The Moorigad Dragon: (An Urban Fantasy Series) (Age of the Hybrid Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Welcome

  The Second Coming

  In Deep

  Destinations

  Death Knocking

  Unexpected

  Necessities

  Complications

  Visiting Hour

  Dragon Light

  Before you go

  Reap Not the Dragon

  Plight of the Dragon

  Dark Perceptions

  Acknowledgements

  Glossary of Terms

  Copyright

  For Scott

  The man who never stopped believing in me.

  Mystic’s Carnival, you may have heard of it—the name has been whispered in quiet conversation, mentioned in folktale. Many believe it does not exist. Let me assure you, it’s as real as the air around you. If you are lucky or so in need, you may be among the few who come to know the wonder of this mysterious destination. It is not your average carnival, no, not at all. The show of twirling lights, motor rides, and funny sideshows never moves, never sleeps, and can never, ever be found unless so wished by the carnival herself. Is she a living, breathing entity? I’ll let you be the judge.

  Follow now, if you will, into the story, and let our characters introduce you to the splendor of their world and the mystery that can only be found at Mystic’s Carnival.

  Safe travels, weary reader~

  The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.

  ~ The Second Coming

  A flurry of heat particles swirled deep within Kyra’s throat. They sparked and sizzled like a half-witted science experiment gone awry. Her nose twitched in response to the tickle.

  For an endless moment she admired the profile of the man standing beside her, and held the fury within her at bay. She’d known Sebastian less than a year, yet it felt like a millennium. Only he had shown her patience and understanding where her family had shown none. He’d taken the time to work with her on balance and inner peace, help calm her rage. It was because of him she was still sane, still walking the line of indecision.

  Her skin shivered with heat, set in motion by his enticing form. A distraction from her practice she neither needed nor minded. But I should mind, she reminded herself. She released the fever from her lungs in one long, slow breath. It exploded from her lips in hellfire. Tongues of seething flame lashed out at the crisp air, the embers seeking new fuel, until a sharp widening of her lips killed the blaze. Kyra never tired of the art of fire-breathing. She could practice for hours.

  Sebastian raised a brow in an oh-really kind of way, yet barely looked in her direction. No attempt was made to hide the smile flirting at his lips and he continued to flip through the deck of cards he held. “I’ve seen you do better,” he said with a tease in his tone.

  His words meant to challenge, not insult. Of that she was confident. There was nothing in all the worlds she was more sure about than Sebastian. He was the best friend she’d ever had, possibly the only one, and she trusted him with everything about herself. Well, most everything. Possibly a lot. Enough, anyway.

  She’d told him more than anyone, little as it actually was. They were bonded through their unspoken runaway status, secret species prestige, and parental pain. He made life at Mystic’s Carnival feel like some place she might want to stay long term. Like a real home. Something she’d never really had before.

  Her parents never made her feel comfortable enough or welcome enough. Always pushing her to make the choice—the choice they wanted. And each of them wanted something different. Kyra remained unresolved on the decision that would soon have to be made. She’d been told so often to pick a side that it jumbled in her head like debris trapped in a spinning typhoon. She despised both her parents for it, and every member of their clans. It was their fault she was trapped having to make a choice, their fault she didn’t belong. Running away was the best thing she’d ever done because it had led her to Sebastian.

  A silent, happy-to-play-along half-chuckle rumbled through her chest. She lifted the whisky bottle, took another swig, coating the inside of her mouth for further fire practice. She used the leather sleeve of her jacket as a napkin, wiping it across her mouth, then turned to face him.

  Sebastian hadn’t moved in the past thirty minutes. He stood in the same spot, leaning against the same stone pylon, playing nonstop with the same deck of tarot cards. His gaze would wander to the wide river several yards away, then back to the deck.

