Bitten by Magic: Agents of SAINT: Book 1 Read online

  “Sure thing. What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Air surveillance. I want you to keep over me,” Javier replied. “If you see the kid, raise a ruckus. Shit on his nabbers if that’s what it takes.”

  Oscar tapped the butt of his handgun. “Got it. Lemme store this and my clothes in the locker.”

  Once Oscar emerged from the security office in his seagull form, Javier hurried to the closest tram station. The bulk of the crowds had dispersed, having no reason to linger while the tram line was closed. He made it on foot to the station where Dylan had disappeared in less than ten minutes.

  The boy’s scent led him from the platform to a public restroom down the path. Javier navigated his way past a few idling groups and stepped into the modest building. Like all the other restrooms on the island, this one provided private stalls as well as showers. His search ended at a trashcan, where he discovered a discarded black T-shirt decorated with Minecraft Creepers stuffed below wet paper towels and other garbage. He dug deeper and found blue swim trunks.

  “Dammit,” he muttered, then raised his radio to his lips. “Be aware that the child is no longer in the described outfit. I repeat, the kidnappers have either stripped or changed the boy’s clothes.”

  “Roger that, mate.”

  There had to be hundreds of children on the island at any given time, but plucking one missing boy out of them couldn’t be too difficult, could it? Forcing himself to think like a kidnapper, he removed the employee tablet from his belt, pulled up a map of the resort, and judged the distance between the blue line and the pier. The ferry traveled every thirty minutes. Although it had been due to depart less than ten minutes after the boy had gone missing, an unforeseen delay had been notated into the schedule. Good. They couldn’t have gotten him off the island. Yet.

  And they couldn’t hide him forever, even if he’d disappeared into thin air like…

  Magic. There’s no way to remove him from this island without using magic at this point, Javier realized. A perimeter of wards and glyphs had been inscribed and etched into the ground, on the trees, and in the stone at varying intervals to disrupt teleportation spells, however. Even genies would struggle with teleporting onto Isla de los Sueños, because his father valued security, privacy, and safety for all inhabitants and visitors.

  But there were blind spots. His father had once admitted the charms weren’t 100 percent foolproof, and there were ways in between them only an experienced wizard could find. Because of that, some areas of the island remained under twenty-four-hour guard, patrolled at all times by some member of their security team.

  The scent of magic had a peculiar sting that buzzed around the nostrils and inside their nasal cavities when they breathed it in, so it made sense for shifters to routinely watch their weak spots for magical activity.

  Plan in mind, Javier abandoned the public paths and made his way through the restricted areas of the resort, using every shortcut he knew to make his way toward the beach. Unless Dylan’s kidnappers were idiots, they’d have made a contingency plan, and there would be no other way off the resort save using magical means.

  The vulnerable spot nearest to the ferry lay two miles west of the pier. It’d be the logical place to get the child out of the public eye and somewhere private once they evaded security.

  “Oscar, scout ahead.” To the radio, he called in, “Post Floraverde, report.” After a few moments of silence, Javier repeated the call, but no one answered him. He tried again before proceeding to the next stage of his plan.

  Every second counted. Even if the perpetrators had magic, alarms should have sounded, but Javier had no real idea what they were, which was another reason to regret not taking more of an interest in the administrative duties related to his home.

  Running like his life depended on it, Javier’s feet beat against the loamy coastline where the sand melded into soil and tropical growth. The wind tossed his long hair around his shoulders, and the surf washed foamy waves against the shore to his right.

  Overhead, Oscar cawed and flew downward in a tight spiral. Javier hurried forward, pushing through dense growth. The thick ferns thinned to reveal a long stretch of rocky beach. Floraverde was off-limits to guests, known to have dangerous currents off the coast and jagged rocks hidden beneath the surface. Only the bravest and strongest hippocampi risked the treacherous waters, and Phoebe’s father had forbidden her from swimming in the area.

