Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (3 page)

Where else, indeed.

“Mr. Stone said it was a wishing crystal. He said I should give it to Mommy and tell her to make a special wish. But I was sad, so
I
wished on it instead. And then it… it… b-broke.”

Danbur gave up trying to make sense of the snarled tangle of thoughts tumbling through his brain. Perhaps it would all fall into place once he had interrogated the personage who had given Sera the crystal—this Mr. Stone. And if the interrogation proved fruitless then so be it. A warrior could ill afford to be distracted on the battlefield, and this new reality was but another battlefield to be conquered. He needed a clear head. He needed to remain focused. But it was impossible to gain the clarity he needed when one thought snagged in his mind and refused to be banished.

A wishing crystal….

His gaze sought the child’s. “What did you wish for, Sera?”

Her eyes shone with a suspicious gleam. Her lower lip did that tiny quiver that made him want to snatch her up and shelter her from life’s harsh lessons, but he did not wish to scare her again. Nor did he want to promise something he couldn’t deliver—not when he could be taken by an old sorcerer’s vengeful magic again at any moment. And so he remained silent and still. Watchful.

She stared at him, her pretty eyes awash with tears, mouth twisted with an expression he instinctively recognized as a combination of shame and rage—a twin of what might be reflected on his own face right now if he allowed emotion to rule him. Shame, for his weakness. And rage, for knowing himself helpless as this child to fight whatever the guardian of the crystals had planned for him.

“What did you wish for, Seraphine?” That sharp, biting agony returned, scouring his skull in a heated rush that had ebbed by the time he’d reacted and clenched his jaws against the pain. Now it was merely a dull throbbing behind his eyes, a throbbing that was exacerbated by the caterwauling coming from the musical box, where the singer was now insisting an infant was a “fire work” who should let his or her “colors burst”. Whatever that meant.

Danbur blinked slowly and forced himself to concentrate on the child. “Tell me. Please, Sera.”

She cringed and ducked her head. “You sound just like Mommy when she’s caught me doing something bad.”

He made a deliberate effort to relax his muscles and soften his expression. “You are brave, little one. And from what I have witnessed thus far you have a good heart. I cannot believe you would wish for something ill or self-serving.”

Her lip quivered again. “It was just a little bit selfish,” she said. “But he was being so mean to me! And Mommy’s tired and sad all the time, a-a-and I just wanted her to be happy.”

He didn’t like the conclusion he was rapidly reaching. “Sera—”

“I wanted him to stop being mean!” she wailed. “And I wanted Mommy to be happy! I didn’t wish for anything bad, I promise!”

Danbur could feel the muscles working in his jaw. His hands had clenched into fists. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the surge of fury.

“I wished for someone big and strong to help Mommy be happy. I wished for him to be my daddy. And that he’d tell me I was pretty like Mommy, and I’d believe him and I’d be happy, too. And we’d all be happy together!”

Such a simple wish. And one he didn’t have the remotest chance of fulfilling. He struggled to keep his expression neutral as he opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on hers.

“It’s
his
fault, too,” she said. “H-he was real horrible to me.” Her voice wobbled. Her eyes were so shadowed and tragic that Danbur compressed his lips against an all-consuming desire to beat the man who had hurt her to a bloody pulp.

“H-he called me Four-Eyes Frizz-head. ”

Trying to make sense of what had obviously been a mortal insult so far as Sera was concerned, distracted him from his seething fury. “Is this scum who torments you a simpleton?” he blurted.

Sera blinked at him. “Huh?”

“An idiot,” Danbur clarified. “You have but two eyes—obviously. And they are a rare color.”

She hiccupped and swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “He calls me that because of my glasses.” A pause, and then, “They are?”

“Indeed. Your eyes remind me of the cool waters of a stone-lined oasis pool. Or the fragile buds sprouting on desert plant-life after the rains. I have known women who would give their most precious possession for eyes like yours, Sera. And your hair is the color of flame tree blossoms. In my wor—” He swallowed the all-too revealing word. Best to err on the side of caution. “Where I come from, a flame tree in full bloom is an awe-inspiring, wondrous sight, for it occurs but once every ten years.”

