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

by Lindsay Buroker

  “A shifter compound? I am not aware of such a thing in the area.”

  “Technically, it’s a manufactured house in a senior mobile-home park.”

  “How formidable.”

  “They’re formidable, and I think they’ve got magical defenses on the house.”

  “I should hope so. You really can’t call it a compound otherwise. Unless there are some turrets and a portcullis, I believe I’m going to have to downgrade it to a lesser structure.”

  I rubbed my face, remembering the first time I’d visited Zoltan and tried to extract information from him. He did have a tendency to wander off topic.

  “Is there at least a moat?” Zoltan asked.

  “There’s a river behind the back yard.”

  He pursed his lips in disapproval. “I fear that is insufficient. How could a river contain half-starved alligators strategically placed to munch on invaders foolish enough to attempt crossing when the drawbridge is up?”

  “Zoltan, can you make me some alchemical weapons by tomorrow? Ideally something especially effective on felines, though that’s not a requirement. I can go in wearing a gas mask if I have to. I just need to get this out of the way soon. There’s an injured dragon out there that wants me dead, and I’d like to make sure Nin is safe before he shows up to kill me.”

  Dimitri’s brow wrinkled. “Zav?”

  “No, Dob. Zav went home.”

  “I do not wish you to be killed, Val,” Nin said gravely.

  “Thank you. I’d prefer to avoid it too.”

  “You are one of my best customers. You go through ammunition like candy corn in a bowl at Halloween.”

  “So it’s true love that has spurred your concern for me.”

  She grinned, then smiled shyly at Dimitri. She was probably appreciative that he’d been helping her fix her truck. I wondered if Dimitri had explained yet that he was into guys. And tigers. Though his interest in those was probably platonic—and shared by many. Sindari had strolled over to sit between them, his head level with their heads, and Dimitri was absently running a hand down his furry back while Nin rubbed his ears. Sindari’s tongue lolled out slightly, a blissful expression on his face.

  “What are you doing, Sindari?” I asked.

  Sitting regally and politely allowing your human allies to touch me, as would be proper for an ambassador of Del’noth sent to foster peace among our peoples.

  “Your tongue is hanging out.”

  Regally.

  “Does he talk back to you?” Nin asked curiously.

  “Yes, telepathically.”

  “Does he mind having his ears rubbed?”

  Sindari leaned his head toward her.

  “I highly doubt it. Just don’t turn your back on him. Sometimes, his predator urges kick in and he has to pounce.”

  I assume I will be permitted to pounce on those obnoxious panthers tomorrow, Sindari told me.

  Absolutely.

  “I do not know of any formulas that would specifically target felines.” Zoltan had opened an ancient tome and was flipping through it. “There are a number of human chemical substances, such as antifreeze and insect and rodent bait, that can cause seizures and death in cats if they lick it off their paws.”

  “I don’t think I can get panther shifters to lick their paws for me. I was thinking more of an aerosol.”

  “Hm.”

  Time to move on to the next request. “Dimitri, if I give you some money, can you make some projectile yard art that spits poisoned darts?”

  “Projectile yard art?” He arched his brows.

  “Whatever I need to call it to put it in your wheelhouse and make you interested in working on it.”

  “I’m not sure how much I can get done by tomorrow, but I’ll see what I can come up with. You don’t need to pay me. I’m here to help Nin. Er, wait. You probably need to give me enough money to get some good parts. The campground I’m staying at is expensive, so I’ve almost gone through what I made at the farmers market already.”

  “Why don’t you stay in a hotel?” Nin asked.

  “Hotels are more expensive.”

  “You can sleep on my couch if you want,” I said.

  “Didn’t you say your apartment got broken into again?”

  “And ransacked, yes, with bone knives left sticking into things. But the inoffensive couch was not targeted.”

  “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  “And, yes, I’ll pay for any parts you need.”

  “It must be nice being rich,” Dimitri said wistfully.

