Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #1) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,40

new friend I’d made in a long time. The first I’d felt safe enough befriending, since he could take care of himself.

That is not possible—and it would not be permitted. Even though you are not supposed to be my handler—nor was the thief that had me before—because of the deal my ancestors made, I must wait until we are called to serve the dragons. Then, perhaps when that battle has been fought and the deal has been satisfied, I will be released to live always among my own kind.

Would it help if I never called you away from your world? I hated the thought and wasn’t sure I could give up such a powerful ally now that I’d gotten used to having him at my side in battles.

Do you not need me?

Of course I do.

Then you should call me. I would not wish you to be slain by some furry wolf pup because you lacked a proper nanny.

I smiled, wondering if that meant he’d come to care about me. What would I do if a dragon—maybe this Zav himself—showed up and tried to take the figurine from me, to use Sindari in some war that might be fought one day?

How long ago was your realm formed and that deal made?

Before your people existed.

Ah, and in all that time, the dragons hadn’t yet fought their war? Maybe there was hope that nobody would come for Sindari in my lifetime then.

Rocket wanted to sniff one of the dead wolves, but Mom hurried him past the area of the fight. She still had him on his leash. She was almost jogging as she led the way up the path, a path that grew wider and more tamped down, more covered with all manner of prints.

She slowed to a halt in front of a jagged cliff formed of jumbled lava-rock boulders. They had been there a long time, and massive pines grew up from dirt-packed crevices between them, their roots dangling over the sides. The path ended right in front of a huge slab of rock.

“Has that always been there?” I pointed at it.

“No. It’s usually a tunnel entrance. This looks very permanent.” She looked down at the tracks for confirmation that we were in the right spot, then touched the boulder. Suspecting an illusion?

Her hand landed on solid rock. Dead end.

11

I sensed a hint of magic in the rock wall we faced. What do you think, Sindari?

It is an enchanted doorway. The tiger sat on his haunches and watched me. You should have brought your new dwarf friend.

Dimitri? We just met him yesterday. I wouldn’t consider him a friend yet.

He’s watching the small demon feline. Is this not an act of friendship?

Good point.

“Sindari says it’s an enchanted doorway,” I told Mom.

She was patting all along the rock face, looking for a gap or some magical switch to throw.

“They probably sensed the werewolves—and the dragon—and locked up tight.” I fingered my key-shaped charm, wondering if it would be up to the task.

“He… says?” For the first time, Mom paused and studied Sindari. “Your, uh, tiger speaks?”

Sindari lifted his head and puffed out his chest under this perusal.

“Telepathically to me, yes. I think he can only communicate with people who are capable of telepathy themselves and the person who has his charm.” I touched the figurine. “You’ll have to trust me that he’s wise and witty.”

I’m positive she can tell that from the regal way I carry myself.

You’ve got werewolf blood spattered on your tail.

Regally.

“Let me try, Mom.” I waved her back from the rock, rested my hand on the rock face, and grasped my charm.

This one didn’t have an activation word that needed to be voiced. Closing my eyes, I willed it to thwart whatever locking mechanism or enchantment lay before us.

It warmed in my grip, and the rock under my hand grew less solid. As it wavered, becoming opaque and then translucent, something came into view. A blue-green troll with spiky white hair—and a club.

It roared, staring straight at me. I jumped back, yanking out Chopper instead of my gun. Trolls were next to impossible to kill even with magical ammunition.

“Wait.” Mom stepped up beside me, lifting her empty hands. “I’m friends with Greemaw. I’ve been here before.”

Would the troll understand her? It wore a necklace of teeth, but nothing appeared magical and able to translate.

“You bring the Deathstalker here?” The troll pointed its club at me. Her club, I decided, noticing something akin to breasts pressed against her leather tunic. “This is