How to Lose Your Dragon (The Immortality Curse Book 1) by Peter Glenn (beach read TXT) 📕

but at the last moment, I turned to the side, smacking him on the back with my weapon again, leaving a nasty gash.

This time, Lanky Guy went flailing into the sedan I’d almost tripped onto earlier. I heard a groan and the sound of metal grating on metal as I watched Grax’thor pierce through his spine, his abdomen crunched against the metal of the door.

Lanky Guy spun on his heels and grinned at me once more, then he slumped down to the ground. The sedan looked like it had survived the encounter, but for once, Lanky Guy had not.

I was panting heavily by this point, but at least I was still standing.

“Humph. Told you,” I muttered. Then I shuffled to where he was laying and pulled my sword out of his belly.

I looked at Grax’thor in awe for a moment. It had taken a beating in that battle, but it looked no worse for the wear. Whether it really was magic or not, it was at least good craftsmanship.

My strength was starting to give way, but I wasn’t done just yet. I raised my sword over my head in my good hand and brought it down, cutting Lanky Guy’s throat. I wasn’t about to take any chances with that guy. After he’d survived the last few injuries, there was no telling what he’d come back from.

It wasn’t quite as good as a full decapitation, but hacking through bone was harder than it sounded, and I was already pretty exhausted. Plus, I had to get Rick to safety.

Rick! I’d almost forgotten about my buddy in the scuffle. I turned to my head to see him still cowering in the darkness near that same car from before. Good. At least he hadn’t done anything stupid yet.

“Rick! Buddy! We’ve got to get going.” I called to him, beckoning him onward.

I sauntered over in his direction, cleaning off my weapons and sheathing them as I walked. Once I’d reached him, I held out my hand to the guy. He didn’t take it.

Rick slowly rose to his feet, his beady eyes never leaving mine. There was something reflected in there. Fear? Revulsion? It was hard to tell which. His face looked a little green, like he was going to throw up or something, and his knees were shaking pretty bad.

In fairness, this probably was the first time he’d seen someone die in a sword fight. They weren’t all that common in Seattle. They happened, but it was rare.

Not to mention that the cops would be on us soon, and a crowd was starting to form. Neither of those were good signs. We didn’t have much time.

“Come on, man! We’ve gotta get out of here, and fast!” I offered him my hand again, only then realizing that it was the one covered in my own blood.

I retracted the hand quickly and flashed him a grin, then held out my other one instead.

Rick’s jaw opened wide, but no words came out. Couldn’t really blame him. I’d probably do the same if the tables were turned.

I stared down at him again, trying to look as pleasant as I could. “Come on, Rick. We don’t have time for this now. We need to go.”

I’d never realized it before, but Rick wasn’t that tall. Maybe 5’ 6” or so. Kind of short for an American dude. I think I only noticed because I didn’t have to look up into his eyes like I did most Americans. Hey, I wasn’t that tall, either. I was born three hundred years ago, remember? People were shorter back then.

Rick’s eyes darted toward my hand for a moment and seemed to regard it like it was a dangerous weapon. I didn’t like to brag, but that wasn’t far off. I knew several forms of martial arts and had used them to great effect on occasion.

His hand snaked toward my own for just a moment, then he retracted it and went back to staring into my eyes with that pained expression of his.

We stood there like that for a full minute, neither doing or saying anything. It was uncanny to watch.

Then the darndest thing happened, leaving me thoroughly scratching my head.

Without warning, Rick spun and bolted in the opposite direction.

7

“Come on, Rick! I don’t have time for this!” I shouted after him.

But it was no use. The man was off like a rocket. Again, I couldn’t really blame the guy. That whole “fight or flight” thing, you know? I guess Rick’s inclination was for flight, once he broke out of his shock. Which, given his general demeanor, was not surprising.

I shook my head and raced down the street after him. Lanky Guy might be out for the count, but who knew how many other dauntless warriors might be out there wanting to kill either him or me?

My stomach wound burned and oozed, and my legs ached as I ran after the little guy, but I paid it all little heed. For about the hundredth time in my life, I wished my immortality had come with accelerated healing like you hear about in the comics, but it wasn’t to be.

True, I did heal faster than a typical human, but it was more like going down from weeks to days and less weeks to minutes. Even magic only took things so far. And it wouldn’t regrow a limb or anything, either. At least, I assumed it wouldn’t. I’d never really tried.

“Rick! Buddy! We need to talk!” I yelled.

Up ahead, I swore I saw a flash of his signature brown hair and brown jacket. He was running across a street, not even waiting for the crosswalk to change.

I tsked a little. Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? Of course, he’d just seen me skewer a guy, and now for all he knew I was coming to finish him off, too.

Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t have cared so much about jaywalking, either.

A car horn blared as it screeched to a stop, barely missing his fleeing body. It startled