Evalle and Storm

by Dianna Love

  Nascha got quiet, like a tornado waiting to explode. When he spoke, his words came out in condemnation. “You are blind with your eyes open.”

  As Nascha strode past Evalle, he tossed another glare at all of them.

  She muttered, “What’s that all about?” She caught herself. “Whoa. Sorry, Bidziil. That’s none of my business.”

  Dismissing it, Bidziil said, “He says that to me all the time these days. Nothing we discussed is confidential. Everyone here has to put up with those two. They were tolerable until recent years. I don’t know what happened, but I have bigger issues now. Sadly, they both mean well. I’ve seen Nascha spend days on end curing a child without taking a break to rest. He’s a good man, but Haloke has given just as much even after the heartbreak she’s suffered when she lost her son.”

  Seeming to brush off the friction, Bidziil led them to the door and spoke to the guard on his way into the morgue.

  They crossed a tiny reception area to another door Storm held open. As Evalle followed Bidziil through, she caught a distinctive antiseptic tinge in the air and glanced at Storm.

  He seemed unbothered by it in spite of his sharper senses.

  Walking close behind, Storm asked his uncle, “What does Nascha have to say about Sonny’s body?”

  “Your father trained him, but he’s not as gifted as Sani. No one I’ve ever met had his gifts. Anyhow, Nascha is pretty good otherwise, but he talks in riddles. All he said after I asked him about Sonny was ‘dark spirits walk among us.’”

  Evalle wanted to say, “That’s a common occurrence in our world,” but kept that to herself. Had the old guy meant it as information or a warning?

  Instead she asked, “Is he really surprised to find spirits of any kind in a morgue?”

  Bidziil lifted his arms in a frustrated motion. “I would think not. I’m only telling Storm what little I’ve gotten so far.”

  Storm asked, “And you’re sure this can’t be a homicide staged to throw you off the trail?”

  “We’re lucky to have someone who works as a registered nurse that’s trained to be a medical examiner. He said he’s never seen anything like it and found no evidence of drugs in the body, but he won’t confirm the reason for death unless we allow an autopsy.”

  “Hold it.” Evalle stopped walking. “You haven’t autopsied the body yet?”

  “No. He has no blood relation and I can’t even share details with his friends until I know what happened,” Bidziil explained. “We’re calling this a suicide for now to minimize questions, though it pains me to say that about Sonny. No one wants to believe he’d take his own life.” Storm’s uncle seemed distracted for a moment, then shook it off and said, “Many of our people would be upset at an autopsy. We believe the spirit should be allowed to depart the body in a natural way where cutting a body open could actually lock the spirit to this plane.”

  “Thank you for explaining.” Evalle appreciated how Bidziil hadn’t held back when she asked anything. She glanced at Storm to see if she’d overstepped her place by questioning Bidziil.

  Storm gave her a look of admiration, quieting any doubts.

  Continuing with Evalle and Storm following, Bidziil reached the middle of a short hallway and stopped. “You’ll see what I couldn’t tell you over the phone. With all the high tech ways to listen to calls, I couldn’t risk this getting out in the media, especially with rumors of preternatural beings in Atlanta in the news.”

  Evalle couldn’t argue with that line of thinking if Sonny died by unnatural means, but did Bidziil think Storm was the only nonhuman in this world? Reporters and the Internet were ripping away the curtain of anonymity for their existence.

  A waist-high solid wall with the same length of glass above it created one side of an all white and stainless-steel room.

  Bidziil touched a button on an intercom unit mounted on the wide frame between the windows, then paused.

  Turning to Evalle, he suggested, “You may not want to see this.”

  She politely assured him, “I’ve worked in a morgue. Not much surprises me.”

  Giving her a quick nod, Bidziil pushed the button and called out, “Henry?”

  A young man in pale-blue scrubs that contrasted against his golden skin entered the enclosed room from a door on the far side. He wore his straight black hair cut in a short style.

