Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #1) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,43

times wider than mine. She had to weigh thousands of pounds. But she didn’t make any sudden movements.

“Will you look at the sigil on the bottom of this and let me know if you recognize it?” I waved the vial. “I’ll pay,” I repeated, though I didn’t know if money was useful to these people. It wasn’t as if a golem could walk into a 7-11.

“Did you slay the werewolf protectors?” she asked. “Or did the dragon?”

Uh. They had called themselves protectors, and she called them that too. I’d hoped they hadn’t been allied. If I told her the truth, she probably wouldn’t help me. More than that, she might order everybody here to attack me.

The children, I noticed, had disappeared, and only adults were present now. More than fifty of them watched our exchange, some with clubs, short swords, or bows. A couple of flinty-faced dwarves had guns.

Though I was tempted to foist the deaths of the werewolves off on Zav, it was possible the golem could communicate with him and that I would be caught lying. I didn’t like lying anyway. I didn’t think I had been at fault when it came to the werewolves, but if I’d made a mistake, I preferred to own up to it. The only thing that made me pause was all the baleful looks—and the weapons—aimed in my direction.

“They attacked me,” I said, “and I defended myself. I asked if they would let us turn back without a fight, but they said no. So, yes, I killed several of them. Five, I believe, between myself and Sindari. I’m not sure how many the dragon killed, if any. He captured one and lit a couple others on fire. They may have survived.”

The golem listened to my tale, then looked to one of the side walls in her cave. It was more of an alcove, and I didn’t sense or feel anything magical in the stone itself, but she spoke to the wall.

“Is that correct?”

The rock wall shimmered, and a surge of magical awareness flooded me even before Zav walked out in human form to stand next to the golem and face me. Physically, he appeared small next to Greemaw, but magically, he was like the sun compared to a distant star.

I couldn’t read the haughty expression he leveled at me, but I made myself stare back at him with determination. I didn’t care if he radiated the power of a supernova. This was my world, not his, and he didn’t have any right to judge me or tell me what I could do here.

“It’s correct,” he said, still looking at me, though he replied to Greemaw. “I let the werewolves who fled live, though they should have been punished. They were arrogant and did not properly defer to a dragon.”

“Yeah, I had the same problem with them.” It probably wasn’t the time for lippiness—the dark frown my mom sent me assured that—so I resolved to keep my mouth shut, unless it was about the vial.

“It is no surprise that a werewolf would not defer to a human.” Zav’s violet eyes closed to slits but remained locked on me. “Even a mongrel with the blood of an elf who lowered himself to rut with a human.”

Mom turned her frown on Zav, and indignation burned in her eyes. Probably more at the insult to her former lover than for me or herself. But Rocket slunk back to hide behind a hut, and she must have remembered how dangerous this guy was—those casually incinerated bullets had to be prominent in her mind—for she didn’t say anything.

“You have earned the hatred of all the magical beings in this part of this world.” Zav walked toward me, his hands clasped behind his back, and then circled me, eyeing me up and down. It wasn’t sexual—if he’d been affronted by the idea of an elf and a human mating, he’d wither up and die in horror at a dragon having relations with a human. It was more like that of an undefeated boxer sizing up a scrawny newcomer to the arena. “I can understand why, of course,” he continued, “since you stomped into my way and killed the wyvern I was in the middle of arresting.”

Why did I have a feeling this guy was making me his special project? Was it truly coincidence that he’d found criminals right next to me on two separate occasions, or was he stalking me for some reason? Running into each other at the