Smoke & Mirrors

by C. L. Schneider

  “I am,” he smiled. “I find creation relaxing.”

  “I find this relaxing.” I popped the top off the beer and took a long drink.

  Erich’s gaze was casual, as was the cross of his ankles as he leaned against the wall. But he hadn’t followed me to chitchat.

  “It was Naalish,” I said. “She tried convincing me to come home, in her own special way. She wants me to use Yaslynne’s eye to close the exits and cut Drimera off from the rest of the worlds. I said no.”

  “And she let you go?”

  Swallowing, I winced, “Not exactly.”

  “I’m sorry, Dahlia. You asked me to teach you, and I refused. Perhaps, if you were better armed, you could have evaded capture.”

  “I doubt it would have made a difference.”

  “Still, your safety is our priority. It’s never good to be blindsided by—”

  “The petrified eye of a dead psychic dragon? Too late.”

  Erich stared, unsure how to reply.

  I downed my beer and sat the empty bottle in the sink. As I left the kitchen, I glanced back. “Come on. I’m only doing this once.”

  He followed me. “Doing what?”

  I moved into the living room. Closing the blinds on the city outside, I gestured at his other two. As they joined us, I took off my sweatshirt and tossed it on the couch. The tank top underneath didn’t cut low enough, so I took that off, too.

  Luckily, I still had spare clothes at the gym, but there’d been no bra in the bag. Stripping down to bare skin in front of them with such nonchalance, planted various degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces. Their reactions were endearing and arousing—for precisely three seconds, before all six of their eyes landed on my extra one.

  With an exchange of silent, worried glances, they moved closer. Surrounding me, the three took turns bending to examine the eye in my chest with a tentative touch. Warm breath tickled my skin. Fingers roamed sensitive areas. The mix of human soap and cologne overlapping their musky, lyrriken scents made breathing difficult.

  I forced my thoughts in line. “How do I get it out?”

  “You can’t,” Erich said, straightening.

  “You mean, I can’t now? It will take time to—”

  “You can’t—ever.”

  “Bullshit,” I snapped. “There is no way I’m walking around for the rest of my life with a goddamn eye in my chest. What if I want to go to the beach? What if I want to be a fucking stripper, and this thing is in me, staring at everyone?”

  Finn’s grin was shameless. “I’d pay to see that.”

  “It can’t stare, Dahlia,” Coen reminded me. “It’s not alive.”

  “Beyond that,” Erich put in, “as the eye’s energy completes its integration, it will create its own illusion, making it visible only to those who know it exists and those who possess the mental faculties to see the truth. In a matter of weeks, your skin will appear normal.”

  “Weeks?” I echoed him. “No. I don’t want this. I never asked for this.”

  “Many would go to great lengths to obtain what you have.”

  “They can’t,” Finn reminded him. “She closed the Market.”

  I appreciated his attempt, but I wasn’t ready for jokes. “What if I cut it out?”

  “Unadvisable,” Coen said. “It could cause permanent harm.”

  “I’m already harmed,” I argued. “The residual energy of one of the most feared dragons in all of history has set up shop inside me. It’s affected my dreams, my empathy, my emotions—and apparently that was the warmup. Who knows what will happen now that it’s inside me?”

  Finn’s teal gaze widened. “You’re scared.”

  “Hell yeah, I’m scared. We can’t all be brave warriors of legend.”

  Regret softened his brow. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” I grabbed his hand. “I’m not angry with you. I’m worried. And I hate feeling like the queen’s fucking chew toy.”

  “I’m sorry we lack the answers you seek,” Coen said. “But,” he moved in and cupped my face with a tender grip, “we will try to help you find them.”

  Erich took my other hand. “You will learn to use the gifts this brings you, competently and wisely.” He glanced at the amber oval of Yaslynne’s eye, then into mine. “Speaking as an illusionist, I think it’s beautiful.”

  I smiled. Their hands lingered, and it struck me that, only in my dreams had all three touched me as they were now: at the same time. It was a new sensation. One that had me acutely aware of the weight and the warmth of their skin; the miniscule space between our bodies. As my perception intensified, all sound but their breathing, all sensation but the feel of their flesh on mine, vanished. I was safe and warm, encircled by their concern and affection.

