Reap Not the Dragon: (An Urban Fantasy Series) (Age of the Hybrid Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Welcome

  Tis Death’s Park, where he breeds life to feed him

  Wrecked

  Coffee

  Early

  Caged

  Dragons

  Alice

  Unforeseen

  Crimp

  Downtime

  Formality

  Bolsvck

  Sacrifice

  Erroneous

  Before you go

  Moorigad Dragon

  Plight of the Dragon

  Dark Perceptions

  Acknowledgements

  Glossary of Terms

  Copyright

  For my mom,

  the most amazing woman I’ve had the privilege to know.

  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~

  “Tis Death’s Park, where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.”

  ~ George Eliot

  Death was always the same. Not the people or the place or the circumstance. That changed from one stop to the next. Each one unique in its own special way. But Sebastian had come to understand his calling in the past few weeks and now recognized the signs for what they were. Always present. Always pulling. And always overwhelming with the constant stench of death. His own personal calling card.

  Sebastian had lost count of the number of souls he’d helped cross over since embracing his Reaper half. He’d fought his destiny. Feared being an icon of death. A messenger of doom. All to help Kyra escape Purgatory. For her, he’d do it again in a fluttered heartbeat. She was more than his best friend. He’d come to crave everything she brought to their relationship. Even the rage of her dragon.

  Things were different now, though. He understood a Reaper’s value.

  And Kyra…well, she didn’t remember him. At all. Of course, he would change that. Very soon. First he had to get past Marcus’s damn barrier spell. Sebastian clenched his fist and imagined it slamming into Marcus’s jawline.

  Damn Marcus for taking Kyra.

  Damn him for keeping her from Sebastian.

  And damn him for escaping the Reaper.

  Sebastian stood beside his second stop of the day. If he had a choice, he’d be at Marcus’s door right now, but the opportunity to get away from his father’s prying eyes had yet to present itself. So he tried to behave like any young trainee and assessed the scene. The asphalt spread before him, a dark and crumbled highway to the unknown—at least, unknown to most who found themselves in need of Sebastian’s services. He knew exactly where it led.

  An empty aluminum can lay at his feet. With slow and deliberate intention, he knelt down and retrieved the evidence. Beer. Sunlight reflected off its silver surface as he spun it with his fingers, then shoved it at the boy standing before him. Right into his hands. Hands covered with blood.

  “Think that last drink was a good idea?” Sebastian cocked his head, indicating the mangled mass of metal sitting on the edge of the road. Steam poured out from under the crushed hood.

  With an air of indifference, the boy peered at the crumpled can, then over at the crash site, before looking back at Sebastian. The boy’s face resembled an emotionless wax dummy’s. He shrugged. “Ehh. Sure, the car is a loss, but I have insurance, and look at me! Not a scratch. Pretty awesome. Right, dude?” He casually brushed the dirt from his shirt. “What the…?” He swatted harder, trying to remove the foreign object stuck to the front of him.

  Sebastian knew it was wrong to feel the way he did, but he loved when this happened. A slow, deliberate grin spread across his lips. “That’s my claim ticket, Lance.” He soaked up pleasure in the taunting, the boy’s name lingering on his tongue, dragging out slow and deliberate.

  A tarot card clung to the fabric of the boy’s shirt like a second skin—a dancing skeleton prancing across his chest. Sebastian watched blatant confusion and fear spread across the boy’s face.

  Deep valleys curved the flesh across Lance’s forehead. “Hey man. Do I know you? How do you know my name?” His voice wavered.

  “Think you made it out unscathed? You might want to take a closer look.” Sebastian motioned to the wreckage across the road.

  Lance flinched at Sebastian’s words. He whirled around, faced the ruin, and darted forward. Sebastian knew he rushed for proof, proof of the Reaper’s lies. There were always types like Lance. Never trusting. Always needing to see for themselves. There was no denying the moment Lance discovered the truth about his misguided assumption. The quickened pulse, the bulging eyes, the sudden intake of breath—something Lance hadn’t yet discovered he no longer needed.

  Crumpled behind the wheel in the driver’s seat slumped an exact duplicate of the teenager standing near Sebastian. Only the one in the car looked like a broken doll, staring into a void. He was nothing but an empty shell, left vacant by the confused, departed soul.

  “But—I—Sophie—” Lance stammered.

  “Yes.” The word dripped like castor oil from Sebastian’s lips as he stepped behind the addled soul. He dropped his fingers upon the boy’s shoulder in one quick tap before trailing them down his upper back.

  Lance broke into a dance of shivers and shudders, then twitches. A mask of dread slipped in, contorting his face and replacing his once-handsome features. A small cry escaped. He turned, glued his gaze on Sebastian, an overwhelming plea swimming in his eyes. “What did you—?”

  But it was already too late.

  He was sinking, melting down through the ground. Pulled by long, dark, shadowy arms, reaching and grabbing and dragging him under.

