Falling Dragons (#3 Moon Shadows) (13 page)

“Move, hunter!” Jones shoved him with the barrel of his gun. “Leave her there.”

“Asshole, he can’t.” she growled at Jones. “I cast a spell on Simon, so he can’t be more than a short distance from me.”

“Why would you do something as stupid as that?”

“So I’d protect her from you, dip shit.”

Jones shook his head, “It makes no sense. You cast it, undo it.”

“My talent only lies in casting, not breaking spells. It’s only broken when you’re dead. Shit for brains.”

“Unlikely to happen.” Jones folded his arms. “Insult me again and I’ll shoot your other arm.” She growled low and opened her mouth, but Simon slapped his hand over her mouth, his warning glare clear. Quiet. She sighed under his hand.

“Hang tight, sweetheart. I have a plan B,” he whispered before removing his hand.

“Tick-tock, hunter. You have two minutes. I’ll have my guard escort the mouthy little bitch.”

From the corner of his eye he saw her tuck his phone into the folds of her clothing, her green eyes gleaming in sheer determination.
That’s my girl, think smart.

Simon helped her to her feet as Jones’ men moved in on her. He pushed down his possessive rage as one of the men grabbed her uninjured arm.

Simon closed his eyes to focus. To save her he needed to find the tomb. This was once his home and he should have known everything about it. Tumbling back through seventeen hundred years’ worth of memories, things forbidden, things which always remained closed, locked to him. He turned, closing his eyes. Working on memory and not sight, he stepped forward. He drew in the damp, musty earth smell of the dungeon. Gone were the scents of sweat, blood and fear.

“A prison cell was here, and there.” Talking for his own benefit and not his audience. “A chamber with equipment through there, but over here was...”

The image of the mural popped into his mind, the one at the end of the dungeon. He’d seen it a few times in his venturing down to talk to prisoners, but it never made any sense as to why it would be here in a dungeon.

“By Odin’s breath, how could I have not known?” Stepping over rubble and rusted iron bars, he came to a halt in front of the wall where the mural once was. The plaster used crumbled into nothing but dust over the ravages of time. What remained were two large stone slabs, side by side, taking up the far wall at the very end of the dungeon. He placed his palm on the stone—it was warm.

“It’s here.”

“Are you sure?” Jones stepped in closer, his flashlight directly on the dust covered stones.

“No, but it’s the only thing out of place, well in my time it was. A huge mural of my great, great grandfather being crowned used to be here. I remember the crown being painted brightly, as if shining. If you think about it, it’s an odd place to put a mural.”

“Worth a look then. Carter, do your thing,” Jones called, stepping aside.

A man in army garb stepped forward, a crate gripped between his meaty hands. He set it down and quickly set to work shoving moulded C4 into the cracks of the stone before attaching wires.

Shit.
That many explosives in a confined space, not good
. Simon moved back to Opie’s side, shoving her guard out of the way. He lifted her up into his arms.

“Fucking shoot me, I don’t care, but we’re not going to be in here when that goes off.”

“Gremlock, escort them out, but don’t let them leave this time. You can even separate blood from bone if you like.” Simon didn’t like the way Jones spoke, glancing lustily at his woman.

The demon, hidden behind the other humans, stepped forward. He licked his lips, eyeing Simon and Opie over as if about to enjoy his evening meal. “This way, if you please, dragon and other.”

Why did the most evil demons have to be the politest? It didn’t matter. The demon would still die. He carried Opie up the stairs and out into the starlit sky. She sagged weakly against him, her wound still bleeding. The drug Jones had his men shoot her with no doubt affected her faster healing abilities.

Gremlock sniffed the air, his hungry stare on Opie and the blood soaking her shirt. “Such a sweet scent. I did hear that female dragons’ blood was much sweeter than male dragons’. I know Jones won’t mind if I have a taste.”

“I mind, demon, and you’ll not lay one smelly finger on her.” Simon backed up, never taking his eyes off the advancing demon as he gently set Opie down. He sized up the demon, knowing the hidden strength behind the human façade.

“Kill it for me.” Opie’s hand fell away as Simon took a defensive stance in front of her.

“With pleasure, sweetheart.”

Gremlock withdrew a long, curved scimitar. Simon studied him. Tricky, but not impossible to beat—even weaponless.