  And then something unexpected happened.

  From the moment I woke in the Citadel, fear had sat like a lump of ice in my stomach. It followed me as I escaped, from one city to the next, all the way to my front door. Now, the dread, the anxiety and uncertainty, were gone. What took their place was rising to a level more vivid than any I’d felt in a long time. Desire.

  It moved through me, steady and unstoppable, like fire sweeping across a dry forest floor, burning in my veins and clouding my thoughts. Longing ignited alongside it, and I realized my need for them wasn’t simply a physical lust, it was emotional.

  I was lonely.

  I was also confused and lost, and tired as hell. Both body and soul were drained. So many pieces of me were shattered and in need of healing. Hunger was pumping the blood through my veins, wanting solace from the emptiness. And that wasn’t mine alone.

  Sensing their yearning, I leaned in and kissed them. Coen, in front of me, first. Then Erich on my right and Finn on my left. It was cute how they waited their turn, saying nothing, as my lips moved leisurely against theirs. I took my time, savoring the taste of each.

  When I was finished, I pulled back. I took in their individual expressions of shock, curiosity, and playful satisfaction. How they stood; bodies tense and breath hurried. Their eyes gleamed in anticipation, overlain with a sense of nervousness, as if I might stop or they might not be to my liking.

  How could they not be?

  Yaslynne’s affection and desire for her balaur was deeply ingrained in her psychic imprint. Undoubtedly, her needs were influencing mine. But for the first time, I didn’t care. Standing, half naked in the middle of them, I was the object of their desire. I was what mattered in their eyes. I was special to them, separately and as one—for right this moment. If it wasn’t lasting or real, so be it. It was real right now. And the choice to act on the attraction between us was mine not hers.

  I slipped out of my sweatpants and led them down the hall.

  Aside from the men’s clothing in the closet, the bedroom still looked like mine. The blinds were closed, making the light dim. The comforter and dresser were the same. The smell was different, but I enjoyed the change. Their scent added fuel to my growing flame, filling my head with ideas as I slowly, one by one, stripped off their clothes.

  Relieving them of shirts first, I took time to enjoy the carved beauty underneath. I followed the lines and curves with my eyes, imagining the feel of each muscle. I ran my fingers over the same trail, then my tongue, relishing in their strength, nibbling on the flesh of one while my hands roamed the others.

  As they explored me with equal curiosity, I closed my eyes and tried to guess whose fingers brushed my thighs. Whose mouth was on my neck. Whose teeth tugged on my nipples. Hands gripped. Tongues darted. My pulse jumped with each unseen touch. Unable to predict where it might happen next, the overlapping tingles of hot breath and excited nerves left me laughing, panting, and wet.

  I liked the game. But I wanted more.

  I yanked off the rest of their clothes and beckoned them to the bed.

  Kneeling in the center, as they surrounded me—two on either side and one in front—I couldn’t stop staring. Their muscular human forms were
hard and begging to be admired. But a part of me wanted them to shift. I wanted to feel their scales, to revel in the strength of their lyrriken grips.

  The notion left me with an abrupt yank on my hair as Finn bared my throat for Coen’s mouth. Gasping as it descended, I smiled as Erich moved in, his fingers wandering low over my stomach. Lower, and a chill tore through me. I returned the favor and stroked him. My firm grip quickened his breath. Enjoying the sound, I filled my other hand; pumping until Finn groaned and kissed me with a husky laugh.

  I wasn’t sure which of us laid down first, or when I ended up on my back with my knees open wide. There were just so many hands, so much to feel. Bodies rolled. Skin slid over mine. Nails scraped. Sweat soaked the sheets as I bawled them in my fists, breathless from the combination of Coen’s warm tongue and Finn’s fingers, vying for attention between my legs.

  Erich gripped my breasts, pulling one into his mouth. His tongue teased, flicking and biting. I reached up, grabbed his head, and captured his lips. My kisses were less kind than before, my tongue more insistent, as his mouth became an outlet for the rapidly swelling storm inside me.

