Maybe it had.
Blue spikes studded the dragon’s spine between two wings tucked against its back. It spun around, eyeing something behind her. She could only stare at the beast, larger than a horse. The dim light shimmered across its scales as it moved. It lunged forward, expelling sinuous black smoke. She saw the outline of the demon in the smoke, its long arms snaking toward the Dragon’s muzzle.
The Dragon thrashed its head back and forth, knocking into the rows of shelves and sending them crashing down. She was leaning against one of them, so she snapped out of her terror and moved before she went down with it.
She felt the creepy heat again, the breath she’d been feeling since leaving Mon’s house. That thing had been with her the whole time. Fear and revulsion rolled through her. The Dragon’s head lunged toward her, freezing her as glistening fangs came close.
Though terror should have claimed her as the dark blue eyes of the beast held her gaze, she felt a longing ache. The Dragon Prince.
It turned, its teeth snapping at the demon that was now obviously near its tail. That tail whipped around, knocking a cart several yards away and scattering the books it had contained. The Dragon snapped at the demon that must be climbing up its back by the way the spines were bending. If only she could see the damned thing. The Dragon threw itself at another shelving unit, obviously trying to dislodge it. Suddenly, the beast’s head pulled back at a painful angle.
Do something!
Where was her gun? She couldn’t see it among the piles of books. Frantically she started digging through them, gratefully wrapping her fingers over the cool metal. She aimed just above the dragon. The demon felt the books when the poor creature dropped them. How about a bullet? She jerked with the release, holding strong. The bullet hit the wall a short distance away.
Something sucked the air from her lungs, like a vacuum hose shoved down her throat. She dropped to her knees, gasping and clawing at her throat. What was the demon doing to her? Not strangling her, because she couldn’t feel its hands.
The Dragon bumped her, throwing her to the side and ending the horrible asphyxiation. She struggled to her hands and knees, hearing the sounds of battle just out of sight. Then the roar of an explosion. A puff of black smoke rose to the ceiling. Her ears rang in the sudden silence. Who had won? Or, gawd, had they both combusted?
Cyntag stepped into view, wearing his white pants and holding the tattered shirt. “We have to get out of here.”
She got to her feet, scooping up her gun with shaking fingers. “You’re a…were a…” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve gone bonkers like my grandfather.”
Cyntag took her hand and led her through the wreckage, commenting on neither of her statements.
She glanced back to where the Elemental had died. “Is it there? The creature who died?”
He paused. “Yes. Its body will fade away.” He tugged her out the broken back door to where an old black Thunderbird was parked at an angle.
“Are you all right to drive?” he asked. “You need to follow me back to the dojo. We have a lot to cover and not a lot of time to do it.”
“I can drive. I’m crazy, not handicapped.”
“You’re not crazy. You’re just part of the Hidden.”
Smoke curled up from his untouched cigar as Purcell watched the demon he’d summoned get crushed. Through a scry orb, Purcell had watched Ruby go to Valeron’s dojo and then storm out a short time later. Valeron had followed and sabotaged the perfect kill opportunity. Now Purcell watched the Dragon snatch up the orb. The window through which he could watch snapped closed, leaving him in the dark room.
Valeron was still protecting Ruby. It baffled Purcell that someone would put their life on the line for a virtual stranger. He would not even do it for someone he knew well. Taking risks for a god was a different matter, of course.
That Fallon, Deuce god of nature, had approached Purcell for assistance was both humbling and gratifying. Most Deuces brave or desperate enough to appeal to a god had to perform a ceremony with magick-infused driftwood. In this case, a god needed him. It still awed him, even after all these years. He had failed because of Justin, but he would not let Fallon down again.
Fallon had opened the portal to the Dark Side and made the proper introductions. He had then left the door open so Purcell could access it on his own if it became necessary. That door, like a holographic image floating in his living room, was unnerving. Purcell detested having to use it again, but demons were a weapon that could not be traced back to him. Like the scry orb, the portal was round and hovered a few feet away from him.
The Demon Master appeared in the window. If Purcell passed him on the sidewalk, he might think the Master a surfer. His blond hair looked windblown, his skin tanned, eyes a brilliant blue. Purcell didn’t know if it was a façade or if he was a different sort of demon altogether. He had no interest in asking.