  Farther up the beach, three men traced sigils and symbols into the sand with twigs. The wind carried a musky, familiar scent mingled with traces of Dylan. He wasn’t far, slumped on the sand a few feet away from his abductors.

  “Javier to Central. I’ve found the boy. Send all units available to Floraverde.”

  The moment Javier stepped onto the beach, Oscar fell from the sky like a white and silver bullet. The gull collided with one dog’s face then soared off again. He rounded about in the air and came winging back a second time, moving too fast for them to target and keeping all the attention on himself instead of Javier.

  Perfect. Oscar’s antics bought him vital time to close in on them.

  As Javier sprinted across the sand, the unmistakable odor of dog filled his nostrils. He squinted through the glare of the setting sun to recognize the dogs who had tried to pose as wolves. Brad and Ryan. Then an unfavorable shift in the wind blew Javier’s scent toward them, and both whirled on the offensive.

  The third guy had a wizard’s staff in his hand, a long shaft of ebony wood with a curved top and numerous magical glyphs etched into its surface. Somehow he’d smuggled it onto the island past security. As the mage channeled a spell into the fingertips of his right hand, the larger dog shifter rushed Javier with a knife. Dodging to the side, Javier pivoted on his left foot and landed a roundhouse to his opponent’s back. Ryan stumbled forward and face-planted against a boulder. The sound of his nose meeting the unyielding rock made a wet cracking sound, and when he rolled to the sand, a smear of blood remained on the stone.

  Meanwhile, arcs of electricity flew toward the sky into a dozen branching streams of power, but Oscar was so damned good he rolled through the air and avoided each one. The wizard spread his fingers and aimed again.

  Thanks, man, Javier thought. There was no way he could have taken on those two and a wizard at the same time without using his dragon body, and he was reluctant to pull that out with the kid present.

  One wrong move and the child would be the one to pay for it.

  “I’ll kill you, asshole!” Brad lunged forward from two legs to four, a flash of white and golden-brown fur streaking toward him. When the heavily muscled malamute struck Javier in the chest, ripples of pain blossomed across his ribs.

  Shit. For a dog, he hit like a motherfucker. Thrown off balance, Javier tumbled with him to the sand. Brad’s back claws tore through his shirt and into skin before the blond danced out of reach. He may not have been a wolf, but he had moves like one.

  Javier didn’t want to endanger the boy, but he couldn’t depend on shifter strength and reflexes alone in his human body. Like the wizard, he had to tap into his innate magic. He seized control of the earth instead, applying his willpower to the sand and the nearby rocks.

  When Brad bounded toward Javier again, a pillar of stone exploded from the sand and intercepted the dog shifter. Brad barreled into it head first, and his sharp yelp echoed across the water. The moment he recovered, he came after Javier with renewed fury, snapping, snarling and biting at him, impossibly quick on his four paws.

  Slower but definitely smarter, Javier took on defensive maneuvers, backpedalling and sidestepping, just analyzing his opponent’s attack pattern. Brad either tried to bite at Javier’s lower body or pounce him to go for the throat.

  Perfect.

  The next time Brad went for his throat, Javier was waiting for him. He’d been in enough fist fights in his human body on the island to know winning a fight was as much about strategy as it was strength. But it definitely helped to have a d
ragon shifter’s power.

  He drove upward with his knee toward Brad’s underbelly and ribs, putting some real muscle and all of his supernatural strength behind it.

  And the dog ate it. Took it all. His cry and the sound he made was like all the wind had come out of his lungs at once, and it probably had. Before he could recover or even consider bounding away, Javier was on him, gripping the large dog around the middle and squeezing what little air remained in his lungs until ribs gave—until something cracked and the desperate, panicking shifter became limp in his arms.

  Before he could celebrate his victory, a bolt of fire hurtled past him and sizzled against the sand, turning it to glass. The next strike didn’t miss, and it splashed against his ribs like napalm. Flames incinerated his shirt and licked against his unprotected human torso, introducing him to a world of agony unlike anything he’d ever known.

