Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

luck. She was sick of running, tired of looking over her shoulder. People. She needed to find someone to help her. No matter how tough, she wouldn’t last much longer. The thought got her moving.
    Shivering in the dark, Angela struggled to her feet and searched the shadows. Nada. The place was empty but for a single chair sitting kitty-corner in front of a shallow fireplace. From its shape, she guessed a wingback. From its smell? She knew it had seen better days.
    Angela headed for the rear entrance and—
    Great. All that effort for nothing.
    The back door stood wide open, dirt and leafy debris piled high between the jambs. Angela glared at it while she made a mental note—always check the back door before body slamming the front one open. Good advice. All right, so it came a little late, but as she glanced out the opening, she found it hard not to be grateful. At least she could run straight down to the shoreline. No walking around the cabin. No extra muscle required.
    Forcing her stiff legs to work, she half walked, half shuffled to see the river beyond the threshold. The moon peeked through high clouds now, lighting the surface of the water, making it look like a ribbon of black silk.
    Angela snorted. Black silk? She really must be losing it if she was getting poetic. Completely off her rocker if she—
    A tingle swept the nape of her neck. Her head snapped toward the front door. Something wasn’t right. The buzzing sensation lit her up, screamed along her spine, telling her to run. To hide. To head straight for the river’s edge.
    Adrenaline punched through as she crouched low. Listening hard, she stared through the open front door, straining to see in the dark. The thump-thump of heavy wings sounded overhead, and Angela’s throat closed. Oh, no. He was here. The bastard was—
    “Here, kitty-kitty-kitty.” The soft growl slithered through the night air, polluting her with fear. A soft snick came next as claws touched down in the front yard.
    Without thought, Angela bolted, launching herself off the back porch. As she touched down, branches snapped, giving away her position. She didn’t care and refused to stop. Lothair was right on her heels. She could feel him in the mountain air, rising in the dark. The awful prickle of awareness exploded down her spine, and panic picked her up, instinct urging her to run faster. Zigzagging through the underbrush, each breath a harsh rasp against the back of her throat, Angela kept her eyes on the water.
    “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
    The terrible voice singsonged in the moonlight, sliced through the quiet, and Angela tried not to cry. Tears fell anyway, leaving twin tracks on her cheeks.

     
    Rikar broke through the cloud cover, coming down like a vengeful God, wisps of fog curling from his wing tips. The blowback washed out behind him, bending trees in half as he skimmed evergreens and redwoods, his night vision so sharp he saw every blade of grass. Up ahead, the forest thinned, then stopped short, running out of ground as rock tumbled off a cliff into the river below.
    Banking left, he leveled out, following the river’s snaking turns. Another tight turn. More of Angela’s energy. His magic responded, rising so fast frost gathered, coated his scales, rattling the spikes along his spine. Locked on, his sonar pinged and information whiplashed, narrowing the target zone.
    The riverbank. She was somewhere close to the water’s edge.
    “Good girl , ” he mind-spoke to her, trying to touch her mind. Shit. He hoped she understood…was picking up the instructions he threw at her despite the distance separating them. “Angela…get into the water . ”
    He sensed her shift, increase speed, the struggle in each pumping stride. Rikar reached deeper to connect, throwing more mind-speak her way. “Come on, angel. You can make it . ”
    Thump-thump-thump.
    Her heartbeat rushed at him, throbbing through cold mountain air to reach his own. His went jackrabbit inside his chest as he clung to her bio-energy, pushed her harder, knowing what chased her. He might not know “who” exactly, but he felt the fucker. His dragon radar picked up all kinds of trace, giving him an impression of big-dark-and-ugly, but beyond that?
    He wasn’t getting much. And unlike Bastian, he couldn’t dissect a male’s strengths and weaknesses from a distance. Too bad. He could’ve used the skill tonight. Especially since B hadn’t made the trip.
    What a freaking nightmare.