  Already throbbing, as their combined rhythm grew urgent, a moan pushed from my clenched teeth. Their attentions synchronized perfectly. Tongues lapped. Fingers probed. Breath became scarce. My whole body, my entire focus, became the heat and the ache inside me as it burned hotter and hotter…

  Release came with a beautiful explosion of nerves and a ragged, gasping cry. Waves rippled over me. Chills followed. Slowly, their bodies peeled off mine and they sat back; watching every tremble, as I basked in the pleasure coursing through me.

  Its wake left my legs quivering. It was a minute before I could move. Another before I wanted to. When I sat up, I displayed my gratitude with slow, deep kisses for each. I brushed damp hair back from their faces, taking time to play with the strands. It was rare when the differing hues of their eyes shone with an identical sentiment. This one was somewhere between wonderment and desire. It was stirring and sweet, and I let myself drown in it a while.

  I couldn’t recall when I’d last felt so in the moment and unburdened.

  Even the ghosts were quiet.

  Knowing the reprieve wouldn’t last, I refused to waste a second of it.

  Pushing Coen onto his back, I climbed on top. He gripped my hips with an uncharacteristic drowsy grin. Both of us struggled to contain a shudder as he slid inside. My hands gliding in the sweat on his chest, I leaned down over him. My tongue claimed his, a long moment, before I glanced back at Finn. With a smile, I welcomed the “brave hero” in from behind. He wasted no time accepting my invitation. As his touch drifted playfully down my back, I hooked a finger at Erich and summoned him close. He knelt. I opened my mouth, and he pushed in—all three pushed in. They filled me, long and hard and eager. And for a time, their strong, deep thrusts and ragged breaths became my world.

  Thirty-Four

  The alarm beeped on the back door. I placed the weight on the rack and stood. I’d gotten in a few reps. It felt good to be back at the gym, engaging in something close to a normal routine. But lifting wasn’t why I was here.

  I’d taken the day to recuperate. Though, I’d spent most of it in bed, little of it was spent sleeping. The hours of self-indulgence, the intimacy, was exactly what I needed. The home-cooked meal after was icing on the cake. Both left me sated and refreshed. But the sensations didn’t last. By dessert, anxiety had wormed its way back in.

  I was unsettled. Restless.

  There was a door in need of closing and more than one fence to mend.

  Hearing footsteps in the storeroom, I straightened my shirt and swept my curls back. I wasn’t used to being nervous, especially with him. But our friendship had suffered a few bumps before I vanished from his life. I couldn’t be sure of his reaction.

  “All right Coen, I got your text,” Evans said, talking as he entered the storeroom. “Doesn’t matter that it’s Christmas Eve, and we just sat down for dinner. Or that Mom’s going to kill me. The guy with three heads says, meet me at Sal’s. And we’re here.”

  We?

  “But it better be important,” he warned, pushing the door open. “Like a ‘giant sea monster in the river’ important or a—” Evans came to a stumbling halt. A woman bundled in a hat and scarf ran into him from behind. Her identity should’ve mattered, but it didn’t.

  The joy on his face was more than I’d been prepared for.

  “Hey,” I said, with a small wave. “Sorry. I didn’t want to text you out of the blue. I thought if I borrowed Coen’s phone…”

  Evans closed the distance and threw his arms around me. “I don’t care if you’re not real,” he said, his voice muffled in my hair as he clung to me.

  “Umm…Why am I not real?”

  “Eggnog,” he said, not letting go. “Aunt Kim’s recipe.”

  Behind him, the woman offered, “More bourbon than nog.” Recognizing her voice, I looked over his shoulder, as Marnie remove her hat and fluffed her hair. The harried cut she’d endured on Drimera had been styled into a shag and dyed a warm, chestnut brown. “Thank god you’re back,” she said. “He’s been such a buzzkill.”

