Blade Bound (Chicagoland Vampires 13)

“Mallory!” I screamed, and stretched out my hand as the dragon reached the other end of the bridge, banked hard to avoid the buildings on Wacker, and turned to take another shot at us. We were going to have to be fast. “Give me your hand.”

Mallory shook her head, staring at her fingers, as if she could strengthen them by sheer force of will. “I’m slipping.”

“I won’t let you fall.” But she was a good two feet beneath me. I had to get closer, and that meant climbing toward her.

I made the mistake of looking down, watching light shimmer across the water so, so far below us. I could make a planned fall from a pretty tall height—at least onto land. The river’s eddied surface was something else entirely.

Eyes gleaming in the darkness, the dragon bulleted toward me.

I forced myself to ignore the void, ducking under the roadway just in time to hear the creature’s nails screech against asphalt, the thunder of its wings as it lifted again.

“You ever wonder why they call it a death grip?” Mallory asked, as I moved down among the steel beams.

At least the bridge gave us some protection from the dragon, which screamed somewhere above us, furious that we’d spoiled its fun.

“I mean, you hold on because you’re gripping life, right?” She blew bangs from her eyes. “Shouldn’t it be a life grip?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you get a little loopy when you’re in mortal danger?”

“I’m gonna be honest,” she said in a hysterical tone. “This isn’t the first time.”

My foot slipped on wet steel, but I caught myself, squeezed my hands so hard the knuckles were white against the railing.

“Merit, oh Jesus, Merit, I’m slipping.”

“I’m nearly there, Mallory. You’re doing great.”

“Hurry, Merit. Please.”

Her fingers disappeared as I pitched forward—and just managed to wrap fingers around her wrist.

She managed to bite back the scream, but I could see the terror in her eyes.

“Oh God, Merit.” Her feet dangled above the river. “Oh God.”

“You’re going to be just fine. Remember how strong I am,” I said, keeping a pleasant smile on my face. But strength wasn’t the issue. Water was the issue. The slip of my boots on steel wet from melting snow, the slip of her skin in mine from the resulting humidity.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“I’m going to pull you up on three,” I said. “One, two . . .”

I didn’t wait for three. I dug my heels into the frame and dug my nails into her skin, convinced that if I managed to get us out of this, she’d forgive me for the pain. I yanked her up with every ounce of strength I could muster, pulling until she was beside me.

She rested her head against mine. “I thought that was it. I thought that was the end of me.”

“You think I’m going to just let you go? No, thank you.”

She kissed the side of my head, then spat out grit. “You need a shower.”

“You don’t look so good yourself, friend.”

“Rude.”

“It’s going to get ruder.” I gestured up. “We have to climb back to the roadway.”

“And then what?”

The dragon roared, and the bridge shook with it.