by Debra Kristi
Dover leaned forward. Sebastian saw Boss-boy behind him, not disapproving of the turn in events. “What was that?” Dover teased.
Sebastian pulled deep from his core, looking for his voice. Dark, slithering power came up in a graveled gnarl, vibrating his ribs and vocal cords. The room resonated with rage and agony as the growl shifted into a scream. A pitch-black sound, through and through.
Dover stepped back, stumbling on air. “He’s a Rea—” Blood streamed from his eyes and he fell to the ground.
Boss-boy grabbed his head, pressed into the sides, and screamed. Everyone withered. Howling, bleeding, dying. The room shifted. Moved in and out of shape. Sounds muffled. And Sebastian’s breath labored. He lowered his head. Strength waned, and the chains still held him to the chair. His body slumped against them.
What have I done? Sebastian’s mind stammered. How?
Footsteps. So many of them rushing into the room. A hand lifted his head and a face came right up to his. The small beam of a flashlight zipped back and forth across his eyes. “He’s in bad shape, sir,” the person said. He lowered Sebastian’s head slowly.
Someone tugged at the steel bar in his stomach. Sebastian screamed. White-hot lights flashed through his body.
“Get him unshackled,” someone said.
People began to tug and pull at him. Excruciating—he tried to yell. The pain was both dull and sharp at different points. A young girl dropped at his side. She pushed his hair back from his face. Drenched with sweat, it stuck to the side of his brow. “You’ll be alright. I promise,” she said.
Sebastian blinked. Then she yanked the rod from his body. He was doused in Kyra’s fire, plummeting into the screaming pits of Hell, and everything went black.
Sparks swirled like a hostile whirlwind within the glass jar. Marcus studied it a moment, then set the jar in the passenger seat of his Mustang. His fingers drummed on the dashboard and he gazed out the front windshield at the vivid colors of the day. The cheerful birdsong in the trees, the bright sun illuminating everything in brilliance. None of it meant anything to him. All his concern was wrapped up in what the contents of the glass jar beside him represented. Was this the combination he wanted? He had to be sure. After a long pause, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d come to know so well. It rang only once.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s do this thing.” He listened to the voice on the other end and a discontented frown began to form on his face. “Why not tonight?” He paused. “Yes, I want to do it right!” A streak of frustration flashed through him. “Alright then, we’ll do it your way. You’d better be there.”
He ended the call and glanced down at the jar. The dragon within clawed at the glass. They all did that. Never content in their temporary confinement. Just as well. Marcus didn’t want complacent beasts. Not for this ritual.
Turning the key and roaring the engine to life, he shifted into gear and rolled back onto the street. He would take the newly acquired forest beast and add her to the others. Trees and bushes blurred past. The bridge. The same bridge where he had met Kyra. Now there was a special find. He’d lucked out finding her. If only he could pinpoint all the dragons in the same state as her—products of two different breeding lines, leaving her trapped in-between and young enough to still make a choice. He’d gotten two for the price of one with Kyra. Her dragon could morph either way. Such a treasure.
He glanced back down at the jar in the next seat. Not that beastie, though. Today’s catch was an ordinary Forest Dragon. A relatively easy catch. Practically rolled over and begged him to take her. Oh, the things he’d done to her. His lips curled up and the tip of his tongue explored the edges of his teeth in a deliciously slow move.
At the corner stop sign, he moved out of the civic park and into the traffic of the city. His condo was fifteen minutes away, a little more if traffic got heavy. Glancing around at the cars pushing their way down the street, and then at the jar sitting on the seat beside him, an idea bloomed. He reached over into the back and grabbed the jacket he’d left there on a previous night, draped it over the dragon’s prison, hiding it from view. He detected the tiniest of objections—a small roar—but knew the beast was securely trapped within the confined space. Safe from discovery. For now.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus pulled up in front of his condo. Carrying the magical dragon wrapped in his jacket, he locked the car and walked across the parking complex to the stairs. His condo was on the second level. He’d ascended halfway when his phone rang.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the screen before answering. His club. Tension was building in his jaw and neck before he pushed the button and put the phone to his ear, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. A voice on the other end immediately broke into bluster.
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Marcus listened and his body tensed, filling with heat. “How are they dead?” He paused. “That doesn’t make sense.” Marcus moved the phone from his face and yelled to the sky, then returned to the conversation. “Don’t touch anything in that room. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Hanging up and shoving the phone in the breast pocket of his suit jacket, he dashed up the remaining steps quick as he could.
Last thing he needed was the damn carnie on the loose. Kyra had left early to wait for the irritating carnie punk at the coffee shop that morning. She’d made up some lame excuse about work, but Marcus knew the truth. He had informants, and Chet was keeping a close eye on her. That’s how he knew she’d held out until the last possible moment before abandoning the wait and checking into work. She’d also spent her break at the stupid shop. Marcus didn’t want the boy to show up now, swoop in and act the big hero, mess up all his plans.
Marcus entered his condo and rushed from room to room to verify he was alone. Satisfied he was the only one present, he moved to his secret hiding place on the balcony. When he was sure no one was watching, he shoved the Forest Dragon into place with the others. The addition made a total of five liberated dragons. Five dragons he would make his own. Marcus smiled, then slammed the front of the secret passage shut.
