I sense the answer on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. Instead, I force a sludgy deflection through my lips. “You must…want the copy ofThird Wing. Many dragons.”
The words feel like taffy on my teeth, my mouth moving much slower than it should.
The headman looks to the feather-guy. “What are you doing?”
“The spell is in effect. She’s under my trance,” he says in a parrot-like voice that makes me laugh.
The third man begins winding through the table displays and inspecting the shelves as the black shadow of Bastian stretches over the entrance wall. His form grows until he’s something inhuman, and massive, with wings flared wide.
Please, Bastian, don’t!
“I have a copy ofMated to the Dragon Warlordif you like,” I say, the words coming more easily. “It was just refurbished.”
The lanky hunter grabs my chin and points my face at the parrot man. My gaze transfixes on the shivering feathers and the urge to spill my guts is overwhelming.
Resist him. Resist it!
“Where. Is. Thedragon,” he says again, squeezing my chin tightly.
“I have a dragon figurine with the fantasy,” I say, pointing toward the shelves. “It’s not for sale, though, unless you give me alotof money.”
“Useless,” the headman growls, tossing me back.
I stagger as the parrot puts his hat back on.
“Kill her and torch the place,” he declares. “Burn the dragon out.”
“Mrrgrrroooow,” comes a feline war-cry.
Oscar leaps in front of me, his ruff all the way up and tail flared as wide as it’ll go. His fur begins to change from orange to black as he grows and grows. His growl becomes deeper as his size reaches that of a large dog.
My heart stops.
“Focsine Mora ega Cluasan!” the third man screams.
The hunters all jump back, the headman shielding himself with some kind of light barrier from the device on his arm. Oscar leaps forward into the shield and the projection goes prismatic, then disappears. The hunter screams as Oscar latches onto his throat.
What thefuck?!
The other two hunters run for the door, but Bastian appears in a swirl of gold-shimmering blackness, blocking their path. With a quick fist, he floors one man, then grabs featherhead by the neck. In a single twist, he snaps it just as easily as he’d broken Robbie’s arm.
The third hunter scrambles back, raising his hand. A bright red spear appears behind Bastian and I scream his name. He looks at me and I know I’ve fucked everything. The magic weapon slices intohim from behind, exploding through his chest with a spray of inky black and gold blood.
The protection ward around the door shatters and arcs of orange lightning slam into the man on the ground. His body vaporizes in an instant, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the floor.
The headman throws Oscar off him and scrambles toward the wall. A rectangle of pure light appears and he tumbles into it, disappearing from the shop with a quick snap.
I rush to Bastian’s side and take some of his weight. There’s black and gold oozing from the hole in his chest. He grunts in pain, pressing his hand over the spot.
“I’ve got you, I’m here,” I say as I carry him toward the chair beside the historical fantasy section.
“’M, a’right,” he mumbles. “Need…story.”
“A story?” I ask.
He nods. “Read t’me.”
I help him into the chair and run to the shelves. I pull down the first book I touch. My hands tremble as I open to the first page, smearing it with gold-flecked black blood. I fall down in front of him as I find the first chapter.
