Page 38 of Rogue Witch

“You’ll delay being shot,” she replies.

“So, we have established I’ll be shot.” I toss her over my head. She collides with the man behind me and his gun fires. My ears ring. I throw out my right hand toward the hearth and shout, “Fire!”

Flames leap from the hearth and fly across the room. The man at the foot of the couch screams and the nine millimeter roars. I roll from the couch. Pain sears across my left shoulder. I hit the carpet and leap to my feet. The man who I threw Hazel into lays motionless on the carpet. Smoke rises from the other man whose charred body is lying twisted on the floor.

Hazel stands, legs spread, arms spread, and eyes blazing. She chants in a low voice in a foreign language. Ancient Akkadian, I realize, and catch the word Mushussu. Marduk’s servant dragon, a scaly animal with hind legs like eagle talons, lion-like forelimbs, a horned head, a snake-like tongue, and a long neck and tail. A formidable creature that will eat me alive.

I lunge for her. Mushussu appears in front of me. He rears up on his hind legs and hisses. I twist and dive left. A talon seizes my leg and yanks me high into the air, head down.

“Earth—”

My call to the earth is cut off when his tail whips around me, clamping my arms to my sides and cutting off my magic. I release a slow breath.

Hazel steps close. “You probably killed Thomas.” She glances at the burned man, then looks back at me. “But I can forgive you if you tell me who you are.”

“Ngish dug,” I curse.

She bends and whispers in my ear, “Sorry, darling, but you lost your chance to fuck me.” Hazel grasps my hair and yanks my head back so that I’m forced to meet her gaze. “Tell me who you are, and I’ll make your death quick.”

“Your negotiating skills leave something to be desired,” I say.

She releases me and the dragon shakes me so hard my teeth rattle.

“Mushussu is hungry,” she says.

The room is still spinning when his tongue snakes out and licks my face. I will my pounding heart to slow. I needn’t worry about Shadow infection, just the dragon’s venom should he get testy.

“I can be merciful and kill you before he starts taking bites out of you,” Hazel says. “All I want is to know who you really are.”

My head begins to throb. “John Bartholomew,” I reply.

She cants her head and studies me. “I think not.”

“Killing is against the law, you know,” I say.

Her gaze sharpens. “Who will punish me?”

Here is where she believes I will give her a clue as to who sent me.

“The authorities.”

“Someone like Cane Darkmour?”

“If I were friends with the Head of the Assembly, do you think I’d be here?”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“I thought, for a good time,” I reply.

“Then why use magic to disguise your identity?” She leans close and sniffs my face, then draws in a deep breath. “You reek of earth magic. Juniper berries, chicory…. Foolish boy. Mushussu will peel your skin layer by layer until we reach the real you, then he’ll eat your warm organs basted in that ridiculous herbal magic while you’re still breathing.”

That’s one way to see past a charmed disguise. That and wait until sunrise. I’m estimating I have an hour and a half. I doubt Hazel will wait that long to feed me to Mushussu.

If I use my full power to try and break Mushussu’s spell, she will too-easily guess that I’m not an average Margiddian. Thus far, we have—I believe—been able to avoid detection while trying to infiltrate the Zidruhin. Or have we?

“Why are you doing this?” I demand.

She studies me. “Are you going to pretend you’re an average Margiddian?”