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It took all of seconds to recognize that, though the pup might have been well-trained, he’d clearly not spent much time in battle. His stance was that of a trained soldier, not an experienced one. His skin not marked with even a single scar from fae blades. There were many tells, but it was his eyes that showed truest. They did not hold the burden of a warrior. They still had something to prove.
“Leave or die,” the paladin declared, pointing his glowing sword at Sirus.
The vampire glared at the young one, pulling the shadows in closer, letting his hunger bubble dangerously close to the surface. His teeth clenched. The paladin shifted uneasily on his feet, his face growing uncertain, his resolve already cracking. It was almost amusing how little effort it took to rattle his enemy. He’d clearly never faced a vampire before.
“I could say the same to you,” Sirus replied with the chill of a glacier, holding his own swords casually low.
The paladin bristled, his face twisting in indignant fury. Sirus waited patiently. It wouldn’t be much of a fight, but if it was what the young one desired, he would gladly satisfy him.
“Oi!” a booming voice hollered down the hall. Like a bucket of water over a flame, Sirus’s blood chilled the instant he heard it.
The paladin turned, his face lit with surprise. He lifted his sword just in time to take on Barith’s massive fiery blade. A smattering of flames and sparks cascaded around them as metal struck metal, the force of the attack sending the zephyr hurtling out of view and into the wall at the end of the hall with a loud thud.
It took a single breath of composure to tamp his hunger back down, and he lowered his swords. Sirus glanced over his shoulder at the woman. She was uninjured but clearly in shock, clutching onto the back of the chair for dear life. Her eyes were so wide, they looked as if they might burst out of her head.
Barith’s broad form appeared in the destroyed doorway, his blade and eyes lit with licks of flame, casting the dark room in a soft glow. The dragon pushed his unruly auburn hair out of his face with his free hand. His scaled golden-red tail swung haplessly at his backside.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I tripped tryin’ not to stomp on the witch’s cat.”
Sirus cocked a brow. “There were not more?”
“More?” Barith repeated, seemingly confused. “No. The witch caught sense of this one and sent me off to help.”
Only one paladin. And he’d come here instead of to the witch. Sirus grew uneasy. It didn’t make sense.
He’d recruited Barith to aid him in his hunt because, though the dragon was insufferably obnoxious, he often did prove useful. Vampires were rarely welcome, even in the seediest pits of the magickal world. As a dragon, Barith was not only welcome, he was also blessed with seemingly endless charm.
A young witch who the dragon had attracted at a local watering hole suggested that they come to Queens. She’d advised Barith to talk to the elder witch here, who led the local coven, if he was looking for someone specific. Sirus knew it was a long shot to get the witch to divulge anything of use, but he’d sent Barith and his silver tongue in to speak with her and uncover what he could. Over centuries working with the dragon, Sirus had learned not to underestimate just how skilled he could be at getting people to reveal information. It also didn’t hurt that he was large and adept with a sword.
The paladin snarled as he rallied himself for another attack. With a small, annoyed grunt, Barith stepped back and lifted his sword to take the blow. More sparks cascaded through the room.
The woman squeaked, cowering further behind the chair. Sirus watched her closely. Her bright green eyes shifted to his swords. She looked at them as if she’d never seen a sword in her life. Her eyes darted up to his, and he tensed. The familiarity in her expression shook him. Her eyes were almost—pleading.
“Stay down,” he growled again, turning his attention back to the pair brawling in the hall. He needed to make sense of this. Why there was only one.
The dragon shifted sideways, grabbed the zephyr’s face with his giant hand, and shoved him back. There was another thud, one that caused a terrible painting of a fall landscape to crash to the floor.
“Where’s the witch?” Sirus asked.
Barith rolled his shoulders to loosen them. “She was sending a message to her coven to warn them about this little zephyr whelp. He snuck in under both our noses.”
If the witch sent for reinforcements, they were running out of time. Either more zephyrs or the witches would soon be swarming the place. Or both.
“A concealment charm,” Sirus explained.
The dragon grunted his understanding. “The witch didn’t seem to sense him either,” he pressed on. “She’s a strange one.” Barith cocked a sly grin. “Seemed she was expecting us a few days ago. She opened the door and complained that we were late before I could even knock.”
Sirus gritted his teeth. Even the witch had expected them sooner. It irritated him. It was a none-too-subtle jab that perhaps his skills had slipped during his long sabbatical.
At least the witch seemed willing to cooperate. But that created more questions than answers.
Another snarl filled the hall. Barith sneered, shifted back, lifted his sword, and took on the paladin’s attack. He parried the blow lazily, locking the zephyr’s sword against the wall with his own, then snatched the paladin into a headlock. Barith smacked the lad’s rear with his tail. Hard. The zephyr snarled and spat in embarrassed fury.
“Serves you right, you little shite,” Barith bit out. “Someone needs to teach you to respect your elders.” He smacked his rear again, and the zephyr’s wings spread out into the narrow hall, smashing and scrambling as he fought to free himself from Barith’s headlock.
“We need to question him,” Sirus warned Barith.
“There’s no need,” a deep female voice, one touched with crackle of magick, said from somewhere down the hall. The witch’s wild silver hair was wrapped in an orange scarf, and her billowy purple dress dragged over the bits of debris on the floor. She tossed a handful of silvery powder into the paladin’s face. The zephyr sneezed, his struggling ceased, his body went slack, and his eyes rolled back. Barith dropped his unconscious body into a heaping pile in the floor, kicking his wings out of the way none too delicately.
