeared. Sebastian had questions. Something about dragons, and Kyra was at the cold heart of it. “Let’s talk about Kyra.”
Zeke smiled.
“Where have you been?” The muscles in Marcus’s neck strained. One at the corner of his eye twitched. “You kept me waiting. Never keep me waiting.” He paced the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing off the stone interior.
Leila laughed. “Do you think I fear you? It would be foolish to think so. I am the one with the plan. I make the rules.” She swept into the room through the main double doors and strolled casually down the cascading staircase. “You must learn patience. Did you never learn its virtues?”
The former decadence of the Great Hall’s décor lay in ruin, victim to decades of neglect and abandonment. Once the hottest spot in town, it was now buried beneath the cityscape, forgotten. Only the old and few remembered it, knew of its existence. Knew how to find it.
Five jars sat on the grand staircase. Within each swirled magical storms, each of a different color and origin. The dragons, determined creatures that they were, thrashed at their glass cages with their magical essence and wild determination. They would never give up, never back down. That was one reason Marcus had chosen these particular dragons. Of course, many dragons fit that description. Not all, but many. Finding the right five had been nothing more than a formality. He’d never doubted he would get what he needed, that the convergence would provide for his own dragon’s return. And more.
Leila sauntered across the wide, open floor toward him. “What of your young dragon?”
Marcus’s back and shoulders stiffened. He didn’t like it when Leila questioned his relationships, but he wouldn’t let her know she got under his skin. He stood a smidge taller. “Chet is keeping Kyra entertained tonight. A work night at home. Or some such thing.”