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Chapter 8

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Checking the body was over and done with far quicker than Pete and Myka assumed it would be. They rolled the corpse so that all anterior aspects were visible. Artie had signaled his inspection was over before the other two agents had taken a really good look. That surprised Myka because she knew that Artie prized her observation skills. Apparently he knew what he was looking for and had found it right away.

"We're done here," he informed the officer in charge of the scene. "Thanks for being so helpful."

"This your guy?" the man asked mildly.

"Nope. Unfortunately. Well, let me amend that. Fortunately that wasn't him because it means he's hopefully still alive and able to give us the intel we need." He waved a farewell to the man, grabbed both Pete and Myka's forearms and steered them away from the murder scene.

Once out of earshot, Pete leaned closer to his superior. "So, what were you really looking for. Can you tell us now?"

"No, but I think I'm on the right track," was all the answer he got. Artie stopped in the street, and turned to face them both. "I'm heading back to the car for a second. I'll be right back."

"What's so important back there?" Myka queried with more than a mild hint of curiosity.

"My laptop—no, no, a regular one. Wi-Fi capable. Won't take me long, I promise."

"You sure that's wise?" Pete whispered softly, almost pleadingly. "My vibes have been bouncing around in my gut like a rubber ball this evening. I think the old adage about strength in numbers is true right now."

Artie tilted his head and looked up at Lattimer. "Look, if the two of you decided to split up out of necessity—which wouldn't be particularly advisable by the way—I wouldn't worry about you…too much. You're quite capable of handling adversity on your own. Me? I've been alone, more or less, on more retrievals than I can count. Trust me, I can take care of myself, okay?" He finished his pep talk with a light pat to Pete's upper arm. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

He disappeared down an alley, the sounds of boot heels clicking on pavement the only sign he was nearby. Eventually, even that ceased.

"So now we wait!" Myka muttered in frustration and sank back against the cool brick of an apartment building.

"Now we wait," Pete agreed, crossing his arms across his muscular chest, trying to appear as if he were resting when in reality every nerve in his body was singing from the resonant song of his vibes.

His head kept swiveling up and down the street. His stomach muscles clenched and loosened with each odd night sound. He glanced at his watch three times and gave Myka a meaningful look.

As if the pain in his gut wasn't bad enough, an unearthly, shrill scream pierced the air above them. He cringed, wondering how a bird could make such a hideous sound or how it could attain such volume. He heard people in the apartment behind him hollering to each other in alarm. The windows had rattled. The wind kicked up, buffeting them so hard they had to shield their eyes from all the street debris flying around.

Then it landed. Both agents froze in stark raving terror, plastered to the wall as if the edifice was able to save or hide them. The thing looked at them with glittering baleful eyes. Myka was the first to turn fear into action. While her first thought was to reach for the Tesla, instinct told her it would be useless against this type of predator. She hauled out the Farnsworth instead and pushed the red button hard enough to have broken it if it wasn't so durable.

In seconds, Artie's face appeared, shadowed but recognizable under the streetlights. "I know, I know, I'm a bit slow but I prom—"

The night was torn asunder by another ear shattering shriek from the beast.

Clearly, Artie was fighting for control of both his thoughts and his voice because his tone was more curious than alarmed even as the play of jaw muscles beneath skin told the real truth. "Uh, Pete? What the hell was that?!"

Pete's eyes weren't on the Farnsworth at all. Rather they were focused over it. "Dragon, Artie."

Artie face withdrew suddenly then plunged back into view. "What? Did you—did you say "dragon"?" He glanced skyward, clearly uneasy at the thought. "What specifically do you mean by 'dragon'?"

The answer wasn't long in coming. "Oh the usual kind. You know, wings, tail, spines, scales. Steaming snout. That sort of thing."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"Run!"

Lattimer and Bering didn't need further encouragement. They bolted down the nearest alley, tripping over garbage cans, bumping into dumpsters, all the while glancing over their shoulders. The beast had leapt to the entrance of the alley but was clearly too big to fit. It trumpeted its frustration, and stalked off down the street, heavy legs and massive claws thumping the pavement.

