Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons Book 2)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “There will be risk in dealing with them. You could be injured.”

  “I could be injured tomorrow at the yoga class I’ve been talked into going to—have you seen the pretzel shapes those people turn themselves into?—but it’s all part of the job.”

  “I will pay you a fair amount when you return.” Nin nodded firmly, then held up a finger. “Wait here. I will bring you dinner.”

  My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t stopped to eat on the way back. I would refuse to take Nin’s money for doing a favor, but I’d happily take dinner.

  When she returned, she carried six dinners wrapped in paper. She stacked them in my hands. “These will fill you up during your long journey.”

  “It’s only a half hour up to Bothell at this time of night,” I said dryly.

  “That is only the beginning of your journey.”

  “Hm, probably true.”

  “It’s also possible that you’ll be mugged by a dragon on the way. They seem to flock to you.”

  I sighed. Had she heard about the new one?

  A knock came at the side door.

  Nin frowned. “Nobody has an appointment to come by now.”

  I sensed someone with a touch of magical blood out there, familiar magical blood. “It’s my mom’s roommate, Dimitri.”

  “He is your mother’s roommate? He did not explain where he was from last time.”

  “Actually, he lives in the van in her driveway. I think he would love some of your business advice.”

  “I am still learning. I am not capable of being a mentor.”

  “Just show him some of your brochures.” I opened the door and surprised Dimitri, who’d been about to knock again.

  The six-and-a-half-foot-tall, pock-marked, refrigerator of a young man was standing outside and holding a pot with a fake cactus in it.

  “Hello, Val,” he rumbled in his deep voice. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Am I in the way? Did you come to court Nin?”

  Dimitri’s eyebrows flew up, and he almost dropped his pot. “No, nothing like that. I… already met someone in town here. At the club.” Looking flustered, he glanced at me, then at Nin, then back at me. “I just wanted to thank her.” He looked back at Nin. “To thank you.”

  “For what?” Nin looked puzzled.

  “I’ve been watching your videos online for your food truck and figuring out some things I can do to help sell my yard art. I’m going to start recording videos for the internet, but I could use some help. My landscaping boss laughed when I asked him—he thinks my yard art is goofy. And Val, your mom only got footage of her nostril hairs when I tried to get her to use my phone to record me showing off one of my sentinels. This one, as a matter of fact.” He hefted the pot.

  “She’s not that experienced with technological gizmos.”

  I eyed the blue metal faux cactus. Since I’d seen his work before, I had a feeling those barbed thorns could shoot out and fill someone with holes.

  “It was just my phone,” Dimitri said.

  “Have you seen her phone?”

  “The one where you pick up the receiver and make circles with your fingers to dial numbers by hand? Yeah.”

  “It’s called a rotary phone. I promise you can’t record nostril hairs or anything else with it.”

  “I know. I figured I might be more able to find help up here.” He lowered his voice and glanced around the square. “I’ve also been talking to Zoltan.”

  I started to ask why but remembered the vampire alchemist supposedly had a huge internet presence, won by sharing videos of himself making potions.

  “I drove up here because I got a booth at the farmers market in Woodinville. I’m going to sell my yard art and also some of his wares. In exchange, he said he’d show me how to get started building a platform online.”

  “Did you bring your cervical collar for protection?” I was joking—that wasn’t going to stop the fangs of a determined vampire—but Dimitri nodded gravely.

  I needed to make a trip to see Zoltan at some point too. I still had the notebook I’d taken from the dark-elf alchemist’s lab, and I was curious if there was anything useful in it. Maybe I could convince Dimitri to take it to him for me.

  “Anyway, this is for you, Nin.” He thrust the pot at her. “If you press that button on the top of the cactus, it arms itself, and then you have five seconds before it starts spewing needles. Or you can automate it here.” He flipped up a panel. “Sort of like setting a security system. If someone intrudes and doesn’t know to turn it off, it’ll fire. I wasn’t sure if you needed something like this, but this neighborhood gets kind of rough at night, doesn’t it? And I saw some graffiti on your truck.”

