by Aaron Crash
Mulk, however, had other ideas. He put on an incredible burst of speed and slammed down onto Steven’s back, driving him into the ground. Luckily, Steven had a second to activate DarkArmor, thickening the scales on his chest. He slid through the sagebrush and weeds, taking minimal damage, but Mulk’s claws shredded his back.
Dammit. The plan relied on him surviving the initial attack. That didn’t seem like it was going to happen. Steven, however, wasn’t going to die alone. He was at least going to take Rhaegen Mulk with him.
TESSA, INSIDE THE HOUSE, ran to the window to see Steven strike the ground with Mulk on top of him. The big dark blue beast was tearing into the black dragon’s back even as they both careened through the brush.
“Motherfucker!” Tessa screamed. A bearded, aquamarine dragon flew down to aid Mulk. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen—not on Tessa’s watch. She stood at an open kitchen window with the screen removed, a Peacekeeper in both hands. She put her sights on the chest of the bearded dragon. She wouldn’t risk shooting at Mulk, but anyone coming in to help was fair game. She pulled the trigger, and the Colt thundered, a pink slash dashing out of the muzzle. Her aim was true. A hole bloomed in the chest of the aquamarine male and he stiffened, clawing at himself, his head lolling backward. Tessa hissed at the feeling of fresh Animus filling her.
Bullets streaked the siding and shattered the window. A plum-colored female hit that window with a gush of flames that licked inside the kitchen.
“Magica Defensio!” Tessa cast a new spell, WindShield, and a gust of air came out of nowhere to push those flames back outside. Two mercs, creeping up, were caught in the inferno. They let out shrieks as the Kevlar cooked into their skin. More mystical energy for the barista turned Magician/gunslinger.
Aria sped off to the master bedroom, where she would exit the house once the time was right. Mouse, though, was nowhere to be seen. But not to worry—that was all part of the plan. Keep the dragons busy and lure the mercenaries inside. That would free Steven to deal with Mulk directly.
Tessa raced to the living room window. There was one nice thing about having a shit-ton of enemies to fight: lots of targets. She fired the Colt twice more and wounded a lime-green male. Didn’t put him down but she was drawing them in toward the house like flies to shit. Which was an appropriate metaphor since things were about to turn into a colossal shitstorm. She leveled her pistol and fired at Kai Charon, but he was so fucking fast, dodging and ducking her pink-tinged shots with contemptuous ease. Asshole.
She shoved her spent pistol into her holster, drew the other one, and sprinted back to the kitchen. She remembered the final gunfight scene in an old Western; she was certainly having an Outlaw Josey Wales moment.
Thunder boomed overhead as dragons breathed lightning down onto the house. But they’d had the workers install a series of lightning rods to ground the place. That, and some added insulation to try and keep the house from burning down during the battle.
Back in the kitchen, the plum dragon stuck her head through the ruined wall.
Tessa shot her in the face. Two rounds right between her mauve-colored eyes. The Dragonsoul died and slumped to the side, giving Tessa another dose of Animus and a view of the battlefield outside. She was running low on ammo, so she flipped out the revolver’s cylinder, smashed down on the ejector rod—brass empties rained down—slid home the fresh rounds, then pushed the cylinder shut, locking it in place with her thumb.
Outside, Steven had turned on Mulk. Her Prime was on his feet now, holding Mulk back using a shield spell, but Mulk was gaining ground, his claws gripping and clawing at the force field. Those talons were dangerously close to Steven’s throat.
A boar the size of a Clydesdale shot in from the side, colliding with Steven, spearing him in the side with a long tusk. Tessa flung out a hand. “Magica Cura!” Pink light flared.
A healed Steven roared, picked up the boar—obviously Karlos Butcher—and hurled him into Mulk. At the same time, Mulk was lost in a curtain of flames.
Liam Strider, in his full yellow dragon form, breathed hell upon their enemies. Blood from murdering the tan-colored dragon coated his chest. That had been Steven’s first objective, to make sure Liam had an easy kill to replenish his Animus.
And now, the yellow dragon was running and gunning. He whirled, deflecting bullets with a shield spell, and then with a sharp cry of “Magica Impetim!” sent yellow spears of arcane energy into the chest of an incoming violet dragon, probably one of Mulk’s wives.