Those green eyes rounded, and a hint of pleasure sparked in their depths… only to be extinguished by doubts. He shook his head, unaccountably saddened that this child couldn’t view herself as
he
saw her. When she became a woman she would be a beauty—he could see it in the delicacy of her bones beneath the childish roundness. And that hair would be her crowning glory. A pity he would not witness her metamorphosis from child to woman.

“’Tis the truth, Sera,” he said.

Her small white teeth caught her lower lip and nibbled. “You’re a real nice man,” she finally said, her tone solemn. A pause, and then, “My friend Mr. Stone told me my eyes were pretty, too.”

“So it must be true, yes?”

She crinkled her brows, and had opened her mouth to respond when a loud moan scythed through the lyrics wailing from the music-playing device.

Another moan followed. And another.

Sera scooted into his lap and buried her face in his shoulder. Danbur patted her back, offering comfort as he listened carefully, trying to identify the sound.

It seemed to be coming from the next room.

Sera’s sigh feathered the fine hairs on the bared skin of his upper arm. “They’re doing it again,” she said. “It’s gross.”

Another moan—this one full-throated and hair-raisingly loud. Not pain, as he’d first thought. A moan ripe with the pleasure of carnal things.

Heat slashed his cheeks. What manner of guardian left a little girl gasping to draw breath whilst she indulged her own desires?

The moans increased in frequency and segued to high-pitched feminine squeals. And then a distinctly male voice shouted a hoarse obscenity that prompted Danbur to cover Sera’s ears. Enough.

“Stay here, Sera.” He eased her from his lap and stood, flexing tightness from his neck and shoulders. “I will deal with your mother.”

“But—”

“Stay here.” Aware he sounded harsh and unforgiving, he said, “Please, little one. This is a matter best discussed between adults. I will not leave you alone for long—my word on it.”

She nodded. “Okay, Dan.”

“Good girl.” He slipped from the room and strode to a room off the narrow corridor he hadn’t yet explored. He examined the shiny globe that was the door’s handle, and palmed it. Ah. Another clever thing. Rotating the handle carefully, he opened the door a crack

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, baby. That’s it. Yes. Yes!”

“Like that, huh? Oh yeah. You love it when I pound my dick into your—”

Danbur burst through the doorway. He had heard enough. “Get out,” he told the scrawny male who was grasping a young woman’s hips, and driving his cock into her so forcefully that she struggled to balance on all fours.

The young woman shrieked and flopped face-first onto the mattress. She rolled, scrambling to cover herself with a bed sheet. She was younger than Danbur had expected—barely out of girlhood. And yet she had birthed a child Sera’s age? Gods above and below. What kind of debauched society allowed men to lie with little girls?

The man glanced over his shoulder at Danbur. His eyes rounded. “Who the fuck are you?” He clumsily rolled from the mattress to stand feet apart, chest outthrust, in what he doubtless imagined was a threatening pose.

His pimple-scattered complexion, and the scraggly tuft of beard sprouting from his chin, suggested a stripling yet to reach his majority. No match for a seasoned warrior. “I am the man who is going to toss you out on your hairy white
arse
on the count of five,” Danbur said, keeping his tone conversational.

The stripling blinked and swallowed hard. “You need to fuck off, dude. You got no business here.”

Danbur took another step into the room. “Four,” he said.

“I’ll call the cops if you lay a finger on Ryan.” The young woman clutched the sheet more tightly to her chest.

Danbur spared her an assessing glance. Stick-straight dark hair framed her plump, olive-skinned features. Kohl—applied with a heavy, inexpert hand—made her eyes appear dark holes in her face. He couldn’t see an ounce of Sera in her.

“Ya deaf or something? I told you to fuck off.” The stripling—Ryan—had waved his hand to catch Danbur’s attention, but his rapidly shrinking cock belied his show of belligerence.

“Three.” Danbur held Ryan’s gaze, observing the unsubtle tells that shouted the youth’s intentions. This would be laughably easy.

He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. “Two.”

Ryan charged, arms swinging wildly.

“Watch out, Dan!”

The worried little voice came from somewhere behind Danbur. Gods. How much had Sera seen?

Danbur popped Ryan on the chin with his fisted right hand. He’d pulled the punch of course, but even so it laid the youth out cold on the mud-brown carpet.