  Rich, right. I wasn’t getting paid for this, and there was no way I’d be able to complete the dragon-slaying gig and earn the big money Willard had teased me with.

  My phone alerted me to a new text. Confirmation of a job accepted.

  “Nin, I mentioned that I could use some loaner weapons. I’ve just finalized another part of my distraction. Some toughs are going to park in front of the Pardus house and shoot any shifters that run out—and maybe put a few rounds in the front door for decoration. It would be nice if they had bullets that could bite into shifter hide.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “What toughs will you hire?” Dimitri asked.

  “Why, do you want to volunteer?”

  “I’m an artist, Val.”

  “Too bad. That sliding door on your van would be great for drive-by shootings.”

  “Is it okay to find it strange that you’ve considered this?”

  “I can’t help it that I’ve been the target of frequent drive-by shootings. Gregor’s Gang over in West Seattle is who I’ve hired to come up north for this. They’re werewolves. They won’t risk themselves or feel any loyalty to me—” when I’d contacted them, I’d done it anonymously and offered to pay in cash, “—but for enough money, they’re happy to arrive en masse and shoot up an establishment.”

  “I see you also agree that it must be downgraded from a compound,” Zoltan murmured, flipping the pages in his book.

  “Don’t werewolves hate you?” Dimitri asked.

  “That’s why I’m not telling them who’s paying for the job.”

  “You don’t think they’ll figure it out when they arrive and see you there?”

  “Nobody’s going to see me.” I tapped my cloaking charm. “Not until I’m ready to strike.”

  “Will you kill the Pardus brothers?” Nin asked softly, her eyes dark with concern. She’d asked me to find a way to get them to leave her alone, not to assassinate them.

  “Ideally not, especially since Willard told me to stay away from them—something about the Northern Pride having a hotshot lawyer—but I have an idea.”

  “Cutting off their fingers so they can’t bother anyone?” Dimitri asked.

  “I don’t think that would work. Shifters heal quite well. They might be able to regenerate digits.” I wondered if Dob would regrow the toe I’d cut off his foot. Maybe he would be less bitter if I hadn’t permanently scarred him. Probably wishful thinking. “I’m going to assume, since I spent the greater part of yesterday in close proximity to Zav, that his dragon aura is on me, noticeable for those full-bloods who can sense such things.”

  “Oh yes,” Zoltan said in a distracted tone as he continued to read. “I can smell it all the way over here.”

  I started to ignore him but frowned as I debated if that was possible. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t smell me from more than ten miles away—not even a cat or wolf shifter could do that—and a magical aura didn’t travel over cell waves.

  “Are you joking?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I trust I’m correct. Have you mated with him yet? It seems inevitable.”

  Dimitri fell off his cooler.

  I rubbed my face and did not allow my mind to return to that kiss. “No, but that’s actually what I’m thinking about.”

  “Mating with him?” Zoltan asked.

  “No. But if you believe that and Dob believed that, then maybe the Pardus brothers will too. And instead of
denying it, as I keep doing, what if I let them think it’s true? I won’t lie, just smile and let them believe what they will. Pissing off a dragon is generally regarded as a bad idea—”

  Generally? Sindari asked. It’s regarded unanimously in all seventeen of the Cosmic Realms to be a horrific idea.

  Yes, thank you. “—so wouldn’t they be more inclined to negotiate with me if they think Zav could show up at any time and stomp them like the furry little maggots they are?”

  As much as I hated the idea of pretending I had a super powerful dragon backer, it was hard for me to imagine an alternative other than killing the brothers. I wouldn’t cry if that happened, but I’d hate to make trouble for Willard and her office. I also didn’t want to earn the ire—and the arrest warrant—of the local police, which could happen if the Pride’s lawyer was good and the Pardus brothers didn’t yet have a criminal record.

  Besides, Zav kept wanting to use me. Wasn’t it fair if I used him?

  Dimitri maneuvered himself back onto the cooler. He still looked stunned and didn’t resume petting Sindari until Sindari looked expectantly at him.

