Plight of the Dragon

by Debra Kristi

  Hand laced in blood, Talia presented an object as a prize, and Kyra, in turn, lost her lunch—all over the ground. Sebastian grimaced, diverted his focus. Watching Talia toss the tiny item, which bounced off the chair beside her, it dawned on him what had taken place and the huge significance. Talia had fulfilled his job, the one she’d tasked him with, and one which he’d failed to complete. She’d requested he retrieve the tooth from Kyra. But in the short time allotted, he’d been unsuccessful in locating it. In the recent pandemonium, the task had completely slipped his mind.

  Sebastian shifted his weight, letting guilt wiggle down his spine. It had never occurred to him that the tooth would be buried within Kyra’s flesh. So bestial. Kalrapura roared, wrenched inside his chest, and Sebastian’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Look out, Mystic’s, bloodshed is coming. Every one of Sebastian’s nerves teetered on the edge of nuclear combustion. A Mara-reaping of Marcus would be his only satisfaction. Exposing Marcus to his deepest and darkest fears in the most painful way possible.

  “It hurts. Can you magically stitch me up or something?” The words, although not in her natural voice, had come from Kyra. Of that, Sebastian was certain.

  Even in her magical, made-up disguise, Sebastian knew her for who she was. All he’d needed was the proximity. Now, standing a mere eight to ten feet away, he could feel her truth, her purpose, her beauty, and his love for her swelled, rooting deeper and stronger within his core than he’d ever thought possible. His thoughts of Marcus melted into a haze, a new mission igniting inside his heart. He had to stop Kyra’s pain.

  From where he stood he could see Talia had cut a small incision in the small of Kyra’s back. It was obvious to him, from the blood on Talia’s hands and on the discarded tooth, the cut was how Talia had extracted the tooth from Kyra’s body.

  Sebastian ground his teeth, then dismissed the murderous thoughts rushing his brain. He’d deal with Marcus soon enough. Priorities, had to keep them straight, and right now his were inside the tent, not out. If he had understood their conversation correctly, they were in need of something for a little magical healing. Being familiar with the talker for this show tent, Sebastian had a pretty good idea how to fill their need.

  Two steps to Sebastian’s right, along the edge of the main entrance, was a podium by which the talker worked his forked-tonged magic, sweet-talking pedestrians into the show at an astounding rate never before seen at the carnival. An unassuming man, one would never guess the power he yielded by looking at him, thin and elderly in a soft plaid suit. The kind of man you’d expect to see sitting next to you at Sunday morning mass. Hair combed neatly to the side, every stand in its place. But this mild-mannered magic man had a habit. Not a bad habit, per se, but a habit nonetheless, of which Sebastian was fully knowledgeable.

  Deep within the shadows of the wooden structure, behind the pamphlets and tickets for the show, was a small receptacle filled with toothpicks. The toothpicks were small, but they were wood, and wood was what Talia needed. Like a snake strike, Sebastian snatched the cup from the podium and then spun toward the women. “Will these do?”

  Both women turned on him with a sense of surprise that caught him off guard. He shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on a witch and a dragon so easily. But then, Kyra was much more human than dragon at the moment, and Talia was preoccupied with her task. His gaze met Kyra’s. She pulled at the back of her dress, twisting her body to hide her exposed skin.

  Talia moved to take the cup from Sebastian’s hand, and he met her halfway. Plucking the cup of toothpicks from his grip, Talia fished through the wooden sticks with her finger. “I might be able to make these work,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “Great,” Sebastian glanced behind him, out the tent entrance, “but I suggest you take this operation somewhere else. I don’t know how long it will be before Marcus is back on my tail.” Without forethought, Sebastian turned and extended his hand to Kyra. “I’m sorry you felt the need to hide. Things will get better. I promise.”

  Talia shook her head, a scowl turning her usual pleasant smile upside down, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in her disapproval. It was Kyra who had his attention. Kyra and her bristling response to his outreach.

  “You must be confused. I’m not…” She stood, pushing her chair to the side, then paused and stared him straight in the eye, her report wavering, something resembling resolve settling over her. “How did you know?”

