Sinister Magic (Death Before Dragons, Book 1): Preview Chapters for My New Urban Fantasy

Woo woo, who’s ready for some urban fantasy? (Don’t worry — nobody says “woo woo” in the book.)

With this first installment of my new series, Death Before Dragons, we’ve got a kickass half-elven heroine who can handle just about anything… except dragons. And wouldn’t you know it? The author threw one in her path. Quite rude. Quite enjoyable. 🙂

If you want to check out the first book, Sinister Magic, you can order it from Amazon:

• Amazon US
• Amazon UK
• Amazon CA
• Amazon AUS
• Amazon DE

The ebooks will be exclusive to Amazon for now, so I can participate in the Kindle Unlimited program, but the paperbacks and audiobooks are also coming and will be available everywhere. And as always, if you want to subscribe to my Patreon campaign, at the $5 level or above, you get all of my books early and in both formats (.mobi for the Kindle and .epub for all other e-readers).

Want to check out the first couple of chapters before you buy? Here they are:

Chapter 1

As I scooted a few more inches down the cliff, I came to the end of my rope. And swore. Vehemently and virulently, as appropriate for someone hanging from damp, gritty, vertical rock a hundred feet above crashing ocean waves.

Then I made the mistake of looking down and swore a little more. Heights don’t usually faze me. What gets me is the thought of falling from them, landing on sharp pointy rocks, being pulverized like flank steak in a meat grinder, and then being sucked out to sea, never to be seen again.

But the mouth of the cave was less than twenty feet below. I gritted my teeth in determination. I could do this.

“Besides,” I muttered to the rock, “you’re the idiot who chose not to drive an hour back to a town with a hardware store for more rope.”

After finding a suitable handhold, I scooted lower. Climbing back up would be easier, assuming I wasn’t injured then. I had to trust that my magical weapons, my magical charms, and the agility that my half-elven blood granted me would see me through this.

Halfway to the cave entrance, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it, like any sane person would, and continued carefully downward.

But then I paused. It was Friday and almost closing time for people who worked office jobs. If this was the call I was expecting and I ignored it, I’d have to wait until Monday to get the test results.

Making sure I had three points of contact, and one foot wedged so far into a crevice that falling would be impossible, I eased my phone out of my pocket. Yes, it was the doctor’s office. I had one bar of reception and the roar of the surf behind me.

“This is Val,” I answered, waiting to impress the receptionist with my connection.

“Hello, this is Mandy in Dr. Brightman’s office. Is this… Val… mey… jar?”

“Just Val.” I didn’t correct the pronunciation or explain that my Norwegian mother had thought it would be fun to name me after a Valkyrie.

“We got your test results back, and ev—”

“And what?” The tightness in my chest that had grown familiar these last few months intensified, and I rolled my eyes as I envisioned having to dig into my other pocket for the inhaler Dr. Brightman had given me. What kind of monster-slaying warrior woman developed asthma? “I’m sorry, uh, Mandy. Can you repeat that?”

I glanced at the phone, worried the call had dropped.

“Valmeyjar?” Mandy asked, clearly hearing me as well as I was hearing her. “I’m sorry. I think the connection isn’t very good.”

A seagull squawked as it flew by, either commenting on the stupidity of my position or wondering if I had French fries in my pocket.

“I noticed. The results?”

“I said everything is normal on your bloodwork. Are you at the coast?”

“Normal?” I used my eyes to burn a laser of skepticism into the face of the phone. “What?”

“Everything is normal.”

“Are you sure? I have… issues. New issues.” I barely slept, I had a ridiculous urge to take siestas, and now this new betrayal from my lungs.

“Well, your inflammatory markers are a little high, but it’s nothing to worry about at this point. Your hormone levels were all good, especially for a woman of your age.”

My eyes bored more lasers into the phone. “My age? I’m barely past forty.”

“Hormones can get a little persnickety in your forties.” Persnickety? Who in this century said persnickety? “Oh, here’s Dr. Brightman.” Mandy sounded relieved to pass me off.

