Plight of the Dragon (21 page)

With a white-knuckled clutch on the chair’s back, Kyra leaned deeper into her straddle. The muscles in her jaw protested and her teeth threatened to crack. “Do you have it?” she spurred between clenched teeth.
 

No verbal answer was received. Instead, Kyra experienced a miserable probing, a pushing through her skin. Her right gluteus spasmed. She screeched. Pressure, pulling, tearing. And then nothing more than a dull ache.
 

“Got it,” Talia exclaimed.
 

“Fantastic.” Sweat beaded Kyra’s brow, and the room swam around her in a hazy jumble. Steading herself against the chair, she turned and saw Talia, fingers covered in blood, holding a brown fang-like object. An object Kyra knew to be the traitorous tooth. Kyra’s stomach lurched. No time to jump from the seat or run across the room—Kyra barely cleared her skirt, throwing her upper body to the side and retching on the ground at her feet.
 

“Gross.” Talia tossed the tooth on the chair beside her and wiped the blood from her hands and blade, using the edge of her shirt. She handed the blade to Kyra, and Kyra swiftly slid it back into her boot.

“You call
me
gross?” Kyra motioned to Talia’s bloodied clothing.
 

“It’s not like there’s a bathroom handy,” she said with a shrug.
 

“Right.” Kyra shifted, then stiffened. “It hurts. Can you magically stitch me up or something?”

Talia made a funny noise. It didn’t instill confidence in Kyra, so again she shifted to see her better. Talia was staring at the ground, but not just staring, searching. Searching the ground, the chairs lining the perimeter of the tent, her gaze moving all the way to the tent’s side wall.
 

Biting her lip, Kyra followed her gaze and saw nothing. Nothing but sawdust and dirt and canvas.
 

“I want to, Kyra.” Talia’s voice sounded distant, as if her mind had drifted elsewhere. “It’s just—I need—”

“Will these do?”

Both Kyra and Talia jerked, snapping their attention toward the entrance.

22

FOUND

Sebastian

Sebastian’s head snapped
to the side, tilting to the sound. A scream, he’d heard a scream. What if it was Kyra who’d screamed? Sebastian scrambled to his feet, his need—his desire—to follow, to run straight for the tent where he’d seen Talia and the blonde girl disappear. But he hesitated, stared at Chelsea and the way she was attacking Marcus. He should help her, only it was clear to him that whoever or whatever was in control of the girl’s actions wasn’t really Chelsea. At least, not in that moment. He turned away from her and ran, his feet incapable of carrying him fast enough.
 

When he got within a stride’s length of the tent’s entrance, awareness kicked him in the gut. The blonde with Talia, she wasn’t Kyra, and yet she was, in every sense that mattered. What manner of magic was at work, and what would be the cost? Sebastian flew through the entrance of the tent, then stopped dead. The two girls had their backs to him, and between them there was a whole lot of exposed skin. Breath lodged in his throat, he turned away, stared at the chaos of the midway. With hammering heart and exasperated breath and heat flushing his cheeks, he shyly peered over his shoulder toward Talia.
 

She fussed over the blonde, and the blonde—Kyra—she
was
dressed, or mostly dressed, sitting on a chair looking like a wounded victim. Neither of the girls had noticed him yet. Sebastian expelled a sigh of relief. He’d seen so much skin, he’d thought she was undressing. Now, he could see that was not the case. He studied Talia and Kyra.
What in the name of Hell’s admission are they doing?
 

Hand laced in blood, Talia presented an object as a prize, and Kyra, in turn, lost her lunch—all over the ground. Sebastian grimaced, diverted his focus. Watching Talia toss the tiny item, which bounced off the chair beside her, it dawned on him what had taken place and the huge significance. Talia had fulfilled
his
job, the one she’d tasked him with, and one which he’d failed to complete. She’d requested he retrieve the tooth from Kyra. But in the short time allotted, he’d been unsuccessful in locating it. In the recent pandemonium, the task had completely slipped his mind.
 

Sebastian shifted his weight, letting guilt wiggle down his spine. It had never occurred to him that the tooth would be buried within Kyra’s flesh. So bestial. Kalrapura roared, wrenched inside his chest, and Sebastian’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
Look out, Mystic’s, bloodshed is coming
. Every one of Sebastian’s nerves teetered on the edge of nuclear combustion. A Mara-reaping of Marcus would be his only satisfaction. Exposing Marcus to his deepest and darkest fears in the most painful way possible.

“It hurts. Can you magically stitch me up or something?” The words, although not in her natural voice, had come from Kyra. Of that, Sebastian was certain.

Even in her magical, made-up disguise, Sebastian knew her for who she was. All he’d needed was the proximity. Now, standing a mere eight to ten feet away, he could feel her truth, her purpose, her beauty, and his love for her swelled, rooting deeper and stronger within his core than he’d ever thought possible. His thoughts of Marcus melted into a haze, a new mission igniting inside his heart. He had to stop Kyra’s pain.
 

From where he stood he could see Talia had cut a small incision in the small of Kyra’s back. It was obvious to him, from the blood on Talia’s hands and on the discarded tooth, the cut was how Talia had extracted the tooth from Kyra’s body.
 

Sebastian ground his teeth, then dismissed the murderous thoughts rushing his brain. He’d deal with Marcus soon enough. Priorities, had to keep them straight, and right now his were inside the tent, not out. If he had understood their conversation correctly, they were in need of something for a little magical healing. Being familiar with the talker for this show tent, Sebastian had a pretty good idea how to fill their need.
 

