Demon Storm: Belador book 5

by Dianna Love

  But every warrior standing here–and those back home in the mortal world–wanted retribution for the bloodbath Treoir had just suffered at the hands of the Medb.

  And for the attack on their warrior queen, Brina.

  This place no longer reminded Evalle of a fairytale world. Not the kind with happy endings, anyway. The Medb had declared war with their attack, and Beladors all over the world were suffering the loss of everything from kinetic powers to telepathy.

  Their greatest enemy, the Medb, had changed the Belador power base in one day.

  Evalle would find a way to save Brina, but she couldn’t do it without Storm, who should be at his house waiting for Evalle to return, but no. According to the note he’d left for her, he’d gone after that blasted South American witch doctor.

  If that miserable witch doctor harmed one hair on Storm, Evalle would ...

  Power surged inside her and cartilage shoved the skin up her arms in advance of her shifting.

  She froze, cutting her eyes around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, these warriors were more focused on receiving orders and making someone pay for violating the Belador stronghold than on her.

  They might not even care if she shifted into a gryphon again after she’d saved lives in that form during the battle, but no one shifted into an altered state while on Treoir without Macha’s permission. Not unless they wanted to tick off an already enraged goddess, which was why Evalle needed to get a grip on her anxiety over Storm before Macha zapped her with enough energy to light up North America.

  “What’s the holdup?”

  Evalle jumped at the deep voice right behind her then turned, wishing she had the power to zap Tristan. “What are you doing in human form without getting Macha’s okay?”

  “You didn’t say anything about needing her rubber stamp to shift back to human form. Why would she be pissed off about that?”

  He had a point, but it would have been nice if he’d waited until Macha made up her mind how she was going to deal with the gryphons since they had not been accepted into Macha’s pantheon yet.

  It was a question of if, not when, at the moment.

  Was it too much to ask Tristan not to draw Macha’s attention until Evalle had a chance to ask the goddess where she stood on gryphons, since they carried half Belador and half Medb blood in their veins? Just like Evalle, Tristan and the other gryphons had started out as Alterants, then evolved into powerful flying creatures, a race with no clear status as of yet.

  Several warriors had turned her way to listen, which wouldn’t take much with their sensitive hearing, unless that Belador power was also out of order. Evalle would speak to Tristan telepathically, but Macha might consider it rude if she stepped out onto the front steps in the midst of their speaking mind to mind.

  Who knew with a goddess who created her own version of Miss Manners’ rules as she went?

  Evalle angled her head for Tristan to follow her and stepped away from the crowd until they were beneath the sprawling arms of an oak tree. She kept her voice down to protect her conversation. “Didn’t we agree that you’d wait for me to come tell you and the other gryphons what’s going on?”

  “I am waiting. I just choose to do it in this form.”

  Tristan will be the death of me. He’d come close to causing Evalle’s demise more than once.

  His blonde hair spiked in that messy way that men got away with, and the amused blue eyes stared down at her, but only because he had five inches on her five-foot-ten height. He clearly waited for Evalle’s volley. She wasn’t going to ask where Tristan had come up with a clean pair of jeans that fit him snug enough to raise the pulse of any female Belador warrior in the crowd. Any woman except Evalle, who had vacillated between wanting to strangle Tristan and thank him for his help when the Medb attacked Treoir.

  It would be easy for many Beladors to blame Tristan since word had circulated that he’d joined the Medb, when in truth, he’d been captured and compelled to act.

  He’d gone along with Evalle’s plan when they left, and he’d fought for the Beladors once Kizira, the Medb priestess leading the attack, had died in battle, freeing everyone she’d compelled.

  Thinking of the battle, Evalle reminded him, “You will need Macha’s approval to become a gryphon again.”

  Tristan gave a careless shrug. “If she wants my help, she’ll have to let me do what I need to watch over the island.”

  “When are you going to make my life easier?”

  He stopped checking out the crowd and castle to drop a glare at Evalle that came loaded with hostility. “When are you going to make my life easier? I’ve got six other gryphons and two Rías to keep pacified while everyone’s standing here waiting for an edict from Macha. I have yet to hear any atta boys coming from O’goddess for all we’ve done.”

  “She said thank you.”

  “I say thank you to someone who brings me coffee. I expect a little more for putting our lives on the line for this bunch after the Beladors had a shoot-to-kill order on us until just now.”

  “That was technically an order from the Tribunal,” Evalle said, trying to stem the fit of anger building up in the man beside her.

  “The Beladors didn’t hesitate to follow that order, did they?” Tristan challenged, then cut his gaze hard at the handful of warriors who were angling their bodies to catch Tristan and Evalle’s conversation. “Did you?” Tristan challenged in their direction.

  The warriors swung back around, but not before Evalle caught embarrassment on their faces. Tristan had a point, but alienating the Beladors was not going to be productive.

  “Tristan.” She said it softly, imploring him to back off the attitude.