“Everything is normal, Val,” he said. “It’s not uncommon to develop asthma and allergies later in life.”

“I am not later in life. My mom isn’t even later in life. She’s seventy-one and hikes the Pacific Crest Trail for kicks.”

“If you find yourself using the rescue inhaler more than a couple of times a month, we’ll want to get you on a daily corticosteroid.”

“I don’t take drugs.”

Dr. Brightman was diplomatic enough not to point out that my new dependence on the “rescue inhaler” counted as using a drug.

“If you change your mind or have further concerns, we can schedule another appointment, but from what you’ve told me of your life, you might want to relax a little.”

“I’ve told you next to nothing about my life.”

“I can read between the lines. You seem driven. How’s work? How’s your stress load? Are you able to take time off to relax?”

“Uh.” I glanced down at the cave to make sure my target hadn’t sauntered out on the ledge to contemplate my potential as a meal. “When I can.”

“And how are your relationships with family and friends?”

“I fail to see what that has anything to do with—”

“Do you have a good social support group?”

I thought of Colonel Willard, the military contact who gave me assignments, and Nin, the woman in Seattle who made my magical weapons. Did they count? My ex-husband and my daughter were… people I kept tabs on but never visited, too afraid my work would endanger them.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Hm.” Why did Brightman sound like he didn’t believe me? The connection wasn’t good enough to detect lies. “I’ve got a friend who’s an excellent therapist. I can’t make appointments for you, but I can make a referral. We can set everything up so you get a text and can book online. Easy peasy. I highly recommend you work on your stress levels, your relationships, and your sleep—do you sleep well?”

No, I dreamed of all the mutilated victims that my targets had killed before I’d killed them.

“That silence speaks volumes, Val. I’ll get that referral in pronto. And have you tried yoga? Some relaxation and deep breathing exercises? Meditation? Why don’t you work on your lifestyle for six months, and then we’ll recheck your inflammation levels.”

Yoga? Meditation? Therapy?

“Shit.” I hung up and stuffed the phone in my pocket.

I crept down the cliff and landed soundlessly on the ledge at the mouth of the cave. Crouching, I peered into a tunnel far darker than the cloudy gloom of the Oregon coast.

“Yeshelya,” I whispered, touching one of the charms hanging from the leather thong around my neck.

My eyes tingled as magic took hold. After a few seconds, the walls of the uneven passage grew clear, as did the spot where it curved around a bend. A few fish bones scattered the rock floor, and the pungent smells of an animal’s den mingled with the salty fishiness of the ocean.

Before reaching for another charm, the feline figurine at the center of my necklace that I’d risked my life to acquire, I made myself take a hit from the loathed inhaler. I didn’t want a witness to this new weakness I’d developed.

“Sindari,” I whispered, a name this time, not a magical word I could barely pronounce. “Time to come out and play.”

Gray mist appeared at my side, and my other social connection formed inside of it, the great silver tiger quickly growing as solid as any Earth animal. Only the faint glow that emanated from his black-striped silver fur and the intelligence gleaming in his green eyes gave him away as magical.

It’s about time, Sindari said telepathically through our mental connection. The air stinks of wyverns.

There’s only one left. We got the other two already. Unless you can smell more? As far as I knew, I had the telepathic aptitude of a smooth, dull rock, but when I responded in my head, Sindari always heard me.

The tiger’s nostrils twitched. There is only one. This will be a disappointingly boring battle. His head cocked slightly. Ah, but it is a female. Good. Females are more challenging.

Lucky us.

Yes.

Before we headed in, I took my phone out once more, this time to play the video I’d saved. Shaky footage that someone had recorded in Thousand Acres Park outside of Portland rolled for me.

Three blue wyverns, their leathery wings flapping as they came out of the trees, dove down and attacked children playing on the Sandy River beach. Some of the kids got away. Others were pulled up into the treetops where the wyverns feasted. Four children and a mother had been killed that day.

“Let’s do this,” I said grimly, replacing the phone and pulling Fezzik out of my thigh holster.

