Plight of the Dragon (24 page)

Kyra sighed heavily, and then peered up to find Marcus’s beastly glare upon her. He had recovered. She had only seconds before he would kill her, or so she suspected. An even temper had never been his strong point. The other dragons would save her, maybe. She didn’t have the time to assess their situation.
 

“I thought you would’ve gotten smarter after the convergence,” she yelled. “All those dragons in one should have increased your brain’s ability, not diminished it.”

The other dragons were beginning to shake themselves back to something that resembled normal. What had the bewitching whore done to them?
 

Marcus growled through his teeth, sending spittle like cannon fire at Kyra. She turned her head away. “Who are you? Why do you risk such impetuousness?”

“You see that?” She pointed to Sebastian, glimpsed at his still body lying on the ground, then wiped a tear from her eye. “That,” she pointed again and sniffled, “was stupid. Dumb. Reckless. Completely senseless.” She tuned all her mortal fury into her words and glared at Marcus. “Or whatever other label you want to put on it. Killing Sebastian was monstrously moronic!”

Marcus roared with laughter, setting Kyra’s skin to tingle. Oh, how she wanted to knock him into the netherworld. But she couldn’t, not physically. Instead, she stood her ground before him, standing tall, clenching and unclenching her fists.
 

The woman at her feet hissed and swirled into a stance beside Kyra, snarling at her. “Don’t you ever—”
 

“Shut it, Leila. I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Marcus said, and turned his burning dragon eyes back on Kyra. Leila hissed but made no further moves.

Marcus showed no signs of recognition. Her guise appeared to still be in place and she would use that to her advantage. Kyra took a deep breath, let it sink down to her soul. She attempted to find calm, but there was no calm to be found in this situation. Sebastian was gone. “You want the Moorigad, am I right?” She locked a stare with Marcus. He didn’t move, not a twitch.
 

“Who are you, girl?” His breath rolled over her, a wave or rancid meat and sweat.

She could play his game. Not twitch. So she did. She stood perfectly still and held the glare between them. “You just
killed
the Moorigad.”

Marcus jerked. Kyra would have smiled at the win if the circumstances weren’t so beyond heartbreaking. Her father was already morphing into human form, moving toward the body, without realizing he was moving directly past his own daughter.
 

Kyra swallowed, and then continued. “Sebastian, not Kyra, was in possession of the dragon.” She paused, took another deep breath, and then locked a steely stare on the murderous dragon. She poured every ounce of venom she could muster into her next words. “The
Moorigad
dragon.”

Marcus tossed his head in the air, swinging it from side to side, and roared with the sound of a dying zilant. One flap of his massive wings, and he took to the sky and soared overhead, in Sebastian’s direction.
 

Kyra fumbled, her heart flip-flopping in her chest. “No!” she screamed and took off toward Sebastian at a stumble-run. She was too slow. Even her father could do nothing against the mammoth beast. Marcus swooped in, collected Sebastian with his mighty claws, and flew away.
 

Kyra fell to her knees, dropped her face in her palms, and let the floodgate open on a river of tears.

27

DEATH REAPED

Sebastian

A jolt, and
Sebastian was pulled from the haze back to an agonizing reality. It had been so peaceful in the inky clouds of his slumber. Had he been dead? Now pain swam through his body like an electrical storm on holiday at a water park. But more painful than his physical state, was the knowledge that he had failed Kyra.
 

Or had he? He was slipping away, but he wasn’t dead yet. His body wrenched and wriggled in the clamp of a gigantic beast, and wind moved past at incredible speeds, sending his skin to shiver. The desire to close his eyes, sleep for an eternity, overwhelmingly strong. He struggled against it, laid his hands upon the claws, and allowed the beast’s emotions to seep through.
 

Swift, in a rush of heated lava, the rage leaped from the dragon and raced through Sebastian’s nervous system. In that instant he knew—Marcus had him in his grasp. If Sebastian could muster the strength, he’d be able to scratch two things off his list before saying his final adieu: reap Marcus and return Kyra’s dragon.

Sebastian struggled within Marcus’s firm clench to find his pocket. His desire to succeed pushing against his desire to sleep. He thrust through. It was a tight fit, but manageable he’d force it to be. The deck of tarot cards brushed against his fingers. His first instinct—grab a card—but he had to be smart with his choices or neither task would be completed. Grazing past the cards, his fingers groped for the trinket, the bibelot, he’d stuffed in his pocket a short while ago. The bibelot was unwilling to budge. He wiggled it back and forth and back and forth, and then rested.
 

The carnival spread out below, a hodgepodge of buildings and tents. No lights illuminated the shows. Instead, fireworks exploded through the Magician’s canon fire or the dragons’ flames. Smoke plumed and despair rained. Dragon-Marcus swept through the sky at breakneck speed, and they were already nearing the entrance. Soon they’d be over the lake, headed toward the tree line beyond. Time was winding down.
 

Everything muscle and bone wailed, begging for Sebastian to stop trying. He wouldn’t, he
couldn’t
. Be it out of luck or sheer will, he managed to yank the bibelot free of his pocket. It slid between his sweaty fingers, and he quickly pulled it to his chest before it could get lost to the sky. Marcus’s mighty dragon stirred in his hold, but kept flying.

