Alice wondered if the human figure was Scarlet for a moment, but then she was in the light, and it was the mermaid, Saina, ducking and dashing for the sound system.
Bastian made another sweep over the ruins, flaming above the heads of the fleeing crowd and
the members of Cyrus’ ring that were starting to muster a defense against the attack. Darts pinged off his hide and fell harmlessly to the ground below. The guard facing Alice was clearly having a crisis of loyalty, and at the massive dragon’s second pass, broke off and fled with the audience stampeding towards the dock.
Some of the shifter fighters were taking animal form, meeting this attack with teeth and claws of their own. Was it loyalty to the ring, Alice wondered, or just that they couldn’t resist a fight?
Then Saina had the microphone in her hand and the magic of her voice was falling over the crowd, calming them and settling a thrall over them. If they were running, they staggered to a stop. If they were fighting, they lowered their fists and paws, and stood in a daze.
Alice felt only the slightest hint of it. At first, she thought it was because she was protected from Saina’s magic by her dormant mate-bond. Then she realized that everyone in their immediate vicinity had shaken it off, Saina’s siren music half-drowned by the constant noise of the generator, and spread thin over a larger crowd than she usually dealt with. Cyrus was bending to pick up one of the rifles, aiming it at the battle that Graham was fighting with the guards that had been escorting him to the cage.
Alice didn’t know much about hitting, and she knew less about shooting, but she did know throwdowns, so that’s what she did, driving Cyrus to the ground from behind.
He snarled and fought, and Alice wrapped him tighter in her arms.
He headbutted her, smashing her nose.
“Foul!” Alice cried, tasting blood. She got her arm around both of his. “That would be a flagrant misconduct, asshole.”
“You still think this is a game, Alice?” Cyrus hissed, trying to squirm out of her grip.
Alice clamped her arms down tighter.
Chapter 36
Graham’s guards had been expecting a fight. They weren’t expecting a dragon, or Saina’s siren magic, or the ragtag team of animals that had shown up, but Graham’s advantage of surprise didn’t last long.
It was three against one, and they were wearing light armor and carrying weapons; one of them still had a gun, and two of them had nightsticks.
One of those sticks came crashing into his broken rib, and another struck his leg, hoping, no doubt, to disable him. Graham pivoted on the other leg and punched one of them in the throat, ducking a nightstick and coming up under the guard’s arm at the elbow with his shoulder. The third guard hung back with the gun, trying to find an opening to shoot.
Graham didn’t have to think about what he was doing; he simply acted.
Instinct and muscle memory took over, and he merely was: dodging blows, looking for openings, trying to keep someone between himself and the man with the gun. He wasn’t Grant, and he wasn’t Graham, he was just intuition and adrenaline.
Patience paid off; he was able to knock one of the guards into the other and use the ensuing moment of confusion to bring all his weight down onto onto the other one’s wrist, thinking with an unexpected jolt of humor about his advice to Alice as it cracked beneath his assault. The guard howled, and was out of the fight cradling his arm long enough for him to grab the other and spin, using the man’s weight to build enough momentum to hurl him at the guard with the gun.
As they both struggled to keep their balance, Graham wrested the nightstick from the guard with the broken wrist and flew into them, knocking one out with a blow to the head and turning to face the other, just as a black panther materialized from the darkness and tackled him from behind.
Shots cracked out and the sound of Saina’s lilting song suddenly went quiet as the generator failed with a sputter and a spray of sparks and all of the lights and sound equipment died.
The people who had been under her thrall shook themselves out, and, nearly as one, they turned to flee down the island for the dock. The guard with the broken wrist joined the flight through the sudden darkness, and the guard under the panther cried out for mercy.
The panther shifted into Wrench and exchanged an amused nod with Graham.
“Thanks,” Graham said briefly, looking around for a new opponent.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim moonlight; apparently his lion’s advantages were not all lost with his ability to reach his animal.
“Alice!” Graham cried, sprinting to where she was crouching. Her face was covered in blood, and Cyrus, pinned beneath her, was snarling and struggling.
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “He’d be thrown out for poor sportsmanship if this were a real match. But I can’t let him up until I have something to do with him.” She grunted as Cyrus got a lucky elbow in her side, and adjusted her grip on him.
“I have something to do with him,” Graham growled, and he stepped on Cyrus’ protesting head while Alice carefully let go of him, bending to pull the man to his feet when she was free.
“You going to hurt me?” Cyrus challenged, anger and defeat in his beady eyes.
Graham was more aware of Alice’s gaze than he was Cyrus’.