The compact submachine pistol had similar features to a Heckler & Koch MP7, but Nin had made it from scratch, and the elven half of my blood recognized the magic emanating from it and from the individual cartridges in the magazine. The gun was almost as powerful as Chopper, the longsword I’d won in battle long ago and that I wore sheathed on my back. If this went to hell and the wyvern got close before I could take it down, I would switch to the blade.

Sindari led the way. Normally, I wouldn’t let someone else go first, but if he was grievously injured, he could instantly return to the safety of his realm to heal.

We crept down the passage, rounding bends, and the roar of the surf grew fainter, replaced by drips and trickles deeper within the cave. Soon, we were close enough to the lair that my own ability to sense magic, one of the few powers I’d inherited from the father I’d never met, let me feel the aura of the wyvern.

The tunnel widened into a chamber twenty feet high and twice that deep. We had gone back far enough that I guessed we were under the spot where I’d parked my Jeep. A hundred feet under it.

Stalactites leered down from above, and stalagmites interfered with the view ahead. I couldn’t yet see our target, but I could smell her. More bones littered the floor in here. Some were deer and some were human, with blood and gristle still clinging to them.

My grip tightened on Fezzik, anger simmering as I wondered how many people this intruder in our world had killed in addition to those caught on the video.

She is resting behind those stalagmites, Sindari said. Your mongrel aura is weak, but you should cloak yourself.

It’s subtle, not weak. Just like me.

You are as subtle as those massive steel orbs on chains that pummel the sides of your buildings.

Wrecking balls, yeah, yeah. I touched the powerful cloaking charm, another hard-won prize, and faded from the sight and smell of others. My aura, my signature to those who could sense magic, also disappeared.

Sufficient, Sindari said.

Knowing I would prefer to attack from a distance and the higher ground, he led me toward a natural ramp creeping up the side of the chamber to a ledge. Just as the blue scales and folded wings of the dozing wyvern came into view, Sindari halted. His tail went rigid, and he whirled back toward the entrance.

Certain he’d sensed a second wyvern, I also turned, pointing Fezzik at the tunnel. I didn’t see or hear anything.

We need to get out of here. Sindari took a step but halted. No, we can’t go that way. He’s coming that way.

My ferocious battle tiger, the same tiger who’d been worried the wyvern would be too easy an opponent, looked around, nostrils flaring in fear as he sought some back exit from the cave.

I started to ask why, but then I sensed it. Something with an aura so great that even I could feel it from far away. And tell that it was getting closer.

He’s coming, Sindari groaned into my mind.

What is it? I’d never sensed anything like this.

A dragon.

 

Chapter 2

 

A dragon?

I wanted to be skeptical and dismissive. Dragons didn’t come to Earth, not anymore. A thousand years ago, they might have, but they’d left long before the elves and dwarves had disappeared.

It was hard, however, to be skeptical when I could sense the incredibly powerful aura coming closer and closer. It—he?—was in the tunnel. And shape-shifted into something small? How else could a dragon fit in here?

We must hide. There’s no way out unless we run past him. Sindari backed farther up the ramp. Which I do not advise. Your weapons will do nothing against him, and my fangs will be like toothpicks if he shifts into his natural form. Even if he is in human form, he’ll be impossible to kill.

I followed Sindari, trusting his assessment. My only experience with dragons came through stories from other magical beings who had encountered them in their native worlds.

We scooted back to the deepest corner of the ledge. Below, just visible between two stalactites, the wyvern stirred for the first time.

Her head came up, snout opening to reveal long pointed teeth dripping with poisonous saliva. Her wings spread as she rose on her two legs to sniff the air. The wyvern was a distant relative of a dragon but much smaller, much less dangerous.

She shifted to peer around a tall stalagmite. I found a spot where I could watch her and also see the tunnel. Her talons flexed nervously on the rock floor, and she glanced around the chamber. Looking for an escape?

Her yellow-eyed gaze raked over us, and I held my breath, worried my charm wouldn’t be enough to keep me hidden. Sindari, his kind masters of stealth, had innate magic to camouflage himself. He wouldn’t be the problem.

But the wyvern’s gaze didn’t linger. It ratcheted back on the mouth of the tunnel as a human figure in a black robe with silver trim strode into view.

He had a tall, broad build and olive skin, a tidily trimmed beard and mustache, and short, curly black hair. My senses told me he was the dragon, even if he’d shape-shifted into this form to blend in. Not that he would blend in. That robe looked like something out of a Lord of the Rings movie, the silver slippers like something from Oz, and the dragon-shaped gold amulet on his chest was bling that Mr. T would have loved. Lastly, the violet eyes that glowed with inner power were nothing contacts could have achieved.

That violet gaze roamed around the cavern, skimming over us, and I held my breath again. Even if my charm worked on a wyvern, a dragon might not be fooled. I’d scrounged and fought far and wide for my collection of protective magic, and most of the centuries-old trinkets hadn’t come with instruction manuals.

“Dysnax crayell, loreth.” The dragon’s deep baritone rang through the chamber with resonance that Darth Vader would have envied. “Crayell Zavryd’nokquetal.”

The wyvern darted fully behind her stalagmite and hid, her pointed blue tail wrapping around the base as if she feared being torn away.

I touched another charm and mouthed the command word, hoping I could activate it without actually speaking. There was no way I was going to make a noise. Dragons could probably hear pins dropping on the moon.

“…and furthermore,” the dragon said, the charm translating the words in my mind, “you fled like a coward from your home realm, leaving the slain behind you to be discovered by their families.”

The wyvern was a criminal on more than one world? Not surprising. I was relieved to hear the dragon hadn’t come for me.

“You will return with me through the portal to be incarcerated until such time that you can be judged by the Dragon Justice Court. They will determine your punishment and your subsequent rehabilitation.”

Wait a minute. This guy wanted to take my target through a portal to another world? For rehabilitation?

Oh, hell no. The wyvern was going to die for the children she’d killed and the bones of the dead littered across the floor of this very cave. I’d been hired to kill her, not watch someone else cart her away.

I shifted Fezzik and leaned to the side enough to line my sights up with the wyvern’s head.

You can’t shoot her in front of that dragon, Sindari warned. Don’t be fooled by his human form. He can kill you with a look.

I know. I’m going to need your help.

“I didn’t do it,” the wyvern called from behind her stalagmite.

“I see the lie staining your soul. Come with me now, or I will forcibly remove you from your miserable squalid hole.”

Please say the help you need isn’t for me to fight and slay the dragon, because that isn’t in my repertoire of abilities.

No, just lead him away. I’ll finish the job and sprint out of here. Sprint was an ambitious word considering the climb back up to the top of the cliff, but I would find a way. If he catches up with you, go back to your realm. I’ll call you back to Earth later when it’s safe.

You know he can follow me home, right?

I hesitated. Are you sure?

Dragons can do anything. There’s a reason they rule all seventeen of the Cosmic Realms.

They don’t rule on Earth.

Only because they don’t care about Earth. Sindari watched as the dragon strode toward the wyvern. Correction: They haven’t cared about Earth in the past. For a dragon to come here, something must have changed. Or the wyvern committed an incredibly heinous crime.

She did. I rested a hand on Sindari’s back. Please, lead the dragon away. I’m positive he’ll be too angry with me to chase you back to your realm.

That is not reassuring. He will kill you.

Not if I get away. Lead him far and lead him fast.

I don’t think you understand the power of dragons.

Then this next ten minutes should be educational. I waved him toward the tunnel entrance.

Just don’t die in the ocean. I don’t want my next handler to be a whale.

Blazing yellow light flared below, stealing all the shadows in the cave. Rocks shattered as the dragon hurled a magical attack at his foe. The wave of power pulverized the stalagmite, and dozens of others in the area, as it hurled the wyvern forty feet to the back wall.

An ominous snap erupted from the ceiling of the cave. Two stalactites plunged down, leaving my hiding spot on the ledge open and vulnerable. I could get killed simply by the raw power being hurled around.

