American Dragons series Box Set

by Aaron Crash

  She couldn’t worry about the persistent boar, though. She had to help her friends. “Magica Cura!” she yelled, flicking her free hand forward, trying out the next-level spell.

  Her chest grew arctic cold as Animus left her in a rush of power. Pink flashes of light erupted from her hands only to slam into Steven, healing him. She felt her own energy falter, but the spell worked wonders since Steven was back on his feet a few seconds later and hardly looking worse for the wear.

  He swayed for a moment, his eyes hazy and confused. But then he shook off whatever funk he’d been in and called out, “Magica Defensio!” once more. The wereboar thundered into the black shield and bounced away as though he’d run headlong into a brick wall. Butcher adjusted course quickly, though, wheeling about and lunging for Mouse, who’d gotten just a little too close for her own good.

  Tessa thought she was safe for a minute, but then the green dragon returned. This time, the female Dragonsoul was ready to hit with her Exhalant attack right away. Fire raged into the room in a searing line of liquid flame. She was aiming for Tessa—a little payback for being shot by her, no doubt.

  Tessa closed her eyes. Nothing could save her—

  Except for Steven’s shield. But again, the spell failed. Tessa skittered to the side but her wounded leg caught the blast, frying in the unbearable heat of the Dragonsoul’s Inferno Exhalant. She screamed as her mind threatened to snap from the pain. How could that hurt so much? How could anything hurt that much?

  “You fuckers need to be leaving! Right now!” Mouse howled. She grew from human form straight to her True Form, an amber-colored dragon, smelling like sweet almonds in a hot oven. Her sheer size filled the room, blocking the green dragon’s attack. She drove a claw into the wereboar’s head, pinning him to the floor. The Warling in the purple suit was thrown backward, and the awful gaunt Magician was eclipsed by her size.

  Tessa tried to stand but her leg failed her. Steven, though, picked her up with ease. His tail shot out, slithering around Aria, pulling her across the floor until the magical red chains flickered off. Aria morphed back into a human, naked, raked with wounds. She was unconscious. They needed her awake to flee.

  “Magica Cura,” Tessa wept, lifting one hand, which trembled like a leaf in a strong breeze. “Please, cure her ... Aria ... please.”

  The cold froze her chest once more even while the burns on her leg howled as if they hated her for healing Aria and not them. Animus seeped away and gashes on Aria’s skin closed, flesh knitting itself with supernatural speed. She cracked her eyes and sat up, alert and ready for more ass kicking.

  Mouse cried out in agony. Then she roared some more. She kept the pig on the ground, but that left the green dragon, the Magician, and Kai Charon there to hurt her, slicing, blasting, and biting at her huge body, which easily filled most of the room.

  “We have to help her!” Tessa wailed. How could things turn to shit so fast? What had happened to them?

  Mulk. That was the answer. He’d sent in his best.

  “We can’t,” Steven whispered bitterly. He’d returned to his naked human form, a big chunk of his Animus gone.

  Mouse roared again, exhaling fire. All around her, brilliant orange flames engulfed the bodies of the mercenaries and the other creatures attacking her.

  Ammunition in the assault rifles went off, then another explosion rumbled through the annihilated Aerie—this one tremendously loud—maybe a grenade, maybe something else.

  By that time, Tessa, held by both Steven and Aria, had been carried through the glass doors and into the garage. Steven tucked her into the back seat of the orange Ford Bronco. Another earth-shaking explosion followed—definitely a grenade, she decided—and a hefty chunk of the roof fell. The piece of ceiling, easily half a ton of stone, landed squarely on the nearby Dodge Charger. Metal twisted and glass shattered as the car met its untimely end.

  Steven jumped into the cab and slammed the door with a grunt. Aria was beside him, riding shotgun. He gunned the engine and spun the Bronco around, tires squealing murder, as yet another explosion rocked the mountain.

  Flames from the fight inside reached the BMW roadster, and its gas tank ignited. The car was lifted up into the air, consumed by a ball of fiery destruction. Tessa glanced at Steven. He had laser focus as he drove the Bronco down across the pavement, making for the exit. But he misjudged the distance and metal shrieked across rock. They bounced over something, probably more debris from the crumbling ceiling, and then went speeding out of the secret entrance and onto the highway.

  Sunlight and trees greeted them, unperturbed by the battle within.

