She let that go in favor of getting on the move. “Tristan knows where the other Alterants are in Atlanta and agreed to help me locate them.”
“He was lying to you.”
“Maybe about helping me, but I believe he was telling the truth about the Alterants being in Atlanta.” Even though Tristan had lied by omission he hadn’t taken her dagger again or left her stranded, when he could have. She hadn’t figured that one out. Why had Tristan stayed with her? No time to waste on that right now. She glanced around, defeat closing in on her with too far to travel in little time. “Any chance you’ve figured out how to track teleporting?”
“No. If he was headed back to Atlanta, call Tzader or Quinn so they can start looking for him while we head back.”
“I can’t ask anyone for help, especially them. The Tribunal forbade it.” Then a thought struck her.
She hadn’t tried any of the gifts because she could only use them for the explicit reason of finding the escaped Alterants and bringing them in.
“What, Evalle?”
“The Tribunal gave me three gifts.” She got excited. “I think I know how to track Tristan.” In her mind, she had to find Tristan to locate the missing Alterants, therefore she could call upon a gift.
But if her reasoning was wrong, she had no idea what the fallout would be.
“Then do it,” Storm encouraged.
Using one gift now left just two for capturing three Alterants and dealing with Tristan at large.
She had no choice, but that didn’t make her happy about what she had to do. “I can’t believe I’m going to burn a gift on this,” she muttered.
“On what?” Storm stepped close to her.
“Teleporting. And I don’t know how to do it, so I’ll probably throw up the entire way and . . .” She lifted her gaze to him. “I can’t leave you, but I might do something wrong and hurt you if I don’t do this right.”
Storm pulled her into his arms.
She sank against him, enjoying the feel of his body next to hers.
He lowered his head and told her, “I’ll keep you from getting sick. Call on the gift.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but his lips covered hers.
Since meeting Storm she’d come to realize that kissing cured a lot of ailments.
His mouth managed to suck all the fight out of her. His hands tucked her closer, but carefully. As if he knew just how far to test her ability to be touched. She’d never let anyone kiss her or get close enough to touch her since escaping that basement.
Not until meeting Storm just a few days ago.
He paused and lifted his head. “Teleport us now or we won’t be leaving here for hours.”
It wasn’t what he said so much as the serious intent in his voice and stark hunger turning his eyes black that got her moving.
She didn’t hesitate. “By the Tribunal power gifted me, I command that Storm and I be teleported along the same path as Tristan.”
The world started spinning as a thought hit her.
What if Tristan teleported somewhere dangerous that he was prepared for, but she and Storm would not be? What if . . .
Storm folded her close to him and kissed her again, pushing thoughts of anything but him from her mind.
An unfamiliar need coiled hot and urgent inside her. His lips caressed hers, his tongue playful. Fingers slid down to her hips, gently moving her snug against him.
Heat rippled through her abdomen.
He whispered calm words between kisses pressed along her neck. She shivered, longed for what his kiss promised. Her body urged her into his touch.
This was the only way to teleport.
He kissed her cheek once, twice.
She leaned back against his arm and turned her head, sucking in a breath when his lips caressed her throat.
All at once the swirling colors melded into distinct lines.
The ride was almost over. Too soon.
She smiled when Storm paused then kissed her again.
Did he do everything with this intense focus? As her feet touched solid ground again, Storm’s chest expanded with a deep breath. He released a groan as if he was just as disappointed as she was to realize their trip would end soon.
He cupped her face and whispered, “Welcome to Air Evalle. Coffee, tea . . . or this.” He kissed her again, murmuring, “Keep your eyes closed.”
She smiled around his lips and followed his advice.
One day when this was over, maybe she would . . .
Day.
A new worry hit her with brutal swiftness. If Tristan had teleported to Atlanta, that’s where she and Storm were landing.
It would be . . . afternoon. Right now.
What if the sun blazed overhead?
Still clinging to Storm, Evalle opened her eyes to a glint of brilliant light.
