Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

best friend said, “Four breathe fire. The fifth…toxic fumes.”
    Well, all right. A poison breather. Nothing like mixing it up a bit.
    Within takedown distance now, Bastian flew in on the cop’s right wing tip. “What about our new boy?”
    “Let him go.” Taking another tight turn, Rikar slowed his roll, letting the distance between him and Mac lengthen. “We’ll pull him out of the water after we’re through.”
    The strategy was a good one. Even outnumbered almost three to one, Rikar didn’t want the cop anywhere near the battle. An untrained dragon was more hindrance than help. Combat required tactical coaching, and aerial maneuverability—the ability to fight with claws, fangs, and tail instead of hands, feet, and AK-47s—took time to develop. So, yeah, he needed Mac in the water and out of the line of fire ASAP.
    Almost there. Thirty seconds and Mac would be—
    The cop’s head snapped to the side. His shimmering aquamarine eyes narrowed and—
    Fuck. The male was more than AWOL. He’d crossed into clusterfuck country. Wings angled, Mac wheeled away from the waterfront, turning into the rogue’s flight path. Rikar raced to intercept him.
    Too late.
    Mac was already in the mix and on enemy radar. In fighting formation, the Razorbacks came in like vipers: fast, hard, without hesitation or mercy.
    Bastian growled.
    Rikar cursed.
    Mac hissed. And water-acid flew, shooting between the cop’s fangs. Right on target, the slime hit the lead Razorback dead-on, spraying into his eyes and over the top of his horns. The rogue screamed and, clawing at his face, fell out of the sky like a lodestone.
    Flying in fast, Rikar engaged a red dragon to protect Mac’s flank. Grabbing the male’s head, he snapped the rogue’s neck while B exhaled. His best friend’s electrostatic pulse flashed across the night sky. The lightning bolt hammered another rogue in the chest as, claws deployed, Mac attacked a yellow dragon.
    Fantastic.
    Trust the cop to snap out of his water fixation and fuck up a perfectly good plan. Christ, he was in neck-deep in Holy-Shitsville. ’Cause…yeah. Angela would find some 9 mms, load the Glock he’d given her, and use Rikar for target practice if he didn’t get Mac to Black Diamond in one piece.
    Stupid fledgling. Idiot male.
    Intercepting a Razorback on a collision course with Mac, Rikar sideswiped the enemy dragon with his claws. Blood arced in a violent splash, painting Rikar’s white scales red. Mac snarled, tucked his wings, and swung around, lashing out with his bladed tail. Rikar ducked to avoid the backlash. The rogue wasn’t as lucky. His eyes went wide a second before a thin line appeared at his throat and the male’s head left his body. As the enemy dragon ashed, the remains of the dead blew into Rikar’s face. And for a split second, he thought maybe…just maybe…the cop would make it out alive.
    Man, he hoped so because after the firefight he was going to beat the shit out of Mac for insubordination.

     
    Mac reeled as the rogue landed another uppercut. His head snapped back. The yellow dragon came at him again, ramming his skull into his rib cage. Pain ripped through him as his body torqued and his senses exploded. A second ball-busting sideswipe. More sharp claws digging into his scales. Another gut-wrenching head butt and he was spinning, lost in the cloud of agony and whirl of night sky. His vision dimmed, blurring at the edges as city lights streaked into long-tailed comets.
    Sucking wind, Mac lost sight of the enemy as blood washed over his fangs. The metallic taste burned, slid down the back of his throat and—
    Goddamn, he was fucked. In an endless freefall. Tumbling so fast he was in for the mother of all face-plants if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass. And his body out of the nosedive.
    He thrust his wings out, using the webbing like a parachute. Air caught and held. Rushing into an updraft, he flipped in midair and made a tight turn. Thank God. He was airborne again, able to maneuver, gain speed, avoid the enemy.
    Bleeding like a sieve from innumerable places, he searched the sky and—
    Motherfuck. The yellow-scaled pissant was persistent. And as the Razorback came at him again, Mac dodged, avoiding another body shot as he flew around the curve of a water tower. Another rogue met him on the other side. Brown with a horn in the center of his forehead, the rogue swiped at him. Mac twisted, trying to compensate, his newfound dragon instincts