Flux of Skin

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Parts of her mind cleared. She saw things she hadn’t seen before—the SUV was gone. The big front window of Anna’s cabin had been broken out.

  She truly was alone here with these Shifters, her passed-out love in the cabin by himself.

  But he wasn’t by himself. And she had another weapon.

  Dragon! she yelled in her head. He had to hear her. He had to be coherent enough to understand.

  Vivicus grabbed Rysa’s arm as he kicked Flat-nose in the side. “You worthless piece of shit. You’re fired!”

  He pulled Rysa around, holding her at arm’s length so she couldn’t reach her talisman, and his head tilted as he peered at her face. “Well done, darling.”

  Was she close enough to it to use her seers? Was Dragon close enough that having the bit of him she wore in his place didn’t matter?

  She’d gotten away from the puking asshole who’d groped her breast, and she could get away from the nightmare fuel gripping her arm. Her future-seer reared up, but something happened she hadn’t expected. Her present-seer pulled it down and told it to be quiet.

  If she called a seer, he’d know she could use her abilities even without the talon around her neck.

  Vivicus laughed. “Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart. No one’s going to hurt you. Yet.” A snicker popped out of his too-wide grin.

  Fuck you, she thought. You have a talon, but I have a dragon.

  Rysa breathed out ‘die’—or the closest to it she could make. She didn’t really understand what dying meant, but she tried. She breathed out the full force of the fuck you she felt inside. The massive fuck you for all of them—her Fate family who’d tried to turn her into an explosives factory. The Shifters who she was pretty sure wanted to sell her to someone worse than them. The asshole cousin who’d just groped her breast. All her classmates who’d teased her and called her name after name after name. And her son of a bitch ex Tom who’d always treated her like dirt.

  It’d kill her if she didn’t blow it out of her lungs like the bad air it was.

  Vivicus sniffed. “You’re adorable. You’ll be fun to have around.”

  Rysa tried to yell, tried to let it all out even if it didn’t affect the crazy thing holding her. But he moved fast, like Ladon, yanking her toward him before she could get another inhale into her lungs to breathe out another try. His mouth locked over hers—a full on, open-mouth lip-grope, and his tongue slid over hers and down her throat, like some goddamned sandpaper-coated worm.

  She gagged, willing up ‘vomit.’ No one groped her anymore. No one touched the Draki Prime. She’d puke in his mouth. Force it down his throat.

  He pulled off her too fast for it to have taken effect, and his head jerked around.

  The burst of light off Dragon blanked out the world. Everything turned bright white and Rysa gasped, raising her hand to shield her eyes.

  The beast picked up Vivicus, one giant claw-hand around his neck, the other gripping his waist, talons fully extended.

  The talons around Vivicus’s head sank through his skull, into his vertebra, through his face. The talons around his waist, into his gut.

  Dragon forelimbs twisted, the one holding Vivicus’s head toward Rysa, the one his waist, away.

  Vivicus should have burst. His guts should have dropped onto the gravel. But he coiled like a piece of bloodless taffy.

  Too shocked to respond, too shocked to speak, Rysa watched, mouth gaping. But her present-seer whispered—Vivicus had snipers. “Stay hidden! Dragon, don’t show yourself!”

  Dragon threw Vivicus across the circle, and vanished in a wild swirl of dust devils and red anger.

  A bullet ricocheted off the front step of Andreas’s cabin.

  The gouges across Vivicus’s face knitted together like a backward-playing film clip of the edges of a cocoon ripping apart. His bones and skin crackled with wet popping sounds like gravel underfoot after a rainstorm.

  This thing warping in ways biology should not be able to warp was what Ladon had tried to keep away from her. What AnnaBelinda tried to keep away from Derek.

  And the reason Dragon had responded so violently. The reason Sister-Dragon had done what she did. Vivicus was too much of a danger to let run loose.

  “Do not hurt the beast!” Vivicus yelled. He hopped to his feet and threw his hands into the air, feigning disgruntlement. “You’re all fired!”

  Grinning the death’s-head mask again, he ran for her, moving much too fast.

  They both landed on the gravel. Rysa skidded under him, and her bruised hip hit first. Her body screamed, her bones barely holding together. The gravel tore at her arm, ripping open a long scrape.

