Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons Book 1)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Yes, but I didn’t say that. I gripped the mad elf’s shoulder. “If there’s an antidote, tell me, and I’ll keep my tiger from eating you.”

  Someone pounded again and tried to shove the door aside. Synaru-van kept laughing. What a nut.

  Keep holding her down. I dug a syringe out of Zoltan’s sample kit.

  Synaru-van spotted it, and her humor shifted to rage. “You think I’ll let you take my blood?”

  “I sure hope so.” I shoved her sleeve up as she renewed her bucking and thrashing against Sindari.

  As I struggled to hold her arm down and find a vein, I expected her to fling a magical attack at him—or me—any second. It took three stabs to get the needle into her vein, and she shrieked at the indignation.

  “What are your plans anyway? Our office wasn’t even bothering your people.” I hadn’t even known they’d existed two days ago…

  She calmed, focusing on Sindari, and I sensed a psionic blast targeting him. There was the attack I’d expected. He shook his head and growled without releasing her.

  Shouts came from the tunnel. I only had a half a syringe of blood, but I pulled out the needle and capped it. It would have to be enough.

  Synaru-van’s mad yellow eyes turned toward me, and I knew she would launch her next psionic attack my way. I stuffed my syringe in the kit and pocketed it.

  The wave of power came not from her but from behind. The deadbolt snapped as the door flew open, banging against the wall.

  Sindari lowered his fangs toward the alchemist’s throat, but another wave of pure energy came crashing into the lab. It struck hard, flattening me to the floor and hurling Sindari across the lab. He smashed into a cabinet, breaking open the doors, beakers and flasks tumbling out and shattering all around him.

  Mages stood in the doorway.

  I swore and shoved myself to my feet, swinging my gun toward them as two dark elves charged in. When I fired, my bullets bounced off invisible barriers around them, ricocheting into the ceiling and nearby cabinets. I switched Fezzik to my left hand and pulled out Chopper, hoping the magical blade would cut through their shields.

  A few feet away, Synaru-van reached into the bosom of her robe—why hadn’t I checked there for weapons?—and pulled out a vial. Before I could stop her, she flung it to the floor at my feet.

  Holding my breath again, I sprang backward and scrambled as far from the cracked glass as I could. Synaru-van was too far away to reach with Chopper. I fired at her, hoping she wasn’t shielded, as blue smoke writhed from the floor, its tendrils stretching toward me.

  One of my bullets sank into her shoulder, and she shrieked, but my victory was short-lived. Invisible energy slapped against my wrist with bone-crunching force, and I couldn’t keep from crying out and dropping Fezzik. One of the dark elves rushed to protect Synaru-van as the other sprang for me.

  I still had Chopper in my other hand, and I stabbed like a fencer to keep him back. The blade pierced his shield, and his eyes bulged as the point dug into his chest. For the first time, one of them retreated, scrambling madly back out of reach.

  Taking advantage, I reached into my pocket to pull out a grenade. I had the blood. It was time to blow my way out of here. Maybe the ceiling would collapse, and I could climb out.

  But even as I slashed and cut my foe, slicing into flesh three more times as I kept him between me and the others, another mage by the door flung a hand up. He had no trouble targeting me around his buddy, and that same invisible power struck me again. It hurled me back against a counter.

  Sindari was pinned by magic, one of the mages completely focused on him, but he kept trying to break free. He shook his head, roared, and waded forward, as if against a stiff wind. But two more dark elves ran inside, fingers splayed as they added their power to that of the others. Sindari was knocked back again. His muscles strained under his sleek fur, but even he wasn’t strong enough to fight that much power.

  Outside, the chanting had stopped. Would the entire assembly swarm up here to use those torture implements on me? Or would one of them simply shoot me and end it?

  My grip tightened on Chopper as two dark elves approached. I vowed to go down swinging.

  My chest was as tight as my grip, and I grimaced, embarrassed and furious at the wheezes coming from my own throat. I was a warrior, damn it, not some cripple.

  “Do we kill her, Synaru-van?”

