“Remind me to turn dragon on his arse before he drugs me again so I can tear off his head!” She huffed, annoyed Simon had stopped her charge.
“Shhh, Opie, deep breaths. As much as I want to let you rip his head off, I’m here, so trust me okay?”
Opie knew her demon hunter well enough now to trust him even with his calm demeanour, as he kept her shielded with his large frame. Hadn’t this been why she’d tethered herself to him in the first place? Now she only felt disgusted at herself. Shouldn’t a dragon be able to protect her mate as much as he was trying to protect her?
“Get rid of your weapons, hunter. I know I can’t kill you, but she’s still fragile. I’ll make sure the next shot to the dragon girl won’t be a drug.” The clicking of chambers being primed on their metal weapons sounded in the air.
“Don’t do it, I’ll heal if I get shot.” She tugged on his sleeve, standing close to his side.
“You can’t heal a mortal wound, Opie.” Simon didn’t even spare her a glance as he threw down his sword before removing his array of blades hidden all over his body.
“Keep your flashlights. You’ll need them down there. Off you go now. Keep being useful and I won’t add any kind of metal to your diets.”
Simon turned. The gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t beaten yet. “We’d better do what he wants, Opie. I won’t let them harm you.”
“Forgo the sentimental bullshit, Siegfried, and get moving. I want that amulet. Considering this was once your castle, I have a good feeling you will know better where to find it than I.”
She looked to him for direction, and he nodded. “You go first,” he urged. “Whatever’s down there, I trust it more than what’s behind us.”
“Okay.” She gripped the flashlight tightly to hide her shaking hands, and she needed it as she couldn’t rely on her dragon senses, thanks to Jones’ drug. She glanced down at the entrance to the dungeon, moving forward.
I hate the cold, I hate heights, but I hate Joshua Jones even more! She would face anything if it meant keeping her mate alive and safe. Gingerly, she stepped down onto the first step of the old castle dungeon and descended into the dark.
* * * *
Darkness didn’t bother Simon. He followed Opie down the decaying stone steps, worn down in the middle from when it had been in constant use. The old dungeon was layered with a few centuries of dust, damp, and roots pushing past the cracks in the stone, giving it a creepier look than he last remembered.
“What I should have worn is a Daphne outfit,” Opie muttered dryly, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. She gingerly stepped over crumbling stone.
“Daphne?”
“Oh you know, Scooby Doo—monsters, mysteries and bad guys.” She inclined her head to the humans with guns stumbling down the steps behind them.
“We’re going to have a talk about your television watching habits when we get out of here.” He nudged her gently to help keep the mood light, despite the dark situation— in more ways than one.
His mind ticked over with possibilities and scenarios. Had he been alone, Jones and his demon and human minions would be nothing but corpses on the cold stone floor. Now every move he made, he did with Opie in mind, her protection was foremost. She may have faster healing abilities, but the thought of one cell on her body being harmed made his blood bubble like he’d erupt, and no force in the world, or any other, would stop him.
Letting Jones get his hands on the amulet was not an option either.
“So where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Simon turned, keeping Opie at his back.
“The king’s tomb?” Jones waved his hand down the dark corridor.
“You expect me to know? You had the scroll and stone longer than I.”
“This was your castle, your dungeon. Show us where the tomb is.”
“Don’t you think if I had known it was here back in my day, I’d have pilfered it long before now? I ventured down here but thrice during my short reign as king.”
“Just how long were you king for, anyway?”
Jones scoffed at Opie’s question. “He really hasn’t told you the whole truth has he, little dragon?”
“One more word and I’ll tear out your tongue.” All be damned, he’d be killing Jones quicker than anticipated. His palms itched, sliding down his sides searching for weapons he’d tossed away.
“I don’t care what happened seventeen hundred years ago, it’s in the past and will stay that way.” The warmth of Opie’s hand touched his arm, letting much of the rage flow from his tense shoulders. Gods, he could kiss her right now. He knew seventeen hundred years was nothing to the soul searing pain he’d endure if he lost her.