  “Yes.” Nin nodded firmly, took the pot, and set it down on a counter. “Thank you for the gift.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m hoping to find someone up here—” Dimitri waved vaguely toward the city, “—who programs apps, so the owners could also use their phones to set off my security devices remotely.”

  “Is all of your art hostile?” Maybe I ought to get a piece for my apartment. The numerous deadbolts weren’t doing enough to deter assassins, magical muggers, and snooping government agents.

  “Some pieces are. Some just warn the homeowner if someone is trespassing. And some don’t have anything to do with security at all. I have an automatic back scratcher made from old ski poles in my van if you want to see it. Oh, and a patio table and chairs made from a ski lift chair I found in a rummage sale.” He pointed his thumb toward the street, though he must have parked somewhere out of sight. “I hope the van is all right. It’s getting dark, and it doesn’t have a security system.”

  “I don’t think thieves break into vans for back scratchers.”

  “It’s a luxury good, Val. You sure you don’t want to see? Nin? I have a whole bunch of cool stuff I’m going to sell this weekend. Do you have any tips on negotiating?”

  “Start higher than the price you want,” Nin said, “and first show a very expensive item, so that the more modest item seems like a deal.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” Dimitri nodded. “Ski-chair patio furniture first and then back scratcher.”

  “I better get going. I’ll go up to Bothell early tomorrow, Nin.” I was tempted to drive up there now, but if I went during the Pardus brothers’ business hours, I could pretend I was a customer. Maybe then, I could make an attempt at negotiating before falling back on my strength: beating people up.

  I also wanted to talk to Willard first to see if she had any intelligence on them. Maybe I would get lucky and find out the government wanted them dead for heinous crimes.

  “You’re going to Bothell tomorrow?” Dimitri asked. “You should stop by the farmers market while you’re in the area and pretend to be interested in my wares.”

  “Pretend?”

  “So other potential customers will think there’s a lot of demand. It’s social proof. I’ve been studying.”

  “Why are you selling your stuff in Woodinville? Remember the houses we saw there? And the homeowners’ association? They probably forbid yard art.”

  “Not all the houses there were like that. There were plenty of old farm houses and normal houses with big yards full of stuff. Besides, my art is fabulous. No HOA would object to it.”

  “If you say so.” I eyed the blue cactus.

  “Anyway, I have to pick up Zoltan’s lotions and tinctures to sell.”

  “Lotions and tinctures?” I asked. “That doesn’t really go with your steampunk upcycled bike parts style.”

  “My style is eclectic. And Zoltan said he’d give me a cut of whatever I sold.”

  “According to him, the dragon blood I gave him was worth a half a million dollars. What does he need to sell tinctures for?” And what was a tincture anyway?

  “I think he’s using that blood himself, not selling it. I better go find a place I can park my van for the night.”

  “You can stay at my place if yo
u want.” I didn’t want a houseguest, but I felt obligated to offer.

  “No offense, Val, but your place was ransacked when I was there and then invaded by a dragon.”

  “It’s cleaned up now, and you slept through the dragon coming in. What’s the problem?”

  “I was creeped out later when I learned he’d been there making threats while I was sleeping. What if he saw me drooling? Or scratching my balls?”

  “I promise he wouldn’t care. He thinks humans are vermin and beneath his notice.”

  “I’ll find a spot.” Dimitri waved at us. “Don’t forget to come by the farmers market tomorrow.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be offended or pleased that the possibility of visiting dragons has made my home unappealing to houseguests,” I said.

  Nin shook her head. “I do not know, but if I could pay a dragon to perch on my food truck, I would. I am concerned there will be more graffiti and perhaps worse.”

  “There won’t be. I’ll take care of those guys tomorrow, one way or another. And then go to the farmers market to buy vampire tinctures.”