  “Well,” Dimitri finally said, “it would make me want to be in your good graces.”

  “And me as well.” Zoltan closed his book and looked up.

  Nin nodded in agreement.

  “Since cats of all types have extremely good noses,” Zoltan said, “and feline shifters retain that feature even in their human form, I believe a particularly potent gas could debilitate them. I happen to have here the odor of a weasel and the tears of a griffin—” he pointed to rows of bottles on shelves behind him, “—which can not only take out a basilisk but can be combined with a few other ingredients to make a sulfur-based chemical agent that causes severe burning of the eyes, skin, and respiratory tract. A cat’s nose would be particularly susceptible.”

  “What about my respiratory tract?” The last thing I needed was to have an asthma attack in the middle of the enemy lair. Again.

  “I suggest a gas mask that covers your eyes, nose, and mouth.”

  Memories of the gas chamber in Basic Training came to mind, of how hot and stuffy it had been under the chemical suits and masks we wore. I’d never had the delightful experience of being gassed in actual combat, but I could envision how fun it would be to fight in that getup. And then, if the shifters managed to tear off my mask, there was the possibility that my lungs would be more susceptible than a cat’s nose to the horrific stuff.

  I was about to ask Zoltan if he had anything else when he added, “Alternatively, I can make you a small charm that would protect you from inhaled threats.”

  That sounded much more appealing. I could always make room on my necklace for more charms.

  “How much is all this going to cost me?”

  “Oh, a great deal.” Zoltan beamed a smile at me. “These ingredients do not come cheaply, nor is my exceedingly valuable time inexpensive.”

  “How much does odor of weasel go for?” Dimitri asked. “And how do you bottle it?”

  “You bottle the whole weasel,” Zoltan said, “and open the jar to let out the odor as needed.”

  “Ew.”

  “Did you think a horrific mustard gas could be made from something appealingly fragrant?” I asked him.

  “I guess not.”

  “Send me the invoice, Zoltan,” I said. “And keep in mind that I am a lowly servant of the government employed only on a part-time basis.”

  “Don’t you also freelance?” Zoltan asked.

  “I’m freelancing right now. Pro bono.”

  “Pro bono! That’s horrific. What kind of entrepreneur are you?”

  I squinted at the phone. “Are you Slytherin, Zoltan?”

  “What?”

  “Google it. Send me the invoice.” I waved for Dimitri to close the line.

  Nin stood up and hugged me. “You must let me pay you for this, Val. How much will all this cost you?”

  “You’re going to make me some snazzy magical armor, right? That’ll make us even.”

  She twisted her lips dubiously, as if she didn’t believe that would be sufficient to make us even. I disagreed.

  “Val, I would like to pay you.”

  “Nope.” I patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. If you want, you can throw in a few free lunches. And some nice magical grenades for my incursion.”

  “Grenades are free of charge for my best customers.”

  “Nin, you have to count some of this stuff toward what you think you need to pay me.”

  “I will. The lunches.” She nodded firmly. “Free lunches for the rest of the year. At an average of ten dollars a meal, if you come every day, that would be just under two thousand dollars in lunches.”

  “That sounds good.” I traveled far too frequently to take advantage of that many days, and the armor and grenades would be a lot more valuable to me, but if it would make her feel better… “Is it a deal?”

  Nin stuck her hand out. “Deal.”

  “Val?” Dimitri sounded concerned.

  “You’re not going to ask me about mating with dragons, are you? Because I’m not doing that, I have no plans to do that, and I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.” I already wondered how I would keep from flushing in embarrassment every time Zav came around in his human form. Was it wrong to be relieved that he’d had to leave Earth instead of awkwardly riding back to town in the Jeep with me?

  “No, I was wondering what you should do when you’re ready to get up but there’s a tiger sitting on your foot.”

