Page 24 of Storm Dragon
But that was as far as Tamsyn got before another roar, infinitely louder, shook the cave with such force that the floor beneath her paws tremored and rocks and debris fell from above. Rage–pure, unadulterated, and as hot as she imagined the fires of Hell to be–filled every fiber of her being. The fury, the anger, the utter bone-crushing wrath was everywhere, and most importantly, it wasn’t hers. It was his. It was Ruairí’s, and she had to do everything in her considerable power to get in that cave and save him from whatever those assholes were doing to him.
Flying through what was left of the twisting and turning tunnel that stood between her and her Mate, the Dragon–for that is what he was, she knew it like she knew her own name–the screeching howls of Hettie and Milton joined Ruairí’s roars. Bursting into the cave just as the Sorcerer bellowed, “If you won’t do as you’re told, then you will die, and I will suck the marrow of your bones! I will have what is mine!”
Hands flying forward, a blast of Darkness and Sorcery that stunk of rotten eggs and rancid flesh shot from Milton and Hettie’s joined hands. Screaming so loudly that her ears rang, Tamsyn’s paws seemed stuck to the ground as the Black Magic hit Ruairí square in the chest.
Before she could react, the right hands of the evil dup swung in her direction, and Tamsyn was being pulled towards the Dragon. Letting it happen, hoping and praying that she would turn the tables on Hettie and Milton, she mentally whispered, “Stop fighting. Let it happen, Bridge. It’s the quickest way to get in there.”
“No!” Peaches yowled. “That is a suicide…”
“It is what she has to do,” Bethany adamantly agreed.
“Go around and in from the other side,” Tamsyn pushed the words through gritted teeth, working as hard as she could to keep her mental blocks in place so Hettie and Milton would think she was alone.
Unsure her plan had worked. Tamsyn steeled her resolve until she knew Peaches was far enough away and then made a show of fighting the duo’s Black Magic while allowing herself to be pulled all the way into the cave. Eyes trained on the Dragon, she was more than prepared when Hetti cackled victoriously, “Lookie here, my love.” Popping her head side to side and shaking her shoulders as if she had rhythm, the six-foot, emaciated to the point of skeletal, sallow-skinned, frizzy-headed Wild Boar Sow who was hopped up on so much Black Magic that she believed her own fucked up hype, added, “It’s the widdle bitty, puddy tat… the Tamsy Whamsy Bobbie Cat.”
Not even glancing her way, Milton spat, “She does us no good like that.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Bridgette hissed. “That motherfuckin’ useless asshole in black better not be talkin’ about my fur. I’ll scratch his…”
“Hush!” Tamsyn ordered, knowing her tone was not appreciated, but not having time for niceties. “Just keep quiet! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dickhead have to think they have the advantage.”
“What the hell do you want me to do? Skin her alive?” Hettie’s eyes lit up with malicious intent as she waggled her eyebrows and added, “Shouldn’t take my Boar long. A couple of swipes of my canines and she’ll be rid of that fur coat for the rest of her miserable life.”
“Let. Me. At. Her.” Bridgette snarled through gritted teeth. “Then we’ll see who left bloody and…”
“Which won’t be long,” Milton deadpanned. “And we need her alive, Idiot!”
Before Bridgette could respond, Hettie snapped her head toward her Mate so quickly and with such force that the hand pointing at Tamsyn- and the eggplant-colored shaft of light flying out of it- went wildly off course. Eyes wide, the Bobcat Queen couldn’t believe her eyes as a swatch of rock and granite, almost a foot wide, disappeared everywhere the Sorcery touched.
Ready to drop the helpless female façade and kick some serious ass, she barely got her head turned back around before Ruairí’s voice calmly whispered directly into her mind. “Continue to play your part. I need just a moment longer.”
