The Dragon Shifter’s Duty

by Roth, Mandy M.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

  He had to be nuts. She put the palms of her hands on the dashboard and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “They tried to blow us up. Not once, but twice.”

  “Yep,” said Donnie, as if that type of thing was common in his world.

  “Why?”

  He glanced at her. “Because you were getting too close and they see you as a threat.”

  “You saved my life,” she said.

  “I think we both know that isn’t what happened.”

  She gulped, and stared at her hands, hoping he hadn’t realized she’d caused the third explosion.

  “Does it hurt when you do it?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  He snorted. “Holland,” he said, finally using her name. “I know what you did back there.”

  “I’m not a demon,” she offered quickly, old habits dying hard. To date, the only person who knew the whole truth about her was her best friend and college roommate Sammy. Holland had never dared share the truth with anyone else. She didn’t want to go back to being locked away, and she didn’t want to be cut open on an exam table.

  “I know.” He winced and rubbed his shoulder. As he pulled his hand away, she saw it was covered in blood.

  She gasped as she realized he’d been shot. “Donnie!”

  “I’m fine,” he said—a second before his head lolled forward and the car veered off the road at a speed that left it heading right at a building.

  “Son-of-a-bitch, you have got to be kidding me,” she yelled, grabbing for the wheel, trying to correct their path but the action was too little, too late.

  Chapter Eight

  Ezra stepped to the side as he heard the footfalls of an approaching guard. The steps were heavy, and from the sounds of them, the guard was favoring his left leg. He knew exactly who that was. One of the assholes who got great pleasure out of torturing him. Pressing his back to the wall of the container, he allowed his hand to do a partial shift. Talons emerged from his fingertips as scales formed on his hand and fingers.

  He bided his time, waiting for the guard to disengage the lock and open the door. Time seemed to tick by at a painfully slow pace before the door finally opened. The guard stepped in tentatively, his focus on the area where Ezra had been chained.

  With swift justice, Ezra reached out quickly and snapped the guard’s neck. He caught the man before he fell and pushed the door closed somewhat with his foot, wanting privacy for a moment. He wasted no time stripping the man of his shirt, pants, radio, and weapons. The man was nearly the same size as Ezra so even the guy’s boots fit for now. They were better than being barefoot. There was no way he could shift and fly to land. Not with the shape he was in.

  Ezra pulled the guard’s dead body to the chains, and then set about securing the man. The diversion wouldn’t fool anyone in the daylight, but it would work for a bit to keep anyone from realizing he wasn’t the one chained. He’d have to move quickly or risk the dead body starting to smell.

  Every supernatural on the ship would catch the scent of a decomposing body.

  He glanced out of the crack in the door, assuring the coast was clear before he exited the container. He slinked along the edge, keeping a shoulder pressed to it, more to help him stay upright than anything else. He needed food, water, and rest. He’d heal then. It would just take a bit.

  He moved down two more containers and then stilled, hearing faint whimpers from below deck. The cries reminded him of when he’d found the little girl who didn’t burn all those years ago. With a silent curse, he changed direction and found the staircase, knowing he was increasing his risk of being discovered. But he couldn’t ignore the cries.

  As he came to the last step, Felipe stepped out from around the corner and froze. He glanced around quickly and then lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Breaking out,” replied Ezra. “Thought that much was obvious. You planning on trying to stop me?”

  Felipe shook his head. “Felix has totally lost it. He’s got children on this vessel.”

  Ezra’s temper flared. “What? Since when?”

  “They boarded last night. Been here all day. The sedatives he had administered to them are wearing off. They’re all waking up.” Felipe held Ezra’s gaze. “I didn’t sign up for this. I’d never hurt a kid.”

  “I know.” Ezra took a deep breath. “Where are they all now?”

  “Through those doors, in a holding area. They’re scared. Two guys I trust are in there, sickened by what is going on, too.”

  Ezra leaned against the railing, requiring it to help stay upright. He was far from being one hundred percent. It would take rest and food before he could heal at his normal rate. “They won’t hurt the kids?”

  “No. Never. They’re fathers themselves. We think Felix has gone too far. We want out, but there are too many guards loyal to him on the ship for us to handle alone.”

  Felipe and the other men weren’t trained PSI operatives. Ezra was. In addition, he was older than all the men on the ship combined. He’d seen a thing or two in his time and he’d fought in more than one battle. When the need arose, he could be a one-man army.

  That was when he wasn’t getting caught because he’d permitted his emotions to get involved. He grunted, knowing he was going to fold and help the children rather than get off the ship and to the woman reaching to him through the ether for help.

  His dragon didn’t like the choice the man was making and tried to rear up and show as much. Ezra had to push against the wall to keep from falling and giving in to the beast. He wanted to seek out the little girl who didn’t burn, too, but he couldn’t let other children be harmed. Not when it was within his power to assist.

  He pointed to Felipe. “The minute I take out the guards, you’re going to need to get this big-ass ship turned and on a new course. If Felix holds true to old ways, the captain is too scared of our kind to argue with us. Demand he changes course or you’ll eat him. He’ll do it. When you get to safety, I’ve got some people you can reach out to. They’ll help you and the others wanting free from Felix. The vampire won’t be able to touch you.”

