Free Nightwalker by Allyson James Page B

her face. She wore her hair pulled into a tight bun, and her attire, as usual, was white polyester pants, a bright print top, and white sneakers.
    She was also the conduit of generations of Apache shaman magic. She made a mean tamale pie and had a temper as sharp as the knives she kept honed in my kitchen.
    Drake looked down at her without worry—big mistake.
    “The Nightwalker is under my protection,” Elena said. “And if that fire gets into my kitchen, my next dish will be roasted dragon wings.”
    Drake looked puzzled. “You would defend a Nightwalker? I’d thought he would be anathema to your people.”
    “I haven’t asked my people ,” Elena said. “but he’s done no harm to me. Or to you. Dragons don’t care about how many humans Nightwalkers drain. You Firewalkers care about no one but yourselves.”
    I couldn’t have put it better myself. Drake pretending he wanted to kill Ansel to avenge human victims was a big, fat lie.
    “You have to give us more than that,” Mick said to him.
    Though Mick hadn’t spoken until now, he hadn’t let me go. I stood in the circle of his arms, his chest hard against my back.
    Mick wasn’t just being affectionate—he held me because he didn’t trust me around dragons, with good reason. My Beneath magic was clamoring to come out so I could whack Drake fifty feet backward. He was burning down my hotel, for the gods’ sake.
    “The Nightwalker has something I want,” Drake said impatiently.
    “What?” Mick asked.
    “He stole it, he and that woman. She doesn’t have it, so he must. Bring him to me.”
    Ansel had stolen something from the dragons? Ansel hadn’t mentioned dragons in his story about Laura and finding antiques for her, but then, Laura lived in Santa Fe, and the dragon compound on the cliffs near there probably had immeasurable treasure stored in it. Dragons liked to hoard.
    Mick let go of me, but it was to move me behind him so he could face Drake full on. “Unless you have proof, the Nightwalker is under my protection.”
    Drake started to growl. “Once you bring him out here, I will make him reveal where the object is. That will be proof enough.”
    Dragon logic. Then again, Ansel’s day sleep this morning had come upon him a little too conveniently. I seriously wanted to interrogate him myself.
    “Leave the Nightwalker to me,” Mick said. “If he has stolen something belonging to the dragons, I’ll let you know.”
    Fire danced in Drake’s hands, rage glittering in his eyes. “This is not your business Micalerianicum. I don’t care what kind of general you are, or how bravely you fought in the war. My task is to get the object back, and I intend to use any force at my disposal to do it.”
    Behind us, the firemen were struggling to put out the flames, arcs of water shooting into the sky. But dragon fire burns ten times hotter than a normal fire, and there would be no saving my hotel.
    “Mick,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm. “ Please , let me kill him.”
    “Bring me the Nightwalker,” Drake repeated with more force. “And I’ll spare the rest of your abode. That’s all you have to do.”
    I stepped out from behind Mick. “Do the words fuck you mean anything to you?”
    Drake’s eyes burned red, and a big ball of fire danced between his hands. He tilted back his head and shouted a word into the night.
    I had no idea what he said, but Mick apparently did. He was past me, going for Drake before I could draw a breath.
    Drake threw the fire at him. I yelped, but the fire hit a wall of flame that Mick had thrown up in front of him. Drake’s fire struck Mick’s wall and flowed harmlessly around him, leaving him untouched in a bubble in the middle.
    I grabbed Elena and pulled her well out of the way as Mick let fly his fire at Drake. Drake defended with his own flame wall, and then both dragon-men disappeared into fire and smoke, the inferno competing with the already wild one of my saloon.
    An orange-red missile zoomed out of