“He’s immortalized in German folklore. Fascinating reading. Odin, father of the Norse Gods, told some giants to build a big bridge to unite Valhalla with Earth. The giants demanded some Goddess of beauty in return.
When the bridge was done they handed over the Goddess, but then Odin changed his mind and wanted her back. So instead, the giants wanted a huge pile of glittering gold, which they stole from the Nibelung dwarves, who had a huge hoard of Rhine gold.
Giants being giants, they stuck it in a cave and persuaded a dragon to guard it. Knowing a dragon’s panache for all things glittering and shiny, I’m sure it was no scale off his back to guard it. The dragon’s name was Fafnir.”
“Enough, Jones,” Simon growled low in warning, the thread of his control wearing even thinner with each word Jones spoke.
“Fafnir? Never heard of the dragon, clearly he was exiled to this world way before my time.” Opie shrugged.
“Are you here to tell stories or find the amulet? If it’s stories, we’ll take our leave.” He gripped Opie’s arm and turned to leave.
“Not so hasty, Siegfried.” Jones’ men barred their way.
Simon gritted his teeth. “I am not who I was then. My name is Simon.”
“No one can change who they really are inside, Siegfried.” Jones continued to torment. “But I concede for now, the amulet is more important.” Jones sighed. “A pity you let this place go, I’m sure it was magnificent in its day. I—”
“Gee, you can waffle on!” Simon hid his grin at the pure annoyance in Opie’s tone. She waved her flashlight at Jones. “Just remember to waffle on some more if you tie us over a pit of sharks with lasers strapped to their heads, so we can make one of those spectacular escapes.”
Simon was sure she was referring to another one of her beloved television or movie shows, but he didn’t know which. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to it since its invention back in nineteen twenty-five.
Jones ignored Opie’s outburst. He raised his gun and fired. Opie whimpered in pain, falling forward. Simon was quick to catch her, and he smelled the blood before he saw it seep through and down her green top. The fucking bastard had shot her in the shoulder.
“Think fast, Siegfried, or I’ll make this place her permanent tomb. You have three minutes to find it.”
“Don’t do it,” she whispered against his shoulder, clinging to his jacket. Gently he set her down, covering her body to shield his actions. He slipped his mobile phone from his pocket, placing it into her trembling hands. He ripped a section of his shirt and pressed it hard against the wound. She winced, but didn’t cry out. She was a tough little thing, and it killed him knowing she was used to pain, used to suffering at the hands of others.
“Move, hunter!” Jones shoved him with the barrel of his gun. “Leave her there.”
“Asshole, he can’t.” she growled at Jones. “I cast a spell on Simon, so he can’t be more than a short distance from me.”
“Why would you do something as stupid as that?”
“So I’d protect her from you, dip shit.”
Jones shook his head, “It makes no sense. You cast it, undo it.”
“My talent only lies in casting, not breaking spells. It’s only broken when you’re dead. Shit for brains.”
“Unlikely to happ
en.” Jones folded his arms. “Insult me again and I’ll shoot your other arm.” She growled low and opened her mouth, but Simon slapped his hand over her mouth, his warning glare clear. Quiet. She sighed under his hand.
“Hang tight, sweetheart. I have a plan B,” he whispered before removing his hand.
“Tick-tock, hunter. You have two minutes. I’ll have my guard escort the mouthy little bitch.”
From the corner of his eye he saw her tuck his phone into the folds of her clothing, her green eyes gleaming in sheer determination. That’s my girl, think smart.
Simon helped her to her feet as Jones’ men moved in on her. He pushed down his possessive rage as one of the men grabbed her uninjured arm.
Simon closed his eyes to focus. To save her he needed to find the tomb. This was once his home and he should have known everything about it. Tumbling back through seventeen hundred years’ worth of memories, things forbidden, things which always remained closed, locked to him. He turned, closing his eyes. Working on memory and not sight, he stepped forward. He drew in the damp, musty earth smell of the dungeon. Gone were the scents of sweat, blood and fear.