  Vivicus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then patted at his face as if he didn’t trust his own abilities to close up the wounds Dragon inflicted. “Mercenaries. Not worth the money I paid for them.” He rolled his eyes as if he was her best friend sharing a secret.

  He flipped over, carrying her with him and sitting his butt on the gravel, and held her in front of him like a shield. “I feel you, beast.”

  Somewhere in the circle a deep, terrifying growl rolled from the invisible Dragon.

  Vivicus felt Dragon?

  Of course he could. He’d just stuck his tongue down the throat of the one Shifter with the greatest connection to both dragons. Rysa. And now he heard Dragon because he’d forced his way into her space and her body. Again.

  She breathed out ‘die’ one more time, even though his nose was behind her. A full ‘die motherfucker.’

  “You got spunk, I’ll tell you that.” Vivicus snorted. “I’m taking her, Ladon-beast. She’s sweet. Pure, even with that foul mouth of hers. I think I’ll keep her.” He kissed her shoulder. “I brought constraints. Iron chains. Some have burndust in them, special for you.”

  He pushed her upright, but stayed against her back. “I do my research, sweetheart.” He looked around. “Where’s Ladon-Human?”

  So he didn’t know. His people hadn’t figured out Ladon was unconscious.

  She had to do something. Hide somehow that Ladon was vulnerable. “Anna!” she screamed. “He went for his sister! Do you think she’d let you do this? You’re dead!”

  Vivicus’s arm bent unnaturally, just like the rest of him, and slapped her. Hard. Her neck wrenched and the sting sat on her cheek like a Burner’s kiss. “Shut up. She’s not here. We took care of that.”

  Did they kill Anna? Andreas?

  Vivicus sneered and his voice changed, taking on a familiar, Russian resonance—“Anna! Dmitri’s people pulled me out but the bar is overwhelmed! Anna, you need to—”

  He just told her where Derek was. He let it slip. They’d taken Derek to Branson and Dmitri’s bar. But she couldn’t let on that he was giving up valuable info right here, on the gravel, in front of—she hoped—the silent-running, invisible Dragon.

  She couldn’t sense the beast and she hoped Vivicus couldn’t, either. The psycho seemed to have forgotten about Dragon, too, after she blasted him with her ‘die, bastard’ brew.

  Carefully, she spurred him on, hoping he’d keep talking. “Neither Anna nor Andreas would fall for that!”

  Vivicus leaned closer. His voice changed again, this time into another very familiar voice. One Rysa had grown up with and had heard every day of her life. One that had grown inflamed over the years, after her father left, as inflamed as the knuckles on her hands.

  The voice of the woman who had fallen off a roof only days before, her Burnerized sister in her arms.

  Vivicus took on the rich soprano of Rysa’s mother as he spoke into her ear, pressing his fake-Ladon chest against her back. “Andreas! It’s not a lie. He’s there. You must go.”

  Vivicus switched to Andreas’s deep baritone. “You’re not Mira.”

  Then back to her mother. “Their names were Jupiter and Junonius, Andreas Theodulus Sisto. And the girl whose throat Ladon sliced? Minerva. They died to avenge the death of the Dracas’s daughter. Ladon atones by saving my daughter.”r />
  A cruel snicker fanned Rysa’s ear.

  The Fate girl whose death, to this day, haunted Ladon. He worked every second of every moment to make up for what he did.

  Vivicus laughed and his voice switched back to his hollow version of Ladon. “I told you I do my research. I’m smart.” He flung her around so they faced each other and thumped his chest, proud of himself. “Neither your boyfriend nor his Second have moved beyond their ancient trials.” An eye roll followed.

  Her talisman poked out of his back pocket. She saw just the tip of it around his hip. How the hell had he hung onto it when Dragon twisted him?

  She couldn’t grab for it. He held her arms. But Dragon might be able to get it. Snatch my talisman! she yelled in her head.

  But her chorus of seers whispered. Dragon wasn’t close enough right now to hear her.

  A new fear blanketed her mind. Where was the beast? Her weapon was gone. What was she to do? She wouldn’t panic. Because Dragon would come back for her. He always came for her, and she’d make sure she was alive when he returned.