Two steps to Sebastian’s right, along the edge of the main entrance, was a podium by which the talker worked his forked-tonged magic, sweet-talking pedestrians into the show at an astounding rate never before seen at the carnival. An unassuming man, one would never guess the power he yielded by looking at him, thin and elderly in a soft plaid suit. The kind of man you’d expect to see sitting next to you at Sunday morning mass. Hair combed neatly to the side, every stand in its place. But this mild-mannered magic man had a habit. Not a bad habit, per se, but a habit nonetheless, of which Sebastian was fully knowledgeable.
 

Deep within the shadows of the wooden structure, behind the pamphlets and tickets for the show, was a small receptacle filled with toothpicks. The toothpicks were small, but they were wood, and wood was what Talia needed. Like a snake strike, Sebastian snatched the cup from the podium and then spun toward the women. “Will these do?”

Both women turned on him with a sense of surprise that caught him off guard. He shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on a witch and a dragon so easily. But then, Kyra was much more human than dragon at the moment, and Talia was preoccupied with her task. His gaze met Kyra’s. She pulled at the back of her dress, twisting her body to hide her exposed skin.
 

Talia moved to take the cup from Sebastian’s hand, and he met her halfway. Plucking the cup of toothpicks from his grip, Talia fished through the wooden sticks with her finger. “I might be able to make these work,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Great,” Sebastian glanced behind him, out the tent entrance, “but I suggest you take this operation somewhere else. I don’t know how long it will be before Marcus is back on my tail.” Without forethought, Sebastian turned and extended his hand to Kyra. “I’m sorry you felt the need to hide. Things will get better. I promise.”

Talia shook her head, a scowl turning her usual pleasant smile upside down, but Sebastian wasn’t interested in her disapproval. It was Kyra who had his attention. Kyra and her bristling response to his outreach.

“You must be confused. I’m not…” She stood, pushing her chair to the side, then paused and stared him straight in the eye, her report wavering, something resembling resolve settling over her. “How did you know?”

“I’ll always recognize you, no matter what form you choose to take.” He spoke without reservation, his heart warming to the blossoming truth in his words.
 

Kyra inhaled and blinked. “But you walked away. Said we had no future.” Hurt radiated from her eyes like the scorching flames of the sun.
 

He’d rather take the dragon dagger to the heart than hurt her, but it was true, he’d said those things. He’d seen no other option, and pushing her away had been meant to spare her heart in the end. Stubborn girl that she was, she wasn’t having it. And now, Sebastian could see her feelings ran deeper than he could have hoped. Heat flushed through his system and Sebastian averted his gaze, stared at the bottom hem of Kyra’s dress, to the flares of silk and satin. Then he met her accusing glare. “It’s true. I did.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Kyra notched her fists on her hips. “You kiss me, you save me, and then you push me away. Could your signals be any more confusing?”

Again, he dropped his head. It was shame he was trying to hide, but in so doing he spied the tooth pendant on the chair beside them beginning to vibrate, to slide toward the tent entrance at a crawl. Sebastian snatched it, held it tight within his grasp. “You’d better go.” He glanced past Kyra and met Talia’s stare.
 

“What about you?” Talia said, taking a step forward.

“We have more to discuss,” Kyra said, anger creeping into her voice. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sebastian smirked. “I know. Later. Right now you need to get. And I need to make everything right. Go out the back.” He pointed toward the rear of the tent. “I’ll distract Marcus long enough for you to get your facade back in place.”
 

Kyra flinched and her brows arched. “Is it slipping?”

“Your dress.” Sebastian’s gaze wandered over Kyra’s flowing attire, pausing at the reveal of the open back.
 

Talia reached between them, and Sebastian shook the building emotions of the moment away. “What are you going to do with that?” Talia pointed to Sebastian’s fist curled around the dragon’s tooth pendant.
 

“I have a plan.”

“You better know what you’re doing.” Talia grabbed Kyra by the arm and pulled her toward the back exit.
 

“Do I ever?” Sebastian grumbled and gazed at the vibrating tooth in his palm, then glanced up.
 

Kyra had stopped and pulled back. “I don’t like this,” she said.

The tooth in Sebastian’s hand pushed against his skin, fighting to escape. He approached her. “You don’t have to. You merely need to have faith.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Now go! I need you to be safe,” Sebastian boomed, jabbing his finger toward her exit.
 

Kyra’s face reddened, and then she spun around and walked out of sight.
 

“Be safe,” Talia said, then followed Kyra out the back.
 

Sebastian took a deep breath and steeled his strength in the exhale. Watching the only future he’d ever wanted disappear through canvas drapes tore him up inside. “Safe. Sure,” Sebastian said under his breath, and moved to the tent siding, lifting it enough to duck underneath.
 

“Where are you, little carnie shit?” Marcus’s voice blasted through the tent.
 

Sebastian grimaced. “Let the fun begin,” he said, and dashed from the tent, letting the canvas siding fall closed behind him.

23

SLIP AWAY

Marcus

Marcus had turned
his back and walked away, allowing the unhitched howls of the wild woman who’d attacked him to fall away and blend into the maddening mayhem stirring all around them. Eyes trained on the ostentatious tent ahead, he marched through the entrance, ready for battle. Ready to win.