  The alchemist stood back, a hand gripping her bleeding shoulder, and looked like she wanted to nod vigorously. But she said, “Not yet. I will question her first. We must know how she found a way in and if others know about our entrances. If so, we will have to cave them in and make others. Just tie her up for now. And someone get rid of that slavering tiger.”

  Sindari was still straining against the magic, trying his best to get to the dark elves, to protect me from them.

  I swung Chopper as one of the uninjured dark elves tried to get close. Before the blade could connect, he twitched a finger, and I flew all the way back to the corner. My face caught the edge of a counter as I crashed down. Blood flooded my mouth as I accidentally bit my tongue, and I crashed to my knees.

  The chanting of a spell, not some religious fervor, came from the doorway. My charm didn’t translate the words, but Sindari’s head bowed.

  I’m sorry, Val. He knows how to force me back into the figurine.

  It’s all right.

  I don’t want to leave you. You need me.

  I know, but I’ll figure something out. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.

  The figurine grew warm against my chest, and Sindari turned to silver mist, then disappeared.

  I hoped I hadn’t lied. I hoped I would get a chance to call him again.

  An entire pack of dark elves strode toward me. More milled in the tunnel, peering in.

  I couldn’t win, not right now. Maybe Synaru-van would question me alone. But they would take all of my belongings before tying me up, and I was nothing without my magical tools, nothing that could defeat mages and alchemists.

  One of the dark elves reached down for me. I rose on my knees enough to slam a side kick into his stomach.

  I smiled grimly around the blood dripping out of my mouth. Maybe not quite nothing.

  But with so many more dark elves behind him, it was a futile effort. They fell over me, using their magic to pin me down. I turned my back to them and wrenched an arm free long enough to tug two of my charms off my leather thong, their tiny metal hoops snapping. I shoved them into my underwear an instant before both of my arms were pulled behind my back. I wished I’d dared pull the cat figurine off, but they had seen Sindari and would know to look for his charm.

  They spun me around, shoved me against the wall, and proceeded to search me and steal all my stuff. Chopper, my phone, the sample kit, my dagger, my grenades, and even my inhaler—shit, I wheezed as I saw that go, worse than a heroin junkie watching her stash get confiscated.

  One dark elf untied my necklace and took the rest of my charms, leaving me defenseless. He knew those were valuable, and he stroked the cat figurine, then tied the thong around his own neck. I wished I could shoot bullets out of my eyeballs at him.

  He puzzled over the inhaler, then tossed it to the alchemist. Synaru-van smiled vilely at me as magical bonds similar to what Zav had created wrapped around me, holding me against the wall, keeping me from moving my arms or legs. The dark elves hadn’t stuck their hands into my pants and found the charms I’d snagged, the lock-picker and the one that let me see in the dark. But it probably didn’t matter. Seeing my end wouldn’t be helpful, and I doubted the other charm could unlock magical bonds.

  Murmurs came from the corridor, the dark elves out there looking back toward the ramp. I imagined the two males I’d sneaked past charging up to report on the alchemist’s dead assistant. That would only make Synaru-van more furious.

  She strode toward me, holding the inhaler up, and said something in her language.

  “Your thugs took my charms.
I can’t understand you.”

  So much for the questioning.

  “The Ruin Bringer needs drugs to breathe?” she asked in English.

  “I was holding it for a friend.”

  “I hear the rasp in your voice.”

  “Because your buddy threw some deadly red crap in the air, and I caught a whiff.” Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned her assistant. Maybe she hadn’t known about her yet.

  Voices rose in agitation in the tunnel. Yes, they had to have found the body.

  Synaru-van squinted at me. “Then I will let you breathe something else for a while before I question you.” She smiled. “If you survive to be questioned.”

  She plucked a container off the shelf, opened it, and dumped beads on the floor. They looked like bath beads, but I knew they weren’t. When they shattered, a hazy green smoke wafted into the air, immediately stinging my nostrils. I tried to hold my breath, but there was no point. I couldn’t do that forever.

  Synaru-van smiled and backed away, leaving before she was affected by her own poison. Tears were already streaking from my stinging eyes.