  “What about you?” asked Felipe.

  “I’ll handle the other guards, but then I’m taking one of the small crafts I know they keep on these ships, and I’m heading for land on my own. I have to do something, and it can’t wait.”

  “You need to eat and drink something. You’re going to fall over.”

  With a shrug, Ezra turned to head in the direction in which he could hear another guard moving in. “That will wait, too. First, I have some bad guys to kill.”

  Chapter Nine

  Holland came to, groggy, unsure where she was or what had happened. Moving slightly, her hand bumped something warm and hard. It took her a bit to realize that something was Donnie. He was slumped at an odd angle, his eyes closed, with no signs of life.

  She touched his neck to try to feel for a pulse. “Don’t be dead. Please, do not be dead.”

  His eyes snapped open and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That hurt,” he said, coughing softly. Blood trickled out of his mouth and Holland knew then that he probably had internal injuries. “What happened?”

  “You passed out while driving.”

  His chin dipped down and he averted his gaze briefly. “Sorry.”

  Holland looked him over as best she could, considering how cramped their quarters were from the crash. “It’s not like you meant to do it.”

  “No. That wasn’t in my plans for the night.”

  She winked. “If it was, I’m going to have to insist I do the planning for our next outing.”

  “Duly noted.” He tried rather unsuccessfully to move. “Are you injured?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, unsure how she wasn’t a mangled mess. The car they were in was. Its roof was smashed down, touching the top of her head and looking like it might be pressing down on Donnie’s.r />
  She blinked, positive that it looked like Donnie’s head had left the roof dented up several inches, like it had nearly made a sunroof on its own. That was one hard head.

  Donnie groaned and struggled against the confines of the vehicle. “Shit. I’m pinned in. You need to go. We’ve lost a lot of time and the men following us won’t stop.”

  No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than Holland heard the telltale sounds of gunfire. Did no one police the streets? Why wasn’t help coming?

  Corruption is king, she thought snidely.

  Donnie turned as much as he could, especially with taking into account how he was basically totally encased in the wreckage. “Holland, go! Run!”

  He was welcome to yell at her all he wanted, but there was no way she was leaving him. She began pushing on the roof, actually making slight progress in trying to get it to budge.

  Growling, Donnie locked gazes with her. “Go! They aren’t feckin’ around!”

  “Don’t cuss at me, Irish! I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I think my door is jammed shut, so even if I did want to run, which I don’t, I couldn’t. So stop going all domineering male on me.”

  The sound of the gunfire grew. They were close.

  Donnie reached out and took her hand in his. “Holland, I know you set those men on fire, and I’m not judging you for it. I’m thankful to know you’re more than meets the eye. But do you understand that there are other things out there? Things that can do different things?”

  She exhaled and nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret confiding in him. “My best friend can do stuff other people can’t. She can’t start fires like me, but she’s different, too.”

  “So am I,” he said, looking pained. “Don’t freak out.”

  His hand changed in hers—sprouting fur, lengthening, claws popping out of his fingertips.

  Gasping, she froze for a beat, her gaze fixed on his hand. “Cool.”

  He snickered and then winced, no doubt from the internal injuries. He nodded to her door and she pressed back against the seat as far as she could. Donnie reached past her and struck the door with enough force to send it flying away from the car.

  Holland blinked in stunned surprise before looking at Donnie. “What the hell did you eat for breakfast this morning?”

  He laughed slightly. “Something healthy.”

  “I want that superpower,” she replied.

  “Go,” he said.

  She tried to tug on him, but didn’t make any headway. “Not without you.”

  “Go, you stubborn woman!”

  She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a child. Instead, she tried again to free him. It was hopeless. She didn’t have his insane super strength.

  Vehicles sped to a stop next to them and Holland knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She looked over at Donnie and found fur was now covering almost all of him. His mouth and face began to change shape, reminding her of a wolf.

  Do not panic.

  Do not panic.

  Holy shit, he’s a wolf-man.

  Instantly, she thought of Newt again. Her lizard-man hero.

  As she turned, she caught a glimpse of something she wasn’t quite prepared for, and considering the night she was having, that was saying something.

  There was a huge man-beast thing coming at them. She couldn’t be sure, but whatever it was, it looked like a huge pissed-off armadillo that was part-human—something out of a science-fiction movie.

  Donnie growled. “Dammit, they called in supernatural reinforcements.”

  Holland squeaked as Donnie’s deep voice boomed throughout the wreckage. She’d spent her life thinking she was the baddest thing out there. Turns out, giant armadillos existed.

  The beast slammed into the vehicle, striking it with such a force that it flipped. Holland fell, tumbling in the car like a rag doll. Men descended on Donnie’s side, ripping his door from the hinges. The sounds of the metal scraping hurt Holland’s ears. She tried desperately to hold on to Donnie’s fur-covered arm, but she wasn’t strong enough to keep the other men from yanking him out.