Gideon Scaramanga, on foot, reached out and healed her before Liam’s spells could put the dragon down for keeps. Liam took to the wing. With a flick of his claws, he opened the throat of an azure male. Tessa could almost see Animus passing into the Ronin. More fuel that Liam could use to cast spells and kick ass.
“Take the house!” Kai Charon bellowed, clearly flustered at how bad their side was doing. No doubt Mulk and his thugs had come expecting to surprise them. Yeah. Not so much. “We’ll deal with the dragons outside!” he screamed.
The front door cracked and buckled inward as a wave of mercenaries flooded the house. As expected. That was Tessa’s cue. She climbed onto the kitchen cabinets and hurled herself out of the window onto the dragon she’d killed.
But right when she needed the dragon to ease her landing, the fifteen-foot-long corpse turned into a dead Japanese woman. Tessa came crunching down onto her battered body, still warm. Tessa’s ankle twisted. She lay gasping on the ground, huffing wind and trying to think through the pain. She couldn’t heal herself, and everyone else was too busy fighting to cast a heal spell.
If she couldn’t walk ... fuck ... that was a definite problem. She had to get to the garden with the scroll. And once there, she had to get away. But running wasn’t happening. There was only one answer. She was going to have to crawl.
Behind her, the mercenaries stormed the house. She heard boots thudding on creaky floor boards and the scream of wooden doors being kicked in.
“Mouse! Now!” Tessa shouted with every ounce of breath in her lungs. She could imagine the blonde, in her Homo Draconis form, in the master bedroom, breathing out her new Exhalant ability, Toxicity.
Horrified screams filled the air a heartbeat later. A foul green mist poured through the broken windows and the open doors like someone was burning chemical waste inside. The men inside were caught in the poisonous gas, with nowhere to run and no way to hide.
Mouse’s poisonous gas smelled like bitter almonds. Cyanide had the same smell.
The screams shortly cut off, replaced by coughing, wheezing, and choking. Soon those sounds died too, which made Tessa smile. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it sure did. Fuck them.
Animus swept from the house. Most of it would end up in Mouse’s cells, but Tessa got a little backlash, which was good.
Tessa tried to get onto her good foot, but someone kicked her leg out. Ouch. Now that one hurt too!
She turned, and Gideon Scaramanga stood above her, an old steak knife in his hand. What in the hell? He was pale, sweating, and wearing a filthy wifebeater tank top that was caked in yellow vomit. His greasy jeans hung off his hips.
He smiled with yellow teeth.
She raised her Colt, but he lashed out like the slimy snake he was, slashing her hand with the steak knife, making her drop the pistol.
“Magica Defensio!” she shouted, bashing him back with a shield spell. She swept the force field around and climbed onto it. She focused on moving it with her.
Fresh pain blossomed in her leg, so intense it was nearly blinding. It felt like someone had just shoved a red-hot poker into her thigh. She clutched her jeans and her hand came away bloody. The hell? She felt woozy. Light-headed. She glanced away from her hand to see Kai Charon with a compact Glock in his hands. That purple-suited bastard was grinning, happy that he’d finally been able to hit something. And she’d been worried about her ankle.
No time to think about her wounds. Tessa willed the shield spell under her to fly across the
ground to the garden. Everything depended on her getting there. But she felt so weak, and her leg throbbed like fire, beating in time with her pounding heart. Still she pushed, flying above the sage fields on her pink magic carpet.
Ahead, Liam landed in the garden and balanced on a brick wall, fighting off three female dragons. Aria was being pursued through the air by two big males, the air cackling with their lightning. Aria was able to dodge most of it, but a finger of electricity struck her wing and she went down.
Mouse emerged from the house, a naked woman with a sword and scabbard in her hand. She then transformed into her True Form and wore the sheathed sword like a bracelet around her wrist. She was about to take to the skies, when two female dragons—one a pale rose color, the other cerulean—came crashing down on top of her. Everything was going to shit. And Steven wasn’t doing much better. As Tessa watched, Mulk hurled Steven down into the middle of the garden. Poor guy hit like an asteroid; he was a bloody, beaten mess, though a fire still burned in his eyes.