“A prison cell was here, and there.” Talking for his own benefit and not his audience. “A chamber with equipment through there, but over here was...”
The image of the mural popped into his mind, the one at the end of the dungeon. He’d seen it a few times in his venturing down to talk to prisoners, but it never made any sense as to why it would be here in a dungeon.
“By Odin’s breath, how could I have not known?” Stepping over rubble and rusted iron bars, he came to a halt in front of the wall where the mural once was. The plaster used crumbled into nothing but dust over the ravages of time. What remained were two large stone slabs, side by side, taking up the far wall at the very end of the dungeon. He placed his palm on the stone—it was warm.
“It’s here.”
“Are you sure?” Jones stepped in closer, his flashlight directly on the dust covered stones.
“No, but it’s the only thing out of place, well in my time it was. A huge mural of my great, great grandfather being crowned used to be here. I remember the crown being painted brightly, as if shining. If you think about it, it’s an odd place to put a mural.”
“Worth a look then. Carter, do your thing,” Jones called, stepping aside.
A man in army garb stepped forward, a crate gripped between his meaty hands. He set it down and quickly set to work shoving moulded C4 into the cracks of the stone before attaching wires.
Shit. That many explosives in a confined space, not good. Simon moved back to Opie’s side, shoving her guard out of the way. He lifted her up into his arms.
“Fucking shoot me, I don’t care, but we’re not going to be in here when that goes off.”
“Gremlock, escort them out, but don’t let them leave this time. You can even separate blood from bone if you like.” Simon didn’t like the way Jones spoke, glancing lustily at his woman.
The demon, hidden behind the other humans, stepped forward. He licked his lips, eyeing Simon and Opie over as if about to enjoy his evening meal. “This way, if you please, dragon and other.”
Why did the most evil demons have to be the politest? It didn’t matter. The demon would still die. He carried Opie up the stairs and out into the starlit sky. She sagged weakly against him, her wound still bleeding. The drug Jones had his men shoot her with no doubt affected her faster healing abilities.
Gremlock sniffed the air, his hungry stare on Opie and the blood soaking her shirt. “Such a sweet scent. I did hear that female dragons’ blood was much sweeter than male dragons’. I know Jones won’t mind if I have a taste.”
“I mind, demon, and you’ll not lay one smelly finger on her.” Simon backed up, never taking his eyes off the advancing demon as he gently set Opie down. He sized up the demon, knowing the hidden strength behind the human façade.
“Kill it for me.” Opie’s hand fell away as Simon took a defensive stance in front of her.
“With pleasure, sweetheart.”
Gremlock withdrew a long, curved scimitar. Simon studied him. Tricky, but not impossible to beat—even weaponless.
A loud boom resonated, making the ground shake. Smoke billowed out from the hole, catching Gremlock’s attention for a split second. Simon struck a hard and decisive blow before the demon could respond, catching the blade wrist. Gremlock growled, showing sharp pointed teeth, snapping as he battled not to lose his blade and have Simon gain it. Simon squeezed the demon’s wrist harder with the demon trying to shove him back.
Success was short lived when the sword fell with a clatter onto the ancient stone, and the demon punched into his chest, which sent Simon barrelling backwards.
“You know what I’m going to do once you are dead, hunter?”
Fuck, Gremlock was stronger than he’d anticipated. The demon wasn’t even panting.
Simon fell on his back, recovering swiftly. He curled his legs and kicked, sending the demon flying backwards. “Are you going to talk or fight?”
They both turned and flipped to their feet, then dived for the blade. Simon was quicker, but there was no way he’d be able to get it without interference, so he slammed his fist towards Gremlock’s head. He deflected the blow and got a hard quick jab into Simon’s unguarded solar plexus, leaving Simon gasping for breath and momentarily unfocused. The demon managed to land a blow to his face, and Simon fell to his knees, his face exploding with pain and the warmth of his blood trickled down the side of his face.