  The beast slammed into him, snarling, snapping its jaws at Donnie, who tried to fight back but was grossly outnumbered, not to mention injured. Holland made an attempt to scramble out of the vehicle in Donnie’s direction to try to help. Someone reached through the open area where the door had been on her side and ripped her free from the vehicle rather unceremoniously. She skidded on the dusty ground, and prepared for a killing blow to come.

  It didn’t.

  Two men were there. One put a hood over her head and the other grabbed her hands and bound them before her. She opened her mouth to tell them what she thought of them, and someone hit her so hard that she blacked out to the sound of Donnie’s growls and threats against their attackers.

  Chapter Ten

  Donnan “Donnie” Monaghan winced as another jolt of electricity was shot into him. Staring out through partially shifted eyes, he glared at the man prodding him. One of his eyes was swollen almost shut and filled with blood, making it hard to see. The man torturing him sneered and repeated the action, sending pain throughout Donnan’s body.

  He hung suspended from the ceiling by a chain. His wrists were secured above his head, currently supporting the entire weight of his body. His shirt was ripped open, his pants were starting to slide down lower on his hips and he was barefoot. Not to mention, he was beat to hell from the accident and the treatment he’d gotten over the past two days.

  “Where are the rest of the men you were with? What are they doing in this area?” the man asked, having demanded the same things what seemed like a hundred times since taking Donnan captive. The man was human, but reeked of evil. It was rare for a human to have full knowledge of supernaturals, but this one clearly did. He’d taken the lead in the torture from the two shifters who were still in the room. Satisfaction showed on their faces as they watched their human buddy stick Donnan again with the club he had. Each time it jabbed into his side, Donnan gritted his teeth.

  He wouldn’t break. He’d been through far worse than this.

  Lifting his head more, he caught the gazes of the other supernatural males in the room. “Póg mo thóin!”

  They appeared confused and he tipped his head back, ignoring the bite of pain radiating throughout his body. It took some doing, but he managed to get his out-of-joint middle finger in the air above him, his wrists still secured above his head as he dangled. While his finger was bent at a fucked-up angle, its message was clear. He decided to throw them a bone and translate his words for them. “Kiss my ass.”

  The human lifted the club high with one hand and whipped it across Donnan’s face, jerking his head to the side, his teeth rattling in the process. Still, he didn’t break. If they were torturing him, then that meant his team was still alive and hadn’t been found.

  Good.

  They’d find him and Holland and they’d extract them, laying a world of hurt on the assholes holding them in the process.

  The current assholes torturing him weren’t buying the idea that Donnan and his team were in the area to simply guard a reporter. They assumed the team was there regarding supernatural affairs.

  When he and his team of men had gotten assigned the task of guarding the American reporter, he’d nearly turned it down. The last thing he needed was a reporter around them. They weren’t human, and they liked to keep that on the down-low. Having a reporter around all the time opened them up for issues.

  Turns out, Holland wasn’t human, either.

  The girl had spunk and a hell of a gift with fire. She’d leveled several baddies with it and had saved him and his team. Russell, his right-hand man, had mentioned more than once to Donnie that something was different about Holland. Donnie had ignored him, assuming Russell’s drinking had become an issue again.

  It made sense that Russell would sense magik in Holland. As a natural-born Fae, who had a lot of years under his belt, Russell was their team expert on magiks
.

  He was also their team party-boy.

  Donnan couldn’t blame the man. Russell had seen too much, been exposed to too much death, and it had all caught up with him. Now, he liked to fuck away his feelings with a new woman nightly whenever possible.

  Russell had tried to hit on Holland a few times, but she’d seemed oblivious to the man’s playboy ways. She only wanted to play with Echo, totally ignoring Russell in the process. Sadly, Echo wasn’t a normal dog. Not anymore. He was far older than any dog could or would ever be. He’d been by Russell’s side during one of the many wars the man had fought in. Echo had been fatally injured then and Russell had been pretty banged up and bloody. From what Donnan had been told, Russell’s blood had mixed with the animal’s, giving Echo prolonged life as well as the total inability to play fetch properly.

  Whenever someone threw something for the dog to fetch, the magiks coursing through the animal would make the item reappear next to the dog in the blink of an eye. All the while, the dog would stare at the person throwing the item as if they weren’t doing it right.

  No one dared toss a hand grenade when Echo was near. Not unless they wanted it reappearing next to them and blowing.

  Donnan knew his men would come for him soon. They wouldn’t leave him behind. They’d secure Holland first. It was what they were trained to do. Then they’d make a move for him.

  He’d thought he’d given up the brotherly ties of being in a unit when he’d walked away from the service and the life it had provided. Joining the contracting firm had solved that issue. He saw the men as his brothers now.

  He’d grown tired of reinventing himself every few decades in order to throw suspicion off why it was he didn’t age. He was in a dark period now—a time when he didn’t leave a paper trail. He’d done a great job of fading away from the spotlight years ago, disappearing into the oblivion of third-world countries as he did what he did best—being a soldier.