Reap Not the Dragon: (An Urban Fantasy Series) (Age of the Hybrid Book 2)

by Debra Kristi

  Mortifier took a step after him. “Best not be the dragon. You were supposed to take her. You know that, boy. She was your mark.” His voice was stern, tinted with discontent.

  Sebastian’s back and shoulders tensed. He whipped back to face his father. “Her name is Kyra, and no one’s reaping her, so back off.” He pushed up his sleeves.

  Sharp pain cut through Sebastian’s calves and kneecaps, crippling him and dropping him to the ground. Every pebble pressing into his palms symbolized another minute, another day slipping between him and Kyra. Too much time had already been lost in finding the magic necessary to break Marcus’s barrier.

  Sebastian grated his teeth and, with great force, pushed himself up. Standing as if gravity willed him flat on his belly. “Why in Death’s name did you do that?” He practically spat the words at his father.

  Mortifier studied his nails. “Just a reminder of who the boss is around here. Stay out of dragon business, boy. And stay away from her. It’s not time.”

  Sebastian brushed the dirt from his hands. “When will it be time? According to you, the time is never right.” His father, this whole training process, was infuriating. Sebastian rubbed his forehead. “You said two hundred souls would satisfy my initiation requirement. That was the last one—two hundred exactly. I’m done. Free to go. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do anymore.”

  Mortifier shook his finger. “Not so fast.”

  Sebastian’s shoulders slumped and his hands hooked low on his hips. “What now?”

  “You will have more freedom now, but that doesn’t mean you’re not on probation. You’re still a Reaper. You must still reap, or back under supervision you will go. Abuse your freedom, and back under supervision you will go. Mess where you don’t belong…” His father assessed Sebastian. “Understand me?”

  “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Sebastian turned, put his father behind him, and didn’t look back. He’d made a promise, and he wasn’t one to break a promise. Not even to a girl he’d never met before today.

  He heaved a heavy breath. How much trouble can a bunch of Reapers swing down on me if I follow my own path to Kyra?

  “You’re not ready, boy,” Mortifier called behind him.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, Sebastian trudged down the empty road, the next town his destination—home to Sophie’s parents, and as it so happened, Marcus Blackall.

  Sebastian walked into town with two thoughts on his mind: defying his father and finding Sophie’s parents. He started with the simple one first—Sophie’s parents. It was a relatively easy assignment for a Reaper. When you deal in death, you tend to get a built-in tracking system. Like a GPS for souls. The walk took longer than expected. Night had turned into morning. Cars now motored down the streets and people moved along the sidewalks, starting their day. Sebastian stood outside a five-story apartment building, looking up.

  Just great, he thought, and rubbed the back of his neck. People living in tight quarters. Too many bodies, too little space. Harder to pinpoint exact locations without walking the halls, getting close. Something he wasn’t looking forward to doing. All the confined emotions would be insufferable. He hated his nobility, keeping a promise under such conditions. Through the double glass doors at the front, he could see a handful of mothers sitting around chatting while their children played in the lobby. Double great.

  A giant yawn bound from his body and he stretched his arms wide. Sleep had evaded him lately, leaving him tired and cranky, hardly feeling up to the chore asked. An image of Kyra wrapped in nothing more than a robe standing beside Marcus flashed through his memory. It hit him fast. Dagger to the heart. He hated recalling that day. The day she no longer remembered him, their friendship, or the kiss they’d shared. The day she chose Marcus over their forgotten friendship.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. This thing with Kyra—he wasn’t going to let go, but couldn’t let it consume him, either.

  Stupid Reaper rules—damn them to hell. And Marcus, too. He could burn and take his infuriating magical barrier with him.

  Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Sebastian gazed down the block to the bustling coffeehouse. A cup of hot java to get the synapses firing, that’s what he needed. Help focus his thoughts and get him back on his game. Could he suffer the coffee-seeking crowd in his less-than-ideal condition? He was willing to give it a try. Likely to be less people in the coffeehouse than in the building housing Sophie’s parents.

