Back Magic Rises
Chapters (29)
  1. Praise
  2. Also by Ilona Andrews
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. Acknowledgments
  8. CHAPTER 1
  9. CHAPTER 2
  10. CHAPTER 3
  11. CHAPTER 4
  12. CHAPTER 5
  13. CHAPTER 6
  14. CHAPTER 7
  15. CHAPTER 8
  16. CHAPTER 9
  17. CHAPTER 10
  18. CHAPTER 11
  19. CHAPTER 12
  20. CHAPTER 13
  21. CHAPTER 14
  22. CHAPTER 15
  23. CHAPTER 16
  24. CHAPTER 17
  25. CHAPTER 18
  26. EPILOGUE
  27. Authors’ Note
  28. “An Ill-Advised Rescue”
  29. About the Authors
Document

Greek legends spoke of some pirates who’d captured the god Dionysus. They were planning to rape him and sell him into slavery. Furious, he transformed them into dolphins. Apparently, their descendants were alive and well and still in the family business.

The pirate glared at us. Hell of a neck. Strikes to the throat were right out.

Other pirates leaped over the railing. One, two . . . seven . . . thirteen. A baker’s dozen. Wait, fifteen. Eighteen . . . Twenty-one. The odds weren’t in our favor.

“Maybe they just came over to borrow a cup of sugar,” I said.

Andrea barked a short laugh. Curran put his hand on my shoulder. “That’s a lot of sugar. Must be a big cake.”

The lead weredolphin opened his jaws, displaying teeth designed to pierce struggling prey and not let go. English words spilled out, sotto voce, accented and mangled. “Give us your ship and your cargo and you can go.”

“He lies,” Saiman said. “I lost two vessels to them in the last six months. They will butcher us like cattle for the sake of the cargo.”

“Do you speak Greek?” Curran asked.

Saiman shrugged. “Naturally.”

“Ask him if he thought this through.”

A melodious language spilled from Saiman.

The weredolphin stared at Saiman like he had grown a second head.

“Leave this ship,” Curran said, his voice deepening. He was about to explode. “And you will survive. This is your only warning.”

Saiman translated.

The dolphin drew back and pointed at Curran. “First, I kill you. Then I rape your woman.”

Gold drowned Curran’s eyes. I’ve seen people put their foot in their mouth. This was the first time I saw a fin jammed into one.

Curran’s body exploded. The change was so fast, it was almost instantaneous. One second a man stood next to me, the next a monster towered over me, fully seven and a half feet tall. Gray fur covered his muscular limbs, dark ghostly stripes crisscrossing it like the marks of a whip. The colossal leonine mouth gaped open, flashing scimitar fangs, and a huge sound burst forth, dangerous, rough, grating, primal in its fury and sheer power, like a battle challenge delivered by a tornado. It hit you straight in the gut, bypassing logic and thought, into the bundle of nerves that made you freeze. I’ve heard it dozens of times and it still shook me.

The weredolphins had never heard it before, and so they did exactly what most people would do when faced with an enraged lion. They cringed, paralyzed.

I lunged forward, drawing as I struck. The head pirate saw me coming and raised his arm to ward off the strike. Slayer’s blade cut through the flesh and bone of the narrow wrist like a knife through warm butter. The hand fell to the deck. The pirate clutched the stump of his arm and screamed, a high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek. I buried my sword in his gut and disemboweled him with a single rip.