Magic Ops: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Federal Agents of Magic Book 1) by TR Cameron & Martha Carr & Michael Anderle

Author:TR Cameron & Martha Carr & Michael Anderle [Cameron, TR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642021561
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2019-03-19T22:00:00+00:00

The dog woke up as the troll climbed up his fur. He raised his head and gave Rath the bounce he needed to vault onto his back. The troll found a comfortable position and grabbed Max’s collar with his left hand, then made experimental stabs with the weapon in his right.

“Max. Kitchen. Go.”

The dog gave a soft bark but didn’t move. Rath sighed and stood. He climbed up over the head and walked down the Borzoi’s long nose to look him in the eye. He pointed at him, then at himself. “Max. Rath. Partners. Must train.” The dog blinked, and Rath was satisfied with what he saw. He scrambled back to his previous position.

“Max. Kitchen. Go.” The dog lurched to his feet and jogged to the kitchen. Rath had ridden on his back before but always lying down with both hands twined in his smooth coat. This was a different skill. He grinned.

Getting better.

“Too slow. Max. Bedroom. Go.” They dashed out of the kitchen. When the dog reached the stairs, the troll added his second hand to the collar and barely managed to not fly off as they tromped excitedly to the second level.

Meant downstairs bedroom. Need to be more clear.

Max did not need to know about his mistake, though, so he simply said, “Max. Good.”

He guided his mount to the edge of Diana’s bed, which was large and comfy and covered with a thick blanket. His mind worked on strategies for attacking with a partner. “Max. Head up. Go.” The dog raised his head and made a bridge to the bed with his pointed nose. Rath bounced a few times in thought. He smiled and clapped. He pointed at Max. “Rocket tube.” He pointed at himself. “Rocket.”

The dog’s expression didn’t change.

Yes. Language troubles.

The troll pantomimed what he wanted, and the dog’s tail wagged. Rath climbed back onto his nose and crouched, and Max lowered his head gently.

“Max. Launch. Go.” The Borzoi’s neck snapped up, and his passenger was thrown in an arc toward the center of the bed. He tucked and rolled at the apex, held his weapon out to one side, and landed in perfect balance, the spear in guard position before him. He growled at the invisible enemies arrayed in a circle around him and leapt to the attack. Several minutes later, his foes had been vanquished and Rath was exhausted. He crawled to the edge of the bed, and the Borzoi stretched his neck out. Rath made it onto his nose and hugged it. “Max. Good. Living room. Slow. Go.”

The little warrior was snoring softly by the time they arrived. Max rolled him gently into the corner of the couch and climbed up beside him, his head inches from the troll’s sleeping form. Rath stirred in his sleep and yawned. “Partners. Good.”

The dog’s tail thumped once before he, too, succumbed to the wisdom of resting between battles.

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