Read Online The Dragon Conspiracy by Lisa Shearin - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Shearin
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themselves knocking over banks.”
Ian nodded. “And if the talent is one that would be useful to us, they could be eventually offered a job as an agent.”
“Like I was.” I thought back for a second. “Wait, I didn’t get a psych evaluation.”
“Oh, yes, you did. You had tea with the boss, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ms. Sagadraco’s been around humans long enough to read us at a glance. She cleared you herself—that and your family background didn’t hurt.”
My family lives in a small town in the far western mountains of North Carolina that through the years has attracted more than its share of people and not-people who wouldn’t be described as normal by anyone’s definition. My family took it on themselves to protect the prey—supernatural and otherwise—from supernatural predators. Since the town’s founding in 1786, there’s been a Fraser as marshal, then sheriff, and my aunt was now the police chief.
“Or if the talent is something we don’t need often,” Ian said, “we contract with them on a job-by-job basis.”
“Like Eddie.”
“Exactly.”
I tilted my head toward the far backseat. “So what do you think is gonna happen with . . .?”
Ian answered by not answering.
I felt kind of responsible for Ben. If tonight had been the first time his talent had stood up and said howdy, I’d been there when it happened. What if I’d come into my talent later in life, and suddenly saw monsters everywhere I looked? I’d be in a funny farm inside of a week.
The thud of something landing on the roof sent a shudder through the massive SUV’s steel frame.
As a result, we were all looking up when the harpy fist punched through the bulletproof glass on the rear window. She snapped open her hand to expose claw-tipped fingers that sliced through Ben Sadler’s seat belt like a paper party streamer. The harpy then tried to sink those claws into Ben and pluck him out of the SUV like she was one of those steel claws in an arcade machine and Ben was the primo prize.
What the hell?
They stole the diamonds, and now they needed an appraiser?
With two explosive kicks, the talons on her feet punched through the roof of the SUV.
She was anchoring herself on the Suburban’s roof while she snatched Ben out the back window.
That
was Yasha’s final straw.
The Suburban was his baby, his mobile office—hell, she was his partner. And now a bird woman was punching holes all in her.
Yasha spat a continuous stream of Russian profanities. I didn’t know any Russian, but there was no denying that Yasha was cussing a blue streak.
Ian had his gun out and was firing through the roof, but all it did was make the harpy work faster to take Ben.
I still wasn’t allowed to carry a gun on all missions. Tonight was one of them. Too public. Not to mention no place to hide it in my little black dress.
But I had a knife.
The harpy’s claws were grabbing at Ben, who, not being belted in anymore, was flopping and sliding around in the far backseat. Two grabs later, the harpy got lucky and hooked one claw onto his shoulder. If Ben had been conscious, he’d have been screaming his lungs out.
Before she could get a better grip, I turned and threw myself over the back of my seat to return the favor, stabbing her in the forearm.
And broke my blade on her skin.
Son of a bitch.
“Hold on!” Yasha shouted. “I stop.”
I grabbed the back of my seat, and Yasha stopped.
Oh boy, did he stop.
The harpy lost her grip on Ben, but not on the roof.
Did your dad ever say, “Don’t make me stop this car” or “Don’t make me come back there”?
Yasha did both.
Yasha the driver stopped, got out, and went wolf.
Then Yasha the werewolf unleashed a load whole of whoop-ass on a very surprised harpy.
She lost interest real quick in making Ben her personal prize, and opted for retreat over tangling with an enraged werewolf hell-bent on extracting payback out of her stony hide.
The harpy launched herself into
Ian nodded. “And if the talent is one that would be useful to us, they could be eventually offered a job as an agent.”
“Like I was.” I thought back for a second. “Wait, I didn’t get a psych evaluation.”
“Oh, yes, you did. You had tea with the boss, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ms. Sagadraco’s been around humans long enough to read us at a glance. She cleared you herself—that and your family background didn’t hurt.”
My family lives in a small town in the far western mountains of North Carolina that through the years has attracted more than its share of people and not-people who wouldn’t be described as normal by anyone’s definition. My family took it on themselves to protect the prey—supernatural and otherwise—from supernatural predators. Since the town’s founding in 1786, there’s been a Fraser as marshal, then sheriff, and my aunt was now the police chief.
“Or if the talent is something we don’t need often,” Ian said, “we contract with them on a job-by-job basis.”
“Like Eddie.”
“Exactly.”
I tilted my head toward the far backseat. “So what do you think is gonna happen with . . .?”
Ian answered by not answering.
I felt kind of responsible for Ben. If tonight had been the first time his talent had stood up and said howdy, I’d been there when it happened. What if I’d come into my talent later in life, and suddenly saw monsters everywhere I looked? I’d be in a funny farm inside of a week.
The thud of something landing on the roof sent a shudder through the massive SUV’s steel frame.
As a result, we were all looking up when the harpy fist punched through the bulletproof glass on the rear window. She snapped open her hand to expose claw-tipped fingers that sliced through Ben Sadler’s seat belt like a paper party streamer. The harpy then tried to sink those claws into Ben and pluck him out of the SUV like she was one of those steel claws in an arcade machine and Ben was the primo prize.
What the hell?
They stole the diamonds, and now they needed an appraiser?
With two explosive kicks, the talons on her feet punched through the roof of the SUV.
She was anchoring herself on the Suburban’s roof while she snatched Ben out the back window.
That
was Yasha’s final straw.
The Suburban was his baby, his mobile office—hell, she was his partner. And now a bird woman was punching holes all in her.
Yasha spat a continuous stream of Russian profanities. I didn’t know any Russian, but there was no denying that Yasha was cussing a blue streak.
Ian had his gun out and was firing through the roof, but all it did was make the harpy work faster to take Ben.
I still wasn’t allowed to carry a gun on all missions. Tonight was one of them. Too public. Not to mention no place to hide it in my little black dress.
But I had a knife.
The harpy’s claws were grabbing at Ben, who, not being belted in anymore, was flopping and sliding around in the far backseat. Two grabs later, the harpy got lucky and hooked one claw onto his shoulder. If Ben had been conscious, he’d have been screaming his lungs out.
Before she could get a better grip, I turned and threw myself over the back of my seat to return the favor, stabbing her in the forearm.
And broke my blade on her skin.
Son of a bitch.
“Hold on!” Yasha shouted. “I stop.”
I grabbed the back of my seat, and Yasha stopped.
Oh boy, did he stop.
The harpy lost her grip on Ben, but not on the roof.
Did your dad ever say, “Don’t make me stop this car” or “Don’t make me come back there”?
Yasha did both.
Yasha the driver stopped, got out, and went wolf.
Then Yasha the werewolf unleashed a load whole of whoop-ass on a very surprised harpy.
She lost interest real quick in making Ben her personal prize, and opted for retreat over tangling with an enraged werewolf hell-bent on extracting payback out of her stony hide.
The harpy launched herself into
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