  Sebastian watched until the boy was no more, knowing his destination was hot and horrific. Excruciatingly torturous. With Lance gone, Sebastian breathed deep, relief blooming in the knowledge the worst was done. He crossed the road, circled the battered car, and approached the passenger side. There she waited, as if in limbo, completely unaware. He placed his hand upon the open window with the tender touch of a grief counselor. The trigger. Her eyes popped open and her head snapped up.

  The girl was still dressed in her high school cheerleading uniform and wore Lance’s senior ring on a chain around her neck. “Where am I? What happened?” Her voice cracked, rough and dry, from a throat in need of water.

  Sebastian opened the car door and laid his palm out before her, awaiting her hand, and offering to help her from the vehicle. “Come. Let me help you.”

  Her gaze glanced over him, then over the scene again. “Where’s Lance?”

  Sebastian knelt, dropping down to the car’s front seat level so they could meet eye to eye. “Don’t worry about Lance. Let’s take care of you. Will you allow me to help you, Sophie?”

  Sophie sucked in a deep breath. Her frail body teetered backwards, and then slowly swayed upright. Slipping her hand into Sebastian’s palm, she
stood, stepped away from the car, and stared at her Reaper. Her eyes widened. “Your aura, it’s so...”

  Sebastian warmed her hand in his and looked away.

  She tilted her head. “You don’t want to know. Do you?”

  Fact was, he didn’t. He feared the knowing. Feared what his true aura would say about him. As long as he was ignorant of the truth, he could avoid admitting ugly truisms. “You can tell me if you want to,” he said, “but it won’t do me any good. I’m fated to what I am. I doubt the color of my aura will make a difference one way or the other.” He looked past her and his shoulders sagged. “Are you ready?”

  Sophie followed his gaze, her own falling on the broken sight behind them. “Oh!” She turned back, allowed Sebastian to pull her away, away from the wreckage. “I didn’t make it, did I?” Her voice was weak and tearful.

  Sebastian understood. She didn’t want to see the mangled remains in the car. In the last few weeks, he’d heard the request many times. They rarely wanted to know, usually preferred to remember themselves as they’d been before, not how they’d ended up. He agreed it was for the best.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie.” He glanced at her from beneath a fall of dark hair. “Do you need some time to let it sink in?”

  Her eyes glazed over and she stared into the distance. “No.” As if chilled, she crossed her arms and hugged herself. Sebastian supposed it was an attempt at self-comfort. “My parents,” she whispered.

  He brushed his hand back through his hair, shifted his weight. “It’ll be hard, but they’ll be alright. Trust me. If you’d like, I’ll have someone check on them.”

  Sophie glanced up, her eyes bright with tears. “Would you do that?”

  He jerked back. “Me?” He searched her face, looking for any doubt, but found none. “If that is what you really want, I will.”

  Sophie nodded. “It is. Thank you.”

  Sunlight bled through the trees lining the roadside, and Sophie’s blonde hair reflected the light in ribbons of gold. It’s a shame she moved on so young, so senselessly, thought Sebastian, but it was only his job to make the transition as painless as possible. He didn’t get to choose who or where or when.

  He pushed her hair away from her face and hooked it behind her ear. The action reminded him of Kyra. How many times he had wanted to brush back her wild red hair. Bravery had never backed him long enough to make that move, and now—

  He shoved his personal baggage aside and focused on Sophie. “Are you ready?” he asked again.

  She blinked and responded with a nod. It was a shaky nod. One that wasn’t sure of its true answer, yet wanted to be.

  Warmth spread across Sebastian’s skin and the edges of his lips curled up into a smile. “Don’t be afraid. It’s a far better place you go. Makes this place look like detention.”

  Sophie’s face glowed, garnished with a genuine smile and silent laughter. Sebastian smiled, too, outwardly if not committed inwardly. His heart warmed, taking pleasure in the small moments of his quotidian. Sebastian let his hand drop to her elbow. “In all seriousness, you’ve led a good life, Sophie. You have nothing to fear.” He looked over her shoulder to a spot beyond human visibility.

  The turn of his body, the pull of his arm, all signaled Sophie to follow his lead. Extraordinary light seeped through the opening, expanding in broad beams of intense emotion and illumination. It pushed forward and out, opening like no other door. Each time Sebastian lived the experience with someone, the crossing, their door, and what waited beyond was unique. Fingers of warmth, acceptance, and love slipped through the gateway, swirling and winding their way toward Sophie. Dazzling ambassadors to take her home.

  Through the opening, Sebastian caught glimpses of the new world to which she was destined. One bathed in unimaginable beauty. So intense was the sight, he could barely look upon it. But it was not meant for him. It was never meant for him. This invitation was for Sophie and Sophie alone. Sebastian raised his hand to shield his eyes.

  Verse swept through the gap, melodious words wrapping around Sophie, pulling on her like a magnet. Sebastian felt it. Felt the tenor in the music and felt her emotion. He felt it all. All part of his supernatural gift, the pros and cons of being a Reaper. He was only a Minor Reaper, but he was still bestowed with the gifts and abilities to guide his clients. His father preferred to refer to the clients as marks. Sebastian never thought of the individuals he helped that way. With some exceptions, such as Lance.