Questions reeled in Sebastian’s mind. Had they traveled too far from Kyra for the magic to work? Would Kalrapura latch on to the nearest dragon—Marcus? Did he possess enough strength to finish the task? The questions were endless. Time was not. Sebastian had to put his faith in destiny and let everything else go. The design was straightforward and Sebastian had zero doubt which end of the funnel blade went which direction. His hands wrapped around the carved handle of the funnel, felt the dragon designs press into his skin, and then, using all the might he’d managed to gather, he plunged the pointed end into the gaping dagger wound in his chest.
 

Sebastian screamed, and it was worthy of a thousand bloody deaths. Torment convulsed through his soul, the essence of his being. Was the magic working? He had no idea. Wasn’t sure he cared at the moment. All he wished for now was a swift death.
 

The tingling began with a minute spark in his core, then spread in a flash, consuming every ounce of his interior. He was turning to ash.
 

Marcus’s hold shook, and Sebastian shifted, gazed down at the lake below. The beast’s mighty claws began to squirm, jarring Sebastian from left to right to left again. Something was happening to Sebastian, he knew that much. He prayed it was the magic at work, hoped Kalrapura was being released. Maybe, just maybe, Marcus felt the effects, too.
 

Task one, completed. Time for task two.

Sebastian lay limp, bouncing up and down, watching the water below swish this way and that. Bile rose up his throat and his head spun. He was so hot—how was his body not consumed by flames? He’d never thought he’d think the words, but he was ready to die. With considerable concentration, he slid a card from the magical tarot deck in his pocket. The particular deck that always pulled the right card for his calling. Feebly, he reached over and tapped the dragon’s claw with the card, tried to press it firmly in place.
 

The instant the edge of the card brushed against the beast, it released him. Wind rushed past Sebastian. He was falling, card still in hand. He crumbled Death in his palm and held it to his chest. And with a whack, was enveloped by the glacial tide.

28

CHASING REAPERS

Marcus

Marcus’s clutch on
the carnie loosened. The bastard was burning up, it wasn’t normal. It was like…well, shit. He had no idea what the intense heat was like. More pain than fiery temperature. Pinning and pocking at his claws, whatever was happening in his grasp was gouging chunks out of his feet. Bolsvck was on his tail, too, making the situation more difficult. Not impossible, of course, but not ideal. He’d hoped to put off handling the irritation of Bolsvck until after the Moorigad thing was sorted. Marcus jostled the boy back and forth, making the sensation bearable.
 

But then a sudden rush of nausea swept through him, ran up his claw, through his leg, and attacked his stomach. The source, a triangle of a space near his nail. Realization slammed into him like a wrecking ball. He released the boy.
 

Sebastian dropped with the speed of a rocket, headed for the water of the lake below. And with him went all signs of nausea. Marcus roared. Damn carnie, trying to reap Marcus with those stupid tarot cards.
Like a card could reap a dragon
, Marcus scoffed, but continued to watch the boy plummet. Bolsvck had eyes on the carnie, as well. It increased Marcus’s desire for the boy all the more. He did want the Moorigad, and if what the girl back at the carnival had said was true, then the damn boy had what he wanted.

Marcus huffed and broke into a dive after Sebastian, his large hide cutting through the wind like a magic bullet. Bolsvck dropped into the jetstream behind him. It was exciting, adrenaline-inducing, and Marcus’s blood boiled with the thrill of the chase. Then Sebastian splashed into the water, disappearing into the murk. Marcus, a mere dragon’s leap behind, would snag his catch soon enough.
 

He inhaled and slammed into the water’s surface, jarring to an instant stop, Bolsvck caroming into his backside, when he smashed into a solid bed of ice.

29

ZEKE, NOT ZEKE

Kyra

Crying wouldn’t better
her situation. It wouldn’t bring Sebastian back. And yet, Kyra remained on her knees, rubbing her hands through the dirt and allowing the tears to stream down her face.
 

“Kyra!” Talia’s call was insistent, urgent, and yet Kyra didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to face a soul. Not until she could pull herself together. Talia called her name again. This time she sounded far away, and this time Kyra’s fingers began to tingle.
 

She raised her head and saw the lights of the carnival blinking an erratic, pathetic flicker. The massive Ferris wheel had begun to spin again. And dangerous fingers of electricity shot from and between tents and rides and game booths. Pedestrians, carnies, dragons, and foes were vanishing like popped bubbles. The chaos turned to quiet. Talia was now gone. Her father was gone. They were all gone, and Kyra stood among the few left in the dusty midway.
Where did everyone go?

With a kick, Vortex Girl sent a zilant away from the carnival via a black hole. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Kyra stood and turned in a circle, searching for signs of life. A metallic smell lifted off the ground and swirled around her. Tiny sparks of light ignited like fireflies, exploding all around her, fingers of electricity reached for her, and then she was no longer standing in the midway between the many exposition tents. She stood outside the front gate, near the exit portal, now closed.
Vortex Girl didn’t do that.
Kyra sniffed back her tears and straightened her shoulders. The lake spread out under a moving mist to her right, and above, in the sky, her father flew after Marcus, both of them in dragon form.