FIFTEEN
Tzader paced the boardroom on the eighteenth floor of Quinn’s building, one of several he owned in downtown Atlanta.
His gut said not to do this, especially to Vladimir Quinn.
Not that Tzader wanted to risk destroying any person’s mind, but Quinn and Evalle were his closest friends.
Next to Brina.
He stopped pacing. How could Brina think he didn’t put her safety first? What was going on with her?
She was his world.
Her idea of searching Conlan O’Meary’s mind had some validity. A slim possibility of gaining information, but enough that Tzader couldn’t refuse in good conscience.
And Quinn was the best they had at navigating a mind.
Quinn’s dry Oxford tone broke into Tzader’s thoughts. I’ll be up in a moment. I took care of Evalle’s job at the morgue on my way here.
Where do they think she is?
On personal leave. She may not like my interfering, but she’s getting my help this time whether she wants it or not.
Leave it to Quinn to pull strings to ensure that Evalle still had her grunt job once she appeased the Tribunal. She put a higher value on independence than an asthmatic put on oxygen.
She’ll appreciate that, Tzader said.
Perhaps. Then Quinn was gone.
The antique clock on the side table dinged softly five times. This late on a Friday afternoon, rush hour traffic heated tempers in any city, but if that sulfur fog descended on the streets of Atlanta this evening the highways would turn into bloody battle zones.
Quinn entered the conference room on a calm stride, but tension lined his forehead. He punched buttons on his smart phone. His cinderblock gray European suit fit his athletic build with a precision only the best tailors could offer. Women seemed to like all that fancy trimming and upper-crust British accent, one of his finer qualities acquired after early years spent in Russian ghettos.
Tzader stopped pacing and glanced at the door. “Where’s Conlan?”
“Our young O’Meary is on his way here. Then he’ll have to be cleared through building security.”
When Tzader quirked an eyebrow in amusement, Quinn chuckled and shrugged. “I must keep up appearances at all my corporate properties.”
Metal detectors couldn’t detect a weapon warded against view, like the two sentient blades hanging from Tzader’s belt. The blades had snarled at the security personnel when Tzader had passed through the scanner, but they were invisible to human eyes and machines when he needed them to be.
Quinn stopped fiddling with his phone and slipped it into a pocket inside his jacket. “I heard about beast attacks on my flight back from D.C. I assume these are Alterants, based upon the lurid descriptions. What’s going on?”
“I just left a meeting at VIPER. There’s a mysterious fog that hovers close to the ground around all these attacks. Has a sulfuric odor and causes everyone it touches to turn aggressive and mean, instant road rage mentality. Bad as that is, this fog appears to be a catalyst for forcing Alterants to shift. We’re up to a hundred and thirty-four that we know about that have shifted in different parts of the country.”
“I saw a low-hanging haze that covered a massive section of Virginia we flew over. A dull yellow color.”
“That’s it.”
“What—or who—is causing the fog?”
Tzader rubbed his chin and let out a weary breath. “I’d say we don’t know, but some people are jumping to conclusions about Alterants in general.”
Quinn made the mental leap Tzader expected. “Any word on Evalle?”
“Yes, but what Sen told me after the briefing isn’t good.”
“Let me guess. Mr. Charm wanted to gloat over Evalle being outside our reach right now?”
“I wish that was all. He said Tristan has escaped again.” Tzader had barely restrained himself from wiping the smile from Sen’s face.
“The Alterant we just put away yesterday? Whose bloody fault was that?”
“According to the Tribunal, Evalle is behind the escape.”
Something vile and Russian hissed from between Quinn’s lips, sounding as deadly as Tzader’s thoughts. Quinn crossed the room and stopped next to Tzader where he stared out the window.
No yellow haze had formed in Atlanta. Yet.
Tzader told him the rest. “The Tribunal believes Evalle and Tristan could be connected to the fog, that they’re trying to build an army from the shifting Alterants.”
