Dragon Maid by Ann Gimpel Read Free Book Online Page A

wickedness, though. The air was heavy with putrid smells, dead things left to rot. Passersby scattered like rats, gagging as they fled.
    Magic thrummed, hot and intense. Jonathan’s mouth went dry. He cursed his total lack of experience. He’d never faced a magical enemy, never expected to. Worse, he’d sidestepped classes the coven offered in self-defense. Looks as if I’m about to pay for my arrogance—and my lack of foresight.
    He was focusing his magic, getting ready to release it toward where evil felt thickest, when a ripping, tearing noise grated. What the hell was that? He glanced about; Britta’s clothes lay in shreds.Tarika blazed into being. The dragon lifted him with her forelegs and plunked him onto her back. “Hang on, witch. I canna battle Rhukon and watch out for you.” Her leathery green wings pumped the air; the city streets fell away.
    Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch, I’m flying. On a dragon. Wonder trumped fear. Jonathan made a grab for the horns, which grew at the base of Tarika’s neck, and held on for dear life.
    The biggest crow Jonathan had ever seen rose out of nowhere, blotting out half the sky. The Morrigan. Raucous cawing blasted him. Pain lanced through his skull as his eardrums ruptured. When the battle crow spoke, it sounded as if she were underwater. “Ye’ll face me, dragon shifter. Rhukon insisted on accosting you, but his blundering has begun to annoy me.” The Morrigan focused her beady, avian gaze on Jonathan. “’Tis only the beginning, witch. Afore I’m done, ye’ll wish ye were dead.”
    Fury roiled through him. Jonathan had never wanted to kill anything before, but he wanted the thing hovering before them dead. More than dead. Annihilated.
    “Hang onto that thought, witch.” Tarika’s mind voice sounded grim. “We’re going to try to lose her.”
     
     

Chapter Four
    Power buffeted him from all sides. It sizzled in the air and stung his eyes and nose. The dragon dove and banked, avoiding bolts of magic from the Morrigan and spraying the battle crow with flames. The smell of singed feathers was thick, but the bird didn’t catch fire. She’s probably using magic to keep herself safe. He pulled a ward around himself, realized he couldn’t project magic through it, and let it fall. There had to be a better use for his magic. He sounded a telepathic alarm. The witches in Kheladin’s cave might not be able to hear through the dragon’s warding, but any witch within about a ten kilometer radius would respond and come to their aid.
    He peered down. Surely the constabulary would respond to the ruckus, but Jonathan couldn’t see Inverness at all. It was as if they’d moved to a different plane. He couldn’t hear the city, either. Maybe the clash and crash of battle drowned everything else out, but he suspected Scotland was a long way from wherever the Morrigan and Tarika were duking it out.
    “Doona just sit there like a great dolt. Help me.”
    The dragon’s voice startled him. “Tarika?”
    “Who the fuck else? The Morrigan sure as hell willna bother talking with you.”
    She already had, but Jonathan didn’t waste words pointing it out. He started to protest he didn’t know the first thing about warfare but shut his mouth. He wanted Britta—and her dragon—to respect him, not see him as worthless baggage. Jonathan reached for his magic, relieved it was more-or-less intact. “Tell me what to do.”
    “Open your mind. Add your power to mine.”
    It took a bit of maneuvering, but Jonathan experimented with frequencies until he felt the dragon slam into him. The linkage was a two-way street; memories from thousands of years boiled furiously in Tarika’s head. So did her hatred for the Morrigan. Her current strategy was as clear as if she’d told him with words. Tarika wanted to open a time portal, sequester them inside, and bar the Morrigan. From there they could escape to anywhere.
    Sounds at least possible. “We need to divert her.”
    Dragon