Gremlock took advantage, quickly recovering his blade. Simon rolled, avoiding the downward thrust of Gremlock’s blade. He kicked at Gremlock’s legs, and the demon dropped to his knees. At the same time Simon couldn’t avoid the blade coming at him from the side. The cold blade sliced into his side. He gritted his teeth against the familiar, if somewhat unwelcomed, pain.
Gremlock yanked the blade out and climbed to his feet. “I’m going to sample her blood. Then save the best for last when we force her to turn into a dragon, and I take a long sharp blade and slowly slit her throat so I can watch her blood pour out. Sound familiar, dragon slayer?”
Simon growled, but Gremlock shoved a boot into his throat. “To think you’d ever defeat me, pathetic excuse for a human.” He raised the blade and moved side on. Simon knew what he intended, as there was one sure way to kill an immortal. “I might be in human form, but I’m still stronger and faster than you.”
Opie was right, these creatures did waffle on way too much. Simon glanced to where he’d left her only to find her gone. Half hoping she’d gone for help, he was glad to see her gone. He didn’t want her to see him beheaded. At the same time, he couldn’t leave her to the mercy of this vile creature. Damn Slazzamar, he’d better turn up soon and get her to safety.
A shadow behind Gremlock caught Simon’s eye. He climbed to his knees, keeping his eyes trained on the demon. “As much as I’d like to see things from your point of view, Gremlock, I’ll never get my head that far up my arse.”
“Brave words for one who’s about to die like a—”
Blood spurted from the gaping hole on which once sat Gremlock’s head. The heavy boulder fell with a wet thump onto the ground. It took a moment longer for the body to follow and slump next to the severed head.
Opie breathed hard, her eyes gleaming with hatred. She stumbled forward. In her trembling hand was his favourite blade, the one he’d been forced to abandon.
Engrossed in their fight and the humans scuttling down below searching for an amulet, no one paid her any attention.
“I’d say he’s now a ‘head’ of the game.” She plunged the blade into Gremlock’s chest and into his demon heart. “He never had any heart to begin with.”
Simon’s mouth fell open. One wounded, vulnerable dragon woman succeeded in doing what creatures from all realms had been trying to do for the past few centuries: to kill the Kat Demon, Gremlock. Shock and pride swelled in his chest as he got to his feet,
at the same time furious from fear, which added to the mix of emotions.
He darted forward, catching her before she collapsed. “Damn woman! That was the stupidest, bravest thing...don’t ever do it again!” Her wet, blood stained shirt clung to her body. Fear made his heart pound.
“Won’t let anyone hurt you.” Her eyes watery and bright green, he could tell her dragon was trying to awaken.
Fuck the amulet and fuck the rest of the world. One tug and he pulled his blade from the dead demon’s chest, green and red puss oozing from the body. He scooped Opie into his arms, carefully navigating the darkened path back down the hillside to the river. There was a village not too far from here. She needed urgent medical attention.
“Simon, we need to get the amulet. We can’t let them win.”
“Fuck the amulet, you’re more important. You need to be healed before you bleed to death.”
“Oh, I’ll live to be a thorn in your side a bit longer.” His panic increased at her weak smile.
Movement flashed to his right. He lowered Opie, but kept one arm around her waist, his sword at the ready to face the intruder. White hair appeared in the half moonlight. “Don’t take my head off, Simon, Darren would never forgive you.”
“Damn it, Slazzamar, you’re late.” Simon relaxed his stance.
“One, I only just got Opie’s call. Two, you try teleporting to a place you’ve never been in the dark. I landed in a thirty foot tree.”
“Fuck the tree, you need to help Opie.”
“I’m in a one man relationship, trees don’t do it for me.” The elf moved in closer, his brow creased in a frown as he peeled away her jacket to examine her wound. “Princess, this is becoming a bad habit. You can’t keep getting into trouble like this.”
Opie arched a ginger eyebrow. “What are you going to do? Sue me for bleeding on you?”
Slazzamar shook his head.
“They shot her with a drug to suppress her dragon.”
Falling Dragons (#3 Moon Shadows) Page 10