Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)

“There’s no presumption about it. You know it, and I know it.” He gave me a devilish grin that just about melted my insides. “It’s just a matter of when, not if.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but just as I did, a soft sound similar to a car backfiring came from the direction of the house.

It had barely even registered as a gunshot before Damon hit me, pushing me down and covering my body with his as the car window above us shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Chapter Nine

I slammed knee-first into the road, but the pain that shot up my legs was nothing compared to the fear. My heart was going a million miles an hour and my throat was so dry, even breathing hurt. We only had the open door as protection, and the metal just didn’t seem like adequate armor against a potential rain of bullets. Only it didn’t happen.

From within the house came the sound of screaming—furious, feminine screaming—and it was accompanied by the sound of tearing metal and a weird whooshing noise. A second later, the roof of the house exploded upward, propelled by a jet of water. And carried along with it was a man, yelling as he tried to fire a gun back into the house.

A sea dragon’s greatest weapon might be the sea, but they can control any sort of water. Even the stuff that came through rusting pipes—which made me wonder why she hadn’t done that before now, and escaped.

“It appears our sea dragon is still alive,” Damon murmured, grabbing my arms and hauling me upright. “Come on.”

He hurried me across the road and behind the cover of another car, but the shooters were obviously too occupied by the mayhem within to worry about us.

Another muffled shot rang out and the fountain of water dipped dramatically before rising again.

“Stay here,” Damon murmured, then ran, crouched, toward the house.

I shifted position so I could watch him. In the darkness he was little more than a shadow quickly lost to normal sight, and only my odd awareness of the man allowed me to keep track of his progress.

He slipped over the metal gate and ran toward the house. As he did so, an old wooden chair exploded through the front window, hitting the concrete and shattering into a dozen pieces.

A woman with dark hair was briefly silhouetted, running across the shattered remains of the window before disappearing. Several heartbeats later, a blond man appeared, a gun held in front of him as he chased her. More shots rang out. More furniture flew.

In the houses around us, lights were coming on, but no one had come out to see what was happening. I wondered if anyone had called the cops, and how long it would take them to arrive if they had been called. I doubted Damon wanted any sort of interaction with the human police, and Coral sure as hell wouldn’t. She’d be desperate to get to her mate before dawn—and any delay would be a problem.

All sounds from the house suddenly ceased. Both the crashing of furniture and the gunshots had stopped, though water still cascaded through the shattered remains of the roof, and the guard was no closer to escaping it. I scanned the outside of the building, wondering what the hell was going on in there. I no longer had any sense of Damon—he’d slipped around to the rear of the house, beyond reach of my senses. I bit my lip, hating having to stand here, feeling like a fifth wheel with nothing important to do or contribute.

The front door of a neighboring house opened and an elderly woman peeked out. I shifted back into the shadows to ensure she couldn’t see me. She clutched her blue dressing gown close to her chest, peering out at the water, then shook her head and went back inside.

As her door closed, a muffled scream came from inside the shattered blue house, then another window exploded. This time it wasn’t broken by a chair, but rather a woman. She hit the ground awkwardly and clambered to her feet, running toward the trees and the metal fence beyond. But the blond man appeared in the window, gun raised and aimed at the woman’s back.

“Coral, drop,” I shouted, and reached for my fire, feeling it rip through my body—a maelstrom of deadly force that was eager and ready to be used.

As Coral threw herself to the ground, the gun swung my way. I thrust to my feet and flung the fire. The flaming ribbon arced across the ni

ght, the force of it all but drowning out the sound of the shot as the guard fired his weapon. I threw myself sideways and felt the burn of the bullet cut through the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Saw my flames hit the guard and wrap around both his arm and the weapon.

Then a black shadow engulfed him, and the guard disappeared from sight. I pushed away from the car and walked toward the fence. The dark-haired woman still lay on the grass where’d she’d fallen, her breath rapid and clothes soaked and bloody. I couldn’t see a wound on her back, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

“Coral? Are you okay?”

She shifted and glanced up at me. Even in the darkness, her eyes seemed to glow with an unearthly sea green fire. “Who are you?” she said, her voice scratchy and holding only the slightest hint of a Scottish accent.

“Angus sent us,” I said. “He wanted us to rescue you.”

“But no one can rescue him now,” she said, her voice breaking a little. She pushed to her knees and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You were with him when he died?”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “We caught the men who shot him. They’re on the boat with his body.”

That unearthly glow got brighter. “They’re alive?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”