  True wizards were rarer than dragons in the world, and Javier only knew of a few. The man holding fire in his bare hands without any visible talismans or enchanted objects appeared to be the real fucking deal.

  Where the hell had Oscar gone? Javier’s gaze darted over the sand until he located the fallen seagull against the surf with a wet patch of scarlet glistening on his ivory wing. From the way the blood pooled beneath him, the wound was still leaking—practically seeping.

  It was foolish to bring a knife to a gunfight, and equally as foolish to try and use human skill against magic. Javier burst from his uniform when he shifted, and his phone fell to the sand amidst the tattered remnants of his slacks and shoes. He lunged forward and snapped his jaws, but only snatched thin air. The wizard appeared behind him and a barrage of fireballs licked against Javier’s spine, each explosion hotter and more brilliant than the last. Roaring in pain, he stumbled forward before whirling to face his opponent.

  Got to get him away from Dylan. Lead him away from the kid so I can use my main weapon. Got to get him away from the kid before he burns us both to ashes.

  As far as dragon’s breath went, each colorful variety of dragon had their own unique weapon. Volcanic red dragons exhaled fire, silvers screamed lightning, and earth dragons like Teotihuacan and Javier projected lethal clouds of acid.

  With precise flicks of his tail, Javier herded the wizard away from Dylan. The kid still hadn’t moved aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Once they were a safe distance away, Javier opened his enormous mouth and exhaled a caustic wave of acidic fog.

  The fumes billowed outward in a controlled burst and the sand bubbled around the wizard’s feet in a perfect circle, doing no damage to the smug man within. Blasted wizards and their magical shields.

  Another fireball sizzled toward Javier’s face, but he didn’t see the true attack until he dodged the diversion. Earth exploded at his clawed feet, and the sand became a spear of dense stone, transmuted by the wizard’s sorcery. It slammed into him like a truck flying full speed down the road and punched him in the chest, tearing his tough dragon skin.

  Between the years of wrestling with his father and training with other powerful figures in the supernatural community, Javier knew how to throw down—especially when it came to smaller, magical opponents. One of their family friends was the dragon Loki, and the sorcerer had been a strict tutor, putting Javier through the ringer for days. Had someone asked him yesterday if the training would ever prove useful, he’d have laughed and said no.

  Now he’d have to thank the trickster.

  Javier beat his wings and directed a blinding cloud of sand and grit toward the wizard, but his opponent thrust both of his hands into the ground and charged the sand with magic. A wave of power swept over the individual granules. They transformed, melting into glassy structures within seconds. A portal opened, and the man dashed inside before Javier could close the distance between them.

  Goddammit, it’s too small for me to follow, Javier thought. Unable to continue after his prey, he bashed his clawed fist through the glowing gateway, snarling as its shimmering pieces rained down against the sand. No one would be using that particular portal again without rebuilding it completely.

  Chapter Eight

  The island hospital contained everything necessary during an emergency because Teotihuacan spared no expense when it came to the safety of his resort visitors and residents. In a situation beyond their staff’s skill, however, a handful of trained employees could operate the chopper and medevac anyone to the mainland.

  Javier had only been asleep in his private bed for a few minutes, dozing into a light sleep once the pleasant dose of painkillers reached his brain. Then his mother’s voice spilled through the drugged haze, a rapid flurry of Spanish demands and threats to skin whoever stood between her and his room.

  “Where is he? Where’s my son?”

  “Right this way, Señora Arcillanegro.”

  Doctor Almeda’s white coat flared around her pink blouse and gray slacks as she swept into the room with his mother hot on her heels. His father entered next, his grim features in an ashen, pale face set with wrinkles that made him appear so much older than Javier remembered.

  Had his father actually been worried about him. Really worried?

  Marcy rushed to the bedside and wrung her hands together. “My baby. He’s covered in bandages.”

