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“But what if decapitation is the only thing that kills dragons?”
“Then we must figure out a way to take its head,” he said.
I leaned against him, resting my head on the side of his chest. I realized that he was wearing a suit not that unlike what Jean-Claudehad worn to dinner with my family, so why had I hated Jean-Claude in a suit, but loved Rafael in his? Because Rafael always wore a suit. This was his style, just like Jean-Claude’s was anything but. What was Deimos’s style? What was a dragon’s typical style? He’d stolen the princess, me, but how did that help us slay him?
Deimos roared and tried to stand up again, the bullets flew, and he closed his mouth and turned his head away from them. “Does he close his mouth every time they shoot at him?” I asked.
“I did not realize he closed it this time until you pointed it out,” he said.
I waited and Rafael stood with me. Deimos tried to rise again, and the police fired, though fewer bullets, and I realized it was fewer bullets each time. God, they were running out of ammo and when they did, he’d burn them alive. Deimos closed his mouth and turned his great big dragon head away from the bullets again.
“He’s protecting the inside of his mouth,” I said.
“What do you think that means?” Rafael asked.
“I think he’s only invulnerable on the outside; we need to get the missile down his throat, or maybe even a big enough bullet would do.”
“How do you plan to shoot the dragon down its throat without getting incinerated?”
“I have no idea.”
54
A vehicle rolled outfrom the crowd; it was the BearCat, one of SWAT’s smallest armored vehicles. It looked like a tank had a bad night with an old-fashioned VW Bug with a bit of Terminator thrown into the mix. It looked like someone had an idea. “I need a radio to find out what they’re thinking.”
Rafael raised a hand and as if from nowhere his main bodyguard, Benito, came to stand at his side in a suit that I knew hid all sorts of weapons. “Bring the officer up, Anita needs his radio.” There were two more suited bodyguards that came up to stand with us. They’d been staying back to give us privacy like they did when we were on a date. This was so not a date.
Two more of the wererats in full tactical gear came forward with a uniformed cop. He had his vest on, but other than that he looked woefully underdressed compared to them. “Hey, Officer”—I had to read his name tag—“Smitz, I’m Marshal Anita Blake, I need to use your radio.” I realized I had no badge to show him, just the U.S. Marshal across my vest.
I didn’t need to worry. “Of course, ma’am, whatever you need. Glad to have you back with us.” He unhooked his vest mic so that the flexible cord stretched enough for me to take it. The dragonroared again, and I turned to see that the BearCat had reached the dragon.
I watched the dragon scrape claws down the armor as I spoke into the radio. “This is U.S. Marshal Anita Blake, the inside of the dragon’s mouth is its vulnerable spot. Repeat. Aim inside the dragon’s mouth.”
The dragon was clawing at the BearCat but didn’t seem to be able to pierce the armor, or at least from here it looked like the armor was holding up. Edward’s voice: “Switch to channel twelve.”
“I’m borrowing a uniform’s radio,” I said, basically asking if he was going to say anything he didn’t want a regular cop to hear.
He repeated, “Channel twelve.”
I let go of the mic button and asked, “Officer Smitz, I need to adjust your radio.”
“I’ll do it for you, ma’am,” he said, reaching down and adjusting the buttons accordingly.
“Thanks,” I said, then I hit the button. “Marshal Blake here.”
“Anita, it’s Ted.”
“You’re trying to push it off the cliff,” I said.
“Yes, it’s not just the throat that’s the target, but it needs to flame when we shoot down the throat,” he said.
“You’re going to try and blow him up,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Blow him up down in the river with no loss of life except his,” I said.
“Exactly,” he said.
