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  • Home > Chloe Neill > Chicagoland Vampires Series > Blade Bound (Chapter 118)      Page
  • Blade Bound(Chicagoland Vampires #13)(118) by Chloe Neill
  • “Inside!” Ethan said, guiding the humans back through the hole and into the remains of the building, where at least they wouldn’t be visible.

    We stepped into the street: Sorcerer. Sorcerer. Vampire. Vampire.

    “Just four crazy kids against the world,” Catcher said, warming up.

    “They should make a Lifetime movie about us,” I said.

    Mallory snorted. “It’s cute you think he hasn’t already written to the company with a proposal.”

    The dragon burst through the haze like a rocket. And even after what we’d seen last night, the shock of seeing a dragon fly past the tony shops on Michigan Avenue was nearly visceral.

    They came in low and trailing blood. The dragon was wounded, bleeding from a gaping hole in its back driver’s side flank. The Guard had hit their target; it just hadn’t been quite enough. In fairness, I didn’t know who manufactured tank rounds, but I was pretty sure they hadn’t calculated the effect on a giant flying lizard.

    “Attack!” came Sorcha’s demand, followed by a greasy pulse of magic.

    The dragon turned, swooped back, but it was whipping its head from side to side, as if trying to dislodge the magic and its creator.

    PAIN.

    It dove toward us. Ethan and I dodged, rolled, and came up with katanas lifted, scraping swords against the dark, wide scales on its abdomen. It sounded like we’d slid metal against metal, the friction throwing sparks into the air.

    I didn’t think we’d done any damage, but the dragon shrieked again as it flew forward, arcing toward the sky to get space enough to make the turn. But it misjudged.

    Its wings brushed the building, and it lost its balance and pitched to the right, throwing Sorcha to the ground. Ethan held out a hand, holding me back as she climbed groggily to her feet.

    She’d changed her ensemble today, exchanging the jumpsuit for an emerald dress with flowing silk sleeves, her hair loose again. I imagined she’d tried to pick an outfit appropriate for the Busy Dragon Rider on the Go. Bummer she hadn’t added a pointed hat.

    “You are mine!” Sorcha said. “Under my control and within my sole power. You will bow to me and do my bidding.”

    “Girl takes her role as DM a little too seriously,” Catcher murmured. “Details at eleven.”

    I couldn’t take my eyes off the rise and fall of its wings, the rainbow of color that spilled across its scales with each rhythmic movement. It was graceful in its way.

    The dragon lifted into the air.

    YOU DID NOT CREATE ME.

    Sorcha’s smile was immense, her pleasure obvious. Her arrogance now physical. “Oh, I created you,” she said. “I brought together the disparate consciousness of all touched by my magic, and I created you.”

    YOU DID NOT CREATE, it said. I EXISTED. PAIN AND RAGE EXISTED. YOU BROUGHT ME INTO THIS FORM.

    “You’re here now!” Sorcha yelled impatiently, lifting her hands to the sky. “And I am in control. Come to me,” she ordered, and pointed at the street in front of her, like a human might order a stubborn dog to sit.

    There was magic behind the order—the buzz of magic that pulsed through the air, the stain of the darkness that surrounded it.

    The dragon swooped in front of her.

    Tremulously, just as a girl might have taken her first cautious step toward a quarter horse, Sorcha took a step forward, green silk undulating around her body with each flap of the dragon’s wings. It settled on the ground, heat and moisture rising from its wide nostrils.

    The dragon lowered its nose, its body only feet from hers, as if waiting for her command, her signal to move.

    The dragon opened its eyes . . . chartreuse and angry . . .

    And bit Sorcha in half.

    And then, with a gulp and chomp, it finished her off.

    CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire