Plight of the Dragon (25 page)

Her heart stilled at the sight of the body in Marcus’s clutches.
 

Someone behind her groaned, and she turned to find Zeke sitting on the ground, rubbing his head. She dropped beside him. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine, child. Should have seen that coming.” He groped at the ground for his cane.

“Seen what coming?” Kyra asked, pulling his cane to his grasp and helping him stand.
 

“Why, Marcus, of course.” Zeke sniffed, twitching his nose from side to side. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know. I just found you.” She guided him toward his usual seat, the red bench by the lake, her gaze continuously darting between him and the dragons flying in the sky.

“Of course you did.” He took a seat and peered up as if he could see her despite his blind eyes. “How long was Mystic’s dark?”

Kyra’s body jerked straight as a flagpole. “What does that have to do…” She stopped, realizing there was so much about Zeke and the carnival she had yet to understand. “I don’t know. Thirty, forty minutes, maybe.” She glanced again at the dragons. Marcus was flying strangely.

He nodded. “She should be working on the patches now.”

“Patches?” Kyra asked.

Zeke tilted his head a smidge. “Mystic’s has a way to go before reaching full restoration. For now, she’s transporting people to the farthest corners of the park, out of harm’s way. Separating foes from one another. Damage?” he asked, his face hinting he already knew the answer.
 

“Extensive, I think.” She glanced again to the sky, and to Marcus. “Sebastian is dead,” she said with a crack in her voice.
 

His hand found hers and squeezed gently, yet he did not appear surprised. This bothered her. The way Sebastian had acted, that bothered her, too. Even Talia, she’d known something and kept it from Kyra.
 

She pulled away from Zeke and stared at his cloudy white eyes. “Did you all know? Know he was going to die?” Her voice pitched, bordered on hysteria, but then something out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Her head snapped up to the sky. Sebastian was falling!
 

Kyra inhaled an exasperated breath and bolted around the bench, heading for the lake. She had no idea what she was going to do, or if she could do anything, but she had to go. Something supernatural had happened. Clearly it had. The sky circled and swirled in the most brilliant array of tangerine, maroon, and indigo from the spot Sebastian fell. Maybe he wasn’t dead yet, after all.

“Let it be, child,” Zeke called after her.

She ignored him and kept running. The mist kept her from seeing Sebastian hit the water, but she heard it. The sound sent a wave of ice through her soul. If she’d had even an ounce of hope before that moment, how could she find any when his battered body was sinking to the bottom of the lake? She screamed senseless at the lake, at Marcus, at the situation. And then the lake froze over.
 

Kyra wanted to drop to her knees and cry again, but she didn’t. She stood strong. Watched her father dive to the surface of the frozen lake, right behind Marcus. In a thunderous crash worthy of a volcanic eruption, they collided with the ice in a mess of dragon limbs and wings.
 

They were far from reach—and Sebastian, he was trapped beneath the ice. She dropped and pressed her hands to the surface. It was impossible to tell where the ice ended and the water began. Or worst yet, if there was even an end to the ice. What if it simply went on and on and on…
 

No.
Such a thought wasn’t allowed in her head. She glanced back at Zeke, and although she suspected somewhere deep down inside he had the power to help, she didn’t believe he would. Not this time. She scanned the shoreline, away from Zeke and toward the main gate, and saw her mother and Ryhuu.
 

She jumped to her feet and ran toward them as fast as her human legs could carry her. “Mom!” she screamed. “Please, Mom. Undo the ice!”

Queen Shui stared, then took a step back, allowing Ryhuu to take point and block her from Kyra’s view. He drew his sword.

30

REVELATIONS

Marcus

Marcus spat a
mouthful of crushed ice to the ground and cleared his throat. Despite the slush that covered his body, little to no dent had been made in the frozen cover of the lake. A five-year winter’s storm couldn’t produce an ice layer as solid as concrete. Tremendous magic had to be at work. Smoke blew from his nostrils, and his nails scratched at the frigid surface. “Damn… irritating…” Marcus slammed his claw down, saw no effect. “Water Clan!” Another pound. Still nothing.
 

An “ahem” rose behind him, and Marcus spun to face the illustrious Bolsvck. Somehow, in Marcus’s race for the boy, he had managed to forget about the commanding dragon. Now Bolsvck stood before him, larger and severely more formidable than he remembered. Marcus’s lips pulled back in a quiver, displaying his ready-to-devour canines and his claws splayed wide against the frozen ground. Marcus would have snapped Bolsvck’s neck right there and then, only the elements swirling above caused him pause. He torqued his head and stared at the anomaly in the sky. Shades of red, orange, and blue whirled in a mysterious cyclone.
 

“Need we continue in this manner?” Bolsvck said, lowering his head.
 

Marcus returned his attention to his foe. The attempted show of truce was not lost on Marcus, but he wouldn’t be fooled by such acts.
 

“Why shouldn’t we?” countered Marcus. “You are my enemy. Always have been. Since the day your family destroyed mine.”

Bolsvck narrowed his gaze and extended his long, scaled neck, but folded back his wings. “I had nothing to do with what happened to you. I told you this already.” He paused and studied Marcus. “Have you lived with the deception for so long, you refuse to see the truth as it is?”

Marcus growled; a low, surly snarl. If Bolsvck was insinuating Marcus was stupid or an oblivious man, then Bolsvck would eat those words. “I know plenty,” Marcus snapped.

“I don’t think you do.”