  I watched bleakly as she stepped into the hall, where she would soon find out I’d inadvertently killed her assistant. She didn’t shut the door, but she turned her back. I was screwed, and just as bad, Sindari was now in the hands of assholes who sacrificed children.

  22

  The acidic smoke wafted up, tearing my eyes and making my nose run. Worse, it was making me wheeze. I’d never had a serious asthma attack, nothing I had to go to the hospital for, but I’d also never had an alchemist dump toxic bath beads at my feet.

  A shout came from the tunnel, and Synaru-van stepped out of sight. For a moment, I couldn’t see any of the dark elves.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the lump of the lock-pick charm against my skin, then mentally willed it to deactivate the bonds. I didn’t truly believe it would work, but I had to try.

  The charm grew warm against my skin, as if it was doing its best to help me. But the bonds remained intact, crackling bars of energy wrapped around me, stealing my ability to move. I focused harder, seeing the charm in my mind’s eye even as I imagined the magical bonds breaking.

  “Work,” I rasped, voice as raw as my breaths. “Work.”

  The charm grew even hotter, almost burning me. I imagined smoke wafting up and my underwear catching fire. What a way to go.

  “No, focus.” I poured all my mental energy into the charm, imagining the bonds breaking. Snapping like breadsticks.

  A surge of energy seemed to pour from me. Not from the charm but from me.

  The magical bonds pinning me against the wall disappeared so quickly that my knees almost buckled as my weight settled onto them again. I lunged and caught the counter for support.

  Confusion washed over me as I shook the feeling back into my legs. Had the charm done that or had I?

  Beyond my innate abilities to sense magic and heal, I’d never been able to summon a lick of magic in my life. My ragged breaths echoed in my ears, reminding me that my healing ability wasn’t helping now. I had to figure something else out.

  As quietly and quickly as I could, I scrambled away from the vapors wafting from those beads. But getting away didn’t improve my breathing. I struggled to get enough air into my lungs, and panic made my hands shake. The dark elf had taken my sword, my gun, my sample kit, Sindari, and even my cursed inhaler. How was I supposed to get out of this mess?

  Maybe I should have accepted Zoltan’s offer to make me a lung-clearing concoction. Not that the dark elves wouldn’t have taken it when they searched me.

  Wait, what had he said would work? An aerosol of manticore venom mixed with… what had it been? Magnesium sulfate. That was Epsom salt, wasn’t it? Maybe there was some in the alchemy lab. Would there be manticore venom? And had Zoltan been messing with me, or had he been earnest? The vampire had sent a giant tarantula after me. Manticore venom sounded like something that would kill me, not save me.

  But if I couldn’t fix my lungs, I might die anyway.

  I scrambled to the cabinets and started flinging open doors, hoping I’d be able to identify whatever ingredients I found. If everything was in the dark-elf language, I was screwed.

  More shouts came from the tunnel, and the floor quaked. Startled, I gripped the counter. Whatever was going on, it was more than two scouts warning their people of an intruder in the complex.

  Two cloaked dark elves ran past the alchemy lab, their hoods down and their white hair streaming behind them. They didn’t glance my way. I didn’t know what was happening, but if it bought me a few minutes, I’d gladly take them.

  I spotted and lunged for a giant bag of Epsom salt. Not only was it not labeled with obfuscating dark-elf symbols, but it looked like it had come from Walgreens. Or maybe Amazon. Did they two-day ship to subterranean dark-elf lairs?

  With my breaths growing wheezier and more ragged by the moment, I verified on the label that it was magnesium sulfate—thankfully enough of that infrared light filtered back from the chamber for me to read. I tore open the bag and dumped some out. The tiny crystals that spilled onto the counter didn’t look like anything that one could inhale easily, but the stuff dissolved in liquid, didn’t it? People bathed in Epsom salt.

  Leaving it, I went in search of manticore venom. Sadly, that wouldn’t be in a drugstore bag.

  I saw an atomizer bottle and set it over by the magnesium sulfate. A mortar and pestle followed. A pen and a small notebook open and face-down on the counter caught my eye. I turned it over and spotted fresh ink in a foreign language and what looked like a list of ingredients, then shoved it in a pocket. It wouldn’t help me breathe, but maybe it had information about the formula the alchemist had used on Willard.

