Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #2) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,18

bullies.

7

I sat in my Jeep in a gravel parking lot next to the Sammamish River Trail with the door open as I ate a breakfast burrito and ran searches on my phone. It hadn’t occurred to me that the Pardus brothers wouldn’t have a showroom or workshop address listed online, though I supposed Nin didn’t technically have an address either. Maybe in the magical-weapons business, it wasn’t a good idea to let anyone but trusted clients know how to find you. There were a lot of magical beings who would prefer that guns designed specifically to hurt them didn’t exist.

When Colonel Willard’s name lit up my phone, I answered it promptly. I’d left a message earlier, hoping she could get me the brothers’ address. Nin had never been out here herself, so she hadn’t known it.

“It’s Saturday, Thorvald,” Willard said, a little breathless. What workout had she been engaged in, while she should be resting, this time? Spin class?

“Crime doesn’t stop on the weekend.”

“What crime? Your message said you need the address of a gun dealer.”

“A magical-gun dealer—two of them. The Pardus brothers have been picking on Nin. And by picking on, I mean threatening to destroy her business if she doesn’t shut it down.” I didn’t think Willard had ever met Nin, but I’d mentioned her before and shown her Fezzik. Willard had politely oohed and aahed over the gun. “They’re also selling what they claim are dragon-slaying weapons.”

“Do you want to beat them up or buy one?”

“Both if they actually have them. But Nin doesn’t think anyone on Earth can make such things. Any chance you have their address? There’s a phone number listed, but when I tried calling it, I got a menu as convoluted as a bank’s and eventually a prompt to put in a code. I do not have a code.”

“Hold on. I have info on all the dealers in the area.”

A pair of geese left the grass to waddle up to my open door. They eyed the second half of my burrito. One poked at the gravel, as if I would have littered crumbs all over.

“You’re not getting my food, you winged mooch.”

The geese were very well fed. On the trail, a biker had to brake to avoid ducks crossing from the brush to the river. They were also well fed.

“I assume that comment is not for me,” Willard said. “Has your dragon returned?”

“To steal my breakfast burrito? No.”

“You should eat higher-quality food. It might help with your health issues.”

“I don’t have health issues. Just an obnoxious case of intermittent lung inflammation that pops up at inopportune times, such as when evil alchemists hurl noxious potions at me and when dragons try to light me on fire.”

“What do you think a health issue is?”

“Something serious that people die from. Like dysentery.”

“I see you played Oregon Trail as a kid.”

“I didn’t need to play it. Mom and I lived it in our school-bus house on wheels. Do you have the address? I’m about to get mauled by geese.”

One kept trying to pluck at my wrapper. I stuck it on the dash, then, worried the goose would jump onto my lap to get it, shut the door. They squawked in disappointed protest. Feeling guilty, I tore off some of the burrito and threw the pieces out the window.

“Yes, I’ll text it. It’s in Bothell.”

“I know that. I’m already here. I’m popping in to deliver threats on my way to purchase vampire-made lotions at the farmers market.”

“Zoltan has a stand? How does that work? Doesn’t his skin turn to ash if he sees sunlight?”

“Dimitri has a stand and is selling Zoltan’s products for him.”

“Tell him to watch his veins.”

“He’ll be fine. He has a cervical collar and decorative metal cactuses that launch darts.”

“Silver-tipped darts?”

“You’re thinking of werewolves. The cactus would have to hurl wooden stakes to hurt Zoltan.”

Willard paused before saying, “When you were going through Basic Training, did you have any idea your life would end up this weird?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel. You have Smurf coffee mugs. This is nothing.”

“Ha ha.”

The address popped up, and I thanked Willard and hung up. It was only a few blocks away in a neighborhood right on the river. That was surprising. Maybe their magical-weapons business did a lot better than Nin’s. If so, it was doubly obnoxious of them to harass her.

After looking up the directions and how much traffic was clogging the streets this sunny Saturday morning, I decided to walk. The river trail