  Steven floored it. The tires whined on the pavement as they rocketed forward.

  Tessa smelled limes and tequila, unmistakable. What the hell? Were they being attacked by a margarita machine?

  No, it was that damn green dragon. The female swooped down from the sky, huge wings outstretched. Tessa could see its emerald scales through the back window. Then the dragon’s awful face leered in on them. She opened her fanged maw.

  “Fuck that bitch,” Tessa hissed.

  Colt Peacekeeper up, she fired and blew out the back window. Then she unloaded the pistol into the face of the green dragon. Shot after shot blew through the scales until a bullet found the female’s brain. She struck the highway behind them, a big pile of dead dragon meat, which quickly reverted back to her human form. Female. Naked. Dead.

  Tessa closed her eyes, feeling Animus flow into her, warming her, but it wasn’t enough to keep her conscious.

  Her last thought?

  Mouse. They’d lost Mouse. The brave Dragonsoul had sacrificed herself so they could get away.

  Chapter Four

  MULK STORMED AROUND the hidden floor of the Antlers Hotel in downtown Colorado Springs. In his Homo Draconis form, he clashed through priceless art, scorched ancient books with a gout of fire, and crushed the big dining table into kindling. He scratched gashes into the hardwood floor and ripped apart the starbursts of cherry wood set into the boards. Those damned starbursts were in the shape of that insipid Draco constellation that Stefan Drokharis adored so much.

  Judith, arms slung across her naked chest, watched him. So did a half-dozen other women—all part of his Escort, and all accustomed to his storms of rage.

  Mulk shifted back to being human and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. “I am going to find, kill, and eat Liam Strider. That yellow motherfucker! He said Whipp would be here. He said this was their main Aerie!”

  Judith shook her head. “Yes, he thought this was their main Aerie, but then he mentioned the Lookout Mountain Aerie as well.”

  “Yes, dammit, I know, but we could’ve ended this here. Now. And the Terror Trio are a bunch of worthless assholes. They didn’t fucking do their fucking job! We lost Lana as well. Those goddamn Colt Peacekeepers.” Mulk stormed up to Judith. Her beauty soothed him. He glanced over to the other women of different sizes, colors, and shapes. Rebecca, Denise, Hatsumi, Ashanta, Mary, and Sabina.

  “You commissioned those pistols a hundred years ago,” Judith reminded him. “You used to love them. I was surprised you left them with Edgar Vale.”

  Mulk ground his teeth together. “I’ll get the Colts back. And I will replace Lana. We will remember her and honor her memory.”

  Judith shrugged. “Lana was never our best asset anyway.”

  “Not on the battlefield,” Mulk conceded, “but in the bedroom, she did have her talents.” He turned to address his Escort. “Sabina, read the room. Let’s see if we can find something out about this upstart shithead.”

  Sabina, a short Mexican woman, straightened. She wasn’t a Dragonsoul, but a Magician who had progressed far on the Veneficium branch of the skill tree. She raised her hands and whispered, “Magica Divinatio.”

  Her eyes flared a deep lavender, glowing with otherworldly light. A mist of purple energy surrounded her outstretched hands. Not a second later, she cried out, “No. It’s impossible. Please. No!” She sa
nk to her knees, hands suddenly clutched to her chest.

  “What now!” Mulk thundered.

  The rest of his Escort clustered around the woman, all trying to soothe her. All the women except for Judith.

  “He knows!” Sabina cried. “The dead. Doorways. We must leave. He ... him ... the man ... the Dragonsoul. A trap. A trap for us.”

  Above Sabina, a shadowy circle formed, three feet across, rough and smoky around its edges. She looked up, and a drip of something red splashed down on her face. Not on her face ... into her eyes. A drop in each one. She screeched.

  The other female Dragonsouls pulled Sabina away. A torrent of molten red poured out of the black portal, hitting the floor with a sizzling splash. The flames started immediately. Other portals opened up, and more of the impossibly hot liquid gushed down.

  “Lava,” Judith said. “It’s portal magic, bringing lava in. We have to get out.” She clenched her jaw. “Now,” she finished coldly.

  The lava quickly ate through the hardwood floor but then pooled there to cool. The magma wasn’t dropping down into the rooms below. Whoever had set the trap must’ve cast a spell to keep the molten rock inside the suite.