The young woman shrieked loud enough to wake the dead and scrambled from the bed, abruptly oblivious to her nudity. She rushed to Ryan’s side and knelt to pat his face. When he didn’t respond, she uttered a keening moan. And then she hissed at Danbur. “Bastard! I told you not to hurt him! I’m calling the cops. Get the phone, Sera. Now! Or you’ll be real sorry!”

Danbur felt small hands gripping his thigh and glanced down to see Sera peeping out from behind him. He rested his hand atop her head, wondering how to deal with this new complication.

“You’ll be in real big trouble if I tell Mommy you’n Ryan were having S-E-X in her bed, Liza,” Sera said to the young woman.

Pieces of the puzzle slipped into place.

Danbur fixed his gaze on the young woman—Liza. “You are not Sera’s mother.”

“God, no,” Liza said, and at the same time Sera shrieked, “No way!”

Liza glared at him. Or perhaps she was glaring at Sera. There appeared to be little love lost between the two. “I’m calling the cops,” Liza said. “You punched Ryan out! He’s hurt!”

Danbur remained silent. What more was there to say? He had indeed punched the young man, and doubtless Ryan would suffer a bruised chin and an aching head when he awoke. Danbur couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Ryan tried to hurt Dan first, so serves him right,” Sera said. “You shouldn’t have let him come over, Liza. You know my mom wouldn’t like him being here. And she’d be real mad at you having S-E-X in her bed. And you just sat there and laughed when Ryan was mean to me. I hate him and I hate you, too. So there!”

There was a world of emotional hurt in that impassioned little speech. Danbur squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sera, enough. ’Tis not seemly for you to speak of such matters.” He stroked her hair, hoping to convey that he understood she was lashing out because she felt hurt and betrayed.

Apparently Liza had no care for anyone save the pathetic specimen of manhood she chosen to give herself to. She ignored Sera to bat at Ryan’s face again, trying to bring him around.

“He will awake soon,” Danbur said. “I merely tapped him on the chin. In the meantime, I suggest you clothe yourself.”

“And I suggest you go fuck yourself, asshole.”

He captured her defiant gaze and held it. “Do not provoke me, Liza. Your behavior suggests you are both an unsuitable guardian and a person of questionable morals. And I believe any….” He cast about for the word she’d threatened him with—some sort of governing authority, he guessed. Ah yes. “I believe any
cops
informed of your actions this night would agree with me. ’Tis my belief you would prefer to end this encounter with some scrap of dignity remaining. And I also believe you would not wish further trouble upon Ryan. Yes?”

Her cheeks flushed with mottled patches of red but she nodded.

He jerked his chin at items of clothing piled on the floor beside the bed. And did her the undeserved courtesy of turning his back to give her a modicum of privacy while she dressed.

When Danbur turned around again she’d clothed herself in tight leggings that left nothing to the imagination, and a short, midriff-baring top that resembled an undergarment. Her idea of appropriate clothing did nothing to increase his estimation of her. “Pick up Ryan’s clothes, also,” he told her, pointing to the remaining items.

She scowled but did as she was bid, stuffing them into a bag.

“Stay here, Sera,” he instructed. “I will escort your guardian and her wretched excuse for a companion from the premises, and return momentarily.”

“No way,” Sera said. “I’m coming, too, in case Ryan wakes up and does something dumb again. Then I can be your witness and stuff.”

He noted the stubbornness infusing her tone. His head ached. His body ached, too, with the kind of bone-deep weariness that invades a man after a day-long battle. He gave in. “Very well. But keep your distance from Liza. I do not trust her.”

From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Liza opening her mouth and then shutting it again with a snap. Good. The girl was learning some sense, at least.

He could no longer think of her as a
woman
after these events. Children were precious. And no woman he’d yet encountered would allow a child in their care to be treated so. Liza was self-absorbed, morally corrupt and cruel. She was undeserving of his respect. He did not know whether she could be redeemed and nor did he care. Whatever the future held, his most pressing priority was to see Sera safely removed from her influence as soon as humanly possible. He could only thank the gods she was not Sera’s
mother
. That would have been a fine nest of sand-vipers.

He bent, grasped Ryan’s wrists, and slung the stripling facedown over his shoulder. “After you,” he said to Liza, not trusting her at his back.