“That’s absurd.”
“It’s absurd that Evalle would do this, but Tristan’s a wild card,” Tzader said. “However, none of the Alterants currently shifting have green eyes that we know of.”
“Then how can they tie this to Tristan and Evalle? Maybe these things aren’t Alterants. That’s like saying anything with a mane, four legs and a tail is a horse, but not distinguish that a zebra or giraffe might be different.”
“I agree, but the Tribunal isn’t making that distinction,” Tzader explained. “Sen indicated the Tribunal sent Evalle on a task with a time limit. Once Tristan escaped, the Tribunal issued a decree to kill all Alterants on sight, regardless of the color of their eyes.” Just saying those words out loud froze the blood in Tzader’s veins.
“Bloody hell. Why don’t they send Sen after her? Even if we don’t know what he is, the Tribunal must, and he’s pretty damn powerful. He could find her before anyone else.”
“Sen says he’s been given parameters for bringing her back that he can’t discuss, and the Tribunal won’t touch her until her time is up. Even if Sen could go to Evalle, do you really think he wouldn’t take advantage of a shoot-to-kill order?”
“The one time Captain Dickhead could really help,” Quinn ground out. He backhanded his fist into the window frame, denting it. For someone who prided himself on maintaining control, Quinn still had a temper. “Why is VIPER letting this fog still spread?”
“Because no one, not even the deities associated with VIPER, can stop it.”
“With all the power we control in the coalition, we can’t stop this? Why not?”
That was what Tzader had been asking everyone at VIPER for the past hour. He’d even contacted Macha, who’d been unable to affect the stinking fog that continued to leach through coastal states only. “No one knows for sure, but VIPER resources are speculating that it might take either the person who created the fog or someone who can wield the same majik to influence it.”
“The fact that this fog can cause immediate aggression in humans and trigger Alterants to shift into beasts would suggest that it’s sentient.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Tzader agreed. The fog had taken on a living quality.
“We’ve got to find Evalle before someone cuts her down.”
“I know, but no one is telling us anything, including Brina.”
Quinn’s expression offered consolation. “And you don’t want to press her until we have something on the traitor to give her?”
“Not with Brina on a tear right now. Evalle needs Brina on her side, since she’s the most powerful person allowed to accompany Evalle in the Tribunal meetings. I figure if we can convince Brina that Conlan’s not a threat, and show her we’re doing all we can to find the traitor, she’ll support helping Evalle.” And maybe realize Tzader put Brina’s safety first above everything.
He’d intervened to protect Brina many times since meeting her when she was fourteen. He’d lost his heart the first time he’d heard her laugh. The sound had stayed with him like a favorite song playing over and over in his mind. She’d been laughing at how he’d missed a bull’s-eye by an inch with his knife, but she hadn’t known that he’d been practicing with his nondominant hand. He’d been so taken with her that he’d let her believe she’d outmatched him when she’d tossed her dagger and stabbed dead center.
Her father had warned Tzader long ago that she’d heel to no man’s command except the Treoir patriarch, and at times she tested limits even with him. Tzader had smiled, thanking her father for his advice and more determined than ever to win the heart of the Treoir jewel.
Both of their fathers had wanted this union. Everyone had.
None as much as Tzader.
Had Brina really stopped loving him?
Something must have changed. She’d made it clear she wanted to break off their relationship.
Quinn spoke, pulling Tzader back to the issue with Evalle. “The Tribunal might forbid us from contacting Evalle—”
Tzader interrupted. “The Tribunal has ordered her not to contact us.”
“That would explain why we haven’t been able to reach her telepathically, and Brina would have to support a Tribunal declaration.”
“I’ll stand down from going after Evalle if Brina can explain how leaving Evalle to be hunted like a dog by VIPER is honorable.”
Quinn curved his lips in a grim reaper smile. “In other words, we begin searching by sunset.”
“Right.”
A voice came into Tzader’s mind, asking, Maistir?
Tzader answered, Yes?
