Chapter Sixteen
Kylie
“Thank you so much for your help, Sergeant,” she said politely to the middle-aged woman with the big curly brown hair sitting behind the desk.
“Oh, you’re welcome, ma’am. I truly am sorry about what happened to your house.”
Kylie nodded, overcome by a wave of sadness. “It wasn’t much.” She laughed, a sad, forlorn sound. “It was a dump, actually. But you know, despite that…”
“It was your dump,” Sergeant Coles finished with an understanding smile.
“Exactly. Nobody burns down my dump,” she said, putting on a stronger face.
“You go girl.” Sergeant Coles reached out and tapped her hand. “We’ll get this all filed away, don’t you worry. The insurance company should contact you shortly.”
“Thank you so much. I wouldn’t have known what to do if it weren’t for your help.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Coles said jovially. “Now go try to enjoy the day. The weather at least, is looking lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She glanced out the front doors of the police headquarters. “It really is. Thank you, Sergeant Coles. I think I will go do just that.”
With a wave goodbye she headed toward the large sliding doors and the fresh summer air. Originally she’d gone down to the firehouse, but apparently everything was actually handled by the police. The fire department just put the flames out. So she’d journeyed the few blocks to the police station, where Sergeant Coles had guided her hand through filling out everything necessary, while doing her best to keep the mood light and happy.
Kylie was feeling buoyed now, her spirits higher than they had been in some time. Yes, her life was in shambles. Her job was all wrong for her, she had no car and no house. But at the same time she’d found an awesome man in Corde, who was kind, gentle, caring, and seemed like a nice guy who had just screwed up. She could help him with that. Was helping him with that.
Staying with him would help her get back on her feet. He was so supportive of her desire, of the fact that she just wanted to help people. Like him.
The doors slid open ahead of her and she emerged into the sun, the rays immediately energizing her. Her lips pulled up tighter as the smile grew. The sun was rising on the start of a new day. A new chapter in her life. One with the odd, but seemingly harmless Corde in it. A new day for a new start. A fresh start. Maybe she would be able to go back to school, to do like Corde had suggested, helping those who wanted help. She could be a counselor of some sort perhaps. The possibilities seemed endless. She wasn’t even sure what she might do, but the doors were opening after remaining sealed shut for so very long. The sun was shining in her soul.
Yawning, she stretched, remembering with a little smile that she hadn’t gotten much in the way of sleep last night. Tonight was going to be an early one. Corde would just have to have his way with her a little early. She doubted he would object. Not once he found out what she had in mind.
With a skip in her step she started down the long ramp that led back to the street, phone in hand as she called a cab. The process hadn’t taken all that long after all, she would likely make it out to Corde and the others only shortly after they started for the day.
A commotion near the bottom of the ramp caught her eye, and she paused, watching as a police SUV pulled up. The heavily retrofitted black vehicle came to a halt and several reporters surged forward, adjusting cameras on their shoulders or phones in their hands as if to record audio.
“What’s going on?” she asked another person who had stopped to watch.
“No idea.”
She pushed closer as officers emerged from the vehicle. One started shouting at the reporters to back away, to give them space. There were perhaps half a dozen all told, so it really wasn’t much of a circus, but the cop still looked agitated. Worried.
“What’s the deal?” she asked as one reporter clutching their modern smartphone in hand came near.
“It’s him!”
“Yeah. Who?” she asked. The attention obviously wasn’t on her.
“The man with the sword of fire. They caught him again when he burst into the street through a building and started telling people he was going to kill them again.”
“The what? Who?” Kylie didn’t pay much attention to the news. It was hard without a television or a cell phone. It often left her feeling out of the loop. Like now.
“Have you been living under a rock for the past week and a half? The fire-sword man. He’s a giant of muscle, wields a sword made entirely of fire. Twice now he’s been seen threatening people with it. But that’s not the craziest part.” The reporter was on her tiptoes now, trying to peer over a couple of her colleagues as one officer opened the rear door.
“What is?”
“The sword just disappears into thin air, like a magic trick. But we have cell phone video from all angles and we’ve analyzed it. There is nothing he does to make it appear or disappear. Nor is he holding anything. It’s as if it’s real fire. But it has to be some sort of trick.”
Kylie’s world froze as one massive booted foot emerged from the back of the SUV. Time seemed to slow, and she heard the perfect little world she’d been constructing in her head just minutes ago begin to crack. The first chunk fell from the sky, with more of it following as a tall man with blond hair that fell just above his eyes emerged from the vehicle. As he stood up he gave his head a flick to push the hair off his forehead.
It was Corde.
His hands were secured behind his back with various restraints but he stood tall and proud, just the way she remembered him. But it was the eyes, the eyes that were different. They were sad and empty. Dejected. No, defeated.
“He’s the one who threatened all those people with a…did you say a sword?” she asked.
“A fire sword, yes!” The reporter wasn’t really paying attention to her, and now that Corde was visible she surged forward, shouting questions, demanding to know why he was so intent on killing people.
Kylie couldn’t move. Her feet remained rooted to the spot as Corde waited for the officer to start moving him forward. His eyes surveyed the crowd of reporters, instantly dismissing them. Then his gaze found Kylie, the recognition of who it was staring at him jolting him visibly. The crowd flinched back as his muscles flexed suddenly, making him appear all the more imposing in the blink of an eye.
He turned toward her, the officer gripping his arm simply taken along for a ride, unable to stop him or force him forward.
But no words came to her. What would it really matter what she said anyway? Everything she’d thought about him, all the words he’d told her, the promises he’d made. They all fell flat. No matter what he said, she doubted she’d be able to believe him now.
I should have left when he first told me he was a dragon.
That was the sign she should have heeded. Just leave and never look back. Whatever she thought she knew about him, it was obviously wrong. All his words were lies. The promises about not being that sort of person—she knew them to be false.
Corde watched all this play across her face, and she saw the pain at her rejection growing, but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him. All the secrets he’d kept… it was too much. Kylie had let herself get swept off her feet by his charm and good looks.
The reporters were starting to pick up on the tension between the two of them, their gazes and cameras starting to swing toward her. Not wanting to be a part of that, Kylie just shook her head at Corde, the simple gesture telling him everything.
It was over. Done. She was going to go back to the penthouse, collect her belongings, and leave. Where she would end up was an as yet unanswered question, but it didn’t matter, as long as it was away from Corde, and Vanek, and the idea of dragons and fire swords and everything. She just needed out.
He took a step toward her, shouting her name. “Kylie!” His voice was filled with anguish, the pain gnawing at her, but it was too late now.
Kylie stepped back, maintaining the distance between them in a very visible display of rejection. She’d made up her mind. He’d promised to go to community service, and instead he’d gone and proven he hadn’t changed at all since the day she met him.
“Goodbye, Corde,” she whispered, noticing his head rock back as she spoke. Could he hear her? It didn’t matter.
Turning, she shuffled down the sidewalk in a half-walk half-jog until she could turn the corner, leaving the police, the reporters, and most importantly Corde, behind her. In the past.
Where he was going to stay.