A loud boom resonated, making the ground shake. Smoke billowed out from the hole, catching Gremlock’s attention for a split second. Simon struck a hard and decisive blow before the demon could respond, catching the blade wrist. Gremlock growled, showing sharp pointed teeth, snapping as he battled not to lose his blade and have Simon gain it. Simon squeezed the demon’s wrist harder with the demon trying to shove him back.

Success was short lived when the sword fell with a clatter onto the ancient stone, and the demon punched into his chest, which sent Simon barrelling backwards.

“You know what I’m going to do once you are dead, hunter?”

Fuck, Gremlock was stronger than he’d anticipated. The demon wasn’t even panting.

Simon fell on his back, recovering swiftly. He curled his legs and kicked, sending the demon flying backwards. “Are you going to talk or fight?”

They both turned and flipped to their feet, then dived for the blade. Simon was quicker, but there was no way he’d be able to get it without interference, so he slammed his fist towards Gremlock’s head. He deflected the blow and got a hard quick jab into Simon’s unguarded solar plexus, leaving Simon gasping for breath and momentarily unfocused. The demon managed to land a blow to his face, and Simon fell to his knees, his face exploding with pain and the warmth of his blood trickled down the side of his face.

Gremlock took advantage, quickly recovering his blade. Simon rolled, avoiding the downward thrust of Gremlock’s blade. He kicked at Gremlock’s legs, and the demon dropped to his knees. At the same time Simon couldn’t avoid the blade coming at him from the side. The cold blade sliced into his side. He gritted his teeth against the familiar, if somewhat unwelcomed, pain.

Gremlock yanked the blade out and climbed to his feet. “I’m going to sample her blood. Then save the best for last when we force her to turn into a dragon, and I take a long sharp blade and slowly slit her throat so I can watch her blood pour out. Sound familiar, dragon slayer?”

Simon growled, but Gremlock shoved a boot into his throat. “To think you’d ever defeat me, pathetic excuse for a human.” He raised the blade and moved side on. Simon knew what he intended, as there was one sure way to kill an immortal. “I might be in human form, but I’m still stronger and faster than you.”

Opie was right, these creatures did waffle on way too much. Simon glanced to where he’d left her only to find her gone. Half hoping she’d gone for help, he was glad to see her gone. He didn’t want her to see him beheaded. At the same time, he couldn’t leave her to the mercy of this vile creature. Damn Slazzamar, he’d better turn up soon and get her to safety.

A shadow behind Gremlock caught Simon’s eye. He climbed to his knees, keeping his eyes trained on the demon. “As much as I’d like to see things from your point of view, Gremlock, I’ll never get my head that far up my arse.”

“Brave words for one who’s about to die like a—”

Blood spurted from the gaping hole on which once sat Gremlock’s head. The heavy boulder fell with a wet thump onto the ground. It took a moment longer for the body to follow and slump next to the severed head.

Opie breathed hard, her eyes gleaming with hatred. She stumbled forward. In her trembling hand was his favourite blade, the one he’d been forced to abandon.

Engrossed in their fight and the humans scuttling down below searching for an amulet, no one paid her any attention.

“I’d say he’s now a ‘head’ of the game.” She plunged the blade into Gremlock’s chest and into his demon heart. “He never had any heart to begin with.”

Simon’s mouth fell open. One wounded, vulnerable dragon woman succeeded in doing what creatures from all realms had been trying to do for the past few centuries: to kill the Kat Demon, Gremlock. Shock and pride swelled in his chest as he got to his feet, at the same time furious from fear, which added to the mix of emotions.

He darted forward, catching her before she collapsed. “Damn woman! That was the stupidest, bravest thing...don’t ever do it again!” Her wet, blood stained shirt clung to her body. Fear made his heart pound.

“Won’t let anyone hurt you.” Her eyes watery and bright green, he could tell her dragon was trying to awaken.

Fuck the amulet and fuck the rest of the world. One tug and he pulled his blade from the dead demon’s chest, green and red puss oozing from the body. He scooped Opie into his arms, carefully navigating the darkened path back down the hillside to the river. There was a village not too far from here. She needed urgent medical attention.

“Simon, we need to get the amulet. We can’t let them win.”

“Fuck the amulet, you’re more important. You need to be healed before you bleed to death.”