Marcus refused to satisfy Bolsvck with a display of words. Things were fitting into place. It was clear Bolsvck didn’t want to fight. He probably knew, as Marcus knew, the ruling Fire Dragon stood no chance at winning—or surviving. Marcus was bigger, stronger, more powerful. He lashed out, swinging his claw across Bolsvck’s snout. The nails cut through Bolsvck’s thick hide like razors, sent his head reeling to the side and blood splattering to the stark, white ground.
 

With a hiss and a huff, Bolsvck backed away. “Stop it, son!”

“I am not your son!” Marcus said, seeped in finality, and attacked again. They rolled and tossed in a fluctuating rhythm of shove, slash, and sting. Monstrous limbs thrashed out at each other and at the ground. Wings beat and battered.
 

“Listen to me, Balidhug! Your mother did not die.” Bolsvck thrust Marcus away, and he dropped onto his back with a solid
creeeach
.
 

In a blink, Marcus had righted himself, shook the ice from his wings. “You lie. You killed them all. Incinerated the line. And then banished me to grow up in the fires of Purgatory.” He lunged at Bolsvck, chomped at his neck.

Throwing himself backwards, Bolsvck countered with his tail, slamming a solid hit at Marcus’s side. “Neither my father nor I can ever atone for what happened to you.” Claws clenched upon one another, and they rolled in a frost cloud of muscle and mayhem. “But we have tried.”

They broke apart, dropped into a deadlock stare, moving foot by foot in a circle. “Stop talking,” Marcus said in a raspy growl, and bared his teeth. But Bolsvck kept on talking. The irritating scratch of the dragon’s voice brought Marcus’s blood to a boil.
 

“You need to understand,” Bolsvck continued. “She was near death, but didn’t die. Your mother lived for many long years after what happened.”

“Lies. All lies,” Marcus spat, and swung his tail. Bolsvck took the hit, but kept staring Marcus down.
 

“My father had me take her as my mate, and I cared for her, kept her safe. It was the least either of us could do in the light of what Davies had done.”

“Davies.” The name slithered from Marcus’s mighty jaw like a spilled pot of decaying snakes. Then his stare locked on something beyond Bolsvck. Something stirring at the lake’s edge. Reapers, lots of them. “They’ve come for you,” he said with a nod.
 

Bolsvck’s head spun to the shore, if only for a moment, then returned to the safe watch of Marcus. “No,” he said, taking a step back. “They were part of the deception from the beginning. They worked with Davies.”

Marcus bit the air and shook his head. Lie upon lie upon lie. His eyes burned, and he locked a penetrating stare on the monster he was soon to kill. But then…he watched the Reapers turn, focus on something other than the dueling dragons on the ice.
What are they doing?
 

The Reapers moved away. Marcus hissed, then swung at Bolsvck. This time, Bolsvck swung back. But neither were serious in their attack, and Marcus began to doubt himself. He wanted Bolsvck dead, didn’t he? He didn’t care about any alliance between Davies and the Reapers. He was sure he didn’t. His head snapped, a quick glance at the Reapers again. Now they moved back toward the ice. Only this time, there was a girl. A girl between him and the Reapers.
 

Marcus blinked. Hadn’t she been a blonde when he’d first seen her?
 

Bolsvck turned, his scales prickling, and pushed off the ice, wings flapping for flight.
 

How did she deceive me?
The girl was Kyra. Marcus lunged up into the sky, dug his nails into Bolsvck’s back, and climbed the dragon, shoving him to the ground. Marcus pushed off the fallen dragon’s shoulders and took to the air, Kyra in his sights.

31

REAPER’S MARK

Kyra

“Step back,” Ryhuu
said. His muscles flexed, and he stood stiff and firm in defense of his queen.
 

Kyra froze, stopping mid step. In her panic, she had forgotten about the magic. Her own family didn’t recognize her. At the time, it had been what she’d wanted, but now…now, she needed them to recognize her. Short of disrobing, how was she going to convince them of who she was? She no longer smelled like a dragon, nor could she transform into one. “It’s me, Mother. Your daughter, Kyra,” she pleaded, looking past Ryhuu and locking her gaze upon the queen.

“There is nothing of my daughter in you.” Queen Shui turned away, implying Kyra was unworthy, but kept talking. “There is no time for such foolishness. What game are you playing, child?”

“This isn’t a game!” Kyra’s voice hitched. “I am your daughter.”

“Enough.” Queen Shui dismissed her with the wave of her hand. “Come, Ryhuu.” She walked toward the ice and the dragons fighting on the frozen lake.
 

“No, please,” Kyra pleaded.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, her expression one of pure exasperation. But then she startled and spun around. Kyra blinked, hope blooming in her heart.

“Please, don’t stop on our account,” someone said.
 

Behind Kyra were twelve, maybe fifteen, Reapers approaching their position. Her heart sank, as did her hope for Sebastian. “We are not here for you, my queen,” the tall Grim said, and his gaze flickered over Kyra and then beyond. “At least, not yet.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Queen Shui responded. Ryhuu remained vigilant, ready to go samurai with his sword at a verbal snap.
 

The Grim Reaper said nothing, merely ran his gaze over Kyra again. She scratched her arm and fought the desire to scratch everywhere. Something about the man made her skin race with goose bumps. Even though this was the first time she’d come face to face with him, she was fairly sure she knew who he was. She’d had her suspicions since the first time she’d seen him on the bridge, the day she’d saved Marcus’s life. A day that seemed forever ago.