Plight of the Dragon (27 page)

“That’s more like it,” the voice said.
 

“Yes, I’m moving. Why do you care, um…” He paused. “What should I call you?”

“A few call me monster. Others call me ancient. You may call me Anguis.”

Sebastian stood, swayed in the slow-moving current. “Do I have you to thank for my animated death state?” He stared into the darkness, saw an underwater cave in which the massive thing dwelled. He could barely discern bits of it—or himself. It had large, protruding horns, so maybe, just maybe, Sebastian was talking to the Devil.
 

A low rumble responded, giving Sebastian the impression of a laugh. “I had nothing to do with your current state. That’s all you, Reaper.” The voice moved forward, shifting through the lake floor, causing sediment to cloud the water more than it already had. “I have waited long for a demon of your strength and desire. One who could make a difference.”

Sebastian pointed to his chest. “A demon like me? What do you think I am, exactly?” He leaned forward, tried to see the devil to which he spoke.

The crimson eyes and horns inched closer. “You are a bridge between worlds. A hybrid never before known.”

Sebastian scoffed. “What do you know about world bridges and hybrids? You live underwater.”

A great cloud of sediment swam around them, a storm brought on by a sudden large movement. “I know many things. I have been around an eternity of years. I watch, and I listen. It has been so very long since I curled up here, determined to wait.” His tail shifted. “The water has brought me many secrets and truths.”
 

Sebastian’s hands waved at the cloudy water and bubbles. “What kind of demon are you?”

Through the murk, a face began to appear, gradually taking form. “Not a demon. A dragon.” The voice gave way to embodiment as the dragon moved from the depths of the cave out into the open.
 

Sebastian’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.
 

“I am the first Moorigad. Pure through and through, never falling victim to the clan’s absurd rituals.” He lowered his mighty head to meet Sebastian. “I think now is the time to change the plight of the Moorigad forever. We start here. Today.” He swept past Sebastian. “Now come. We have work to do.”

Sebastian watched the massive beast swing around him, but move to work with Anguis, he did not. Instead, he thought about Kyra and her stories. It was only earlier that day, while riding the carousel, Sebastian had reminded her of a story she had previously shared. The one of Anguis the Angry, the first Moorigad. If Sebastian were to believe what he now saw and heard, this Moorigad was not cursed. Between the legend and the real dragon swimming around Sebastian, things didn’t add up. He’d best stay close, keep an eye on the monster.
 

Sebastian locked a hold onto Anguis’s tail, and the giant took off through the water at bone-breaking speed. Sheer force wanted to knock him free, carry him away with the current, but he held on with a death grip. Bubbles clouded his view, and his sense of direction was completely obliterated in the rush, wave, and froth.
 

Still, he could count on the compass securely tattooed to his skin, and it held steady, leading him directly to Kyra. She was dead ahead.

33

IN SIGHT

Marcus

Wind slipped over
Marcus’s wings with the force of a firestorm. Kyra was in his sights, and Bolsvck at his back. He’d burned for the Moorigad for so long, he didn’t know how to want for much else. Only her, and the power. The power to destroy those who had devastated his life. His mind swarmed with words, all the things Bolsvck had said. He didn’t want to hear them, and yet he couldn’t stop.
What don’t I know?
 

With each second, Kyra came into clearer view. She was watching him and didn’t appear to notice the approaching Water Dragons, or the Reapers. Her sights were fixed on him, and his on her. It was a moment of connection that stirred his belly with the sultry seed of desire. An unexpected desire that had bloomed the first time he’d seen her in action, fighting the fire in her trailer. Now, she stood upon the frozen lake, hair flapping in the breeze, curves caressed by the wind, and he longed to run his fingers through the brilliant strands of ruby. Slide his palms along her soft…blue skin?
 

Marcus’s speed curbed, then resumed, pushing to top his fastest velocity yet. Blue.
Why is she blue?
Something dark and weighty dropped in his gut. He should have bound her with another dragon already. Or maybe not. Whatever he felt for her, his need to be accepted and desired by her made him weak. All he needed was the Moorigad. He could let Kyra die. Let her go. Problem was, he couldn’t fully convince himself of such a notion enough to make it true. But if she died, it would be good, liberating, for him.

Kyra shivered and stared back at him, and then disappeared from view. Damn Water Dragon. Coiling around her like a cocoon.
 

He dove, bringing the lake surface ever closer. Yard by yard, foot by foot, inch by inch, they all shrank into nothing in a blink. In a nanosecond, he’d have her.
 

Something yanked at his tail. All his momentum shifted. He went from flying forward to soaring backward, and then to the side. Kyra was gone, and the carnival lights swooshed past him.

34

SWIFT DEATH

Kyra

He was coming
for her, she had not a doubt. She would kill him and end all the suffering. Save her family, save the carnival, and protect all dragons, of all types and clans, from his traitorous actions. Sweat trickled along her brow. Her palms were damp and fingers, anxious. Anxious to wrap their grip around Marcus’s throat. But that wasn’t an option. She was human, and he was a dragon. In constant motion, her fingers curled in and out against her palm. It didn’t make a plan materialize any faster. Time was fleeing, and she had no idea what to do, only knew what she
wanted
to do and was determined to make happen.
 

Without taking her piercing stare from Marcus, Kyra called to Talia. “Can you b-bestow some sort of m-m-magic upon me that will t-t-turn me into death for anything that b-b-breaks my skin?”