  “I’ll always recognize you, no matter what form you choose to take.” He spoke without reservation, his heart warming to the blossoming truth in his words.

  Kyra inhaled and blinked. “But you walked away. Said we had no future.” Hurt radiated from her eyes like the scorching flames of the sun.

  He’d rather take the dragon dagger to the heart than hurt her, but it was true, he’d said those things. He’d seen no other option, and pushing her away had been meant to spare her heart in the end. Stubborn girl that she was, she wasn’t having it. And now, Sebastian could see her feelings ran deeper than he could have hoped. Heat flushed through his system and Sebastian averted his gaze, stared at the bottom hem of Kyra’s dress, to the flares of silk and satin. Then he met her accusing glare. “It’s true. I did.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Kyra notched her fists on her hips. “You kiss me, you save me, and then you push me away. Could your signals be any more confusing?”

  Again, he dropped his head. It was shame he was trying to hide, but in so doing he spied the tooth pendant on the chair beside them beginning to vibrate, to slide toward the tent entrance at a crawl. Sebastian snatched it, held it tight within his grasp. “You’d better go.” He glanced past Kyra and met Talia’s stare.

  “What about you?” Talia said, taking a step forward.

  “We have more to discuss,” Kyra said, anger creeping into her voice. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Sebastian smirked. “I know. Later. Right now you need to get. And I need to make everything right. Go out the back.” He pointed toward the rear of the tent. “I’ll distract Marcus long enough for you to get your facade back in place.”

  Kyra flinched and her brows arched. “Is it slipping?”

  “Your dress.” Sebastian’s gaze wandered over Kyra’s flowing attire, pausing at the reveal of the open back.

  Talia reached between them, and Sebastian shook the building emotions of the moment away. “What are you going to do with that?” Talia pointed to Sebastian’s fist curled around the dragon’s tooth pendant.

  “I have a plan.”

  “You better know what you’re doing.” Talia grabbed Kyra by the arm and pulled her toward the back exit.

  “Do I ever?” Sebastian grumbled and gazed at the vibrating tooth in his palm, then glanced up.

  Kyra had stopped and pulled back. “I don’t like this,” she said.

  The tooth in Sebastian’s hand pushed against his skin, fighting to escape. He approached her. “You don’t have to. You merely need to have faith.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Now go! I need you to be safe,” Sebastian boomed, jabbing his finger toward her exit.

  Kyra’s face reddened, and then she spun around and walked out of sight.

  “Be safe,” Talia said, then followed Kyra out the back.

  Sebastian took a deep breath and steeled his strength in the exhale. Watching the only future he’d ever wanted disappear through canvas drapes tore him up inside. “Safe. Sure,” Sebastian said under his breath, and moved to the tent siding, lifting it enough to duck underneath.

  “Where are you, little carnie shit?” Marcus’s voice blasted through the tent.

  Sebastian grimaced. “Let the fun begin,” he said, and dashed from the tent, letting the canvas siding fall closed behind him.

  23

  SLIP AWAY

  Marcus

  Marcus had turned his back and walked away, allowing the unhitched howls of the wild woman who’d attacked him to fall away and blend into the maddening mayhem sti
rring all around them. Eyes trained on the ostentatious tent ahead, he marched through the entrance, ready for battle. Ready to win.

  The tent, it appeared, was empty.

  Marcus roared and knocked the podium at his side to the ground. A gentle vibration hummed in the air. A sign that Kyra should be near. Where is she? And that damn carnie boy. Marcus knew the little shit had come into the tent. “Where are you?” His voice erupted. “Not trying to slip away, are you?”

  Fabric rustled on his right. He turned, inspecting the tent’s far wall, caught sight of a black boot moments before the side canvas dropped back into place.

  “Carnie,” Marcus snarled.

  24

  ALL FIXED

  Kyra

  “Blazing dragons!” Kyra leaped backward, smacking into Talia. Together, they tumbled to the ground. A ball of fire exploded into the top side of the tent before them, missing Kyra and Talia by a strongman’s throw of the lead weight. Black and white stripes, flapping red pennants, burst into flames. Screams erupted from within, adding to the singing chorus outside.

