Dragons Wild

Griffen tried to make use of the distraction, rushing the George and swinging a blow at him. Again with greased quickness the George moved away, foot catching Griffen lightly on the ankle and dodging. Griffen stumbled, but not much and the George stepped away, bringing the gap between the two men wide again. Griffen brought himself back around as the George postured.

“Oh, very good, second blood and quite unexpected. Really, boy, I’ve known dragons three times your age who hadn’t done so much.”

“What are you, anyway?” Griffen said, fishing for information, and searching for tactics. The cats were no longer responding; they were closed off to him. “Other than an enforcer for hire, that is.”

“From where I stand, he’s dead meat,” Valerie declared loudly, emerging from the door of her apartment wearing a loose-fitting sweat suit. Her eyes shone with rage.

“Stay out of this, woman!” the George ordered, not taking his eyes from Griffen.

“Not a chance,” Valerie said, starting forward. “That’s my brother you’re smacking around.”

As she moved, she began to grow visibly until she was nearly half again her normal height. The sweat suit, first loose, now strained against her proportions.

“I warn you,” the George snarled. “You are not strong enough for this contest.”

Valerie came to a stop ten feet from the George.

“You’re probably right.” She smiled. “That’s why I brought a friend.”

From behind her back she produced the shotgun Gris-gris had given her. At her new size, it almost looked like a toy in her hand. Still, its roar was deafening in the silent courtyard as she fired it point-blank at the George.

The man was blown from his feet and went sprawling into one of the flower beds.

“Heard the cats. I’ve told you before, Big Brother,” Valerie called, “you worry way too much about fighting fair.”

“Val! Don’t…” Griffen called, but he was too late.

The George was on his feet standing behind Valerie. Grabbing the back of her sweat suit, he pivoted and threw her five feet into a wall. He snatched and wrenched the shotgun from her hand even as she flew. She rebounded and lay in a boneless heap on the pavement of the courtyard.

Griffen’s vision began to blur. He could feel his skin tightening and his muscles shift as blood pounded in his ears. He didn’t need to look to know his arms now had scales.

“She’ll be all right,” the George said, tossing the weapon away dismissively and turning back to his main target. “I don’t hurt bystanders. She’ll be bruised when she wakes up, but…”

With a roar, Griffen charged him……And the George was gone!

As Griffen lunged through the space the George had occupied a moment before, something struck him hard from behind, driving him to his knees.

“Sorry if it’s not a sword,” came the George’s voice, “but that would be a bit obvious to carry on the street.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Griffen saw that the George was holding a metal baton, one of the collapsible ones popular with some policemen. Turning his head was a mistake, even as he registered the weapon, the George’s foot slammed into his face and knocked him fully down, sprawling.

“I thought about the sword. I saw the little toy you use for your fencing practice. But, it would have been like daring an infant to attack me with a fly swatter. Hardly sporting.”

For a moment Griffen was held rigid with paralyzing anger. Again he felt his body tighten as fury changed him.

“Besides, it takes a special blade, and this really does more dam—”

With a snarl Griffen pushed himself to his feet, twisting toward his tormentor in the motion. Even as he turned, his tail lashed out for the man’s head.

His tail?

A surge of joy surged through him as Griffen found his powers responding to his need. The moment’s distraction cost him his advantage.

The George was gone again.

This time, the blow came low on his back, drawing a gasp of pain as he stumbled forward.

“See, thick skin doesn’t protect you from broken bones. Not even plated with scales,” the George said from across the courtyard. “You should know…Hey!”

Valerie had wrapped her arms around his legs from where she was lying on the ground. She tightened, so strong that the George’s face twisted with pain.

“You talk too much,” she growled, rolling like the athlete she was and…

…They ported again, both of them. This time barely ten feet from where Griffen stood.

He seemed to sag for a moment with exertion. Valerie grinned savagely and took the opportunity to wrap her legs around one of the trees in the courtyard. For a moment, they blurred, the George trying to port again, but only for a moment—he was stuck.

Fighting for balance, the George struck at her with his baton, she sagged, but if anything her grip clenched harder…

…And Griffen had him.

Taken off guard by the sudden violence of the attack, the George barely had a chance to give a yelp of surprise before Griffen’s hands closed on his neck.

The George’s baton went flying as Griffen lifted him bodily into the air, ripping him from Valerie’s grasp, and slammed him down on the walkway…