The dragon lifted a hand, and the wyvern floated into the air and toward him. The winged creature spun, trying to flap her wings, her two legs flailing in the air, her lizard-like face panicked.

Now, Sindari, I silently urged.

Sindari didn’t argue with me further. He sprang from our ledge and ran toward the dragon, mouth opening as if he would take a bite.

Despite his magical stealth, the dragon sensed him coming. The wyvern thudded to the ground as he shifted his focus toward Sindari.

The great silver tiger sprang for his head. The dragon’s eyebrows twitched in faint surprise, but all he did was duck. Sindari sailed over him, snapping at the dragon’s ear on the way by, but I could tell it was a feint. Even so, his snout bumped against an invisible shield and glanced off.

The dragon appeared more puzzled than afraid as Sindari, a deadly creature that would make any predator on Earth quake with fear, sailed past him.

Sindari landed and raced into the tunnel. It looked like the dragon would ignore him. My stomach sank.

Then Sindari shouted telepathically, You hatched backward from your egg, you one-winged gimp.

The dragon’s violet eyes flared with furious light, and he whirled and started to sprint after Sindari. But he paused in the mouth of the tunnel and looked back at the wyvern. His eyes flared even brighter, and yellow bands appeared around the wyvern, entrapping her and hoisting her in the air.

The dragon sprinted down the tunnel after Sindari.

Be safe, my friend, I thought, hoping I hadn’t lied and doomed him to his death.

The wyvern spit and hissed, struggling against the magical bonds, but she couldn’t unfurl her wings, and her talons dangled a foot off the floor. With half of the stalactites turned to rubble on the ground, I had no trouble lining up my shot.

I hesitated, wanting Sindari to get the dragon as far away as he could—the full mile that he could be parted from his figurine—before I killed the wyvern. I had no doubt the dragon would know when his would-be captive was dead, and I needed time to escape.

The honorable part of me regretted sniping the wyvern when she was defenseless, but I’d learned long ago that facing magical creatures in fair battles got humans killed. And this wasn’t an arena. This was justice, and it was my assignment. The wyvern had committed a crime, and I was the executioner.

I fired, Fezzik’s boom thundering in the enclosed space. The magical bullet left a trail of blue in the dim air as it thudded into the side of the wyvern’s head.

She shrieked but didn’t die instantly. Startlingly, the magical bonds holding her aloft evaporated, and she dropped to her feet. Without hesitation, she whirled, unctuous gray-red blood dribbling down the side of her head, and flew up to my ledge. I shot again, but the bullet barely sank in, her feathered torso protected by some magical armor.

As the wyvern landed, she flung a psionic attack at me—at my mind. A powerful urge plunged into my thoughts, a command to drop my weapons, fall to my knees, and expose my neck for a swift kill.

Growling, I shook it off. Once, that might have worked, but since I’d started carrying Chopper, it had grown easier to combat mental attacks.

The wyvern advanced, her large sharp beak snapping. Powerful leg muscles bunched, and she sprang toward me, talons extending toward my face.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I flicked Fezzik’s selector to automatic and held down the trigger. A thunderous rain of bullets slammed into her chest. Her wing flaps faltered, but momentum carried her forward, and she landed right in front of me.

Bullets riddled her chest. Crazy with fear of death—or fear of the dragon—she was somehow still alive, still attacking.

I jammed Fezzik into its holster and tore Chopper from its sheath. As the wyvern lunged, beak snapping, I stabbed at her chest like a fencer. On the narrow ledge, with the wall looming to my right, there wasn’t room for sweeping blade work.

A wing swept in as she reversed her lunge and tried to deflect the blow. I was too strong—the sword cut into the blue leathery membrane and crunched into bone.

Blood spattered, and I jerked back, but not before droplets hit my hand and sleeve. Like acid, they burned through my clothing and into my skin, acrid smoke wafting up.

I snarled and lunged in again, this time feinting high for that sneering lizard face. She whipped her wing up to block, but I was already shifting my attack to one of her unprotected legs. The blade sank deep, and she shrieked.

