LITMIR.BIZ

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Wheezing, fighting for oxygen, she reached for her daggers. Her missing daggers.

      Damn it! She darted behind one of the bigger pink trees, shadows enveloping her. Adrenaline surged, strong and sure, but it couldn’t mask the sting of bark scraping through her shirt.

      Another whoosh. Another thud. The shaking only worsened, trees toppling, the surrounding shrubs falling like dominoes.

      Across the distance, a path cleared, and two flying beasts appeared. Some sort of dragon hybrid, maybe? They had red eyes, elongated snouts and teeth better qualified as short swords. Their bodies were long and coiled, but without arms or legs while their tails were thrice barbed. Resplendent scales reflected in the sunlight.

      So...the two were flying snakes? Dragon snakes?

      They soared above the remaining canopy of trees, their multipointed wings clipping branches and slicing through bark as if it were butter. One creature pursued the other. When he caught his prey, the two wrestled...playfully?

      “Does the pretty miss require aid?”

      The unfamiliar voice somehow turned the innocent question into a sexual promise. She glanced up—and had to swallow a yelp. A two-hundred-plus pound leopard perched on the limb directly above her, his neon-green eyes steady on her. His mangled tail wagged back and forth. One of his ears looked as if it had been chewed off, and his matted fur sported several bald patches.

      Misery took an instant dislike to the animal and snarled.

      The cat offered her a slow, toothy grin and batted a meaty paw at a fly. He actually speared the insect on the end of a claw. “I’m Rathbone, and I’m at your service...for a small fee.”

      He could talk. He was a cat, and he could talk. And with that voice, he could make millions as a phone sex operator.

      Had the Paring Rod transported her into a fairy tale, after all? The porn version? Browniebitch Does Twelve Immortals.

      Was Rathbone a shape-shifter? No, impossible. Shape-shifters didn’t retain the ability to speak while in animal form. Although there were exceptions to every rule, right?

      “I can save myself, but thanks for the offer.” Having lived over four millennia, she’d waged world wars, fought countless battles against immortal predators, humans with a grudge and monsters of myth and legend. Sometimes she’d lost, but mostly she’d won.

      The leopard flinched. Hardly a surprise. Everyone always flinched. Some even cried. If anyone had actually liked her voice, she couldn’t remember.

      Her hands curled into fists. Another memory Misery had stolen?

      The dragon-snakes resumed their chase, nearly causing a full-blown earthquake this time, and she grabbed a branch to steady herself. Nope, not a branch, but Rathbone’s tail.

      He wiggled his brows. “I’ve got something firmer you can hold on to.”

      Surely he wasn’t referring to his...

      He contorted to lick a massive set of balls.

      You’ve got to be kidding me.

      She released him and peeked around the trunk. The creatures approached at breakneck speed...only to pass her. She began to relax. A mistake. Of course. When had anything ever gone her way? Both dragon-snakes came to an abrupt stop before slowly pivoting.

      Two sets of red eyes locked on her. Long, thin tongues swiped over saber-teeth, and drool dripped from the corners of their mouths. Drool...or accelerant? The pungent stench of something akin to gasoline stung her nostrils.

      Well. She’d just been placed on the day’s menu.

      In unison, the “chefs” hissed and bowed their spines, the scales around their necks flaring.

      You have an eighty-seven percent chance of being deep-fried, never seeing your friends again and never finding Lazarus or the box.

      No. She would fight, and she would win. If she died, Misery would be loosed upon an unsuspecting world; he would find new prey, devour sweet dreams, beloved hopes and any glimmer of happiness. He—

      Had merely distracted her, the bastard.

      Dual streams of fire spewed in her direction. Attuned to battle now, Cameo dived out of the way. Upon landing, she rolled and swiped up two petrified branches. As she stood, she swung at the nearer beast.

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rathbone began, reminding her of his presence. The pointed tips moved across her opponent’s chest, and the cat sighed. “Congrats. You just made everything worse.”

      Argh! The branches hadn’t penetrated a single scale. In fact, the branches hadn’t scratched a single scale.

      Enraged now, the dragon-snake roared.

      All right. Their scales were impenetrable. Got it. Only two other options remained. Go for the eyes or go for the mouth. Easy, not a problem, if she could hop aboard the dragon-snake express and hitch a ride.

      “Ssss.”

      “Ssss.”

      Two new streams of fire spewed in her direction, the heat level jacked to instant BBQ with a side of ash. Again she scrambled out of the way, but really, she had nowhere to go. The beasts circled her, working in tandem to trap her inside a ringed inferno. Smoke thickened the air.

      A tickle irritated the back of her throat, making her cough—at the same time, a wing arced in her direction. She managed to jump backward, barely avoiding being sliced in two.

      “Want my help now?” Rathbone remained secure on his perch, his smile as innocuous as a fistful of daisies. “I’ll give you a discounted rate.”

      Ignoring him, she sprinted across the white-hot path of soot and char. As another wing swung at her, she used the branches she still held to bat it out of the way. Momentum spun her around, and she dodged another stream of fire. Next, a barbed tail lashed at her, but she jumped over it and motored on, increasing her pace. Almost within range...

      There’s no way you’ll succeed, the demon told her, his sadness seeping into her. You’re going to die.

      No! She would win, and she would live. She would!

      The moment of truth arrived.

      Her heartbeat a wild thing her ribs might not be able to cage, she vaulted up, up. One dragon-snake vaulted with her—or rather, at her—clearly intending to snag her midair. The closer he came, the more he snapped his teeth at her. His mistake. She shoved a branch into his mouth.

      The limb—as thick as her biceps, the length of her forearm and harder than stone—remained vertical, one end digging into the roof of his mouth, the other pinning his tongue to the bottom. Meanwhile, Cameo tightened her grip on the branch’s center, swung around and straddled his neck.

      He thrashed, the jerky movements impeding the glide of his wings, sending him plummeting back to earth.

      Yee-haw!

      Just before her second crash landing of the day, she jabbed the second branch into his eye. He screeched as thick black blood splattered over her hand and blistered her skin.

      Boom!

      The dragon-snake absorbed the worst of the impact, Cameo bouncing off him. As he screeched and thrashed, she lumbered to her feet, intending to run. Sharp agony seared her ankle when a hard yank dropped her flat on her face and wrenched her backward.

      Her nails left grooves in the dirt. Trying not to panic, she glanced over her shoulder. Nooo! The other dragon-snake had snagged her foot between his teeth.

      He began to chew, saliva penetrating her wound. A scream split her lips, her entire leg burning and blistering. She curled into a ball to swing at him.

      Damn it! Her hands were empty of branches.

      He dragged her over rocks and gargantuan roots, ripping her shirt. Her flesh, too. Her head swam again, oblivion beckoning. She

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