Plight of the Dragon (5 page)

“And the boy,” Bolsvck yelled.
 

Zeke did not respond.
 

“I shall go. Make sure everything goes all right. Make sure they both return,” Ryhuu said.
 

Kyra glanced back, saw Queen Shui stop Ryhuu with a touch to the shoulder. At the back of the dragon crowd, Drakhögg’s head snapped up. He’d been in tight, a little too tight, with that other girl dragon. The one that made Kyra self-conscious.
 

“Send no one. We will return,” Zeke called over his shoulder and kept walking.
 

When the dragons were out of view, Zeke stepped to the side and took a seat on an old bench pushed out of the crowd’s way. “This is it for me, for now. Talia will take excellent care of you. She’s a good girl.”

“Thank you, Zeke, for everything.” Sebastian took the old man’s hand in his and squeezed it. Then he knelt close to Zeke and whispered something Kyra couldn’t hear. The not knowing made her eyes burn. Silly.
 

When Sebastian stepped back, dragonflies swarmed a chaotic ring inside Kyra’s gut. She should say something to this man who had somehow stricken respect and compliance in her parents. But that alone kept her feet from taking a step closer. “Thank you for your help,” she said from where she stood. Zeke smiled, and his blind eyes glistened. Kyra’s brow narrowed, and she studied him hard. She almost stepped closer.
Is he really blind?

“Let’s go,” Talia said and started toward the array of spinning lights and magical music.
 

The air was thick with the scent of hot dogs, turkey legs, caramelized bacon, and something else. Something metallic. Something…burning? Kyra regarded the scenes on her left and right. From what she could see, nothing was burning, but that didn’t rule out an electrical fire. A flash snapped near her right ear, and she turned to see what it was. Another flash to the left. Tiny flashes everywhere, like lightning bugs exploding. She jerked her head and jumped.

Sebastian tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ve been through this many times. It’s Mystic’s—the carnival. She’s getting ready to change.”

Kyra paused and stared at him, a wrinkle in her forehead. “What do you mean, change?”

“You’re about to find out.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. Studied her with concern brewing in his dark, sultry eyes. “How are you dealing with the knowledge that you’re a dragon shifter?”

“I don’t know. I feel like it should bother me, and yet…” She paused, peered down at her hand and flexed it. She could almost see it morphing into something scaly with wicked-long nails. Damn, she had a wild imagination. She squinted back toward the flashing lights of the rides. “It’s almost like that’s what’s wrong here. I’m supposed to be a dragon, but I’m not.” She glanced at him. “Does that make sense?”

“In your amusing Kyra-speak, it sorta does.” He rubbed her arm. “I don’t want to alarm you, but this place is full of things of a supernatural nature. Like dragons, but not like dragons at all. Does that make sense?”

Kyra’s lips twisted to the side, and she thought about what he’d said for a moment. “I guess it does. Like you?” she asked. “You’re not a dragon.”

“No, I’m not. Your parents made that abundantly clear.”

The metallic smell grew stronger, and the flashing increased.
 

“She’s working slow today. Must be giving you a chance to acclimate.”

“Who?” Kyra asked.

“The carnival,” Sebastian said. “Like your people are dragons, and I am not, the carnival is an entity all her own. A rather interesting being, at that.” He admired their surroundings, giving pause to his commentary. “She will move us visitors around the landscape of her domain as she deems necessary. You used to tell me it was a fun challenge, making your way from one place to another when Mystic’s wanted you to go someplace else.” He laughed.
 

“I bet,” Kyra said, and then everything around them spun in a whirlwind of flashing lights. Kyra stumbled. Sebastian caught her. When the world was once again calm, they were standing in front of the carousel.
 

“And here we are. Exactly where we need to be. Guess she’s feeling helpful.” Following Talia, Sebastian led Kyra to the ride’s entrance. The metal railing around the carousel was cool to the touch. Kyra wrapped her palms around its smooth surface, wondering how many hands had run along its veneer through the years while they waited their turn at the adventure, wearing the railing down to such a fine, feather-touch feel.
 

A musical voice rang overhead. “Mystic’s Jubilee commences in fifteen. Party favors are still available lakeside and at the front gate.”

Sebastian turned to Talia. “Today is the Jubilee?”

“Yeah. Great timing you two have, huh?” She jumped over the gate and motioned them to wait. After whispering something to the ride attendant, she pushed a button on the control panel and talked into the mic. “Sorry folks. This ride will be shut down until after the fireworks show.” Her announcement was greeted with a cluster of complaints and protests. “Phil here,” she pointed to the ride attendant, “will be handing each of you a ticket that will not only give you access to the priority line upon your return, but a free show at the Magical Bibelots tent.” Thrilled oohs and ahhs resounded, and people dwindled away after Phil handed out the tickets. Soon there was only Talia, Sebastian, and Kyra. Even Phil left.

Kyra stared at the double-decker merry-go-round with all its masterfully carved whimsical creatures; unicorns, gryphons, lions, bats, sea creatures, swans, even a dragon. It was exquisite, but how in all things supernatural was a ride supposed to help her retrieve lost memories?

The gate opened.

“Riders, pick your steed,” someone yelled. Kyra saw no source for the voice, only Talia directing them to the second level. Kyra’s steps were slow and deliberate, her hand clenching the railing till the blood drained from her fingers. The warmth of Sebastian’s hand at the small of her back pressed her onward against the tide of trepidation, until she stood toe-to-toe with the glowing amber light carved into the landing at the top.

4

VEXATION

Marcus

Marcus shifted against
the fine leather of the backseat. The air smelled of coconut air freshener, as well as Mara and zilant, the two others in the car with him. But that wasn’t what bothered Marcus. There was something else, something not within the confines of the vehicle, but close enough to ruffle his shackles. That something kept him glancing over his shoulder and out the back window.
 

