Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #1) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,49

for the best, I tapped my cloaking charm to activate the stealth ability.

The agent’s eyes bulged as I seemed to disappear. I ducked, anticipating a snatch, and yanked Chopper and Fezzik out of his hands before he reacted. Soundlessly, I dropped and rolled away, evading a lunge and an attempt to grab me.

If Dimitri really could help, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t go back with these guys, not if they were taking all my stuff and my ability to fight, my ability to escape. Once I found a way to save Willard’s life, then they could arrest me.

A buzz of magical energy ran up my spine as soft twangs reached my ears. Something whizzed over my head. Several somethings. Sharp hisses came from the cars in the driveway.

Careful not to make noise and give away my position, I low-crawled across the grass and scattered pine needles. The men cursed and ran to their cars.

“What was that?” someone barked. “Is someone shooting?”

More twangs sounded. This time, I glanced back quickly enough to see tiny metal darts shoot out of the bear’s fish as the statue rotated back and forth, like a gardener spraying down a bed. Several darts pierced the glass windows of the cars with the power and authority of bullets. Others slammed into the tires. The hissing of air grew louder as it escaped through dozens of holes.

The roar of an engine sounded over the rush of the nearby river. The orange camper van, somehow spared the fate of the cars, spat gravel as it raced around them and turned toward the street. It paused, and Dimitri stuck his head out the window, peering into the yard.

Looking for me. I leaped up and checked to make sure Mom and Rocket had made it inside. They had, and she was peering out through the open front window.

“Stay safe!” I called in Elvish, one of only three phrases I remembered that she’d taught me.

I wanted to add for her to run out the back door and stay at a friend’s house, at least until I was out of the state, but I couldn’t say all that in Elvish. I had to trust that she would be able to take care of herself.

She disappeared from the window as I raced toward Dimitri. One of the agents dropped to his knees behind his vehicle—three out of four tires were deflated, still hissing weakly—and aimed his gun at the back of the van. His buddy grabbed his arm and said, “No shooting civilians.”

“But she’ll get away.”

“She’s not in the van. I think she went that way.” He pointed toward the trees and the river.

Yes, keep thinking that…

I ran as soundlessly as I could, not stepping onto the gravel until the last minute. As the agents darted off into the trees to look for me, I opened the passenger-side door and pulled myself in.

“Go,” I whispered, closing it as quietly as I could.

“That’s creepy.”

“What?”

“The door opening and closing by itself. I can’t see you. It’s straight out of Ghostbusters.”

Dimitri peeled out. It was not quiet.

“You’re too young to know that movie.”

“They rebooted it.”

“Without any guys in it. I didn’t think anybody male watched the reboot.”

“I’m not your typical male.”

“Because of your dwarf blood?”

“Not exactly.” Dimitri glanced in the side mirror as we rounded a bend and almost knocked over a garbage can.

“Well, you’re helping me, so you can be as typical or atypical as you want. I don’t care.”

“Glad you’re open-minded.”

“That’s me. Embracing diversity in all its shapes and forms.” I grabbed the oh-shit handle as he roared around another curve fast enough to make the mailboxes cower. “Slow down, eh, Mario? You flattened all of their tires. They won’t be after us. But the police might if we shoot through town doing eighty.”

“Right.” He slowed down as he drove toward the highway. “Where are we going now?”

“How far are you willing to go?”

“Depends on your destination. I’d have a hard time getting excited over Burns or Hood River. Also, I have to get gas if we’re going more than fifty miles.”

“I need to get to Seattle.” I didn’t expect him to drive me six hours to get there and was about to say so, but he smiled over at me—at my collarbone actually, reminding me that he couldn’t see me.

“I love Seattle. Good club scene.”

“I didn’t know yard-art creators were big into clubbing.”

“I’m only twenty-five. If you pay for gas, I’ll drive.”

I glanced at my side mirror, half expecting to find police barreling