The Fire King (17 page)

Karr swallowed hard, and closed his eyes. “Rest, then. Be at ease.”

She made a barely audible sound of assent, but remained stiff in his arms. Karr calmed far more quickly. His stomach was full and his eyelids heavy. It seemed unfair to him that after being dead for thousands of years, he should still need slumber.

Just before he drifted off, Soria let out a quiet sigh and softened against him, finally relaxing. He was glad. He did not want her to be afraid of him.

She should be. You know what the risks are.

Yet he could not let go. He told himself it was because she was cold, but the truth was that he was just as cold—freezing and empty inside, and alone. The vastness of the sky frightened him. It was the same sky, and the same stars, just as he was the same man; but everything else had changed. He had nothing to hold on to anymore.

So he held on to Soria, and finally went to sleep.

Kisses were unique as snowflakes, and so were a man’s arms. No man had ever held Soria in the same way as another. Her boyfriend in high school had been too nervous to do more than pat her on the shoulder like one of the guys, while there had been a fellow in college who never held her at all, not unless he wanted something. Some men enjoyed groping when they got close, while others embraced like a cage.

Roland, who had been her last close relationship, had been tender and gruff, but even so—in something as simple as a hug—she had always felt the thinnest of walls between them. As though he was trying too hard; as though her presence, at times, made him uncomfortable.

The language of touch was just as sensitive and varied as words, full of nuance, personality, history. Soria had never been able to stop calculating the different sensations and what they meant. Always searching for the message. But she stopped thinking when Karr curled around her, his arm draped over her empty sleeve and waist, his body warm against her back. She quit analyzing, stopped conjugating every moment. She listened to other things, like her thunderous heart, and the tease of his deep, slow breathing, hot on her neck.

She got lost. Forgot why she was supposed to be afraid. In his arms, there was no fear; just warmth and safety, and comfort. Not that she could appreciate it at first. It was too new, too unexpected. She was not supposed to feel this way about him. Or anyone.

Half a woman. Half a good hump.

No. She did not believe that. Not really.

But it had been a long time since anyone had looked past the missing arm. Too long since she had been around anyone who could make her forget what she had lost. Who could just make her feel, utterly and completely, like herself.

Don’t think about it. Don’t you dare. Not the time, not the place, not the right man.

Yeah, well. It was kind of hard to ignore him.

Soria sank back against Karr’s chest, pretending it was harmless to do so, that there would be no consequences. Just her and him. Drifting to sleep.

Which she did, finally. Blissfully. She was swallowed into darkness, where her aching stump could not follow, and where in dreams she had her arm again.

Near dawn she woke. Perhaps less than an hour asleep. Her eyes fluttered open just enough to reveal a faint light in the eastern horizon, and above it, a distant golden spark in the sky. A falling star, she thought sleepily. A floating, falling star.

Karr stirred restlessly, his arm tightening around her waist. She thought he might be awake, but he made a small sound that was both muffled and pained. Dreaming, she thought. Nightmares.

Soria rolled over, which was way more uncomfortable than she expected it to be. Rocks dug into her side, and her hip and neck ached. There was no way to prop herself up, either. She did not like lying down on her right side. Too much pressure on her stump.

She forgot her discomfort, however, when she saw Karr’s face: contorted, bones shifting in random rippling waves, his features melting into a patchwork of scales and fur and human flesh. Golden light trickled from behind his closed eyes, his mouth hanging open in silent anguish.

Looking at him made her afraid. She knew what violence there could be in waking someone from a bad dream. She had hurt people in the beginning, those who got too close to her in sleep—her friends, parents. She had made Eddie’s lip bleed during those first days in the hospital. But Karr’s embrace was too tight to escape. Her hand hovered over his shifting face.

“Hey,” she whispered, and grazed the tips of her fingers against his brow.