  Vivicus smoothed his hand down her chest. “You are quite nice. A little rounder than I like, but if I’m to take his place, I guess I’ll get used to the sway of your hips.” He squeezed the bruise.

  A new agony pulsed from her muscles. She wadded it up and spit it back at him. “You will not touch me. Do you understand? No one touches me.”

  “You little bitch.” He shook her hard, scowling. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are you taking me?” She’d get him to talk, no matter how much it hurt, or how high her fever got. He’d spill his plan.

  But the world teetered. The edges of her vision looked too bright, as if too much light spilled around the outlines of each and every object.

  Her chest felt tight.

  “Someplace I can dissect you.” His other hand pulled her hip around, making her walk toward the circle’s drive. “Your buyers can go fuck themselves.”

  An old thought surfaced in her mind—never let an abductor take you away. Fight, even if you get hurt. Never go.

  “Are we going to Branson?” Get him to talk. Waste time. Stall until Dragon comes back.

  “Why the fuck would I take you there?” Vivicus balked. “I’m smart and smart people don’t concentrate the hostages.” He rolled his eyes again.

  Go to Branson filtered into her mind. Go now, even if you need to go with him.

  She recognized the whisper. She couldn’t call it, but her future-seer did what it could from behind the shadow where it hid. But Vivicus wasn’t going to take her to Branson.

  Yes, he is. You’ll make him because you’re smart. Derek needs you.

  She’d promised to get him back alive and uninjured. But if she let Vivicus take her, he’d kill her.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” Vivicus glanced around. “Where’s that dragon of his?” Rolling his shoulders, he pushed her forward. “Here, boy! Time to go!” His hand slapped his thigh as if he called a dog.

  Why would he call Dragon? Did he want to get ripped in half again? Her seers didn’t whisper, but the vision rained into her true sight—Vivicus, Dragon at his side, the new Progenitor. AnnaBelinda will fall. Andreas will fall. His mother, too. No one will stand against Vivicus because Vivicus will become everything, both Fate and healer, by imitating Rysa’s combined abilities.

  And Ladon via her connection to the beast.

  Vivicus wins and makes the earth his version of heaven.

  She was the secondary prize. The bastard wanted Dragon.

  “Hah! You figured it out.” He shoved her out of the circle and into the drive. “Thanks for the boost, by the way. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to hear the beast?”

  “Ladon’s going to kill you.” The irreality clicked back on, but in a different way. So many possibilities overlaid a slightly smaller set of probabilities. They fanned out around her like a multidimensional bloom.

  Behind her, Vivicus’s posture changed. “Where’s the beast?” He sniffed. “Time to come out of hiding!” he yelled. “Time to accept God’s plan, you prissy froufrou animal! Time to atone and take your punishment.” His fingers stroked up and down her back. “Your human has never deserved what he’s got, beast. You’ve never deserved it.” He thumped his chest. “I will use you to protect!” He sniffed again. “Unlike your current master.”

  Again, not the truth, but a version of a possibility fluttering inside the bloom in Rysa’s head. “They’re gone,” she said.

  Another sniff. “They snuck away? Leaving you?” Confusion vibrated from his fingers to her neck.

  “Your snipers are dead.” Rysa realized why she couldn’t sense Dragon. Why he hadn’t heard her pleas to grab her talisman.

  When Dragon slept, Ladon could move around as he pleased. He could go into town by himself, if he wanted, because their connection dropped to a trickle. When Ladon slept, the freedom worked in reverse. Dragon could go as far from Ladon as he needed.

  And right now, Ladon lay unconscious in a heap against the bed, in the cabin.

  “The snipers aren’t protecting you anymore. This time, when the beast rips you in half, no one will stop him. You can’t control him when he’s like this.” Why did she say that? It’ll make him run. And he’ll drag me away.

  Vivicus threw her forward, pushing her down the drive to the cabins. “Go!”

  “No!” But her feet ran toward the SUV. If you don’t go with him, Derek dies.

  But Rysa felt Dragon moving toward her. He’d get her talisman and rip Vivicus to pieces, then they’d all go.