  “Covered? Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Your eye is swollen shut. You are not fine,” she argued. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, look at you. My baby,” she repeated again, ignoring he was a twenty-two-year-old man. Recently twenty-two, but twenty-two all the same.

  “Mom—”

  “Don’t you ‘mom’ me. I never fuss over you, but this is exactly the time when I should.” She cupped a hand to his unbruised cheek. “You could have been killed.”

  “I’ll heal.”

  “It was much worse in the initial hour,” the doctor agreed. “I personally documented his injuries to compare them against the stages of regeneration we’ve studied in Señor Arcillanegro.”

  “How long do you expect it to take?” Teo asked. “He’s only half-dragon. Will he recover as quickly as I do?”

  “Possibly. Although he is a dragon, his young flesh isn’t as tough as yours.” His doctor launched into a long discussion about numerous lacerations, multiple contusions, and the many first- and second-degree burns he’d endured while fighting the mage. None of it was new to him, so he tuned it out for a while in favor of laying back against his pillow with his eyes closed while his mother patted the back of his hand and stroked his knuckles like he was still a toddler needing to be soothed after a nightmare.

  “But most of them have healed?” his father asked.

  Gods, there were tears in the man’s eyes, like even he’d arrived fearing the worst when the news reached him about Javier being held in the hospital.

  “Yes. Your son should make a full recovery without lasting trouble. Had he not been in his dragon form, the severity of the burn damage could have been much worse.”

  “What about Oscar?” Javier asked.

  Doctor Almeda smiled. “The compound fracture inflicted to his wing became a broken arm, which has been set and treated by another member of staff. He’ll be flying again in no time.”

  The Great Teotihuacan, black dragon god of the Aztecs, exhaled a long sigh before his broad shoulders sagged in relief. “Grant him anything he needs for his recovery at the resort’s expense. No cost is too great. As for you, son, I—”

  “I’m fine. They’ve got the one shifter in custody, right?”

  His parents exchanged glances.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Both of those dog shifters are dead.”

  “What? How? I swear, I was sure the one was still alive at least.”

  Teo dragged a seat to the bedside and directed his wife to it, standing behind Marcy with one hand on her shoulder. “Both were alive, but the details are a little too grisly to discuss now. What matters most is that you and the boy are safe. Javier…” The old dragon hesitated a mome
nt, then set his hand down on his son’s uninjured shoulder and squeezed. “I am very proud of what you did today. All of it. That boy is returned to his mother because of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Despite winding up in a hospital bed crowded by his parents, accomplishment sent a warm, fuzzy feeling buzzing through him. Or was that the morphine?

  No, it was pride. Definitely pride and happiness, not only because, for the first time ever, he saw approval in his father’s eyes, but because he’d done something that actually mattered, something he had figured out and handled on his own, as if fate had heard his petty complaints and finally delivered a purpose to him.

  His only regret was that he’d missed telling Yasmin goodbye. Although she’d left the island no more than two hours ago, the bonding mark had already begun to fade.

  Apparently distance only made the heart grow fonder if one wasn’t a shifter.

  Javier didn’t have a lot of female friends, and he didn’t trust Phoebe’s advice. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but that he didn’t want his relationship with Yasmin, or lack thereof, to hinge on the opinions of a sixteen-year-old girl.

  As he slouched on a hammock at home—his home, not with the parents who wanted to suddenly dote over him for his near-death experience—he eyed the silent cell phone that had finally stopped ringing. Everyone but who he wanted to talk to the most had called.

  He didn’t have Yasmin’s phone number, and pride dictated that he didn’t run to his mother and beg to know how to contact her. After all, if Yasmin had any interest in pursuing a friendship, in pursuing anything, she’d have left the information herself.

  Right?

  The longer Javier stewed on it in the days following his release from the hospital, the more uncertain he became. The only thing that hurt more than the bruises he’d received during the fight for little Dylan, was the ache in his chest whenever he thought about the fading, one-sided bond between them.