Pain pulsed through her head, followed by a shock of light as though thunderbolts were shooting from the sky into her skull. She glimpsed a battlefield littered with corpses, some of them animal, and standing among the bleeding dead was a small group of men and women who were animals themselves: Karr, larger than any of them, was wearing the form of a golden dragon. He was covered in blood, his claws gripping a sword. His eyes were profoundly grim. A wolf stood beside him, hand buried in the long hair of a golden-eyed man whose head he was yanking back—exposing his throat. The man was dying, not a threat, but the wolf’s claws were raised for a kill, and there was no mercy in his eyes.

No,
Karr whispered to him, reaching for his wrist—and then the vision dissolved into children—children screaming in the night, tumbling from humans into animals as they ran through a cool stone temple. Karr was behind them, eyes glowing, scooping up every one in his path, his arms full as small, clawed hands dug into his shoulders and neck, making him bleed. Other adults were with him, doing the same, but Soria could not see them well. Just Karr. Racing from the temple onto a narrow trail that led up a rocky cliff, shouts behind him, whistles and grunts. A blur, then a cave—a cave with a rough-hewn statue in front—darkness full of weeping faces and Karr, shoving children inside, whispering,
Do not be afraid. Stay here. Be silent. I will protect you.

But screams followed him as the night bled again, filled with the desperate high cries of those children, their faces lit by fire. Fire thrown at them. Fire blocking them. Fire destroying them.

It was the most horrible thing Soria had ever witnessed, and she battled to be free of it, fought with all her strength as Karr’s mind boiled and burned through her, roiled with grief and rage and thunder.

At the last moment—on the very tip of escape—she felt a sword run through her body. Her hands touched the blade, and another dizzying light filled her mind, swallowed up by the image of the same weapon, but blackened with age, the metal corroded. It was displayed in a glass case, inside a room filled with armor, and books.

There,
whispered a voice inside her.
Go there.
A map flashed before her, a red dot with pulsing red lines that spiraled away across a golden plain, trailing into the gut of a rough cloth doll shaped like a man, golden eyes sewn into its head.
Follow the threads.

Soria tore herself loose, and opened her eyes. She was blind at first, mind still lost in screams, and fire, and the image of a sword, but she blinked hard, fighting to be free, and when her vision cleared she found herself in the same position, as if no time had passed at all. Her hand was still pressed lightly on Karr’s face, his arm snug around her waist. At some point, his features had stopped shifting; he looked like a man again.

But his eyes were open, and he was staring at her. His intensity was breathtaking, threatening. Soria felt an unaccountable stab of guilt, as though she had willfully pried open some secret diary and aired its pages to the world.

“You saw,” he whispered. “I felt you in my head.”

Her hand jerked away. “I was trying to wake you. You were having a nightmare.”

Karr grabbed her wrist, pinning it behind her back as he dragged her under him, holding down her body with his hips and arms. Fury filled his glowing eyes. “Was that all you were trying to do?”

Soria lay very still, fighting back burning tears. “It was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” he snapped, grief replacing fury. “Are you pleased with what you
accidentally
saw? Will you report back to you masters, your allies, with tales of children burning alive? I am certain they will be
completely
satisfied.”

“Get off me,” Soria growled, still lost in the memories of those small, frightened faces staring at Karr with trust. Tears slid free, rolling down her temples into her hair. “Get the fuck away.”

“Not until you tell me what you were trying to discover.”

“Nothing.”

He shook her. “Do not lie.”

“I am not!”
she screamed at him, her throat aching, unable to stop her tears. “I would never want to see that.”

Karr stared at her. His red-rimmed eyes were too bright—not with light, but with tears of his own. “Then why?”

All the fight went out of her, a vast and terrible weariness swallowing her aching heart. “I told you.”

“An accident,” he repeated, studying her face like it was an awful puzzle, with all the pieces scattered.

He released her, and threw himself sideways, flopping on his back. Digging his palms into his eyes. Soria lay very still, trying to catch her breath and not sob outright. It was impossible. She could not stop crying.

“You were dreaming,” she said brokenly.

“Sometimes,” he murmured hoarsely, “I feel as though I am always dreaming.”

“Who—” She stopped, forced to take a deep, shuddering breath. “Who attacked?”

He grimaced. “You know the answer. I believe I have made it plain.”