Now for Kyra. She’d be so much more valuable at my side if she had her dragon, he thought. Plus, I’d be able to control her better. Problem was, he wanted her dragon more than any other. Maybe he would get her a different dragon. A smaller, more docile beast. One more appropriate for his concubine.
He pushed off the wall and rushed back out toward his car. He had to get to her before the idiot carnie did. Who knew what he was up to? Blast that Sebastian.
Twenty-five minutes later, Marcus pulled into the bank parking lot to a cast of chaos. Red lights were spinning, cop cars blocked the entrance, and people wandered about in varied levels of excitement and fear.
His mind flew to the worst place first. Bank robbery. He was sure of it. How many banks were robbed in a day? He’d have to look up the statistics. He had foolishly let Kyra work at a financial institution. His jaw grew taut and he shoved looky-loos and bank employees out of his path, making his way for the front door.
Chet grabbed his arm. “Hey man. A bank robbery. Can you believe it?” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Caught the jackals, though.” He pointed to a police car parked a few yards away, using his hand with the cigarette pinched between his fingers. Two people sat in the back. “They looked ordinary enough.”
Marcus adjusted his sunglasses to better see the suspects. “What is that, a husband and wife team? They could be anyone. They don’t look at all threatening.”
“I think that was the point. Made it all the way to the counter. No one suspected. They looked so normal. It wasn’t until Bethany panicked that we knew something was going down. If she had simply handed over the money, they probably would have walked out and no one would have been the wiser. But she freaked and started crying. The gal next to her knew something was up. It just snowballed from there.” Chet took another drag from his cigarette, shifted his feet, and shoved his free hand in his poc
ket. “The wifey perp, she pressed the demands on Bethany, and at that point the husband whipped out the gun. It could have gotten real ugly, and it was pretty scary for a few minutes there, let me tell ya. But your gal—wow!”
Marcus’s jaw clenched. “Kyra? What did she do?”
Chet clamped his hands on Marcus’s upper arms. “She saved the day, man! She saved everyone.”
Marcus knocked Chet’s hands free and stormed toward the bank. He could feel the steam pouring off his skull. A policeman’s arm shot out in front of him. “I’m sorry, sir. The bank is closed.”
Marcus looked around the man, searching everything and everyone in sight. He spotted Kyra talking with another officer and pointed. “I’m here for her. She’s my fiancée.”
The officer looked over his shoulder at Kyra, made eye contact with the agent interviewing her, and then waved Marcus through. The doors to the bank were propped open. A patch of smeared blood at about waist height marked where someone had slammed into the exit far too hard. He recalled the male suspect holding an icepack on his head.
Kyra stood and moved across the room to meet him. “Bit of excitement today,” she said with a tentative smile.
He walked around her, his gaze searching for anything amiss. “I can see that.”
She turned, tried to follow him. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure you’re alright. I heard you were playing hero. That’s dangerous, Kyra. When people do dangerous things, they tend to get hurt.”
Kyra placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. Her red curls bounced with her stubborn poise. “I’m fine. You needn’t worry about me.”
He stopped and took a deep breath. His gaze fell on her cold, deep-set eyes. “This time, but what about the next? When are you going to stop playing hero?” Kyra jerked back. Marcus realized his mistake too late. She was smart, caught it immediately. That was one of the things he liked about her. It was also one of the things he found most infuriating. “How will I have you around forever if you choose to do foolhardy things like attack bank robbers?”
“Is that what you think? When have I played hero before? This, here.” She gestured to the teller’s window. “This was easy. I saw the whole thing in my head before I made a single move. I knew I could do it. If I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have done it.”
Marcus squinted. That made things worse. She was regaining her confidence. Soon he would lose her to the powerful being she was before, with or without her dragon. He moved in close until his cheek was against hers. Her breath warmed his skin and he breathed in the scent of her with each and every inhale. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her. Her body trembled. It was excellent he could still make her tremble.
His hand threaded through her hair, yanked her head back, exposing her neck. As he skimmed the soft curve with his kiss, a gentle moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Lips he would soon tease with his own.
She pushed him back. “Not here.”
His grip tightened. “Never do such a foolish thing again. Understand?”
Kyra shuddered and shoved Marcus away. He grabbed her by the wrist and led her toward the car.
A police officer stepped in their path. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We aren’t quite finished yet.”
Kyra stopped and threw her hand to her chest. “Oh. So sorry. Of course.” She turned to Marcus. “I shouldn’t be much longer.”
Marcus nodded and watched her return with the officer to the bank. He waited, stiff and stern, with his arms crossed. Chet came and stood at his side. Without looking at his friend, Marcus began to talk. “The blasted carnie boy escaped. I want him found, and I want Kyra watched even more closely until it is done.”
“Got it,” Chet said. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the bottom of his shoe. “I could take Kyra out tonight. Keep her occupied so she isn’t looking for the kid. I’ll take her to the circus she keeps asking about. She’d love that.”