  He moved to the center of the sidewalk and headed down the street. When he hit the alleyway at the edge of the apartment building, he paused, looked down the path. Someone stepped out of a door several feet away. There must be another entrance into the building there—a quieter one. The side door off the alley could be used to get to Sophie’s parents. It was unlikely mothers with little ones populated both entryways. He would try the side door later.

  Content with the plan, his thoughts returned to caffeine, and his stride moved straight toward the small storefront with the elaborate Java Time sign hanging in the front. An odd familiarity floated over the place. The shop sign drew his gaze like a corpse in the middle of Sunday Mass. The sign showed time slipping down the front in the form of a melted clock face. Coffee poured from a tipped pot jetting out of the used brick wall. In a stream of neon lights, the liquid flowed over the clock and into a chipped cup braced above the entrance.

  The sight birthed a déjà vu feeling. The kind bound to happen in his vocation. He’d been so many places, seen so many things, in order to help the departed move on. He was likely to run into some of the same things occasionally. Then there were the memories. So many memories. Passing through the air, through the ether, through him, as his clients transitioned. Occasionally he would confuse which memories were his and which were not.

  The door handle was warm to the touch, many hands having already used it this morning. He pulled open the door and stepped into the comfortable atmosphere the shop provided.

  Within, people huddled in tight little groups. They sat at tables and sofa and chair groupings alike. Burning in a small hearth at the back corner was a fake crackling fire. The walls closed in with an exuberant collage of chipped and mismatched tea and coffee cups and saucers. Burnt yellow paint washed the walls, while thick weaved rugs softened bare spaces beneath rich wood furniture.

  Sebastian was third in line and although he didn’t need to, he studied the menu. They didn’t have what he needed, but he knew what he wanted. Straight black coffee. It would do. It had to. If only he could nab a vial of Talia’s Spiritual Peace from the cupboard back in his trailer at the carnival. A splash of that in his coffee, and all these emotions and memories would cease to bother. He rubbed at his forehead, wished for silence—internal silence.

  The feeling he’d seen this coffee shop before continued to nag at him. He glanced at the fireplace. Hmm, pretty damn sure he’d never been here before. Then the memory dawned. He’d looked through the front window on his way to find Kyra that morning, the morning she’d forgotten him. It had been a brief glimpse, but that was all he’d needed to imprint the image. He remembered.

  He was minutes away from Marcus’s condo. His chest heaved, inner conflict solidifying. The moment he’d walked into town, he should have recognized the tells. He’d known he was close, but had no idea how close. He’d been too focused on Sophie’s parents. Now all he could think about was Kyra. He missed her, worried about her, and should have checked on her sooner. But he hadn’t had the answers then. The answers that would get him past Marcus’s doorway and the magical barrier the jerk had somehow erected. Now he’d lost an entire month to the search and his father’s demands. Sebastian clutched at the side of his leg. The thought of Kyra with Marcus…

  Imagery started to flicker through his mind. He tried to stop it short. Didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to think about Marcus touching her, kissing her. His chest tightened and his heart ker-thumped. He needed to calm down. The tips
of his fingers had begun to burn with anger. All the emotion welling inside had him wanting to reap, collect Marcus’s soul. He should have. Should have collected it the first day he saw Marcus, when he’d been called to complete that very task. Had he done his job correctly, none of this would have happened.

  “Dammit, Kyra.” He ground his teeth and muttered the words under his breath. As much as he didn’t want to blame her, part of him did. It was her heroics that had gotten them here. If only she hadn’t saved Marcus that day.

  If only.

  So many if-onlys loomed in their past. He dragged his fingers through his hair, knocking the hood of his jacket back. He didn’t care. Felt no need to hide here.

  Soon he would put this behind them. He had what he needed now. Marcus could no longer keep him out. His hand slipped into his pocket, wrapped around the gift from Talia. The small charm in his pocket would get him through the doorway at Marcus’s. Talia had guaranteed it.