  After checking a dozen more cabinets and not seeing anything venom-like, I tugged open a refrigerator door. Vials and vials of blood, ichor, and unidentifiable strangely colored liquids I couldn’t guess at hung in racks.

  A boom rocked the tunnels, and the floor heaved again, the vials rattling. My senses were alive enough to tingle with awareness—someone was throwing magic around. A lot of magic.

  Between the magic of the dark elves themselves and all the artifacts in the place, I couldn’t begin to sort out individual auras. And at that moment, I didn’t care who was giving them trouble. I felt faint, and the tips of my shaking fingers were numb. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen into my body.

  With fumbling hands, I pulled out racks, scanning the labels on the vials. These had all been labeled with sigils reminiscent of the one from Willard’s apartment. There were three vials with symbols identical to that one—were these more of the same potion? They had to be. I snatched one in case it would help Zoltan create an antidote, and stuffed it in a pocket.

  In a rack in the refrigerator door, there were vials of dark red liquid—blood—mingled with clearer vials. The labels held drawings as well as sigils. They were of animals, lizards, and even fish. There was the kraken. I grabbed it for Zoltan in case I didn’t get my sample kit back and kept scanning. An elephant, a wyvern, a toad. I didn’t see any dragons. But there—my heart lurched. Lion head, wings, barbed tail. A manticore. There were two of them. One vial held blood and the one next to it was filled with a clearer liquid—it had to be venom. I hoped it was venom.

  As a female voice screamed nearby, more power was unleashed, back in the direction of the ramp. It was closer than it had been before, as if the dark elves were fighting off some intruder.

  I dumped some of the Epsom salt into the mortar, then stared at the little vial of venom. There wasn’t nearly enough to fill an atomizer bottle or even mix with more than a few crystals. Maybe I was supposed to dilute it? That seemed logical. Breathing straight venom sounded suicidal, but maybe a smaller dose stimulated the airways into expanding without killing a person.

  I stuck the mortar under a sink faucet. But how much water to add? Even if I’d had my phone, it wasn’t like an internet search would
have given me this recipe.

  It was going to be a miracle if I survived the next ten minutes. With no other choice, I guessed amounts and dumped water, venom, and more Epsom salt into the mortar. As carefully as I could with trembling hands, I ground everything together. My eyes stung from the vapors. That venom was more potent than onions.

  After everything dissolved, I dumped the concoction into the atomizer bottle, shook it up, and stared at it. It looked like a way to spray perfume, not inhale something. How was I supposed to do this?

  Silence fell in the tunnel outside, no hint of the chanting or even anyone talking. That was more ominous than the shouts had been. It might mean the dark elves had dealt with the intruder and would return to deal with me next. The silence made the sound of my own wheezing distressingly noticeable.

  I closed my eyes, squirted some of the concoction into the air, and leaned in to inhale. Faint moisture touched my skin, and an even fainter vile taste hit my mouth, but I doubted I’d gotten anything down into my lungs.

  An ominous growl sounded in the tunnel. That didn’t sound like one of the dark elves.

  My tongue tingled. I sprayed the air again, decided that wasn’t working, and grabbed a cloth. I doused it with the liquid, pressed it against my mouth, and inhaled through the moist fabric. Some of the concoction seemed to swirl down my air pipe, but it could have been my imagination. My throat tingled. I hoped I wasn’t about to die from inhaling this.

  Despite the terrifying thought, I kept the cloth to my mouth and inhaled several more times as the growling sound drew nearer. A familiar aura lit up my senses. I would have groaned if I hadn’t been busy breathing.

  The owner of the aura strode past the open door in his black robe and slippers with a glowing yellow sword in his hand. He glanced my way and twitched an eyebrow when he saw me but continued past without a word.

  That explained the commotion. He must have come for his egg platter.

  Shouts arose again, this time from the chamber below the balcony. I realized that I was breathing more easily. My heart was pounding as if I’d injected myself with straight adrenaline, but that was fine. I would need adrenaline to get out of here.