  Still pressing the button on the speaker, Bidziil said, “Please bring out Sonny’s body.”

  Giving Storm’s uncle a quick wave of acknowledgement, Henry reached for one of two drawers on the refrigeration unit and pulled out a gurney with a gray-skinned corpse.

  Once Henry moved to where the three of them could view one side from head to toe, he waited for further instruction.

  Evalle took a long look at the young man’s body covered with smooth skin, which looked perfectly normal until she took in his face. She cringed at the disfigurement. Starting at the side of his cheek just below his eye, the skin had been gouged and ripped away from the tissue and bone underneath.

  His fingernails were still gripping deep under the skin torn from his face. His neck remained in a rigid curve from straining in pain, thick muscles stood out from his throat and his mouth remained frozen in a silent scream of agony.

  Had he done that damage to himself?

  Evalle looked at Storm in horror but said nothing.

  Storm had pulled his emotions in so tight she couldn’t sense them, which told her this had to be hitting him hard enough he wanted to shield her from feeling it.

  Storm asked, “Has anyone used chemicals on the body?”

  “No. Again, that’s why I wanted to get you here as quickly as possible. Sonny died just over twenty-four hours ago. He should be buried within four days, according to our beliefs. I’m hoping with your Skinwalker gifts you might pick up something beyond our abilities.”

  His uncle’s frantic calls now made sense.

  Bidziil reeked of misery, but he gathered himself to finish giving all he could. “We have no idea what happened, but there is nothing natural about that. I have to alert the tribe if we have a serial killer. If not, I still have to tell them if this means there’s a threat of a different sort to our people. I asked the seer to contact the Holy People.”

  Storm whipped his head around to Bidziil. “That is not a door you should open.”

  Evalle watched the interplay. Why would Holy People be a problem?

  Letting out a sigh born of exhaustion, Bidziil admitted, “I know. That’s how desperate I was by the time I called you.”

  “Did your seer have anything to share?”

  “Yes. The Holy People warned there would be more deaths unless I brought you here.”

  “They named Storm?” Evalle asked, no longer able to wait quietly.

  Evidently Storm had the same question. “Are you sure they meant me?”

  Bidziil explained how the spirits had actually referenced the son of the old one, who was of Bidziil’s blood. He and the seer determined the Holy People had to mean Sani.

  Evalle understood the point Bidziil was making but had to play devil’s advocate when spirits were naming her mate. “Old one sounds like a term of respect for an elder. Are you sure they meant Storm’s father?”

  Storm answered her. “You’re right about that term, but in this case the name Sani actually means old one.”

  “Exactly,” Bidziil agreed. “We believe the Holy People sent us to find you.”

  Nodding, Storm said to Evalle, “Please wait here. I’m going to step inside and take a closer look at the body.”

  “Go ahead.” She didn’t envy him getting near that corpse with his heightened sense of smell.

  Once he entered the room, Storm spoke to Henry, who backed away to the far wall. The guy sent a curious look to Bidziil, who lifted a finger, silently asking Henry to stand by.

  Evidently, Henry was on the short list of people allowed to know about the condition of Sonny’s body.

  Storm walked around the gurney, stud
ying the corpse closely as if looking for a mark or something that’d indicate why Sonny had died so viciously.

  Once Storm had circled him, he stopped on the far side, allowing Evalle a clear view of her mate. Then he lifted both hands, palms down, holding them over Sonny’s destroyed face.

  Storm closed his eyes for a couple seconds.

  He pulled his hands back and snapped his eyes open, staring down as if he’d seen something startling.

  Backing up one step, he raised his arms again, but high above the body this time. He started chanting as he moved slowly around the gurney.

  She couldn’t hear the words, but she’d seen Storm in this mode before. If Bidziil opened a speaker, they’d hear the nasal sound of him speaking words learned from his father.

  Evalle checked Henry to gauge a reaction from a member of the tribe.

  At first, Henry appeared bored and impatient. He leaned against the wall with a bent knee.