In my mind, I saw the children she’d killed, their crumpled bodies on that blood-drenched beach. I stabbed again and again, varying the targets, and finding her heart. Finally, she fought no more.

As the wyvern tottered, on the verge of falling, I swept my blade across her neck, not caring when my elbow clunked against the stone wall. Her head flew off, thunking to the ground far below.

My blood was roaring in my ears, my heart pounding, but I didn’t pause to recover. I sprang over the body as it fell to the ledge, and sprinted for the tunnel. Already, I’d taken too much time.

Through my link with Sindari, I sensed him swimming—he hadn’t been able to climb the wall, so he’d leaped to the sea far below. I also sensed the dragon shifting into his natural form—four legs, black scales, great wings that blotted out the sun when he flew—and swooping down after the tiger.

I raced down the tunnel, jamming my uncleaned sword into its scabbard with a wince. There was no time to wipe it down, and I couldn’t climb with it out.

Only the knowledge that I wouldn’t survive the fall if I tumbled into the sea slowed me down. Carefully, I picked my way up the damp cliff, my fingers shaking.

Wind gusted, needling me through my sweat-drenched clothing and trying to tear me from the cliff. My rope jerked and twisted like a snake on a handler’s tongs. It taunted me as the end flapped against the rock to the left of my reach.

Rock gave way, and my foot slipped. I caught myself, heart lurching wildly.

A roar came from the ocean—a menacing baritone sound that made my very bones quail. The dragon.

My feline figurine warmed slightly through my shirt, and I sensed Sindari disappearing from this realm. Another roar echoed over the waves.

My charm didn’t translate the noise, but I knew without a doubt that the dragon realized he’d been tricked. And was on his way back.

I lunged and finally caught the end of the rope. Gasping as I banged my knee on the wall, I hauled myself up. I climbed faster than I’d ever climbed in my life, but it was too slow. I knew it was without looking back.

The roar came again. Much closer this time.

I scrambled over the ledge, long wet grass slapping at my face, and lunged to my feet. Not bothering to retrieve the rope, I sprinted for the trees beyond the grass, hoping—praying—the dragon wouldn’t be able to fly through the dense evergreens.

In the distance, I could make out my black Jeep. I doubted that it would keep me safe, but if I could get back to the highway, maybe…

The roar sounded again above and behind me. I glanced back, almost tripping at the terror that filled me when I saw those violet eyes in that furious, black reptilian face. Somewhere between a wolf and a lizard, the dragon was a million times more fearsome than either. And he was huge. A hundred feet long? He had to be.

I sprinted into the trees, lamenting that there was no path, no road, to help me through the soggy undergrowth. The dragon pulled up, the dense trees making him pause, and he circled.

Would he fly above them until I passed into a clearing? Or change into his human form to give chase?

The blazing light of a sun filled the air behind me, and heat scorched my back. I caromed off a tree as I glanced back again. Flames roiled after me, trees cracking and catching fire, blackening in instants. Birds shrieked and fled the forest.

The flames licked at my back, but one of the small charms on my necklace grew icy cold, and I didn’t feel the pain of being engulfed. The brilliant light stung my eyes, but neither my skin, clothing, nor hair caught fire. Even with the protection of the charm, the heat was intense, and it chased me all the way to my Jeep.

I sprang in, shoving my sword scabbard aside so I could sit, and thrust the key into the ignition. I jammed my foot against the pedal and spun the wheel, groaning because I’d parked in a clearing. Who could have known?

The Jeep roared toward the forest service road that had gotten me most of the way to the cliff. There was no time to buckle my seatbelt, and my head bumped the soft top with each dip and bump. When I made it to the ancient dirt road, mud spattering as my wheels hit it, things didn’t improve much, but I steered down it as fast as I could.

Branches blotted out much of the sky above me, but not so much that I didn’t see that big black body following me. Easily keeping pace.

“Idiot, idiot,” I chanted to myself. Why hadn’t I heeded Sindari’s wisdom?