  Ladon’s not going to wake up in time to save Derek. Anna and Andreas were on their way to Branson. And if Rysa didn’t go now, they’d all die.

  If she had her talisman, she’d be able to call her seers and understand what was happening. But it still stuck out of his back pocket, just out of her reach. And all the undertow whispers said the same thing—death death death.

  She had to choose—risk dying with this psycho, or live her life knowing she let Derek die.

  Vivicus snagged her arm as he looked over his shoulder. The punch twisted her head to the side. The world tilted. Her ears filled with the same hollowness she heard in his voice.

  And the last thing Rysa remembered was Vivicus-Ladon throwing her over his shoulder.

  Chapter Forty

  I cannot follow! Dragon yelled in Ladon’s mind, too loud, too brash, full of abrasive colors and pointed, cutting patterns. Wake up, Human!

  Ladon bolted upright, jumping to squatting behind the bed. What happened?

  Wake up!

  He was naked. Wax covered his chest. Why was he naked and covered with candle wax? He remembered Rysa pushing him away, and her arms and her face brimming with both terror and anger. What had he done? Where was his woman?

  Vivicus takes Rysa. The familiar millions of needles raked Ladon’s skin as his connection to Dragon stretched to its limit. They are gone and I cannot follow!

  Ladon dry heaved. He’d already vomited—the evidence reeked on the floor between the bed and the kitchenette. His head throbbed. His gut roiled as if full of snakes. And Dragon screamed.

  Human!

  Ladon vaulted the bed and landed next to the door. He pushed and the bed skidded backward, gouging the floor with a skipping, shrill tearing sound.

  The gravel bit into his bare feet when he landed, but he ran anyway.

  Only a light cloud remained of the dust kicked up by Vivicus’s vehicle. It was long gone.

  How long ago did he take her? There weren’t that many roads. Unless Vivicus took his vehicle off road, then they could be anywhere. How did he get to her? Where the hell was Andreas?

  Vivicus hit her. Dragon turned away from the end of the drive, his head down, a low flame pouring out the sides of his mouth. He mimicked the ground, but not at silent-running levels. A normal would see him if they paid attention. He hit Rysa.

  When? The sun was still up, and not quite to zenith. Shadows stretch
ed from the low scrub trees. The air felt as if it warmed still, accumulating the day’s heat.

  Dragon should not be awake.

  Dragon! Tell me when they left!

  Two hours ago. You would not wake. Hot, slicing fury pulsed from Dragon, the kind that bubbled up when he used his talons to cut open an adversary. The beast’s mind threw Ladon structures of war and patterns of death, none filtered by spoken language. Sister did this.

  Actions moved across their connection. All their time together and it still threw Ladon when it happened—Dragon spoke to him in sets of actions he used to control both his body and his hide. The closest comparison Ladon had was how he understood the movements of American Sign Language as words. But it wasn’t the same. Ladon now drowned in viscous waves of information much denser than syllables and phonemes.

  This information primed them for war.

  Ladon’s tendons locked, his brain seized. His body tensed to destroy. Dragon pushed cutting and ripping, vanishing and twisting and reappearing as the bringer of death. The surface tension of his hide changed, hardening.

  Her head snapped to the side and he lifted her onto his shoulder. The beast’s tail whipped across the gravel. He found us while I slept and he hurt Rysa.

  Ladon dropped to his knees and dry-heaved again. Two hours. They could be anywhere. She’d been snatched from him. Again.

  Again. Why hadn’t he trained her? Even rudimentary self-defense might have given her the skills she needed to get away from Vivicus. Ladon was to blame for this. No one else.

  His desire to protect her had kept him from giving her what she needed to protect herself.

  In front of him, Dragon wagged his head side-to-side in rhythm with the fury pulsing through their connection. My sister did this.

  The beast should not be awake for another six hours, yet he rocked back and forth, his hide buzzing with hot, bright spots of hate.

  “Where is he taking her?” We need to follow! he pushed. He needed to get up.

  Why did Sister do this?

  Ladon’s memories flickered—rousing from one dream into another dream. The beast’s waking flux pressing down on his mind. He’d felt hunger. Felt pain. Hot, burning pain. He’d kicked the bed and it had skidded against the door.