  “It’s nice to see you, Marnie. You look good,” I said, and I meant it. Her skin had a nice glow. She was back to a healthy weight. But the rapt stance and wary gaze she’d displayed the day of her rescue was still firmly in place. It’s part of her now. Drimera had swallowed the child she was and spit out something else. Exactly what, I wasn’t sure yet.

  “I’ll give you guys some space,” she said, and headed back out to the alley.

  I didn’t argue. I had to save my energy for breaking her brother’s death grip. “I know I heal fast,” I said, “but watch the ribs.”

  “Sorry.” Evans backed up. Eyeing me, his grin grew steadily wider.

  His body was practically vibrating.

  I rolled my eyes and opened my arms. Evans came in for another hug, and I laughed. My life was topsy-turvy. My instincts were screaming that something was coming, I wasn’t prepared for. But this, right now, was close to perfect. “I guess you missed me.”

  “Absofuckinlutely,” he breathed.

  “You’re not mad I ran out on you?”

  “Please. I know a lyrriken cover-up when I see one.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since my best friend disappeared without a trace.” Letting me go, Evans took off his coat and tossed it on the weight bench behind him. “I have so many questions. So much to tell you. Wait—you’re not leaving again, are you? You’re back for good?”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  The truth robbed a smidge of excitement from his smile, but Evans nodded like he understood. “Whatever happened, wherever you’ve been, I can handle it.”

  “I know. And I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  “Does Creed know you’re back? Man, did he lose it when you went missing. Then Gant died and everything fell apart. It was rough. Still is.”

  “I haven’t seen him yet. I heard he quit.”

  “For three weeks. And the captain was a bear the whole time. A bigger, louder, angrier bear,” he added, as I gave him a look. “Barnes finally gave in and went to Creed’s apartment to try and convince him to come back. They were shouting so much, the neighbors called the cops.”

  “I guess some things haven’t changed.”

  “It worked though. Creed was at his desk the next day. But it’s not the same. The city’s not the same.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Everyone’s on edge. No one believes we can keep them safe anymore. The bad guys know we’re stretched thin, so they’re getting bolder. And not a night goes by without someone calling in a monster sighting or attack of some kind. I’ve tried to handle them without you but—”

  “It’s not the same?”

  “Not even close.”

  “What about Nadine? Are you two still…?”

  Evans shook his head. “She skipp
ed town after you disappeared.”

  Shocked, I barked at him, “Nadine left the Sentinel?”

  “She decided it was time to find her family, to try and patch things up. Our favorite threesome helps when he can, but Aidric keeps them busy. Marnie and I do our best, but we don’t have the superpowers to deal with these things. Half the time we can’t even track them.”

  “Wait. You took your sister monster hunting?”

  “A few times,” Evans said lightly, pretending not to notice my disapproval. “I’ve been training her.” He gestured at the boxing ring behind me. “I was surprised when she asked. This stuff never interested her before.”

  “Marnie lost control of her life. Learning to defend herself makes her feel like she’s taking it back. It’s natural. And healthy. If it doesn’t get her killed.”

  “I’ve tried talking her out of it. But she refuses to look for a job. Getting a line on a creature is about all that gets her out of our apartment. Maybe you can talk to her?”

  “She won’t like what I have to say.”

  “You’re going to bench her, aren’t you?”

  “I have to. She’s a dancer, Casey.”

  “She was a dancer. Now… She’s different. Real different. A little intense. A little gloomy. Kind of like a sullen, depressed, twenty-something version of Creed.”

  “That sounds… Awful,” I decided.

  “Yeah. And she calls me the buzzkill. You can tell her to stay home, but I don’t think she will. Marnie knows the truth. She lived it.”

  “Have you talked about what happened with her?”

  “No.” His gaze drifted. “She screams in her sleep sometimes.”

  I frowned at the helplessness in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Our parents flew in for Christmas. Mom knows something’s wrong, but Marnie can’t tell her the truth. Not without the dragon hit-squad showing up at our door.”

  “Okay. I’ll reserve judgement until after I talk to her. But no promises.”

  “Maybe you can have a chat with Barnes, too, about getting the UCU up and running again? I know he’ll listen to you.”