  26

  The next night, as the last of the long June daylight faded from the western sky, I crouched in the reeds by the river, looking toward the back door of the Pardus brothers’ manufactured home. By now, the police should have knocked at the door of the Northern Pride’s warehouse a few miles to the northeast, but it hadn’t drawn away any of the magical beings inside yet.

  I sensed ten shifters and the same magical being with an unidentifiable aura that had been in the basement on my previous visits. Presumably the person Inga had said was making enchanted weapons and bullets for the brothers—for less than the awful pay they’d been giving her.

  “I want to find that basement before I confront them,” I murmured.

  Sindari crouched at my side. We were both in stealth mode, mine delivered by my charm, and his a natural part of his magic. So far, the only being I’d encountered who could see through my charm was Dob. I was crossing my fingers that he was still wounded and holed up in a cave somewhere—maybe the one Zav had laid a trap in. Even if he wasn’t, he shouldn’t be able to detect me anymore now that Zav had ripped that onyx stone out of his chest.

  Dimitri was in his van at the entrance to the mobile-home park, lined up on the side of the road with two white vans, each with four werewolf shifters inside, all armed with Nin’s magical weapons. Dimitri was acting as my liaison. I would text him to send them in, and the werewolves would come raise a ruckus for an hour, and then receive the second half of their payment. The wolves didn’t know I was the one footing the bill.

  I will circumnavigate the premises and look for an outside entrance to the basement we suspect. Sindari trotted off, disappearing into the shadows.

  That’s a lofty word to describe walking around the house.

  My people are articulate.

  They do a lot of wordsmithing out on the tundra where you hunt?

  We use poetry to woo female Zhinevarii.

  I wouldn’t have guessed. On what subjects? Philosophy? Feelings? The beauty of nature?

  Often on the exultation of the hunt, of the excitement of stalking and chasing down one’s prey, and of feasting on sumptuous fresh, hot, still-twitching meat.

  I was sorry I’d asked. And that works on females of your species?

  Naturally. Would it not work on you?

  I guess I don’t know. Nobody has ever penned me poetry about meat.

  A shame. No wonder you are lonely.


  Had I ever admitted that to him? I rarely even admitted it to myself. This conversation had gotten less fun.

  I’ve never asked, Sindari. Do you have a mate?

  I do not currently have a partner, but I have sired children. My people usually have several mates in their lives.

  They’re not into monogamy?

  Only during mating season. Sindari padded back into view. I have heard dragons mate for life, if that’s of interest to you.

  I squinted at him. Why would it be?

  He didn’t truly think I’d been flirting with Zav the other day, did he? He hadn’t been in our world when Dob had been diddling with my mind.

  Since you’re so often the object of dragon interest of late, it would behoove you to know more about them.

  That was probably true, but… Not their mating habits.

  Are you sure? I would allow you to use some of my poems to woo Lord Zavryd if that is your desire.

  It is not. I pushed aside the horrifying image of me spouting lines about stalking prey and consuming still-twitching meat to Zav. Did you find the basement?

  I could not detect an outside entrance, nor sense any magic in the ground that would hint of an enchanted secret door.

  Too bad, but I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t see any vents or openings to suggest a lower level even existed. Only the magical aura of the being trapped down there.

  A bedroom window is open in the back— Sindari pointed his nose toward the house, —and I do not believe anyone is inside that room currently.

  Let’s give it a try.

  I wanted to find a way in and to check out the basement before all my local distractions started. I still had a vain hope that whoever was down there could be freed or turned against the brothers to force them out of business—or at least make them have to stop fulfilling orders until they found someone else to use.

  Before trotting across the lawn after Sindari, I checked my ammo pouches and the small backpack I’d grabbed to hold the glass bulbs of mustard gas that Zoltan had made for me. They were insulated in a case, not where I could get to them easily, but the fragile glass hadn’t made me inclined to keep them in a pocket. I also made sure the small charm Zoltan had given me was hanging on my leather thong with the others. It was shaped like a bulbous nose, and I wished I’d thought to make a design request before he’d made it.