Marcus’s ears started turning red and he turned to look at Chet. “That is the most idiotic idea I’ve heard yet. The circus? Seriously, Chet? Get your fucking act together or I’ll have to cut you loose!”
Chet gulped. “Sorry, Boss. Wasn’t thinking.” He returned his gaze to the bank.
“That’s for damn sure.” Marcus stared at the bank and wondered what the next few days would bring. What the future with Kyra would bring. And what it would feel like to sink his teeth into Sebastian’s skin, ripping him into dragon dinner scraps. The mere vision had him salivating at the chops.
White light bled through the peace of the dark marsh behind Sebastian’s closed eyes. He shifted, moved away from the annoyance. Hellfire exploded across his side and abdomen. He was being torn apart. Human shish kebab wasn’t something he ever wanted to experience again. He groaned and his body moved, paused, and shifted some more, attempting to find a comfortable position. It wasn’t happening.
His eyes fluttered, opened like slits. If the smell was any indication of what he would find, nothing good awaited. Wherever he was, it was rotten. He expected to find himself deep within the sewer system, among filth and waste. All he saw were dark, stark walls. He was lying stomach down on a mattress, though, and that had to count for something. Not the most comfortable mattress, nor the cleanest mattress he’d ever been on, but a bed all the same.
A cold, damp weight pressed against the back of his neck, and his body went rigid.
“Don’t be alarmed. You’re safe now. I’ll see to it that you get all better.”
The voice was female. He remembered a woman right before he’d blacked out. She’d been with the group who had stormed into his prison cell. She’d pulled the rod from his abdomen. In slow, methodical moves, he twisted, shifting to see her better. Every movement throbbed with torture. With clenched teeth, he held back the erupting madness. When he’d positioned himself away from the wall and faced her, he stopped, gently easing into place. His eyes closed to the burn flooding his system. Like lava rushing out around the wound. “Where am I?” he whispered.
She moved the compress to his forehead. “Somewhere safe. Do you have any idea what Balidhug’s people wanted with you?”
Sebastian opened his eyes and gazed upon her for the first time with a steady eye. “By Balidhug, do you mean Marcus? He was the one behind it all, wasn’t he?” Her lips twisted to the side. It was a look of unknowing. He reached out his hand and laid it upon hers. When he did so, he saw the crisscrossing bruises of the Mara Web pattern across the back of his hand. “It’s alright if you don’t know.”
“I’m sorry. I only know what Davies tells me. Nothing more.” She pulled her hand away and plucked at her bangs, straightening them over her forehead. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back tight into a pony and she had on little to no makeup. There was a vague familiarity about the girl, but Sebastian couldn’t quite place the feeling. Maybe it was the loose, comfortable fatigues in which she was wrapped. Army beige. A wannabe soldier. The thought jumped into Sebastian’s mind because she looked the part, but lacked the heart. That was the sense he picked up from her. Interesting that was all he picked up from her or the surrounding space, and due to simple observation. Not by means of any supernatural gifts. He searched inward. Had his injury dulled or nullified his abilities?
“Who’s Davies?” he asked.
She didn’t look him in the eye. She continued to wipe at his skin with the cloth. It tingled and sent an odd sensation through his body. About the time it began to feel rough against his skin, she would retrieve a bottle from the floor and douse it with more ointment. The only word on the label was healer. He would have preferred a bit more information. Some ingredients, perhaps. “Davies is our crew leader. He thinks since Balidhug’s people wanted you, you could be useful in the fight against them.”
Sebastian grinned, painfully so. He was a pawn, and both sides wanted to use him. But to what end? “What’s your name?”
Her eyes flickered up and her hand fumbled. She slipped a little too
close to the bandaged hole in the side of Sebastian’s abdomen. He winced and his fingers clenched. Her hands flew to his chest, as if by touching him she could suck the pain away. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Forget it.” Sebastian spoke between gritted teeth. “You didn’t mean to. Name?”
She pulled back. “Sorry. I’m Alice.”
“Well, Alice, I’m not sure what help I can be. I think I got grabbed mostly to be kept out of the way.”
“Ah, but don’t you see? If he wants you out of the way, that means you are a threat to him. So yes, you can be of help.” She stood from her place on the side of the bed. “I should tell Davies you are awake now.”
Sebastian slid his hand off the bed and reached to stop her. “Alice?” She paused at his side and looked down. He lifted the bottle from the floor. “What is this stuff?”
“Is it making you feel strange?”
“It does stir an odd sensation, and this label isn’t very revealing.”
Her lips lifted at the corners and she reached down to take the bottle from him. She studied the worn typeset on the small white sticker before setting it back on the floor, this time at the head of the bed. A little farther out of Sebastian’s reach. “It’s identified that way on purpose. To protect the origin of the salve.”
His interests were piqued. He tried to lift himself up onto his elbow, the move manageable, although stiff. “You can trust me.”
She laughed. “Can I? I know no such thing. I don’t know you at all. All I know is the behemoths took you prisoner. Clearly they beat you.” Her hand waved over Sebastian and his makeshift hospital bed. “And something horrible happened to everyone in the room with you. Care to tell me about that?”