  While they had been immersed in business within canvased walls, short amount of time as it may have been, the carnival’s climate had fallen from tense to pandemonium. At a far distance to the west and northeast, smoke rose in angry plumes of taupe and slate.

  Fire and smoke and beastly roars.

  Dragons. Dragons fighting dragons. Water Clan and Fire Clan warriors fighting Marcus’s traitorous dogs. Some dragons, some others: zilants. She wondered if her father or Drakhögg had taken to the fight in the sky. Or even her sister.

  Kyra’s heart pounded against her ribcage and she pushed herself off the ground. “Come on,” she beckoned to Talia. “Let’s get this done. I need to get out there. Put a stop to this.” Beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck.

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” Pushed by growing urgency, Kyra ran to the back of the tent, as far from the blaze as she could get. Talia remained at her heels.

  The sky broke into claps of thunder, lightning webbing across the growing darkness, and liquid night began to fall from the heavens.

  “Mother,” Kyra whispered, then, at Talia’s face of confusion, clarified. “My mother must be the cause of the weather.”

  Talia directed them over to a collection of abandoned storage crates, and sat Kyra down. “She’s so powerful she can control a thunderstorm?”

  “Among other things.”

  Talia didn’t ask what those other things might be. She merely wheezed and pushed and prodded at Kyra’s body, molding her stature like one would a clay doll. “Don’t move or I might seal you up wrong.”

  The rain fell fast and hard, quenching the thirst of the fire in seconds. When flames no longer stormed, the tempest dissipated as fast as it had begun, the moon once again gliding free from gloomy cover.

  Curious as the anomaly was, nothing about it surprised Kyra. Maybe it was her mother helping, or maybe she was simply showing off. Didn’t matter. Kyra hadn’t witnessed anything she wasn’t already familiar with, and this time her mother’s ability had served a great purpose in helping to protect and preserve Mystic’s. Yet despite her knowledge, her lack of awe, Kyra still ogled the sky. She found Talia doing the same.

  Talia’s head snapped back down and she locked a stare on Kyra. “I thought I told you not to move?”

  A scowl wrinkling her lips, Kyra returned to her former position. “I won’t, if it will get us done and out there quicker.”

  “I know, you want to stop the dragons. You always have to rush in, try to be the hero. Have you ever noticed you kinda suck at that?” Talia snapped something at Kyra’s back, and she flinched. “Aren’t you the least bit worried about your own dragon?”

  What kind of dragonass question was that? A thought flashed through Kyra’s mind and she realized she wasn’t feeling an outburst coming. Only a few months ago, she would have wanted to turn around and deck Talia for question stupidity. Now—now, she only wanted to move forward.

  “Of course I care about Kalrapura, but I know that she couldn’t be safer than where she is right now. She’s going to be fine.”

  “All fixed,” Talia said from behind her. Dropping the toothpicks to the ground, she began the task of fastening the many buttons up the back of Kyra’s dress.

  “Great!” Kyra leaped off the wooden crate, an aura of zeal radiating from her soul and seeping into her motions.

  Talia lurched forward, snagged the fabric on Kyra’s sleeve. “Where are you going?”

  “First?” Kyra studied Talia with a wide-eyed intensity. Talia waited, blinking back in response. “Back to Sebastian. He loves me. He may not know it, but he needs me. We need each other.” She turned and ran around the corner.

  25

  SPLINTERS

  Sebastian

  The curtain was falling on Mystic’s Carnival, or so it would appear to anyone standing in Sebastian’s position. Structures collapsing beneath beasts or magic fire, flames whisking into the sky, leaping from tent to tent, and swirling black holes opening and closing throughout the midway, sucking men, women, and monsters into oblivion. Valentina was working her vortex power to the maximum, and the battle was a horrific exhibition of supernatural talent at its worst. Warlocks, werewolves, species of all types took up the cause to protect their favorite meeting ground and sentient friend, Mystic’s. The sky cracked with a resounding boom, exploding with electricity, sending wind and rain from the heavens, quelling the furor, if only temporarily.