  “Of course I’ve done better,” Kyra said, “but we weren’t sitting around Normville with our thumbs up our aft ends at the time, were we? So it’s not like I was trying that hard.” She swirled the bottle of shimmery liquid and scanned the landscape for the umpteenth time. “Are we someplace in America? Human cities have begun to all look the same to me. I prefer realms where we’re free to be ourselves. Places of magic, like the carnival.”

  The cards in Sebastian’s hands stopped flipping. He turned, looked straight through her, a sense of vexation in his dark eyes. Kyra’s chest squeezed, bruising her ego in one quick, stumble-fly reaction. It hurt. Physically hurt. Her hand clutched at the cement behind her, but the pain evaporated with the blink of his eye—that quick, that simple. As if it never were.

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian mumbled, looking to his feet. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I guess I need to work more on my control. I haven’t figured it all out yet.”

  Sebastian had been the source of her pain. Intriguing. Kyra leaned closer, the thirst for knowledge, a deeper understanding about him, nudging at her back. This was the first time she’d heard him even hint of his inherited gifts. She would never push, though. Not with Sebastian. “I get it. I’ll help if you want.”

  His face lifted, faking a smile, and he returned his gaze to hers, this time less intense, if only slightly. “That would be something.”

  She saw through his pretenses. Whatever he was wrestling with disturbed him more than he cared to voice. She didn’t like seeing him so withdrawn, so cutoff, so distant. She wanted to reach over, take his hand, force him to open up. A blend of control and just enough compassion that would make her father frown. Only, that’s how this friendship made her feel—compassionate. Maybe the tough girl armor was the wrong one to wear in front of Sebastian. She knew little about his kind. So little she had no idea exactly where to pinpoint his species. All she knew for certain was she and Sebastian were not the same. Not that she cared, particularly. She didn’t want to push him away with her volatile personality. Behind his protective façade, she could see him trying. She could try harder, too.

  The idea of someone within whom she could confide made her insides vibrate and heart hammer, for she disliked harboring secrets. Secrets often came back to bite ugly chunks out of her tail.

  Despite Sebastian’s mood, the brooding look fit him. Even looked good on him. It was the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, or how his olive skin would darken, and his indigo eyes took on a look of great knowledge and vulnerability all at once. Kyra and Sebastian were far from similar, and yet, he could easily blend in among her mother’s clan with his warm mocha skin and midnight hair, as long as the clan remained in human form. She would never fit in. Fair skin and deep-set golden eyes were her traits, inherited from her father’s side. She’d tried staying with her father and his clan, but the aspects inherited from her mother’s line became intolerable for them. She was destined to be a nomad, a runaway, with no place to belong. Yet having a little of both parental lines sure came in hellf
ire handy on occasion.

  A card dropped at her feet.

  “Pick it up,” Sebastian said. “You should like it. It’s a good thing.”

  Kyra lifted it and turned it around in her hand. What does this mean? she wondered and stared at the extensive art of the design. Kyra had a vague understanding of the tarot cards. She thought she had their various meanings memorized, but too often found herself confused.

  “It’s The Empress,” he said, looking pleased. “She’s telling you that big decision you’ve been struggling with is in your control.” Sebastian threw her a sharp, meaningful look. “Only you decide what happens next.”

  The stone columns around them vibrated with an inconsistent hum of passing cars on the above bridge. Beneath Sebastian’s stare, Kyra felt itchy and uncomfortable and naked. He knew her too well. Knew her secrets and weaknesses and fortitude. Knew the weight the decision laid upon her. She lacked the comfort of her façade. Having no witty response ready at the tip of her tongue, Kyra stashed the card in her back pocket with a silent acknowledgment, a customary torque of the lips.

  The clatter of footsteps on the adjacent walking path drowned out to a shallow buzz at the back of her ear. Since they were well camouflaged within the shadows and foliage of the surrounding beech trees, she knew the activity overhead shouldn’t give her any concern, and it didn’t, not really. Sebastian was the cause of her internal nagging. There was a reason he’d dragged her out here, far from their home at the carnival. If he had something to tell her, she wished he would do it already.

