Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #2) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,103
hearing my gasp, charged straight toward me. I yanked out Fezzik and rained fire at him. The tiger, though bleeding from a gut wound, spun and also charged at me.
Nin’s magical bullets bit into the shifters’ inhumanly tough skin. The tiger yelped, turned, and raced down the dusty tunnel, but Otto wasn’t ready to flee. He shifted into panther form, and hundreds of pounds of muscle and fang leaped at me.
Still firing, I sprang to the side, just missing another raking from savagely fast claws. My aim was true, and rounds pummeled his chest, blood spattering the earthen floor, but Otto’s rage carried him after me. I backed up until I reached a wall, then switched to Chopper to keep him at bay and strike whenever I had the opportunity. The blade was a blue blur in the air between us, metal clanging against claw and fang. Blood gushed onto the gray stone floor.
Screams of pain came from the direction of the orb chamber, followed by Sindari’s chilling roar. He still sounded busy.
One of Otto’s paws slipped through, claws extending as they swept toward my throat. I whipped my head back, but he caught my leather thong. It snapped and my charms tumbled to the floor. I lunged but only caught one. The lock-pick charm.
Otto slashed at me, taking advantage of my break in the fight. I stuffed the charm in my pocket and whipped my sword in to deflect him.
As I pressed Otto back with a combination of feints and lunges, I was aware of Dob turning slowly away from his torture session to regard us. No, to regard me.
His silver-blue eyes narrowed, and out of the edge of my vision, I saw the lightbulb click on for him as he saw me for the first time, my cloaking charm now on the floor and useless. He’d just realized I wasn’t some random intruder. I had to finish off Otto fast and figure out how to deal with Dob.
Sindari roared again, but it was distant, back in the orb room. He couldn’t help me. Otto backed me up again, and I struggled to keep those fangs and claws from reaching me. He had three weapons—fangs and two sets of claws—and all I had was Chopper. Fezzik had riddled him with bullets, but it wasn’t enough. Chopper could take off his head. I just needed an opening.
But he was incredibly fast, amped up on rage and bloodlust. Whereas my body ached, and my lungs burned from the exertion. I slashed for his head, but he ducked, and I barely clipped his ear, taking off the tip. He didn’t appear to notice. He came in low, slashing for my shin. I tried to back further, but I was against the wall again. I slid the blade toward his feline face, not expecting to hit but hoping to distract, then leaped into the air, somersaulting over him. As I landed behind him, I spun and lashed out.
One of the glass spheres I’d stuffed in my pocket tumbled out when I was upside down. It shattered on the ground as Otto whirled toward me, already lunging in.
With my charm on the floor somewhere, I caught a whiff immediately. Damn it. I held my breath, backed away, and hoped that Otto, who was closer to it, would be more affected.
The gas filled the air, and he jerked back in the opposite direction. That was my chance. He sneezed, and in that split second, I swept Chopper in for a logger’s chop. Even with my bodyweight behind it, and the magic of the blade, it didn’t fully take his head off, but it cut halfway through. That was enough to sever his spine.
As the fight finally faded from the ferocious panther, I tore the blade free, and spun toward Dob. Too late.
Bolts of electricity streaked across the room and slammed into my body at a dozen points. Agony blasted me from each spot, and a scream escaped my mouth before I could clamp it shut.
I pitched onto my side, my legs refusing to hold me upright. They twitched as if volts of electricity were coursing through them. Maybe they were.
My fingers wanted to spasm open and drop Chopper, but through the pain, I clenched down, as if the sword was my lifeline. The acrid gas in the air stung my eyes and throat, but that was the least of my problems.
Dob strolled toward me, his hands folded calmly on his flat stomach. He was the