  As Storm continued his ritual, the body began to tremble.

  Bidziil sucked in a breath and said, “I have to get Storm out of there.”

  Evalle said, “No. He knows what he’s doing. If you interfere, you might harm Storm.”

  Bidziil gave her a weighty look.

  She couldn’t explain how she’d been through so many unusual situations with her mate and would know if he was in danger.

  Small dark red patches started to appear across the chest, then down Sonny’s leg. The patches spread like paint splattered on his skin. Once the blobs met, dark outlines formed around each splash of crimson color.

  In seconds, the entire body had turned into one giant red patchwork.

  The skin began cracking.

  Storm’s voice picked up volume, which happened when he pushed power into his chants.

  Energy sizzled along the squiggly dark lines marking the outline of each red blob of skin.

  The body lifted ten inches and floated. Those dark lines thickened and turned into a hard finish that reminded Evalle of a plastic shell.

  The skin shattered.

  Flames erupted along the outlines, shooting a foot high. It was as if someone had ignited Sonny’s insides and the fire needed to escape.

  Evalle checked on Henry again. His mouth flopped open and all color washed from his face.

  Bidziil cursed and grabbed his hair. “Storm has to get out of there. I wouldn’t forgive myself if he ends up hurt.”

  “Storm knows what he’s doing,” Evalle warned gently. “This is clearly a nonhuman issue, he can handle it.” She never took her eyes off Storm and the smoldering corpse when she added, “However, if anything happens to him while we’re here, you’ll have more to worry about than a guilty conscience.”

  She felt Bidziil’s eyes on her, probably wondering if she could back up her words.

  Hurt Storm and there would be no question.

  She’d given that warning as the woman who would not allow anyone to harm the man she loved and get away with it.

  Bidziil made a sound like a pained moan.

  She cut her eyes at him to see a glowing cloud engulf his body then slowly turn translucent until Bidziil stood there with his lips parted.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

  Turning rounded eyes to her, he whispered, “I felt ... I can’t describe it. Like Sonny’s spirit hugged me.”

  She’d tell Storm about this later if Bidziil didn’t, but for now she said, “It could have been him telling you goodbye.”

  Bidziil’s pain eased for the moment. Now, she empathically picked up awe and love from him.

  Storm lowered his hands and studied the blackened corpse that had returned to lie upon the gurney. Next he spoke to the attendant, who refused to walk back over. Turning to the door, Storm stepped away and out to the hallway.

  Bidziil shook his head and seemed to recover from his experience. He glanced at Evalle who just smiled at him.

  No, she wouldn’t share what he said. That had been a private moment. She was only glad it might have given Bidziil closure.

  Turning to Storm, Bidziil asked, “Do you know what caused the death?”

  “No.”

  Evalle gave Storm the question Bidziil should have asked. “What did you learn?”

  Storm said, “Sonny’s spirit was trapped. I released it and as the spirit escaped the body, it whispered to me.”

  Clearly not experienced with anything like this, Bidziil’s eyes widened. “Wh-what did it say?”

  “Something that sounded like I see.”

  Evalle felt a chill race over her body.

  His uncle had been right on two counts. That did not sound like a suicide or natural death. Storm had clearly come to the same conclusion.

  Someone cast a spell or used dark majik on Sonny.

  Evalle rubbed her arm, feeling an urge to wash her hands after being here. “Which way to the restroom?”

  Bidziil led her to the ladies’ room just off the reception area as he and Storm followed, discussing what they’d just learned.

  Evalle’s bootheels echoed over the bathroom tile, but she heard nothing else to indicate another person in the room. She washed and dried her hands, then finger-brushed her hair.

  Seeing a black line exposed when she lifted her arms, she pulled the short sleeve up to show more skin.

  Shit. She’d actually forgotten about the damn lines, veins or whatever they were, but they were getting longer and branching off more.