His finger tapped on the door panel, finally pressing down on the widow lever, lowering it a crack. An abundance of scents rushed past, all from the surrounding area and the area ahead. A mingling of nature and human that, in his mind, never should’ve come to be. It was human fear he smelled now. Human fear, rust, and bad petrol. And the sweat—the fear—was intensifying, as if the source were somehow aware of Marcus’s suspicions. Or maybe it was simply getting closer. Were they in visual range?

“Slow down, Darren.”

The driver glanced toward the backseat, then returned his attention to the road. “Think someone’s following us?”

Leila stretched like a cat waking from a nap. The lack of interest she demonstrated set Marcus’s ears to smoking. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to put up with her, if she would even last until the plan came to fruition.
She may have to meet her demise early
. And if so, let the Mara, maker of bad dreams, meet her own nightmare. It was his purpose after all, to bring the lesser beings to their knees, and she was by all means a lesser being. Marcus squinted, watched her from the corner of his eye.
 

“If we are being followed, will we lead them away from the Den? Or just stop here and kill them?” Leila asked and fell back into the seat. She didn’t sound exceptionally interested either way.

Kill them, yes
. Marcus’s tongue ran longingly along his teeth, and he sniffed the air once again. Fear. Plenty of fear. Human fear. “Pull over.”

“Sir?” Darren tilted his head toward the back. The road ahead was barren. Mostly trees, with the occasional house buried deep within the thicket.
 

“Pull the damn car over, now.” Marcus was already opening the side door. The tires hit the side gravel, sending a shower of pebbles hammering like a hailstorm at the car’s underside. The car hadn’t come to a complete stop when Marcus stepped from the backseat. The door slammed closed, barely missing his arm, and the sedan swerved to a hard stop several feet beyond.
 

Light shimmered dimly through the trees, the sun barely beginning to peek its waking head over the horizon. Marcus caught sight of a small, battered pickup truck headed in their direction. Headlights flickered with each exaggerated bump in the road. It could be nothing, but if the fear emanating from the rusty wheel bucket meant anything, he was betting the little beater was someone tasked to follow him. And that someone had a pretty good idea of what they were following. He, or she, was scared out of their skin.
 

Marcus stepped into the shadows. The black sedan purred quietly, waiting in plain sight. Even though the distance between the two vehicles closed with each breath, the rate of closure was decreasing. The truck was slowing. But stopping, no. It ambled up to Marcus, its engine pinging and tinging. A great getaway car, it would never make. Marcus hunched his shoulders, planted his feet, and narrowed his stare on the truck’s little cab as it drove passed. Two men sat side by side. They probably planned to move by like nothing was amiss. Just a couple of guys running their daily errands. And it might have worked, had it not been for the stink of fear and the one man failing to hide his gaunt reflection of terror when he glanced out the side window.
 

His eyes said it all. He knew what Marcus was, of that there was no doubt.

A roar reeled up Marcus’s throat. His leg swung back, throwing his body into a back twist-roll. A dark dance of the ages, limbs and shapes shifting, expanding. Garments ripping to shreds. Where once there was a man, now there was a gargantuan dragon. Dark and gnarly with innumerable sharp edges. A massive claw smashed down on the tailgate of the rambling truck, slamming it to a stop and smacking it into the road. Yelling erupted from the cab’s interior. Then an explosion of pops. Marcus was being assaulted with gunfire. The passenger hung out the side window, weapon in hand.
 

Marcus’s dragon howled, and smoke poured from his nostrils. Sucking back the vapors and filling them with his internal rage, he let loose hellfire. The truck’s paint scorched, bubbled, and peeled. The man squealed and ducked back into the cab. Picking up the vehicle, Marcus waved it once in his left claw, then tossed it to the side of the road. Ginormous dragon wings flapped as he turned, hitting and spinning the truck farther into the tree line.
 

“We’re under attack!” The words came from the wreckage, followed by an unrecognizable static reply. Damn two way radios. Marcus spun back and rushed the heap of metal. A man pulled himself from the vehicle, now sitting on its side, and stood on top of the wreckage. In his hand, he now held an automatic weapon. Marcus laughed, baring his teeth.
 

“You think that will stop me? Tiny human, you can’t stop me.” He lowered his head and snorted, covering the man in dragon smoke.
 

“Maybe I…” The man glanced through the window at his feet. “We won’t stop you today, but you can be sure Jon Davies will find a way.”

The Black Dragon Marcus, now a mix of many dragons and their mighty gifts, straightened, stretching his neck high above the man. A dark cold swirled in Marcus’s heart. It grew, swirling faster and faster at the mention of Davies’s name. Marcus stood deathly still, like a statue, and then his tail twitched. It swung so fast the man only got off one shot before being smacked in the side by something the size of a fallen redwood. Automatic fire rang up through the trees and into the sky, and then fell silent, his body slamming into a nearby tree and slumping to the ground.

“Hurry to the Den. Yeah, now.” The voice was a mere whisper from deep within the cab.

Marcus’s lips peeled back, exposing ready-to-kill teeth. All his attention was now focused on the remaining man. The mousy human inside the truck sending men to
his
Den. He’d heard too much. Was giving away too much information. Marcus turned and swung. The dragon’s tail flattened the cab. All went silent.
 

He chuffed, blew dark thickets of angry smoke, and thumped his tail upon the hard asphalt road. The little truck hadn’t been much to behold before, but now Marcus couldn’t pull his gaze from the mangled heap.
 

Someone cleared their throat behind him. He swung around, wings extended, teeth exposed. Darren, the driver, stood next to the dark sedan, a small phone clutched firmly in his grip. “The men are assembled, sir,” he said, a mild tremor in his voice.