  Stepping to the front of the line, Sebastian placed his order and then moved to the side to collect his coffee. Ready immediately, a young man handed him an open-topped cup and moved away, busy with other preparations. Sebastian reached around to grab a lid. After snapping it in place, he turned to leave, only to smack right into another body. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry.” Sebastian wiped the coffee from his jacket, then looked up. Involuntarily, he sucked in his breath. Kyra stood in front of him, an innocent twitch of a smile gracing her face.

  He blinked hard. She still stood before him. Was it true? Marcus had let her out of the house?

  She reached past him to the counter and grabbed a handful of napkins. “Don’t be sorry. It was completely my fault.” Separating one napkin from the pile, she dabbed at the coffee spill on his hand.

  A warm tingle raced through Sebastian’s body. He knew he had to say or do the right thing to hold the moment and make it count. Problem was, he had no idea what the right thing was. “I’m the one that turned in to you. Did I get you? With my coffee, I mean?”

  Kyra batted her eyelashes and her gaze traveled across Sebastian’s features. “I think I escaped unscathed. You’re lucky.” She laughed.

  Sebastian raised a brow. “No doubt.” He didn’t know what to think of this version of Kyra. Without her memories, she’d been molded into a completely different person. Did Marcus have the power to make her into anyone he wanted? If he successfully rewrote her, what would happen to the girl Sebastian had known, and—? He couldn’t finish the thought. His body began to burn again. Burn with desire to tear Marcus to pieces.

  “I have a confession to make,” Kyra said. Sebastian blinked and returned his focus to her. “I came over here because I saw you.”

  Sebastian’s blood cooled and his muscles eased. “You walked over to see me?”

  Her face lit up and it looked like she was trying to hide embarrassment. “Well, yeah. You’re the guy who came to my home that day, aren’t you? The one who knew me before?”

  Sebastian’s heart beat heavily in anticipation of where their conversation might lead. He could only imagine positive things. Still, he’d take it slow, be cautious. “Yes. I came looking for you. I was told, not so politely, to leave you alone.”

  White lips pressed firmly together and Kyra released the breath she’d been holding, spewing a minute trail of dragon smoke from her nostrils, so small it was barely noticeable. Sebastian squinted at the curious sight. He watched Kyra cough, her hand reaching to cover her mouth, then reaching back toward the counter to grab a napkin she used to blow her nose.

  “Excuse me,” she said, discarding the napkin in the trash. “I’m really sorry about that.” She reached out, letting her fingertips graze the top of his hand, setting off a chain reaction. His blood vessels snapped and sizzled with pure adrenaline, shaken with excitement. “First, I caused your drink to splatter, then I coughed in your face.” She blushed. “Would you have coffee with me? You aren’t in a hurry, are you?”

  Sebastian couldn’t recall where he’d needed to be. Not with Kyra asking him to stay. Nothing was more important than solving the issue of his fervid dragon girl. Although, he suspected she wouldn’t think of herself as anything needing to be fixed, figured, or solved. Not this new version she’d become. “Nowhere to be. I’m all yours.”

  “Great! I’m just going to get my coffee. Why don’t you grab us a table?”

  While Kyra wandered to the back of the line, Sebastian found a table near the wannabe fireplace. It crackled and popped, similar to the real thing, without giving off a lick of heat. Sebastian’s instincts told him to sit facing the door. Always on guard, he watched his exits, covered his back at all times. Except this time. This time he sat facing the register and watched Kyra. In his world, it had been forever and a week since he’d seen her. In reality, it had only been a month, if that. All he wanted to do was absorb every angle, every fiber that was her. She didn’t turn, didn’t look back. Not until her order was complete. She was playing it cool. Or maybe she didn’t care as much as he liked to think. He couldn’t be sure. While she waited to the side for her coffee, she chanced a quick glance, and that was something, enough to build hope.