  She let out a breath she’d been holding. Then she leaned into the mirror to take a closer look at the V opening of her buttoned shirt. Pulling it wide, she found another patch of jagged lines running down her breast. Maybe farther. No one seemed to be in here, so she unbuttoned her shirt fast to take a look.

  The lines twisted almost like braids and ran across her abdomen as well as the long slash over her breast. She pulled up her jeans and found two new ones on her legs.

  One thing for sure, what had started out as a spot on her arm was now spreading across her body faster.

  If these had to do with leftover Noirre bleeding out of her, she’d probably be feeling the negative effects by now. The entire time she’d suffered with that nasty majik in her body, she’d battled preternatural creatures in Abandinu’s realm while sick. She’d been unable to heal completely because the majik wouldn’t allow her Belador blood to work with her Medb blood.

  Nothing had prevented Garwyli or Storm from healing her, another indication she should have no Noirre in her system.

  Also, Storm would have sensed the dark majik presence by now.

  She ran through more possibilities, but finally admitted she was only dancing around the one she didn’t want to accept.

  These lines could be the definitive sign that her gryphon had been too damaged and would never recover.

  CHAPTER 11

  On the way out of the morgue to their waiting car, Evalle struggled to dismiss her revelation in the bathroom.

  There had to be a better explanation.

  Her antagonistic conscience asked, What else makes more sense?

  Evalle had no idea, but she’d been on the go nonstop from fighting Hoyt in Treoir to facing off with warlocks in Atlanta and now leaving a morgue in Arizona where something really bad had killed a young man.

  Important life decisions shouldn’t be made until she had a clear head.

  Storm turned to her before they reached the car and asked, “All good?”

  She heard the doubt in his voice, but still told him, “Yep. What about you?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer. “I’m fine and I won’t pester you every minute if you promise to come to me when you’re ready to talk out what’s bothering you.”

  Busted by the sexy lie detector.

  “Fair enough.” She snuggled her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze to let him know she appreciated him not hounding her.

  They made a short ride to the resort where the driver continued around the casino prop
erty until he reached the rear area. He parked next to a walkway surrounded by desert landscaping that belonged in a style magazine.

  A thick slab of gray stone made into a sign indicated the direction of private villas down the natural walkway. Storm would avoid staying in the casino hotel for many reasons but had given his uncle two that hadn’t been insulting.

  Bidziil stepped out and told the driver to stay put, that he’d handle the bags. He met Storm at the rear cargo area.

  Storm lifted both bags with a simple, “We won’t need any help.”

  Keeping his voice down, Bidziil asked, “Have you come up with any ideas?”

  Evalle stepped away to give the men a moment to talk. Even with her Belador powers not back to full capacity, she could hear everything in the quiet night.

  Storm lowered the bags to the ground. “I don’t want to point a finger at anyone until I know more, but what happened to Sonny wasn’t a simple spell.”

  “A spell? This majik stuff is over my pay grade,” Bidziil mumbled. “What do we do next?”

  Storm hesitated for a brief moment. “No one is going to like this, but you have to determine if anyone in the tribe is performing dark majik.”

  Bidziil pulled back and scratched his neck. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that in our clan.”

  “I’m not surprised, because no one who does will advertise it,” Storm contended. “I’d like to get the security people you trust in one room and question them, then suggest things to watch for while in the community. They may have seen or heard something they didn’t realize was odd.”

  Bidziil said, “I don’t want to sound close-minded, but Sonny would never have been involved in any dark majik stuff. He didn’t do drugs, didn’t drink, didn’t gamble ... hell, he didn’t really date much, because he was so driven to succeed.”

  “If that was a dark majik spell, Sonny might have done nothing worse than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Evalle admired her mate’s soothing voice. Storm had issues with his uncle, but that hadn’t stopped him from offering comfort.

  Bidziil stared off with pinched mouth and a gaze full of disappointment. He wiped a sleeve over his damp eyes and swallowed. “It might sound crazy, but I ... I could swear I felt his spirit leave tonight. I hope so. I need to know he’s at peace.”