“Permit me to rephrase.” The Dragon tensed her hands, claws shooting from her fingertips. “Come forward with information, or I will extract it from you with necessary force.”
Mercury Town was the lowest rung in Dortam, a small corner serving the necessities of many, though only a few would admit to traversing it. It would be a playground for the Riders, a place where they could reap whatever havoc they so chose without consequence. No one would come to the aid of illegals and dealers. The Riders could be as vicious as they wanted and hide behind the curtain of self-defense or upholding the law should any try to call them to task on the matter. They all knew it, and the Dragon wasted no time as a result.
The woman leapt from the rooftop, landing heavily on the ground. Crimson waterfalls poured from her fingertips, from the hearts she had ripped out of the two nearest Fenthri. Shocked onlookers wore masks of fight or flight for a brief moment, instinct surpassing all training. Half turned tail, fleeing. For the other half, conditioning won out as they boldly stood their ground.
Men and women reached for weapons concealed underneath their frock coats. Gun-barrels of varying sizes were hoisted parallel to the ground, aimed at the Dragon. The rider brought her wrists together, banging them with a sharp metallic noise.
The volleys would be useless against a corona. Florence knew it, and everyone else must have known it, too. But that didn’t stop them from firing anyway.
Gunshots echoed over her hasty footsteps. She ignored the fighting and Dragons, focusing instead on turning down one narrow street, then another. Out of the flow of people, Florence tried to catch her breath and figure out her next move. She didn’t want to risk going home. The chances of a Dragon actually following her specifically out of Mercury Town were infinitesimally small—a number Florence had no doubt Ari would have calculated in an instant and told her not to worry over. But any risk that would put Ari in needless danger as a direct result of her actions was too much for Florence. That woman was way too good at finding her own danger—she didn’t need Florence’s help.
The Dragon Ari had brought home didn’t seem evil, not in the way Ari had painted him. Florence was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, which meant these Riders were likely hunting him for some nefarious purpose. Florence constructed the story in her head and found it supported her decision not to go home.
That meant she had to head to the bunker.
The ground rumbled and the buildings shook with the crack of an implosion. The way the mortar and stone groaned was a symphony to Florence’s ears, destruction of an epic nature the likes of which only pure Dragon magic could reap. It conveyed a clear message: the Riders had no qualms about leveling Mercury Town on their hunt for Cvareh.
Judging from the echo of the sound, Florence would have ranked it among one of the best implosions she’d ever heard. She was so enamored by it that she had to remind herself to be afraid. Her mental reminders were only partly successful, as she now harbored a secret desire to see one such implosion before they were done.
Florence pushed off, her breath nearly caught.
Ari had only taken her to their tiny safe room in Mercury Town once. It had been late at night, a time when oil burnt low and most seedy occupants were high on whatever the substance of the day was. Florence didn’t have Ari’s photographic memory; her muscles didn’t remember every twist and turn as Ari’s could.
But her mentor knew how Florence’s mind worked. She had taken care to describe every step as they were taking it, utter every street name and point out every building flanking the alleyways on the way to the small room known to them as the bunker. The chaos and noise faded away and Florence focused only on where she was and where she was going. There was enough distance between her and the Dragons now that she didn’t need to be worried.
Or so she thought.
An emerald-skinned Dragon seemed to fall from the sky just before her. Men and women scattered in all directions like rats from a flame. Florence skidded to a stop, shifting her weight from foot to foot to prevent herself from taking one more step closer to the Dragon or falling backwards.
Her hand found the grip of her pistol as her heart raced. The option of flight had been taken from her. Now she could only fight or roll over for the Rider—and Florence, student of Arianna the White Wraith, would never roll over. Not for a Dragon, not for anyone.
“You’re the one.” The Dragon looked right at her with a sinister sort of smile. Even though he had the same elongated canines Cvareh had, they looked ten times sharper and more malicious in the Rider’s mouth. “Girl—”
“I am not a girl.” Her palm was too slick to get a good grip on her pistol.
The Dragon laughed. “You smell like Dragon.”
He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed. Florence toed a step away before they opened again. The Dragon’s eyes drifted to Ari’s bag, so recently occupied by reagents.
“At least, that does…”