Tessa steeled herself, knowing what she had to do, and knowing it was going to hurt. She floated up a few more feet then dismissed her shield with a flick of her wrist. She plunged ten feet, landing on top of the black scaled body of her Prime. Hitting him sent a renewed wave of agony ripping through her wounded leg, and for a moment, black invaded on the edges of her vision, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness. But no one had time for that shit.
She pushed the encroaching black away. “Magica Cura!” she whispered, a flood of Animus rushing out from her, seeping into his body, healing his army of wounds. A fresh wave of dizziness invaded her head, but her work wasn’t done. Not yet. With trembling fingers, she reached for the scroll tube. So hard to focus. To think. Blood loss for sure. The blackness had been replaced by white dots, which obscured her vision. And breathing ... every lungful of air felt like a fucking chore.
“Well.” She gave Steven a weak smile. “We took out their mercs. Gassed those fuckers.”
“And ten of their dragons,” Steven agreed. His long mouth was curled into a smile of his own.
Aria and Mouse were in the garden, along with Liam.
Tessa stayed on Steven’s back. Her legs were fucked, but she loved feeling of his heat under her.
“Magica Incanto!” Gideon yelled.
The two men who’d been cooked in their Kevlar rose to their feet. From inside the house, gas swirling around them, stumbled mercenaries. The gross Magician had turned their mercenaries into zombies, and those walking corpses came weaving toward them.
Kind of overkill. Tessa, Steven, and the rest were already surrounded by fourteen dragons and the Terror Trio.
Karlos Butcher pawed a giant hoof through the dirt.
Mulk rumbled laughter. The giant dark blue dragon stood over them. “And now, Drokharis whelp, you shall die.”
The air shimmered around him. Muttering started, then growling, and Tessa knew what that meant. Mulk was about to obliterate them with ChromaticFury. His dragons, his Terror Trio, and his zombies would be there to clean up what was left.
They’d lost.
Or so Mulk thought.
Shaking badly now, Tessa unraveled the scroll and read the single word that would trigger an ancient magic, lost to time—but not lost to a certain insane Dragonsoul who had a passion for books and magic.
“Mathaal,” she said quietly, picturing the gnarled, ancient dragon in her head.
Reality bent around them. Then the world broke open as Old Matchstick was sucked from his island home in the Indian Ocean onto the Great Plains of the North American continent. The scroll she’d managed to pilfer had been a summoning spell ...
Chapter Twenty-Eight
STEVEN LATCHED ONTO Tessa, uttering, “Magica Cura,” as he lifted in the air, banishing some of her wounds with a fistful of primal Animus. Her wounds knit themselves together, but she was still passed out completely. The summoning spell had knocked her unconscious—well, that and the massive blood loss from the wounds she’d suffered.
He glanced down at her. She was breathing softly, steadily, though he couldn’t help but notice that her hands were empty. The scroll had disintegrated to dust the minute she said that one deadly name. Steven hadn’t been sure they’d gotten the pattern right for the spell, and he’d been afraid the cement hadn’t set. Nope. Turned out, they’d copied the symbols off the scroll perfectly, though they’d probably never be able to use the giant summoning circle again. Too bad.
He climbed higher into the air, then banked sharply right. The sun lit up the western sky, casting a red glow across the clouds as it sank into the horizon. It would be dark soon, and Steven prayed they’d live to see the stars.
He twisted around to see the battle below him.
Mulk unleashed his ChromaticFury.
“Magica Defensio!” Liam cried. Aria echoed him. Both of their force fields crumbled in the gleaming power of Mulk’s Exhalant, but it was enough to stop Mathaal from being turned into cinders.
Still, more than a few white scales went flying. Then the old dragon recognized who had hurt him. “Mulk! Rhaegen Mulk!”
Steven circled the northern garden, continuing to survey the conflict.
Old Matchstick seemed to have aged even more. His skin drooped from his neck, his eyes were covered in thick cataracts, and he’d lost some claws, either in his flight out of his prison, or from being plucked from his island. Bloody holes tipped those fingers. But Mathaal—even old, senile, and insane—was not someone to be taken lightly. Mostly because of the insane part.
“Magica Impetim!” Mathaal peppered Mulk with white starbursts of blinding light.
“Magica Cura!” Gideon yelped, healing his Prime.