  I was joking about that, but Nin looked wistful as she said, “Please buy me hand lotion if there is an appealing scent. I never have time to shop. Maybe someday…”

  As her wistful gaze shifted toward the darkening sky, I vowed to find a way to handle the brothers for her. Nin had worked her ass off to build her business—both of them. She didn’t deserve to be picked on by bullies.

  7

  I sat in my Jeep in a gravel parking lot next to the Sammamish River Trail with the door open as I ate a breakfast burrito and ran searches on my phone. It hadn’t occurred to me that the Pardus brothers wouldn’t have a showroom or workshop address listed online, though I supposed Nin didn’t technically have an address either. Maybe in the magical-weapons business, it wasn’t a good idea to let anyone but trusted clients know how to find you. There were a lot of magical beings who would prefer that guns designed specifically to hurt them didn’t exist.

  When Colonel Willard’s name lit up my phone, I answered it promptly. I’d left a message earlier, hoping she could get me the brothers’ address. Nin had never been out here herself, so she hadn’t known it.

  “It’s Saturday, Thorvald,” Willard said, a little breathless. What workout had she been engaged in, while she should be resting, this time? Spin class?

  “Crime doesn’t stop on the weekend.”

  “What crime? Your message said you need the address of a gun dealer.”

  “A magical-gun dealer—two of them. The Pardus brothers have been picking on Nin. And by picking on, I mean threatening to destroy her business if she doesn’t shut it down.” I didn’t think Willard had ever met Nin, but I’d mentioned her before and shown her Fezzik. Willard had politely oohed and aahed over the gun. “They’re also selling what they claim are dragon-slaying weapons.”

  “Do you want to beat them up or buy one?”

  “Both if they actually have them. But Nin doesn’t think anyone on Earth can make such things. Any chance you have their address? There’s a phone number listed, but when I tried calling it, I got a menu as convoluted as a bank’s and eventually a prompt to put in a code. I do not have a code.”

  “Hold on. I have info on all the dealers in the area.”

  A pair of geese left the grass to waddle up to my open door. They eyed the second half of my burrito. One poked at the gravel, as if I would have littered crumbs all over.

  “You’re not getting my food, you winged mooch.”

  The geese were very well fed. On the trail, a biker had to brake to avoid ducks crossing from the brush to the river. They were also well fed.

  “I assume that comment is not for me,” Willard said. “Has your dragon returned?”

  “To steal my breakfast burrito? No.”

  “You should eat higher-quality food. It might help with your health issues.”

  “I don’t have health issues. Just an obnoxious case of intermittent lung inflammation that pops up at inopportune times, such as when evil alchemists hurl noxious potions at me and when dragons try to light me on fire.”

  “What do you think a health issue is?”

  “Something serious that people die from. Like dysentery.”

  “I see you played Oregon Trail as a kid.”

  “I didn’t need to play it. Mom and I lived it in our school-bus house on wheels. Do you have the address? I’m about to get mauled by geese.”

  One kept trying to pluck at my wrapper. I stuck it on the dash, then, worried the goose would jump onto my lap to get it, shut the door. They squawked in disappointed protest. Feeling guilty, I tore off some of the burrito and threw the pieces out the window.

  “Yes, I’ll text it. It’s in Bothell.”

  “I know that. I’m already here. I’m popping in to deliver threats on my way to purchase vampire-made lotions at the farmers market.”

  “Zoltan has a stand? How does that work? Doesn’t his skin turn to ash if he sees sunlight?”

  “Dimitri has a stand and is selling Zoltan’s products for him.”

  “Tell him to watch his veins.”

  “He’ll be fine. He has a cervical collar and decorative metal cactuses that launch darts.”

  “Silver-tipped darts?”

  “You’re thinking of werewolves. The cactus would have to hurl wooden stakes to hurt Zoltan.”

  Willard paused before saying, “When you were going through Basic Training, did you have any idea your life would end up this weird?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel. You have Smurf coffee mugs. This is nothing.”