  Mulk darted forward, scooped up Sabina in his arms, and wheeled. He took three long steps and shifted into his Homo Draconis form until he got to the landing on the east side of the Aerie. He heard Judith cast a hide spell, Magica Defensio, so the humans wouldn’t see them. How the monkeys would explain the molten rock in the hidden floor of the hotel, he didn’t know. Not his problem at the end of the day.

  In seconds, the vast suite was lost in flame and hardening magma. Mulk, flanked by the rest of his Escort, all dragons now, flew to the office building across the way, where his clothes waited. Judith carried the inert Sabina in her claws, her gleaming eyes betraying no sign of her thoughts. Judith transformed back into her human form once she got close to the window. She walked onto the bare concrete with Sabina still cradled in her arms. All the other Dragonsouls followed suit, taking their cues from Judith, as she was their undisputed leader—after Mulk himself, of course.

  Gently, Judith laid Sabina on the floor. Sabina had lost consciousness. Instead of eyeballs, she now had hardened rock. She’d taken twin drips of magma right into her eye sockets.

  “Heal her,” Mulk ordered.

  “I’ll try.” Judith bent, hands raised, and whispered, “Magica Cura.” The black slag disintegrated, and new eyes grew out of the dust. But they weren’t brown. No, the healing magic had removed the pain and dealt with the stone, but it didn’t grow her new eyes. Now, she had orbs of solid gray.

  Sabina woke, blinked, and began to cry. “I can’t see, Rhaegen. I can’t see. Blinded. You’ll throw me away. You’ll cast me out. I can’t serve you. I can’t ...”

  Judith kissed the woman’s cheek. “Rhaegen will do no such thing. You’re part of his Escort.” She paused and glanced up at him. “We are faithful.”

  Mulk didn’t like that his wife was so quick to make that decision. He liked Sabina all right, but he needed full-strength warriors in his Escort, now more than ever. He wouldn’t waste his time with a cripple. He dismissed her from his mind, once more turning to the problem at hand: The Aerie had been protected by portal magic. Portal magic was forbidden, and besides, there was no way the young upstart could do such a thing on his own. So the question was, whose Aerie was it?

  “Sabina,” Mulk rumbled, “you mentioned a man ... a Dragonsoul. Who were you talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Sabina said, shaking her head. “There was so much power. I saw it all so clearly, him setting up the spell, warning me, but then he wiped my mind. That Aerie, it’s protected by sorcery that I can barely comprehend.”

  “Dammit,” Mulk cursed, curling one hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm.

  “Gideon might be able to help get that information out of her,” Judith said. She’d gone from soft caretaker to an unfeeling problem solver. There was a reason he liked her the most. She was as hard and utilitarian as he was.

  “And he might be able to fix her eyes,” Mulk said. “If we get him enough Animus. And we all know how our Gideon likes to collect.”

  One of his Escort, Hatsumi, a Japanese woman who was still soft, gasped. She was his newest addition, a marriage he’d arranged to solidify relations with Tokyo’s Dragonsoul Prime.

  Mulk smirked. “Finding people for Gideon to kill has never been a problem.”

  What he really wanted was to feed Steven Whipp to his Magician. With some luck, that would happen.

  “Let’s get our asses up to Denver,” Mulk said. “I want to hear, firsthand, from our Terror Trio about this Whipp freak. Not two weeks as a Dragonsoul, and he managed to escape my very best.”

  Mulk picked up his shirt. But he dropped it. “On second thought, I’m still pissed, and I need to relieve a little stress. So who wants me?"

  Every single woman, including Sabina, raised her hand. They were hardly turned on, and while he enjoyed their lust, he found their fear and obedience just as satisfying.

  “You are all such good girls,” he smirked.

  He’d already had Judith that day. He chose Hatsumi. Her kisses started out cold, but she soon warmed up.

  He was her Prime, after all.

  STEVEN BLASTED THE Bronco’s heater, but it didn’t do much to keep the chill out of the vehicle, not when they were missing the back window. Still, the Bronco took them away from the Lookout Mountain Aerie, and that was all that mattered at the moment. Steven avoided interstates because that kind of wind would freeze his balls off. He got on Highway 93, a pretty stretch of road edged by trees and big red rocks, all under a blue sky.