  Agitation had her swirling her glossy bottle of fuel faster and faster. It was only liquor, and she didn’t need it, but for the purpose of her show it worked well in creating the illusion. Practice made it convincing. “Why are we here? Why are we standing around doing nothing?”

  His focus shifted to the grass at his feet, hiding his face from view. Still visible was the slight tic at the edge of his lip. “I’m waiting for something.”

  Obviously. Stop dragging your feet, Sebastian. “Great.” Kyra leaned against the hard surface beside him, dropped her bottle of whiskey, heard it land with a solid thump, then reached for Sebastian’s hand. She didn’t care he wasn’t clan. Didn’t care if her father would disapprove, or her mother, for that matter. They weren’t present. She only cared about the life she was building now. A life full of carnival misfits. And that included Sebastian. She pictured her parents’ faces if they could see the way she now lived. Ribbons of warmth raced through her blood at the thought. Her fingers glided across Sebastian’s skin, gently weaved their hands together. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right? I’d take your secrets to the grave.” She stared down at their hands, at their connection, a bristled knot settling in her chest.

  Sebastian’s fingers locked onto hers and squeezed. The hold was soft and warm and solid. A grip promising to never let go. And Sebastian’s eyes filled with so much emotion Kyra didn’t know how to interpret it. “That’s why I brought you. I trust you unequivocally. Time I shared this part of me with you.”

  Trust. No one had ever trusted her before. The warmth welling within her heart expanded tenfold and she imagined her bones bursting into cinder. Finally, his secret would be their secret. She tightened the squeeze on his hand, held fast as the world around them melted into wet paint. Nothing else mattered, only the steadfast love and loyalty of true friends. Within it, they found trust.

  Shouts broke out in the distance, destroying the moment. All signs of sensitivity washed from Sebastian’s face. He looked toward the bridge above, toward the commotion, toward…what, exactly? Perking up, Sebastian stepped to the side, out from cover. Following his gaze, Kyra moved into the trees with him and turned toward the clamor.

  On the long stone structure that crossed the river, four men were fighting. It was three against one, more a beating than a fight.

  Sebastian’s lips curled into a sneer—a neither hostile nor jealous sneer, but the kind of sneer one plastered on their face when privy to disapproving bouts of behavior. “Look at those humans, beating on each other like dumb animals.”

  As if she’d jammed her fingers in a light socket, a jolt ran through Kyra. His words surprised her, yet she refused to believe they were his genuine feelings. The false stretch of his lips, strained look in his eyes, gave her reason to think he concealed something, and feigned prejudice to keep his true motives hidden.

  “Don’t be so judgmental,” she said. “It’s not like supernaturals are all high and mighty. After all, why are you hiding at the carnival instead of at home with your family?” A shudder rolled over her, spurred by the thought their stories could be similar. Was he also an outcast? Why else had he remained so closed-lipped? Had he killed to get away? Or would he be killed if caught? Maybe his story wasn’t anything so exciting. Maybe his story wasn’t so different from hers. Full of speculation, she patiently awaited his answer.

  He clenched the deck of cards, turning his knuckles white. Tension built between them. A new development she wasn’t accustomed to. She didn’t understand it and didn’t like it. His right eye quivered. “I have my reasons.”

  Anger churned inside her like liquid magma. Slipping and sliding around the bends in her bloodstream like a firewater jet slide. She’d swear the sun got fifteen degrees hotter. Heated with hatred for being shut out. One minute it was trust, the next an iron hatch slammed in her face. “I bet you do, Mister Tall, Dark, and I-Got-Supernatural-Secrets,” Kyra mumbled, crossing her arms and letting a dismal scowl fall into place on her face.

  Allowing herself to be controlled by petty emotions was unwise. She knew that. Especially when she wasn’t exactly an open book, but her emotions rarely asked for permission before taking control of the helm. Her emotions were the equivalent of a wild card in a poker deck. They could do just about anything.