Shape-shifters. Burning children alive.
A shudder raced through her. “Why? Why do such a terrible thing? You told me before that your kind were their mistakes, but I still do not—”

Karr help up his hand. “Stop.”

Yes, stop. You should have stopped long ago, never come here, never left the airport, never left home, never stopped your goddamn car on that road. Maybe you should stop breathing while you’re at it, too.

“No,” Soria whispered. “No.”

Karr tilted his head, staring at her. “We are the chimera. We are the broken breed.”

She stared, uncomprehending. His jaw tightened, tears still rimming his hollow eyes. “My mother was a pure-blooded shape-shifter. As was my father. But they wore different skins. She was a dragon. He, a lion. They loved each other. They had me. It was forbidden.”

“I still do not—”

“Our natures make us unstable,” Karr said through gritted teeth. “We are constantly torn between three bodies, and the split can extend to our minds as well. We can … lose ourselves. When that happens, the results are often violent.”

Soria closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what he was telling her, but all she could see were those small faces, those tiny hands clinging to Karr. “No one kills children because of that.”

“You kill them before it is too late,” he whispered. “You kill them before they grow large and strong, and can fight back. You kill them to teach others a lesson, to show them what will happen if they dare to place their hearts where they should not.”

Soria stared, horrified. “That explains nothing!”

Karr squeezed shut his eyes, pain creasing his face. “Leave it be. Just … please.”

She did not want to leave it. Not until she understood—if such a thing was possible. But she took one look at him and could not open her mouth. Not now.

The eastern horizon was growing lighter. Some distance away, Soria heard a bell tinkle, and the bleat of goats. She rubbed her eyes, grabbed the not-so-clean edge of the sheet crumpled beside her, and blew her nose.

Karr asked quietly, “Did I hurt you?”

Her entire shoulder ached. “A little.”

He rolled to his feet and walked a short distance away, his back turned to her. He stood like that for a moment, staring at the ground and then the sky. Soria looked up again as well. The stars were fading.

Karr pushed down the jogging pants and tossed them aside. Soria was too wrung out to feel embarrassed. She stared, openly, and he turned to meet her gaze with a hollow grief that cut her to the quick. A golden glow shimmered down his chest. Scales rippled to the surface.

“I will take you back if you wish,” he rumbled. “To the city where we came from.”

She almost said yes, ready to go home and hide. But, then:
There is nothing for you there.
It was a soft, insidious whisper, rising from her heart into her head.
Nothing that will warm you, heal you, nourish you.

It was true, she realized. What was home for her? Just a job interview and a missing arm, and people who looked at her with pity—or people who did not look at her at all. She could return to Dirk & Steele, take up with her old friends, but it would never be the same. She would never forget those children screaming in her mind. She would never have the answers she now so desperately craved.

“Do you want me gone?” she asked him.

The sounds of bones cracking filled the air. Karr dropped to his knees, neck and torso elongating to inhuman lengths while his claws dug deeply into the dirt. “When it comes to you,” he rumbled hoarsely, no longer looking at her, “I do not know what I want.”

Soria stumbled to her feet, bundling up the bloodstained sheet against her chest. She walked on unsteady legs to where Karr knelt, bathed in gold, twice his human size now, and no longer just a man. He was a dragon with the legs of a lion, immense wings folded gracefully against his back. She thought she would never become accustomed to the sight, no matter how many times she saw him in all his varied bodies.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I truly did not mean you any harm.”

“We are both unpredictable,” he murmured—and then, “It is not safe for you to stay with me.”

She knelt to peer into his eyes, which glittered in a long, delicate skull that was high-cheeked, fine-boned, and utterly alien. “So why are you letting me?”

He gave her a sharp look. “You do not wish to return to the city?”

“No. Are you going to accuse me of lying about that, too?”

Even dragons could grimace, she discovered; but his gaze turned suspicious as well, muscles flexing in his long throat, claws digging deeper into the dry soil. He began to speak, and Soria placed her hand over his mouth, which was little more than a beaked snout.