two or three minutes to reach Holly. Two or three minutes that stretched to an eternity as he looked on, helpless to assist.
Holly raced through the rock maze, dodging and darting like a…a…
Like a wildcat, his dragon grinned.
Lachlan gulped. How many of her nine lives had she already used in that deadly maze?
Aghast, he watched her snake around one sea stack, then pivot in midair and race around another. The dragon pursuing her took a much wider, wobbly turn. Holly blasted him with fire, then dashed away at breakneck speed.
Literally breakneck, his dragon rumbled as the second dragon careened past his accomplice, heading directly at a vertical rock face. The beast backpedaled wildly, but it was too late.
Boom! The night resounded with the force of his impact, and his body crashed into the sea.
Lachlan sped on, caught between fear and wonder. Her moves reminded him of images he’d seen of the American West, where cowgirls raced around barrels. But Holly was pushing the limits of luck and physics. One miscalculation and she would be the one slamming into solid rock.
How does she manage? His dragon gaped as she shot through a narrow gap, then hung an impossibly tight turn to avoid another rock dead ahead. The dragon pursuing her threw on the brakes just in time, losing precious distance. It roared in frustration, as if asking the same thing. How does she do it?
Then it hit Lachlan.
Feel.
Listen.
Touch.
Tune in.
Holly wasn’t just sighting her way around the sea stacks. She was feeling her way around them using a page from her friend’s playbook. The friend who couldn’t rely on sight, using other senses instead.
He was tempted to close his eyes and tune in the same way, but he had to get over to Holly as quickly as possible. There were two other dragons nearby, in addition to the one chasing Holly. One was a female who hovered, watching in disgust.
“Moule à merde. Sans-couilles…” He caught her muttering as he thundered past.
Apparently, the she-dragon was French, and she was calling Enzo a shithead. A shithead without balls, to be precise.
Agreed, his dragon grumbled.
The she-dragon huffed and headed for the horizon, giving up on whatever cruel hopes she’d placed on that fight.
Lachlan didn’t bother stopping for a second look. There was one more dragon between him and the mercenary following Holly. That one hovered, watching the action from a safe distance. Lachlan considered. Should he take that dragon out of the equation first, or should he concentrate on the one tailing Holly?
Holly, his dragon thundered.
He dipped his nose and raced over, though he cursed on the way.
“Lombardi.”
His vision went red, and he nearly spun to attack the bastard. But he raced on instead, intent on helping Holly.
No! He roared, seeing her tilt sideways and zoom through a narrow slot between two sea stacks.
The dragon in pursuit shot higher rather than risk such a move, roaring in displeasure.
Then flames flashed out of nowhere, and the dragon’s roar turned into a scream of pain. Holly shot into view, engulfing him in fire. Somehow, she’d cut through the narrow gap, turned on a penny, and caught her foe in a counterattack even Lachlan hadn’t seen coming.
The beast flailed desperately, but that only stoked the flames, and his screams intensified. Then he dove into the sea — intentionally, it seemed, to douse the blaze. A moment later, two red eyes rushed toward the surface, intent on revenge.
“Holly!” Lachlan roared.
She darted away, then stopped, staring. Lachlan did, too. For some reason, the dragon was struggling at the surface, unable to lift into the air. Water boiled all around him, and Lachlan half expected a sea monster to appear.
But there was no giant squid to drag the fallen mercenary away, nor did a massive shark fin slice through the waves. Instead, dozens of small, furious splashes surrounded the dragon, who flailed and smacked at the surface in panic.
Selkies, Lachlan’s dragon breathed. The selkies were finishing off that dragon.
Holly looked on in horror, but Lachlan’s reaction was more one of wonder. Those weren’t the modern-world selkies assigned to guard duty at Gleninnis. They were the legendary, wild selkies Henry had referred to — the Beatha clan, who kept to themselves in the outer islands.
Not legends, his dragon murmured. They’re real — and highly effective.
Bit by bit, the dragon disappeared underwater. One after another, the selkies followed. Eventually, the water stopped frothing, until the only trace of their altercation was an agitated stir in the water.
“Whoa,” Holly muttered.
Lachlan changed course toward her,