  Sebastian had never asked more than she was willing to give. She should show him the same courtesy. Not always so easy, though. She didn’t have as much self-control as he did. Or appeared to have. Now something strange brewed between them. Over what? She couldn’t define the emotions or the circumstances, which only made it worse.

  “Damn be to Hades.” Sebastian scuffed his foot along the ground. “I’m sorry, Kyra. I’m just stressed right now.”

  She pretended to assess him, even though there was no need. He wore his stress like a magician’s cape. “It’s kinda showing. Might want to tuck it back under your shirt.” Sebastian laughed. It was fake and lacked luster, failing to light up his face the way his genuine laughter always did.

  Sebastian’s body went ramrod straight. Smoke scorched Kyra’s nostrils in her irritation. He ignored her—his stare transfixed at the far end of the bridge. “There! He’s there.” Sebastian took another step into the clearing, another step closer to the water, closer to the commotion of human civilization.

  Someone stood at the far edge of the bridge, instantly recognizable as non-human. He moved with a sense of belonging toward the men fighting. Hard to describe, he was the type you didn’t want to notice. You knew he was there when looking directly at him, yet you didn’t want to see or acknowledge his presence. All Kyra could decently distinguish was a nondescript dark gray suit and hat to match. Through all her travels over the years, she’d never seen anything or anyone like him. He was a mystery.

  He was invisible to normal perception. Alarms buzzed inside her like electrified wire. She wanted to be on the bridge, investigating the curious stranger.

  Kyra tried to make her words roll out in a drool, attempted to sound bored, unenthused. Instead, excitement—eagerness—escaped. “Great. Shall we go meet him?”

  Sebastian’s eyes widened and froze. “No!”

  It wasn’t that caught-you-naked-doing-something-you-shouldn’t kind of look. No. It ran far deeper. She glanced between her friend and the new man. Something properly serious bothered Sebastian, and she didn’t think it was her reaction. She wanted to bite right to the core of the shituation. “You
know what’s funny? I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty, because he’s so far away, but that guy smells a lot like you. Haven’t come across that before. Is he related?”

  That would clarify a few things. Kyra had been drawn to Sebastian’s mysterious side. It was alluring, exciting. Whatever stood on the bridge was equally as mystifying. Of course, she’d been intrigued by the mystery back in the beginning. Now she was ready to be in on the secret.

  Kyra had the strangest desire to look back at the man. One quick peek, she spied him already halfway across the bridge, past the four-man squabble, nearing their edge of the extension. He was so close now. The stranger tipped his hat in her direction, sending a horde of butterflies loose within her innards. Sebastian blinked, sucked in his breath. The top tarot card of his deck flipped from his hands toward the water. The colors flickered across her sight, cutting through the air with more precision than a Lightning Bolt throwing knife. It sailed straight for the rough current.

  Kyra reached out, missed the card. It was too far away. She looked back at her friend’s drawn face, knowing the deck was his livelihood. “Don’t worry. I got this.” A too-cocky smile spread wide across her face. With a wave of her hand, she called upon the wind. It answered, like it usually did, churning her rust hair in its wake. The card swirled up in a loop and swooped back onto land, into her awaiting palm. Her cocky smile spread inward, warming and tingling and palpitating with success. She held the prize up to Sebastian. “See. I told you—”

  A splash cannonaded behind her, the explosion blossoming a flutter of fealty throughout Kyra’s hearty being. Surprise, confusion, they strangled her. Shoving the card into the hands of a milky-faced Sebastian, she turned toward ripples rolling out from the one spot on the water’s surface calling her—her target.

  Three men ran away on the bridge above. One was missing. She looked to the water, then back to the bridge. The way the men ran reminded her of a snippet from a low-budget, human action flick. Her heart tripped over a beat and she didn’t understand why. All she knew was she had to go, had to follow the feeling, the pull. She half stumbled, half rushed forward, a trickle of sweat sneaking down her brow, quietly escaping her beastly anxiousness.