Conlan O’Meary reporting in. I’m entering the building now.
Tzader sent back, Very good. He said to Quinn, “Conlan said he’s on the way in. Sure you still want to do this probe?”
“We all do things we’d rather not, including Brina. Perhaps she is more objective than you or I. However, I feel the need to point out that Conlan had an alibi for the night the traitor lured us into that Medb trap in Utah.”
Tzader had also considered what had happened two years ago. He owed his life to Quinn and Evalle, who had been linked to him when they’d battled the Medb to escape. He’d suffered a fatal wound, which he’d survived only because neither Quinn nor Evalle would unlink even though they could have died with him.
Nodding, Tzader said, “I’ve thought about that. Conlan has the ability to split his image. He could have left a lifelike replica at his home while he traveled to the Salt Flats the day we were captured by the Medb. The only way we’d have known was if we’d sent someone capable of telling the difference to interact with the copy at his home. None of us suspected him of anything back then, so that didn’t happen.”
“Good point.”
Tzader wished he had Quinn’s mind lock ability so he could be the one taking the risk. He’d been hunting the traitor every minute he could spare from his Maistir duties. When he did find that rat bastard he was going to make him regret the day he was born.
Quinn flexed his hand. “It’s been a while since I probed someone’s subconscious this deeply, and, if you recall, the last time ended in less than ideal results.”
“That’s a diplomatic way to say the guy stroked out during the session,” Tzader joked. “He was a troll convicted of eating a human family. If you hadn’t gone that deep we’d have never found where his sidekick was hiding. Saved a pile of lives with that get.” Tzader scratched his chin. “And imploding his brain wasn’t your fault either.”
“If I hadn’t opened a path for the demonic spirit hunting the troll to reach through and take control of his mind, the troll would have survived.”
Tzader started to ques
tion his friend’s barometer for justice when Quinn added, “Don’t get me wrong. I have no sympathy for a psychopathic predator. I just believe he deserved a far less humane punishment than a quick death.”
But something had Quinn more contemplative than usual. Tzader asked, “You think something is hiding in Conlan’s subconscious?”
“Not really,” Quinn said, still sounding distracted. “He’s a decent man and a loyal Belador. He’s . . . I don’t know. Just thinking out loud.”
“I know. I don’t like either one of you doing this.” Tzader turned to peer out the window at people scurrying along Peachtree Street, oblivious to the potential threat. He hated not being able to warn the public, but humans couldn’t contain the fog if VIPER couldn’t.
Panic would only add to the crisis.
If the traitor was tied to the Alterants in any way, Brina was right to push for an answer now, but Tzader wanted to give Quinn one last chance to step aside. “It’s your decision, but keep in mind that I need you out in the field helping us fight this fog and beasts more than I need you in here taking this gamble.”
Quinn held up his hand. “I couldn’t allow someone else to try this. We’ve never had a druid who can match my ability to mind lock. And even if a druid searched Conlan’s mind first and didn’t find anything, I would still have to probe a second time. That would force Conlan to endure the mental plundering and risk twice. Besides, there’s only danger if we’re wrong about his being innocent.”
Tzader understood all that on a logical level, but the “what if” factor still hung in the air. Evalle wouldn’t forgive him if Quinn came out of this with scrambled brains . . . or dead.
And he wouldn’t deserve forgiveness.
Thinking of her, Tzader asked, “Have you heard anything on Storm once we split up last night?”
“Can’t be found.”
Tzader cut a sharp look at Quinn. “You mean like not-in-the-city gone?”
“Yes. You said Evalle learned about the Alterants shifting from Storm. I’m thinking they spoke on her way to the Tribunal meeting last night. I touched base with Devon Fortier this morning before I left for D.C. He’s investigating a troll operation tied to the local sting I’m running and had a team following a lead at the Amtrak station last night. They needed a tracker. He tried reaching Storm for almost two hours before Storm appeared close to midnight.”
Alterant Page 15