  “Ha ha.”

  The address popped up, and I thanked Willard and hung up. It was only a few blocks away in a neighborhood right on the river. That was surprising. Maybe their magical-weapons business did a lot better than Nin’s. If so, it was doubly obnoxious of them to harass her.

  After looking up the directions and how much traffic was clogging the streets this sunny Saturday morning, I decided to walk. The river trail would take me most of the way there.

  The geese had multiplied by the time I got out of the Jeep, fastening Fezzik in my thigh holster, and making sure Chopper was secure in my back scabbard. A hint of magic made it so normal humans—mundanes—wouldn’t notice the weapons, though I got a few odd looks from bicyclers and walkers as I strode down the trail in combat boots, my brown leather duster, and a utility belt out of a military supply store. Regular belts weren’t sufficient for carrying ammo pouches. I’d experimented before.

  Unfortunately for my antisocial tendencies, the trail was as busy as the streets. As a skater zipped past closer than I preferred, I thought about bringing out Sindari. His presence usually created questions I wasn’t interested in answering, but I knew nobody would dare brush me on their way by. Further, people might entertain me by skating off the trail and into the slow-moving shallow river.

  I chose maturity over whimsy, turned off the trail before it crossed the river, and trekked down a couple of streets. The noise of the nearby freeway grew audible, and I laughed as the posh riverfront neighborhood I’d imagined came into view. It was a mobile-home park.

  As I wandered in, following the map on my phone toward a manufactured house near the river, I wondered how this place had avoided being razed and sold to a builder of overpriced luxury homes. The traffic noise was noticeable, but waterfront property was waterfront property.

  Judging by the tenants wandering past, older ladies walking small barky dogs, it was a mobile-home park for seniors. The Pardus brothers were either older than I’d expected or had a granny tied up in a back room, who they pulled out whenever they needed to prove their eligibility to live here.

  My senses picked up magic as I neared a drab gray-and-green house with the siding falling off and moss growing on the roof. It looked to be one of the original homes placed in the neighborhood, though nothing here screamed new and modern.

  Tall evergreen
s and shrubs partially hid the house from the street, and there weren’t any signs to suggest it was a business. A couple of beat-up trucks occupied a driveway with wide cracks spurting clumps of grass and weeds.

  As I approached the front door, I was able to refine my overall sense of magic to pick out numerous artifacts—weapons, likely—and two magical beings inside. No, three. Two were on the ground level and one felt like he or she was on a lower level. But a manufactured house couldn’t have a basement, could it? Maybe the lot sloped down behind the house and there was a shop back there.

  The doorbell was broken with wires dangling out. I opened the rusty screen door and knocked. As one of the magical beings on the ground floor came to the door, I studied his aura with my senses. The brothers were shifters, Nin had said, but she hadn’t specified what kind. There was a feline aspect to this one. Maybe a lion or tiger shifter?

  I’d encountered numerous types of shifters over the years, all hailing from, according to Willard and her intelligence gatherers, a single world in the Cosmic Realms. They were always predators, and some shifters even said that many of our big predators here on Earth were descended from early visitors from their world. There was, as far as I knew, no science to back that up.

  The strong-jawed, olive-skinned man who opened the door didn’t look old enough to live in this park. His lips curved into a smile. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it, but a full-blooded magical being would have sensed my aura before I sensed his. He’d probably felt me coming as soon as I turned into the neighborhood.

  “Well, well,” he said, looking me up and down, his smile turning lewd as his yellow-brown eyes fixated on my chest. “What brings the Mythic Murderer to our humble abode?”

  “A coupon. I hear you’re selling dragon-slaying weapons.”

  “We might be, but I assure you, there aren’t any coupons out there. We sell premium products and only to those who can afford them.” His gaze dropped to my combat boots and utility belt. “I wouldn’t think your assassination services came cheap, but to be frank, you’re a bit shabby. Our last customer came in wearing a Versace dress and driving a Range Rover.”