After a lengthy series of twists and turns in and out of streets and alleys, leaving them thoroughly disoriented, the Farnsworth buzzed again. For a couple of moments, neither of them could answer it because they were both gasping too hard to speak. Finally, wind recovered, Myka pulled the communication device open.

"You clear?" Artie asked.

The first thing Myka noted was that Artie's eyes were completely rimmed in white although she couldn't tell if it was from fear for them or fear for himself.

Pete elected to answer the question. "For now, unless it goes airborne."

"Stay close to the walls and alleys or anything else you can use as a shield. " They saw his eyes shifted upward. "Uh-oh!" he breathed, voice little more than a whisper.

"Uh-oh? You see it?"

Artie didn't look at them. The view on the screen was little more than a close up of throat and chin whiskers. "In a manner of speaking."

"What's that mean? Are you eyeballing our dragon or not?"

"Um, did yours have two legs or…four?"

Frowning Pete thought about it. "You know, we were a bit too busy running away to pay that much attention."

"Four, Artie. Plus the wings," Myka said leaning in close until nothing but her eyes and nose were visible. "I'm sure of it."

Artie's voice, sounding horrified when it finally issued from a dry throat, said, ""Nope, wrong dragon. Gotta go. Bye!" This was followed by the sounds of panicked running and strangled gasping before the Farnsworth cut out.

"Oh! My! God!" Myka blurted out as she turned to face her partner. Her features were painfully pinched, distraught with worry for their boss and for their predicament. "How the hell are we supposed to kill a dragon. I mean, I doubt the Tesla will work and" she made a drawn out shhh noise, "you can bet bullets won't get through those scales."

"Wasn't there some way to kill them? In the legends and books I mean?"

"You have a sword? Preferably a magical sword imbued with the power of the gods?"

"Not at the moment." Pete admitted with his usual aplomb when facing disaster.

"Well, neither do I!" She cringed behind a dumpster, her head constantly craning left, right and up. Then she brightened. "The books say they do have a weak spot. The throat, sometimes the belly, usually between the scales."

Pete sank down beside her, scrubbing his face with hands that were far from clean. Sweat was streaming down his back despite the night chill and he suspected the dragon was going to be able to track them by scent alone pretty soon. "Oh right. Like we will get close enough to do any of those. To make it worse, that thing was covering up its weak spots. What we really need is a cannon…or two…or three. Heck, I'd settle for a couple of bazookas."

From somewhere nearby, there came the sound of running feet and a short squat figure dashed past them, coat fanning out behind him.

"Artie!" Pete and Myka both called out. The thumping on asphalt stopped after a few faltering steps.

"Pete, Myka?" Nielsen called out in a stage whisper.

"Down here, man!"

"Oh God!" Artie hollered as he ducked into the alley, the orange street lights throwing him into silhouette. A huge figure, short wings splitting the air with a soft whooshing sound, flew past at the height of a tall man. Its long barbed tail trailed behind it. Clearly, as Artie had suggested during their last strained conversation, it wasn't their dragon. It was his. And it was also more persistent than the other one.

"We can't stay here," Artie hurriedly explained to them. "This one might be able to squeeze itself in between the buildings."

To add validity to his statement, the beast did exactly that. Rearing up on its enormous pair of hind legs, wings tucked in, the dragon wedged itself into the narrow space, its scales hissing across the bricks. Its progress was slow but steady. Razor sharp teeth snapped at them in anticipation of its next meal.

"Time to go," Myka agreed wholeheartedly with him. She raced back to the end of the street where they'd first entered the alley and cautiously glanced out to the street then up to the roof tops. Their dragon, at least to all appearances, had decided to go hunting elsewhere. She waved at them and stated, "All clear."

Artie's dragon had gotten itself to the half way point and was trumpeting its anger at a dumpster effectively blocking its way. The short wings were of no use in such close confines. It pushed the first dumpster forward but it clanged against another one and then a third. With each successive contact, the beast had to struggle harder. That gave all three agents the opportunity to be long gone before it emerged winded, enraged and unbelievably hungry.