Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #1) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,95

wasn’t until that moment that I remembered she wouldn’t be able to see anything down here. She didn’t have a night-vision charm. She might not even know I was human. Half-human, anyway.

“I’m going to cut these bindings off you. Then you can run, and we’ll get out of here.” I glanced toward the pile of rocks blocking our way. “Some way. What’s your name? I’m Val.”

She shook her head slowly and didn’t answer. Yes, she was definitely in shock. I shuddered to think about how long she’d been a prisoner and what that vile priestess might have already done to her.

“Where do you live, Silent One? As soon as we get out of here, I have a friend who can pick us up and take you home.”

“Shoreline,” she whispered, naming a suburb to the north.

I shuddered again. My daughter only lived a few miles away from there. Had this girl been taken from there or during a trip into Seattle?

Sindari finally formed in the mist. I paused to hug him.

Valmeyjar, he spoke into my mind far more formally than usual. I did not think it would be you. I thought you would be dead.

I started to reply, but I sensed a powerful magical aura approaching from behind us. Sindari faced it. I recognized the owner of the aura before he came into sight, but I still debated on drawing Fezzik. It wasn’t as if Zav had officially said we were working together, and he might be pissed that I’d killed the priestess. And that I had his artifact.

It was hideous, and I definitely didn’t want it. Maybe if I threw it at him, he would be appeased, like some volcano god accepting a virgin hurled into his caldera.

Zav was limping when he came into view, blood streaming from cuts on his bruised face, but as soon as he spotted me, he hid the limp. Or gritted his teeth through it. His black robe and dark hair were coated in dust. I never would have guessed he could appear so disheveled.

He still carried that sword, and he raised it and pointed it at me. I swore and lunged to the side, trying to protect the girl even as I drew Fezzik.

This time, an entire roiling wave of fiery orange power sprang from its tip, not a single beam, and it nearly blinded me. I turned my back as the power passed me, somehow not stirring a hair on my head, and pounded into the caved-in rocks. They blew backward with the thunderous boom of dynamite exploding, the power pulverizing them to ashes before they hit the ground again.

Just as the power hadn’t struck me, the shrapnel from the exploding rocks didn’t touch me. I sensed a magical shield protecting me and the girl.

Zav grabbed the artifact from my hand as he passed and kept going.

“You’re welcome,” I called.

“I advise you to leave,” he said without looking back. “The tunnels are unstable.”

“No shit. You made them that way.” The way was clear so I took the girl’s arm and led her after Zav.

“It was not until you threw explosives that the ceiling collapsed and my perch crumbled,” Zav said, still not looking back. “This was followed by three of your wheeled conveyances tumbling through from the thoroughfare above. One of them landed on me.” This time, he looked back, shooting me the dirtiest glare I’d seen from him.

“Maybe next time you invade an enemy lair, you won’t stand up on a railing like a pompous stump orator running for office.”

“I do not know what that means, but if you insult me, I will not save your life again.”

“I saved your life, too, buddy!”

We’d passed through the last hatchway, and Zav reached the airlock chamber ahead of us. The dark elf who’d driven the submarine had been removed from the tunnel. Zav twitched his sword, and the lever to open the door threw itself.

I realized he was about to escape, and I’d been too busy arguing with him to ask him for the blood I still needed. If I didn’t get it, Zoltan might refuse to make the formula, and all of this would have been for naught.

“Wait, Dragon!” I called as he stepped into the airlock and strode for the second door. “Zavryd-thingy,” I corrected myself the best I could. A cat hacking up a hairball would have a better chance at getting close to the pronunciation of the whole name. “I got your artifact for you. Will you give me a