“But…” It was as far as she got before feeling the Dragon’s complete and total concentration
One eye on the Dragon and the other on Hettie, Tamsyn couldn’t help but wonder where Peaches was. She knew there had been no other heartbeats in the cave before she’d sent her sister the other way, but reanimated corpses didn’t have a heartbeat- nor did they give off heat.
Ready to use the private telepathic link she shared with her sister, Tamsyn started calling Peaches when she was forced to fall to her belly to avoid being fricasseed by Hettie’s out-of-control Magic. Throwing her hands in the air as she screeched at Milton, the Wild Boar was losing her mind. “Idiot?? Did you just dare to call me an idiot?” Clenching her hands into fists, the Sow punched the Wizard in the side of the head and shrieked, “I’ll show you who the idiot is! You fucking, worthless asshole, I’ll rip you limb from limb!” Spittle flew from her lips as she pummeled Milton with punch after punch, calling him every name in the book, and he acted as if she wasn’t there as he continued to mumble whatever Sorcerous Spell he was conjuring.
The beam from his hand, doubled and tripled in width and breadth, and if she knew the asshole like she thought she did, the strength of the noxious Black Magic was doing the same thing. Of course, the spoiled, rotten Wild Boar Sow was completely clueless and still ranting and raving like the lunatic she was.
Thankfully, Tamsyn was keeping track of everyone, especially her Dragon. Back up on all four paws, her eyes flew to her Mate, and what she saw shocked her so much that she didn’t move, didn’t blink, and didn't breathe.
The beam flying from Milton’s palms was steady and strong- and now coming from both hands. Flying across the cave, it went through and around her Mate, changing from deep, dark purple with ebony flashes to a beautifully pure white Light with every pass through the Dragon’s body. Jerked off the ground, he floated through the air with arms outstretched and his head thrown back- and Tamsyn was sure she was going to die from lack of oxygen.
Watching closely, she finally exhaled in huge huffs and puffs, and her breath stopped rising when the tip of his nose nearly touched the ceiling of the cave. Still completely silent, his arms outstretched and his chest barely moving as he slowly breathed, Tamsyn wanted to laugh out loud at the looks of utter shock and awe on Hettie and Milton, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything but stare.
Glowing like Times Square on New Year's Eve, the Dragon started to turn one way and then the other. He resembled an amulet spinning at the end of a golden chain- the largest and most powerful she’d ever witnessed. His eyes met hers every time he turned her way, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that man, her man, actually smiled.
Jerking her feet from whatever Sorcery had been holding them down, the second the feeling of millions of insects crawling all over her ceased, Tamsyn sprinted forward. Making it as far as the hole in the center of the cavern, the one Ruairí had just been torn from, the light surrounding his body turned a radiant red, tipped with yellow and orange with tinges of blue like the flames of the most beautiful fire.
Then realized what it really was- not a fire. Nope, not that at all. Not a fire. No, something much more spectacular. Ruairí was emanating and emulating the colors of the scales of the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul.
Tamsyn had no idea how she knew what he looked like after his Shift, but she did. It was as plain to her as the freckles adorning the bridge of her nose when she wasn’t wearing fur and walking on four paws. Then he mentally commanded, “You had better wake up, Old Man. I will be needing your assistance.”
When no response came, he ordered, “Wakey, wakey, you Ancient bag of…”
“Stop right there, Lad,” a deep, booming voice with a brogue thicker than anything Bridgette had ever had, a rumbling that quite literally sounded like gravel rolling in a clothes dryer, and there was no denying the weight and air of thousands of years of experience. There was no doubt in Tamsyn’s mind that it was Ruairí’s Dragon King. Then the Winged Warrior scoffed, “Do as I say, or I will leave you hanging- pun fully intended.”
Before she could laugh, Ruairí’s voice sounded in her mind for the second time, and she was overjoyed. Louder, clearer, and more commanding than the other times, she could feel his strength building as he said, “Join your mind with mine, Mo phiseag bheag. Along with King Dorman and Queen Bridgette, we shall rid the world of this filth once and for all.”