  Unfazed by elemental conditions, Reapers continued to glide among the mob unnoticed, collecting soul after soul.

  Sebastian locked his jaw and narrowed a tight stare on his father. He had to stop him. Somehow revoke the Grim’s work orders. This was his home. He couldn’t allow it, allow her to be showered in death and tragedy. He had to protect Mystic’s and put an end to all the bloody violence. But how?

  Blades of crystallized ice grazed past him, frigid air sweeping through on the Reapers’ wake. Memories and emotions trembled through him, and he thought of Death’s whisper, fierce and frosty and fatal. Sebastian jerked and swerved out of the icy path, dropping to the ground for safety. A behemoth lay beside him, an impressive ice crystal having pinned the beast to the terrain. Rising like an iron post from where its face used to be, the ice misted and fizzed, mingling its cold with the hot, bubbling blood. Sebastian looked away—right at a jumble of feet coming his way, seconds from tripping into him.

  And then a body fell over Sebastian’s back, groaning when it hit the ground. Sebastian was pushed into the sawdust of the midway, its smell of a thousand dirty trampled shoes, stale food scraps, and so many other things he didn’t want to think about scratching at his nose. A swoosh and thrust followed.

  “Look at that.”

  Sebastian twisted beneath the body to see Drakhögg’s smirk beaming down at him. The warrior pulled a bloody blade free from the body draped over the top of Sebastian.

  “What?” Sebastian said, and shifted beneath the dead weight, pushing it away.

  “Didn’t think you had it in you.” Drakhögg stared down at Sebastian a moment too long before offering him a hand. Drakhögg’s stare was more of a glare and warned Sebastian to remain ever vigilant. A smile splintered Drakhögg’s tight lips. “Tripping the bastard I was fighting before he could get away, that was quick thinking. I never expected a pretty boy like you to get his hands dirty.” Their hands clasped, and Drakhögg dragged Sebastian to his feet.

  Pretty boy was a curious term. One Sebastian believed did not apply to himself. Sure, he was not an overgrown, conceited oaf, rippling with bulging muscles all over his physique, but did his size qualify him as something worth mocking? He was still taller than Kyra.

  He met Drakhögg’s even glare and, without waver, reached into his pocket, felt the deck of cards slide between his fingers. Their energy warmed to his touch.

  And then the gr
ound beneath him disappeared. Sebastian’s feet swung out from under him and his hands—cards forgotten—flew to Drakhögg’s tight hold at his neck, pulling and prying to free himself.

  Drakhögg only squeezed tighter. “Pretty boy,” he said again, hard lines pressing into his forehead. “That’s why Kyra’s drawn to you, isn’t it?”

  Sebastian couldn’t answer. His vocal chords were pinched closed, his larynx crushing like an old soda can. But if he could speak, he’d give Drakhögg an earful. Then again, he’d probably just walk away before he ended up killing the guy.

  “In the end,” Drakhögg said, “she can’t have you. She needs me.”

  Sebastian tried to shake his head, refute Drakhögg’s ridiculous remark, but his restricted movements turned his shake into more of a bobble than a stand against Drakhögg. Someday, hopefully soon, the large and irritating warrior dragon would understand that Kyra didn’t need another overprotective, overbearing man in her life. Someday all the clans would know that Kyra didn’t truly need any of them. Everything she needs she will find within herself. Sebastian hadn’t realized how true those word were until he thought them, and now he burned with the burden of such truth. Burned with a purpose and need to make her see that truth, too. Within his belly the dragon twisted, not in upset or disapproval, but in delightful understanding and impatience.

  “Are you trying to burn yourself free?” Drakhögg growled in Sebastian’s face.

  Sebastian wrinkled his nose and blinked. It was true, his hands were in flames, although not by choice. Kyra had had her whole life to learn how to control the urges. They came to her naturally. Not for him. Not at all. And today was only his first day.