  Sebastian liked to think the power of old Higgins’s sacrifice was working to their benefit. Working to help bring Sebastian and Kyra back together after the ordeal in Purgatory. Sebastian owed him big time for all he’d done. They both did. Someday Kyra would remember, and when that day came, she would be gutted with guilt. She’d even missed the old bird’s funeral.

  He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. Settling deeper into his seat, he took in the full view. Kyra looked good, healthier than she probably had in a while. At least Marcus was taking care of her physically. Sebastian jerked and shook the unwelcome imagery that had begun to play in his head.

  “Do I have something on me?”

  Sebastian looked up at Kyra. He could feel the tension creasing in his brow and at the corners of his eyes.

  “You were staring at my outfit. Did I spill something on it?” Kyra looked down to her white pants in search of anything out of the ordinary.

  “I was just taking in the change. That’s all.”

  Kyra set down her coffee and a small plate of fruit, then took a seat. She sighed, glanced over her attire, and then casually slid the plate between them. “You’re welcome to have some if you’d like. I didn’t get a chance to eat yet.” She slung her burgundy bag over the arm of the chair. As she did, the long curls she’d taken the time to twist into the locks of her red hair bounced with the swing and sway of her body. Sebastian found himself hypnotized.

  He should have broken away from the Reapers, checked on her sooner. Should have found the witch, Talia, quicker, or pushed Marcus harder to see Kyra. Now she had been reprogrammed like some sort of minion. If he didn’t know her better, he wouldn’t even recognize her. This feminized corporate look was a long rock toss from the leather jacket rebel he was used to Kyra sporting. All this time, he had feared pushing her away in the process of saving her. That was nothing. Losing their friendship didn’t matter, not when compared to losing Kyra as an individual.

  He wanted to grab her by the arms, shake her, slap her across the face and tell her to snap out of it. If it didn’t work, he surely would lose her after a move like that. He took another sip of his coffee and waited.

  The silence between them grew. It didn’t bother him. He enjoyed the simplicity of her company. That quiet—it was more than they’d had in a long while.

  Kyra gazed at him, her lips tugging to the side. “I take it I didn’t used to dress like this?” Sebastian didn’t answer right away. He watched the muscles in her face, looking for any nervous tic. “You did know me before, didn’t you? Before I lost my memory?”

  Sebastian sat up and leaned forward. “I’ve never seen you dress like this. Jeans and cotton were more your thing.”

  “Oh.” Kyra chewed on her pinkie nail, her gaze fluttering down to her cup. �
��I can’t remember her. The girl I was.” She shifted, stared out the side window, and her eyes shimmered. Thinking it the start of a tear, Sebastian began to reach across the table, but reconsidered and pulled back. She wiped her eye. “I work today. This is my work attire.”

  “You have a job?” This interested him. Marcus had seemed so protective of her that night. Like a child unwilling to share his toy. Now he was letting her out of his sights long enough to work a day job.

  “I work at the bank.” She motioned across the street. Sebastian balked. Kyra’s face fell into a frown. “Your expression says it all. Not the old me?”

  “It’s fine. If that’s what you want to do with your time. Is it what you want?” Sebastian asked.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. When I woke up in the hospital that night and Marcus was there by my bedside, I thought he was the answer. Thought he was the answer to everything. Especially after the nurse told me he’d been there with me the whole time, waiting. They told me I was out for two days. Two days! He never left the hospital in all that time.” Kyra sighed, looked down at her hands. “Things are different now. I don’t remember my life, but I feel things. Does that make sense?” Kyra looked down, picked at the protective sleeve on her cup. “Sometimes I get glimpses of things, and I think—I feel they should mean something to me.”

  Feelings were something Sebastian had more than his fair share of experience with. His own, and those of every other soul who had passed through his Reaper half. He thought he understood but couldn’t be sure with a hundred percent certainty. But glimpses, that caught his curiosity. Could she be experiencing fragments of memories? “Mind expanding on that?”

  She took a deep breath. “Marcus is fine. Marcus is…Marcus, you know?”

  “Not really, but continue.” He was pretty sure they both had extremely different opinions regarding Marcus.