A male dragon descended on Old Matchstick, going for the old dragon’s throat. Mathaal speared the dragon in the heart with a long spike on his tail. With the added Animus, Old Matchstick’s cataracts faded. Purple eyes, batshit-crazy with rage, widened.
Zombie mercenaries stumbled forward, and Mathaal turned them into living torches with his ShadowFlame breath. The house caught fire, and no amount of wind was going to extinguish those midnight flames. The added insulation the workers had added might stand up against a normal blaze, at least for a little while, but not something as diabolical as Mathaal’s penultimate Exhalant. It was like the very shadows were burning.
“Magica Defensio!” Using his mind, Mathaal ripped out a wall, now dripping purple fire, and smashed it into the orange female. Wow, instead of a shield, he’d used some kind of telekinetic ability. Why hadn’t Old Matchstick used it on Steven during the fight on the island? He’d probably forgotten he could ...
A smoldering two-by-four, controlled by Mathaal, skewered the orange dragon through her heart. She went down, thrashing. More Animus spun into Old Matchstick. The crotchety old bastard seemed to revive by the second. He opened his mouth and let out a lightning storm that arced from dragon to dragon to dragon. It was the AOE attack Judith had used against Steven and his friends.
The Dragonsouls shuddered and danced in midair. A few blackened, not able to withstand the electrical attack.
With the enemy dragons held at bay for a moment, Mathaal turned on Steven’s friends. He whipped out his tail and struck Liam directly in the face. The Ronin went down, head over heels into the high grasses nearby. At this point, Old Matchstick was out to destroy anything near him, friend and foe alike. He’d become a senile berserker with almost infinite power.
Aria and Mouse stumbled away into the sagebrush, heading north and escaping Mathaal’s rage.
Good thing they did. Not a second later, terrible sound—part silence, part murmur, part growl—rolled through the air. A whomp followed, and the thunder of Mathaal’s ChromaticFury lit up the twilight like a second sun. Several dragons caught in the blast went from being iced down to being gassed to being electrocuted, until a final roaring fire ended them, burning them to ash.
Mulk reeled away. The Terror Trio backed up along with him, headi
ng for the south part of the house, the driveway, and the highway. Steven did another circle and then flew toward them. This was it. The final battle.
Tessa stirred in his arms, finally coming around. She wasn’t at one hundred percent, but her eyes were open, and she seemed to be ready to throw down.
“Holy crap,” she said, fishing the remaining Colt from the holster riding her hip. “I can’t believe it really worked.” She glanced from Mathaal to Steven, then offered him a tired grin. “We might just do this yet.”
Steven smiled back, fierce and proud. “Thanks to you. Now let’s go put down Mulk like the rabid wolf he is.” He dove and gently set Tessa down near smoldering remains of the house, though far away from the still raging Mathaal, then took to the skies once more.
Below him, Aria glided awkwardly over the house. One of her wings was ragged, the leather folds tattered, but she was still, miraculously, airborne. And she had Mouse clutched firmly in her claws. For some reason, the blonde was now human, very naked, and had the Slayer Blade on her back.
Mulk and his Terror Trio stopped in the field between the driveway and the highway. They looked ready to make their final stand.
Aria swooped low then opened her mouth, unleashing a blast of lightning at Mulk.
Gideon cast a shield spell to block the lightning. The leftovers of Aria’s spell crackled around him, filling the air with the sharp reek of ozone. “Magica Incanto!” The filthy Magician raised his skinny arms. Blood gushed from his nose, dripping onto his stained tank top.
A forest of enormous rocky spears erupted from the earth, accompanied by a crash of thunder. One of the jagged, earthen javelins smacked into Aria, tearing through her remaining good wing. With a roar of pain, she dropped Mouse and went spiraling down into the ground. Kai Charon sped toward her, ready to make the kill. His katana glowed green in the fading light.
“Aria!” Tessa shrieked, sprinting toward the downed Dragonsoul, pistol drawn. But then Karlos Butcher’s big boar body slammed into her, and the barista was trampled underfoot. And just like that—in a single eyeblink—she was bleeding, broken mess. Aria and Tessa were out of the fight, as was Liam. They might be dead. Steven’s heart fluttered, fear pressing down on him like a weight.