A flat straight stretch opened up, and I pressed the accelerator. How far to Highway 101? Seven miles? Eight? An eternity? Yes.

The branches overhead grew less thick, and I knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t see anything in the mirrors, but he was up there.

A roar blasted the air right above me, louder than a foghorn. Talons slashed through the soft top of the Jeep, plunging in like daggers. Like swords.

I jerked low in the seat and hit the brakes. A thunderous ripping filled my ears. The dragon’s momentum carried him past, but he took the top with him.

“Hard top,” I muttered. “Should’ve gotten a hard top.”

As he turned, maneuvering his massive body between the trees to come back for me, I hit the accelerator again. I wasn’t going to make it past him. There was no way.

More agile than anything that large should have been, he rose above me and then dove, arrowing straight toward the driver’s seat.

I jerked down as low as I could while still holding the wheel. The Jeep lurched off the side of the road, underbrush tearing at the fender. The dragon grabbed its frame and lifted.

When the wheels were pulled off the road, I was so startled that I couldn’t do anything but react. I sprang out the open window, almost getting my scabbard caught on the frame, as the dragon lifted my Jeep higher and higher.

My shoulder hit the ground first, hard, and I rolled into the undergrowth, crashing into a tree with a blast of pain. I sprang up, yanking Chopper free.

As powerful as Fezzik’s bullets were, they hadn’t done as much as I expected against the wyvern. I was afraid they’d be useless against the dragon. All I could hope was that Chopper, the longsword reputedly made in another world, could cut through scale. Because there was nowhere else to run. All I could do was defend myself—or die trying.

The dragon spun and hurled the entire Jeep into a thick stand of old-growth trees. The wrenching crash that thundered through the forest was the most horrific noise I’d ever heard. I couldn’t help but gape as the four-thousand-pound Jeep stuck. It was wedged between three great trees and twenty feet off the ground.

Branches snapped as the dragon dropped to the road not ten feet away from me. He landed on all fours, wings spread and powerful muscles rippling under his black scales. The icy violet eyes bored into my soul, and I saw my death.

I hefted my sword, determined to go down swinging, even as I backed into a copse of trees and hoped in vain that he wouldn’t be able to reach me with that big body.

He shifted back into his human form, and I groaned. How had I forgotten he could do that?

As he advanced with deadly intent, I muttered, “I am so screwed.”

 

Chapter 3

 

“Listen, dragon,” I said as he strode toward me with murder in his eyes. Could he understand English? I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of my plight. “I know you wanted to take that wyvern somewhere, but she was my assignment. She killed a bunch of humans, and my people wanted her dead, not rehabilitated, whatever the hell that means.”

The dragon stopped outside of my sword range, eyeing Chopper briefly—dismissively—before locking his cold gaze on me again. He didn’t have any weapons, but I’d already seen him tear thousand-pound rocks apart and hurl that wyvern across the cave with his mind.

“I don’t know when you got your assignment,” I went on, very slightly encouraged that he’d stopped, even if it was only to glare venomous daggers at me. “But I got mine two weeks ago. She was the last of three wyverns that attacked children here in Oregon, and she was mine to take down. I…” I what? I’d run out of things to say. Did the dragon even understand? “I had dibs,” I finished weakly, as if we were squabbling over a toy on a playground.

“You are a bounty hunter?” the dragon asked in his resonant voice. His resonant scornful voice.

I had a feeling he didn’t often talk to the people he was about to slay.

“No. I work for the army.”

“You are a soldier?” He looked me up and down, skepticism joining the scorn.

With my jeans and shirt half torn off, acid burns on my hand and sleeve, and half the forest tangled in my thick blonde braid, I didn’t look my best. It had been more than ten years since I’d been active duty, and if I still had a uniform, I didn’t know where it was, but what did some dragon know about what soldiers on Earth looked like or wore?

