Page 33 of Until the End of Ever
I pushed Isla out of the way—she was my partner today, and as Alden had mentioned, I’d shown some immunity to dragonfire. I didn’t know if that was a me thing, or due to the emerald dangling around my throat, freshly refilled with Kleos’s energy. Either way, better my hair than, well, all of Isla.
I rarely managed to check my strength in the thick of it, so I pushed Isla a little too hard, judging by the sound of her scream, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the crack of bones breaking, but at least, she was out of the way when hell descended.
Fire wasn’t the right word to explain what came out of the creature’s orifice. It was too thick, too liquid and penetrating, closer to magma. But while it hurt like a bitch when it came into contact with my skin, it didn’t actually damage it.
My clothes were another story. I was wearing proper gear, not just my trainee outfit, but the enchanted cloth was nothing to dragonfire, melting rapidly as I rolled out of the way. Half of my top was gone, from the wrist to the neck.
Gideon was a half-dragon, technically, but it was ludicrous to compare his mother to these beasts. She was the Disney plushie version of a dragon, while these living, breathing winged monstrosities were firmly out of a nightmare.
Even he grunted. “Fucking hell!”
Alden’s fae reflexes had him halfway up the boulder. “Maybe we can talk about this!” he squealed, narrowly avoiding sharp talons. “We just need to figure out what you’re hunting.”
None of your business! Go!
The words screaming inside my head weren’t in any language I knew, but I understood it perfectly all the same.
Pack business. Our hunt. Our kill! Leave or die!
Another swipe of the talons and Irwin—dragged out of the way by François and Barron—did pee his pants, stinking up the already heavy hair.
“Gideon!” I screamed. “It stinks of fucking pee. Emergency button, now!”
Mercifully, the idiot admitted that urination constituted an emergency situation.
He shoved his hand in his pants, and frowned. “Shit. It’s in my shirt!”
Of course, he discarded the one way to contact the single most powerful friend he had in the middle of a dragon hunt.
“Barron, check on Isla. I think I broke something. François, Irwin. The shirt!”
The dragon seemed to only breathe fire in intervals, so it swiped at us in between. As its long neck reared back, I launched myself upward, landing on the back of its neck. The spine was so thick and wide it proved easier to navigate than the mountains we’d been trekking in all morning.
Distracted from its initial desire to roast my group alive, the creature started to lift its talons, aiming for me on its neck.
I didn’t really want to hurt or anger the dragon more than he already was. I just needed it to not try to kill us. And with a bit of luck, take his hunt to the next universe.
I stabbed the scales, holding back, to ensure I wasn’t piercing the thick hide.
The dragon swerved and rolled, trying to throw me off it.
Come to think of it, this was just a little bit fun. He was too big, so for all his speed, I had plenty of time to see and anticipate its moves.
“I have ze shirt!” the Frenchie yelled. “What does ze emeuhrgency button look like?”
“It’s a rune,” Gideon replied. “Laguz!”
“Do I look like I took Runic? I’m not aputain denerd.”
“Me neither, so that would be the only bloody rune in one of the pockets!”
“You have a million pockets!”
Meanwhile, I was dancing with an increasingly pissed-off dragon.
If I died today, I was going to haunt all of their asses.
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