“Oh, I’ll live to be a thorn in your side a bit longer.” His panic increased at her weak smile.

Movement flashed to his right. He lowered Opie, but kept one arm around her waist, his sword at the ready to face the intruder. White hair appeared in the half moonlight. “Don’t take my head off, Simon, Darren would never forgive you.”

“Damn it, Slazzamar, you’re late.” Simon relaxed his stance.

“One, I only just got Opie’s call. Two, you try teleporting to a place you’ve never been in the dark. I landed in a thirty foot tree.”

“Fuck the tree, you need to help Opie.”

“I’m in a one man relationship, trees don’t do it for me.” The elf moved in closer, his brow creased in a frown as he peeled away her jacket to examine her wound. “Princess, this is becoming a bad habit. You can’t keep getting into trouble like this.”

Opie arched a ginger eyebrow. “What are you going to do? Sue me for bleeding on you?”

Slazzamar shook his head.

“They shot her with a drug to suppress her dragon.”

“No wonder, this should have healed over by now. Did you find the tomb and the amulet?”

“Opie first,” Simon growled at the elf.

“Jones and his fuckers are up in the tomb as we speak,” Opie supplied. “We need to stop him.”

“You’re losing your touch Simon.” Slazzamar placed his hand over Opie’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Simon could feel the energy flowing from the elf as Opie’s skin warmed even through her clothing.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but you’ll still be weak for a while, until the drug passes out of your system. You’ll need plenty of rest.”

“Does that mean I get ice cream and jelly?” She stood straighter. “In bed?” She tilted her head up, a mischievous smile on her lush lips.

A shot whizzed past Simon’s head. Yells of ‘There, down there!’ echoed into the night.

“They’re shooting at us.”

“Smart observation.” Slazzamar’s tone was dry as he slapped his hand on Simon’s shoulder, and in the next blink of his eye, they were somewhere else.

Joshua Jones stood over the body of the now late Gremlock. Jones stared off into the darkness where his dragon and the aggravating demon hunter had vanished. Jones placed his hand over his breast pocket, the amulet nestled safely close to his heart. The tomb had been just where the demon hunter thought it to be, buried under a pile of stone. Now he possessed the tool that would grant him ultimate power over humanity and destroy anyone or anything who got in his way.

“Don’t just stand there gawking, don’t let them get away!” Why was he always surrounded by incompetent fools? Demons or humans, they all failed him. He sighed, hearing the pop of silencers shooting into the darkness. It always boiled down to the same thing, if you wanted something done right, you do it yourself.

“Sorry, sir, they got away.” One of his men hurried back to him.

“It is no matter. We will return home. There are preparations to make. We’ll be visiting a historic landmark.”

* * * *

Slazzamar teleported them to the Moon Shadows main headquarters deep in the Iraq desert. He explained they were a few hundred feet under the ground in what was once the original moon god’s temple in an ancient ziggurat.

Now safe, their half-elfin host showed them to a guest room. Simon stripped Opie of her clothes and showered the blood and grime from their bodies. Jones’ bullet had gone straight through, so there was no need to extract it from her shoulder. Simon didn’t need to talk for her to see the mix of emotions on his face as he cared for her. He blamed himself for her wound.

Clean and dressed, Simon led her through the ziggurat’s halls into a huge library and office combined, meeting Darren, who barrelled towards Opie, grabbing her off her feet and swinging her around.

“I fucking love you!” Utter glee shone on Darren’s face.

“Darren, put the dragon down. I know your intentions are pure, but Simon’s about to tear your head off.” Slazzamar leaned back in his office chair, amused at his mate’s antics.

Darren’s cheeks pinked and he set Opie on her feet. “Sorry, but you’re amazing! That rat bastard Gremlock has been a pain in my Slazz’s arse for gods knows how long. And you killed him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Her laughter bubbled out. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re welcome.”

Darren stepped away as Simon growled low and grabbed Opie. There was no pretence as he pulled her down onto his lap. “Congratulate her later, she’s meant to be resting.”

“I’m fine, you big bully. Anyway, I saved your life.”

Simon simply scowled.

“She’s got you there.” Slazzamar leaned forward. “Guess tethering’s not so bad after all?”

“No, it’s worse. There has to be another way to break this tether and I need it done now.”