“Technically, I’m a government contractor for the army now, not a soldier.” No need to mention that I took the occasional freelance job on the side. “I get a modest base pay and combat bonuses for completed missions. Which means I make in a year about what it would cost to buy a new Jeep.” I thrust my sword toward the mangled vehicle dangling in the trees. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t fallen down. “And my missions are hunting down and killing magical beings that have committed heinous crimes against humanity. Like that wyvern did.”

“You are female.”

“So what? I’m six feet tall, can bench more than my bodyweight, and can skin the balls off a ram with my sword.”

His eyes narrowed, and a part of me wanted to skin a dragon’s balls and show him that I was capable.

“Females do not fight,” he said. “They rule society and command males to fight.”

It dawned on me that he hadn’t been calling me weak. “Oh, so dragons are like bees?”

That violet light in his eyes flared. “Dragons are not like insects.”

He stepped forward, and I whipped up the point of my sword. A wave of power knocked me twenty feet, the same as it had that wyvern, and only luck kept me from slamming into a tree. A bed of wet ferns broke my fall. Sort of.

Fortunately, the dragon did not rush after me. He stood between two trees, sunlight filtering through the branches and onto his short black hair and hard face, and scrutinized me. Had I confused him? I hoped so. I also hoped that he didn’t eat people he found confusing.

“Listen, dragon.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I—”

“Lord Zavryd’nokquetal,” he corrected.

“What?”

“My name.”

“Can I call you Zav?”

“No.”

I pushed myself to my feet. “If you’d ever heard how badly I mangle suea rong hai when I try to order it from Nin’s food truck, you wouldn’t want me to attempt to say your name.”

His eyes narrowed. “You may call me Lord Zavryd. You have interfered with the will of this representative of the Dragon Justice Court. You have slain a wyvern that would have been punished and rehabilitated. We do not kill dragons or dragon-kin, no matter how weak and degenerate they are.”

“Sorry, but like I said, I had the assignment first. She was mine to take down, and I did.” I lifted my chin. Maybe he appreciated someone looking him in the eye. And maybe someone who worked for the justice-whatever wouldn’t kill me. But he’d only mentioned dragons and dragon-kin as worthy of keeping alive, not humans.

His nostrils flared, more like the dragon he’d been than the human he was now, and he looked me up and down again. Disdainfully.

“You are part human, that verminous infestation that blights this world, but…” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “You also smell like an elf.”

“And here I thought I smelled like ferns and dirt.”

I’d been twenty-one and not-dying of what should have been mortal wounds after a helicopter crash before I’d believed my mother’s story that I had an elf for a father. After that, I’d accepted it and learned to appreciate the handful of atypical aptitudes it gave me, such as the ability to heal quickly from wounds. Already, the acid burns in my skin had stopped hurting. That didn’t mean I could survive having a dragon snap me in half like a toothpick.

“An elf would never lower herself to be an assassin for humans.” He curled his lip. “Your trinkets and cat will not protect you if you irritate the Dragon Justice Court.”

He turned and walked toward the road.

It took me a minute to realize that he was done insulting me and leaving. Was I actually going to survive this day?

When he reached the road, he faced me again. “If you interfere with my work again, I will eliminate you.”

His eyes sent chills through me, but I made myself meet that gaze with all the confidence I could muster. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any chance you’re on your way back to whatever realm you came from?”

Something flashed in the dragon’s eyes, some emotion that was, for the first time, not irritation, indignation, or pomposity. Was it… wistfulness?

“No. I have many criminals that I must remove from this benighted prison yard of a planet. Stay out of my way, mongrel.”

He—Zav, was all I would call him—shifted from human form to dragon in a second, then sprang into the air, muscular legs propelling him up to the treetops before he extended his wings. He flapped them twice and soared out of view.

I lowered my sword and looked at my Jeep. How was I going to get home?

My phone buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket.

Great news, Ms. Thorvald. It was Dr. Brightman. My therapist acquaintance had a cancelation on Monday and can work you in. Here’s the link to book the appointment.

I groaned. I’d rather talk to another dragon than a therapist.

~

If you’ve enjoyed this preview, you can continue the adventure by picking up a copy of Sinister Magic (Death Before Dragons, Book 1).