The Dragon Legion Collection(41)

Would Cerberus rip her faithless lover to shreds?

Petra couldn’t decide if she wanted that to happen or not. She’d been angry with Damien for so long, but one sight of him was making her remember other sweeter emotions. Did that mean she’d learned nothing by having her heart broken?

Damien leapt from the ferry, as fearless and strong as ever. Petra watched openly. He turned a cool glance upon the hellhound of Hades just as Cerberus lunged toward him, jaws snapping. Damien glared at the dog, something cold in his eyes.

Petra knew that expression and was thrilled that she would see him again in his dragon form. Damien could shift shape to a dragon of dark green, so strong and beautiful and virile that the sight of him made her mouth go dry. His scales were so deep a green as to be almost black, and each one was tipped in gold, as if it had been dipped in the molten metal. His eyes became more golden when he changed shape, and he was altogether magnificent. His dragon form was a perfect expression of the best part of his nature, his power and commitment to a cause, his ability to fight for justice.

And a hint of what they had in common.

Petra narrowed her eyes, waiting for the pale blue glow that would surround his figure just before he changed shape. He’d taught her to never watch him change and to close her eyes at the first glimmer of blue.

She was ready and waiting for that light to appear.

Except it didn’t.



* * *



Damien was astonished.

He couldn’t shift shape.

That couldn’t be right! He’d summoned the change from deep within himself, just as he was leaping from the ferry to the shore, but nothing happened. There was no pale blue light. There was no surge of heat through his body, no tumult of the change.


He landed on the dark mud of the shore in human form, shocked.

And fearful of the hellhound’s bite. What had happened to him? He pulled his dagger and kicked the dog in the chest, darting backward as he tried to shift shape again.

No luck.

Damien looked back to see the dead sliding from the barge to the shore. They were a dark shadow of indistinguishable faces, a crowd in which he could discern no features. They jostled him slightly, like a cold bank of fog, and he heard the clatter of their belts and swords. Charon waited, his pole driven into the mud of the shore, Damien’s promise of extra payment having stayed his departure.

For the moment.

All Damien had to do was get past the dog, enter the underworld, find his son and get back to the river. He heard the dead on the far shore of the river wailing for the ferryman and saw the strange glimmer of blue-green darkfire dance over the dark surface of the water.

Had the darkfire set him up?

Cerberus stood with all four feet braced against the ground, barking and snarling. The dog’s eyes burned bright red as it awaited his next move. The dog let the dead pass untroubled. The gates to the underworld arched high and dark, a shadow against the night, twenty paces away.

The hellhound was the largest dog Damien had ever seen, as tall as his chest, and all lean strength. It was black, darker than midnight, its eyes lit with an infernal flame and its teeth numerous. That it had three sets of teeth was less than ideal.

Damien tried to shift shape again, still without success.

The hellhound lost patience. It leapt toward him, teeth bared. Damien stabbed with his dagger but missed the dog’s chest. Cerberus bit him with ferocious power, its teeth sinking deep into Damien’s thigh.

Damien shouted in pain, but the dog clenched its jaws more tightly. The pain was excruciating as it tore flesh, and Damien feared the dog would eat him alive.

He punched that head between the eyes, glad to see the light dim slightly in its strange eyes. The dog loosened his bite enough for Damien to kick the beast away. He backed up, his dagger held high, as the warm rush of his own blood streamed down his leg and soaked his pants.

The dog snarled.

The blood was slipping into Damien’s boot when he realized the scene before his eyes had changed—or that he could see it more clearly. The dead surrounding him had faces now, and he could distinguish them from each other. The hellhound was more detailed to his view. He saw the silver in its fur, the blood on its jowls, the mane of snakes on each of its three heads. The snakes were black and glistening, thousands of them rooted to each head. They reared up and hissed at him like cobras, their eyes glinting and their fangs bared.

Damien felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.

He hated snakes more than anything in the world.

The hellhound leapt for him again and Damien lunged with the dagger. He missed the dog’s head, but sliced off a hundred snakes from one head. Their bodies wriggled on the ground even after they were cut free, a sight that made Damien’s blood run cold. He focused on the dog just as it went for him again. He swung the dagger and missed once more, then kicked the hellhound between one set of eyes. The beast attacked, its claws digging deeply into Damien’s chest and knocking him backward.

He fell and the hellhound leapt atop him. It was heavy, so heavy that he couldn’t budge it. One set of jaws locked around each arm, holding Damien captive.

Damien was incredulous. He couldn’t die here, not before he even entered the underworld. He couldn’t fail at his quest before it began.

But he couldn’t shift shape, and a man was no match for a hellhound.

Damien didn’t surrender easily. He thrashed and fought, even though his efforts made no difference. The dog’s teeth dug deeply into his flesh, making his blood course freely. The snakes bit him, too, tormenting him with a thousand needle bites. The eyes of that middle head shone brilliant red, then the dog bared its teeth and bent to rip out Damien’s heart.