  Sebastian felt the fervor flowing from the gate, urging Sophie onward. “You should go. You’ll be fulfilled there.”

  When Sophie turned and looked back, she glowed the most brilliant color of rose. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, and then pulled back. “My parents?”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thank you. You’re a good man.” She turned to leave, then paused, looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t get your name.”

  Sebastian fought a grin and looked down. He casually pointed to the bottom edge of her skirt. “It’s Sebastian, and it’s been a pleasure.”

  She glanced down and saw the tarot card plastered an inch above her hemline. “Is that your card? Will I find your number scribbled on it somewhere?”

  Sebastian laughed. “You should be so lucky.”

  “You can’t blame a girl for trying to get to know her savior.”

  His face drooped, body chilled to dry ice temperature. He’d dragged this one out too long. A savior? He was anything but. Sophie needed to go—leave—move on. With the sweep of an arm, he motioned for her to start. She sighed, but didn’t argue. In slow, forever steps, she moved forward as Sebastian had suggested, on through the door and into the brilliance of the light beyond. Exceptional radiance, something he’d never know, flowed all around her, painting her the illusion of the perfect angel.

  Three steps in, her footing faltered. She stopped and called back, “Maybe I’ll see you again…in your next life?”

  Sebastian’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Nice thought. Highly unlikely. There’s no place for my kind where you’re going.” He watched her face drop and knew it was time to terminate the conversation. “Goodbye, Sophie.” He turned and walked away.

  Circling the heap of twisted metal, Sebastian crossed the road. He walked directly to the man waiting where the asphalt met dirt. Waiting and watching. Tall and lean, the man stood supporting his weight against the side of a telephone pole. His hands were shoved deep into the pants pockets of his gray wool suit. Only one button was done on his jacket, and he wore his hat on a slight tilt. A slap-n-stick name tag clung to the breast pocket of his jacket. Bold red letters ran across the top saying Hi! My name is. Scribbled beneath that in black was the name Mr. Smith. Sebastian thought the tag and the man wearing it—his father, actually named Mortifier—were a grim joke. Nevertheless, the air vibrated around him, hinting to his importance.

  He grinned at Sebastian. “Awfully sweet on that one. Spent far too much time.”

  Sebastian huffed. “You’re entitled to your opinion. I see nothing wrong in treating them with a little kindness and respect.” He glanced back at the gateway. Sophie was barely visible; the light practically enveloped her. As it should, he thought. That was her home now. The doorway flashed with unmeasurable luminosity, collapsing the window inward, closing off the passageway.

  Sebastian turned back toward the man in the suit. Mortifier stood straighter, fixed his jacket as he regarded Sebastian. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. You would be wise to heed me every now and then.”

  “I’ll keep that under advisement…Dad.”

  Mortifier laughed. “You do have a spark about you. Reminds me of someone.” His hand flipped, exaggerating his meaning. It was unnecessary. Sebastian knew he’d meant himself.

  His father punched a finger toward the middle of the street. The slightest of marks was now visible where the boy had descended. It left a scar upon the asphalt for all to see. Sebastian looked, but said not a word.

/>   Mortifier circled around, placing himself between the site and Sebastian. “What did you do to him, before you sent him off? You added something to that unique cocktail of yours, didn’t you?”

  Sebastian’s gaze slowly raised to meet the superior Grim Reaper’s, his jaw tight. “I simply sent him where he was meant to go. You saw the kind of life he led.”

  Something gleamed in his father’s eyes as he stared down at Sebastian. “Yes, that I know. But you did something else. Tell me.”

  Sebastian looked away, his face falling like a shadow slipping in at sundown. He didn’t want his father to see his shame. Not now. Maybe not ever. He wouldn’t understand. Mortifier felt fine sending souls to Hell. Ending life on the spot. Not Sebastian. And what he had done was worse. Not only had Sebastian tortured the man without reason, he’d crossed the line, violated the guy’s privacy. Digging into people’s secret thoughts and turning what he’d found against them was wrong. He hated himself for it.

  “I gave the guy a nightmare,” he said. “Plucked his most isolated fear and set it free to ravage his mind. I’m not proud, okay?”

  Deep, dark, deranged laughter burst from Mortifier’s lungs. It filled the air around them and the sound of glass crackling responded from the wreck across the road.

  “Enough! Stop it,” Sebastian demanded.

  His father, now quiet, took on a nefarious, loaded grin. “It’s quite marvelous. Don’t you see? You are exactly as I had hoped.” He reached out to touch Sebastian, only to have Sebastian smack his hand away.

  Sebastian notched his fists on his hips and narrowed his eyes, staring at his father. “All I can see is that you made me into a freak. A freak that was never meant to be.” He raked his hand through his hair, took a deep breath. “I don’t fit in anywhere. And I never will. Mom doesn’t want me because of what I am. And you want me for all the wrong reasons.” He turned in a slow circle and let his hand fall. It slapped across the front of his leg. “Don’t think I’m here for some father-son bonding session. That couldn’t be further from the truth.” Sebastian stepped back onto the road. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be. Made a promise to a girl.”