  Aria had her arms wrapped around herself, shuddering softly. Only Tessa, sitting in the back, reloading her pistols, had clothes. Aria had checked her wounds. The burns were bad, but Aria didn’t think she needed a hospital. They’d found a medical kit in the Bronco, thirty years old. The antibiotic cream would probably do nothing, but they had some sterile bandages for Tessa. They’d wrapped her wounded leg and hoped for the best.

  The former barista was in good spirits, if a little pale and weak. “So,” she said, “are we going back for Mouse?”

  “We hardly have the Animus for another fight,” Aria murmured. She was bruised, burned, hacked, and magic missiled. She had bandages on her as well. They’d taken quite the beating.

  “Okay,” Tessa said, “I’ll blow you both. Then we go back.”

  Steven chuckled at that. It hurt to breathe, and he felt as banged up as Aria looked. What was Tessa thinking? She could hardly stand.

  “Tessa,” Aria said, “Mouse knew what she was doing. I doubt she could’ve survived that last explosion. She gave her life to save us. That whole Aerie is wrecked.”

  Steven clenched his teeth and swallowed down his grief. “All we can do now for Mouse is avenge her.”

  “I hate it that they caught us so unprepared,” Tessa complained. “Never again. I’m gonna magic up shit to warn us next time. And poor Mouse. Poor, poor Mouse. We didn’t see her die. She might still be alive.”

  Aria didn’t respond to that. Knowing her, she was already planning how to prevent another ambush in the future. “We should’ve bought high-end security equipment. My father in Mumbai lives in a fortress.”

  Steven shook his head. “My real father didn’t need it. He had his spells. I vote we do both. Magic and a high-tech security system. Overkill seems sensible these days. Besides, waking up to fight for your life puts a real damper on the day, so I’d rather avoid it if possible.”

  Aria punched him. Her words came out angrily. “And you. I heard what you said. You were going to try and fight them all yourself. Steven, we are your Escort. You are the male Dragonsoul that holds us together. It is our duty to sacrifice our lives for you and not the other way around.” She paused. “Mouse did what any of your vassals should. I didn’t think she had a heroic bone in her body, and yet, in our hour of need, she was there, her d
uty bravely executed.”

  Steven took a right and drove into Red Rocks State Park. He pulled off into a turnout. He needed a minute, and he had no idea where they were going. He took in a deep breath. “How about we take a moment of silence for Mouse.”

  They all went quiet. A bird chirped through the pine trees. Another flew onto a huge red rock formation. Noise from I-70 filtered through the stone valley where they sat. Tessa sniffed at her tears. She had such a gentle, loving spirit.

  Aria, though, was all strength and business. She sat stoically, staring out the window. And Steven knew she was going through a thousand scenarios on how to get out of the situation they were in.

  After a few minutes, Tessa spoke. “We need to contact Mouse’s parents and friends. They need to know she’s gone.”

  “There are none,” Aria replied. “Mouse made it clear that she was alone in the world. Her father, Cornelius Craygore, was the Prime of the Rocky Mountain Primacy but was killed by a young contender for the throne. Her mother died defending him. Mouse’s status fell, and she lost her friends. Being an unimportant wife to Mulk destroyed her. Hence, the drinking.”

  “So sad,” Tessa mourned. “I wish I would’ve been nicer to her. She was so mean, though.”

  “Agreed,” Aria said. “And yet, she gave her life to save us.” She paused, lips pursed as she surveyed the vast stretch of wilderness. “That is behind us now. We need to decide what our move is. And on that, I’m not certain.” They lapsed into an uncomfortable, tense silence.

  After a few minutes, Steven spoke. “So, it seems to me we need to drive down to the Colorado Springs Aerie, get set up there, and come up with some sort of warning system. We’re also going to need to be more aggressive on selling stuff. We need money and bad.”

  Tessa took off her gun belt and retrieved her phone. Leave it to the barista to have holsters for her pistols and her phone on the same belt. “There might be a problem there.” She thumbed her phone screen and pulled up an urgent news story. “I set up Google alerts,” she explained, “and it seems like Mulk didn’t just attack the Lookout Mountain Aerie. He also hit the Antlers Hotel. The normal news outlets are saying it was some sort of freak fire on the top floor. The indie pages are talking about lava.” She faltered, worry etched into the lines of her face.