“What?” Kyra heard the balk in her voice.
 

“A bomb of s-s-sorts. Fire alone won’t do. I’m not even s-s-sure venomous gas would be enough.”

“Are you crazy?” Talia’s voice spiked. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“My t-t-time is about up, anyway. M-m-might as well do some g-g-good with it.” Kyra bit her lip. She had to hold strong, not show the slightest sign of a waiver.
 

Talia screamed.
 

Kyra jumped and turned to find Ryhuu in dragon form. His long, serpent body slithered past Talia and reached Kyra in a nanosecond. He moved in a circle around her, curling upon himself until she was trapped within a tiny dragon well.
 

He glared down at her from the top of his coil and hissed. “Where have you been, Kyra?” His head moved to and fro. “You play a dangerous game, act like a foolish child.”

Kyra took a deep breath and reigned in her rage. It would be so easy to blow up in his face, punch him with her dissenting opinion. But that was not the Kyra she wanted to be, at least, not anymore. She would think her situation through and manage it by wit, not impulse. “I am n-n-not acting the f-fool,” she said, opening her eyes. “I am standing up for what I believe must be done. You w-would do the same, if you b-believed in anything besides my mother.”

“I believe in you, and in us,” the long Water Dragon hissed.
 

“Would you st-st-still believe in
us
if I decided n-n-not to embrace the Water Clan?” she countered.

“You would choose Fire?” His coil loosened, and his head pulled back.
 

“I would ch-ch-choose neither.” Kyra kept her gaze steady upon his. Felt the truth in her words. For so long, she had struggled with the choice her family pressed upon her, and all along she’d known, she always knew, all she needed to do was accept it. But she wanted nothing to do with either clan. She was Moorigad, and she wanted to be Moorigad forever, for however long or short of a time span that ended up being.
 

“But you would die!” Ryhuu’s head motion quickened, to and fro, to and fro.
 

“So bbbe it, then. It’s who I am, and I’ve decided I never want to c-c-compromise myself for someone else’s superstition.”

Ryhuu hissed and said nothing. With a whip of his head, he took in the surroundings, and then roared, his stare locked on something outside of Kyra’s range of sight. She couldn’t see anything beyond the big, irritating dragon wrapped around her. She pushed her hands against his body and shoved. He uncoiled with a snap of his tail, and roared again.
 

She had expected to see Marcus and his monstrous hide blocking out the moon, bearing down on them. He wasn’t there. He was… She turned to search and found him smashing into the ice—and her father. The oncoming line of Grim Reapers Ryhuu had roared at didn’t concern her, even bringing with them death at their touch, or breath, or however they did what they did. She figured she was as ready as she ever would be. Life without Sebastian and her dragon didn’t seem like a life worth living.
 

Her body shivered, an uncontrollable wracking straight to the bone. She half expected to see ice crystals forming on her fingertips, but there were none, merely skin frozen stiff in a deathly shade of blue. Pounding like the rapid beat of a dragon’s wings, Kyra’s heart took off in a sprint. Bile churned in her belly and threatened to rise up her esophagus.
 

Time was running out. She had to get to Marcus.
 

Busy sneering at the Reapers, Ryhuu didn’t appear to notice when Kyra dragged her body past him. Stiff and cumbersome, she moved forward, keeping Marcus in her sights. “Marcus,” she called out. Her voice was weak, yet her soul hummed with the fire of purpose. He would hear her. She had to believe he would.
 

“What are you doing?” Ryhuu suddenly stood before her, no longer a tremendous Water Dragon. He grabbed hold of her as a man would a woman and peered into her eyes with glaring incredulity.
 

She tried to smile, a mild attempt to soften his temper. “Like I s-said. I’m putting an end to th-this.”
 

A wisp of dark smoke whisked around them, headed straight for Marcus and her father, but then misty substance paused and hovered on the other side of Ryhuu, directly in Kyra’s line of sight.
 

From the smoke, Leila materialized. “I heard your thoughts, dragon girl,” she said. “Proceed.”

“Who is this?” Ryhuu spun around. “What is she talking about?”

“Now, now, pretty dragon boy.” Leila approached him and placed her hands on the sides of his face. He stared into her dark, obsidian eyes, his face glazing over, all fight leaving his body.
 

Kyra stepped away, turning her back to the scene. She didn’t want to think about what a Mara did or what would become of Ryhuu. She had to stay on task, no matter the cost. Taking another step forward, she called Marcus’s name again. The dragon brawl had taken a turn in Marcus’s favor. Bolsvck lay in a heap on the ice with Marcus standing over him.
 

This time Marcus heard her call, turned his head, and, in a flash, spread his wings and stood before her, stripped of his dragon form.
 

“Kyra, no!” her mother called out from the frozen lakebed. Kyra didn’t respond, although she imagined her mother shifting into serpent form and coming to her rescue.
 

A breath away, Marcus stood in front of Kyra, his hand moving to caress her cheek. His eyes, his cold, blood-thirsty eyes, softening and his mouth twitching. “Kyra,” he began, “I…”

She feigned a faint. Marcus caught her before she hit the ice. She hoped he didn’t notice her hand slip to the edge of her boot, didn’t see her pull the blade, saw nothing but her glazed-over eyes. Then she blinked and met his gaze with clear deception in her reflection. “May you have a swift death,” she said, and plunged the blade deep between his ribs.