  He scrubbed his face with one hand then crossed his arms, but when he spoke it was in a civil tone. “All I’m saying is we’re keeping this place protected better than any Belador can right now with their powers jacked up, and we still aren’t a recognized race with rights. We’re just Macha’s Treoir pets.”

  “Give her a chance to–”

  Tristan lifted a hand, cutting her off. “I get that everyone is in turmoil over Brina, but I’m out of patience.”

  “Getting on Macha’s nerves right now might be a dangerous mistake.”

  “Really? She didn’t torch you when you defied her about leaving Treoir to hunt for Storm. We all heard you tell her ‘I dare to piss off the entire fucking universe if that’s what it takes to get him back.’”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the only person I put at risk with that was me, not the rest of the gryphons. She knows I handed off leading the gryphons to you.”

  “Whatever.” He muttered something then his gaze zeroed in on her with curiosity. “Speaking of that loser jaguar, why’d you risk getting turned into a crispy snack to go after him?”

  Because Storm is worth more to me than you can ever understand.

  Telling Tristan that would just encourage him to continue haranguing her about something that was none of his business. Instead, she’d give him something to think about. “Funny you say that, because Storm asked me why I’d risk my life and fragile standing with the Beladors to help a backstabbing bastard who walked away from me when I stood between him and a black ops team. His words, of course. And, why would I continue to stick my neck out to trust you after you took me to meet with a guy who turned out to be a Medb plant and why–”

  “I got it, E-valle. Give me a break.”

  No. Tristan started this. She added, “And Storm has come for me every time I’ve been in a jam. Every. Time. Don’t ever think I won’t turn this world upside down for him.”

  “Must be nice,” Tristan muttered.

  “What?”

  He stared off, taking a slow breath. “To have someone you love that much.”

  She felt Tristan’s despair with her empathic senses, reminding her of the loneliness he’d suffered while locked away in the jungle in a spelled cage. It was during times lik
e this that she often overlooked how much of a jerk he could be.

  He was right. It was nice to know she was going home to someone who loved her, which she was doing just as soon as she returned to Atlanta.

  She changed the subject and told Tristan, “Work with me so all of us can have lives. We’re at the closest point all Alterants have ever been to that happening. Macha has proof that we’re not a threat to Brina, which was her major concern about Alterants.”

  Thinking on that reminded Evalle that Tristan had been given a Medb concoction that had resulted in his being able to teleport at times. He could only take one person at a time and had to rest to regain his powers when he did, but...

  “Hey, Tristan, can you still teleport?”

  “Short distances inside the Treoir boundaries, but I can’t get out.”

  “You tried?”

  “Of course I tried,” he scowled at her. “Don’t give me that look. I wasn’t abandoning my group, just checking out my resources.”

  In a way, Evalle wished he’d been successful, because now she was stuck with only the goddess to teleport her back to Atlanta, and Macha had a memory longer than eternity.

  She would not soon forget Evalle’s words only hours ago.

  But speaking her mind had felt good. Evalle was sick and tired of being told who she could or could not protect. Ultimately, she was going to give Macha what the goddess wanted by bringing a powerful Skinwalker/shaman to Treoir who could track pretty much any majik.

  Storm would have enjoyed watching Evalle stand up to the Celtic goddess.

  It had been a beautiful moment for all of the fifteen seconds it took for Evalle to realize she’d just verbally bitch slapped the only person here who could teleport her back to Atlanta–to the mortal world.

  Even so, she didn’t regret it and wouldn’t retract her words. They’d come from a heart that ached to be back in Storm’s arms. She missed him with every breath.

  Storm had constantly put himself in danger for the sole reason of protecting her or helping her with some deadly, impossible task.

  Because of him, and only him, she finally knew what it was to care for a man instead of fearing his touch. Storm was her world and her future. She would not sit quietly and wait for him to come to her while he might be fighting that crazy witch doctor.

  “Beladors!” Macha said, drawing attention to where she floated above the steps that led up to two massive doors carved with triquetras, a triangle-shaped Belador symbol. Macha might look to be in her late twenties, but she’d been around since life had taken hold on this planet. She normally showed up in a sparkling gown made of some impossible material, but today she wore a dark blue top and pants that swirled with a gauzy effect.

  Her hair usually moved all over the place and changed colors faster than a chameleon crossing a rainbow, but now it was cinnamon red, and floated with a quiet calm around her face and shoulders as Macha spoke, “I am proud of the way you fought the Medb, and grieve with you for our fallen.”

  Tristan muttered, “Incoming.”

  The sound of large wings flapping in the air preceded six gryphons on approach to land. Warriors stepped back, opening up a clearing for the ten-to-twelve-foot tall creatures with thirty-foot wingspans that settled as smoothly as a flock of geese on a lake. But these were no birds. They each had an eagle’s grand profile from head to shoulders, then a lion’s body that flowed to the long tail. A few of them had golden feathers on their heads.

  Evalle looked around then whispered to Tristan. “Where are your two Rías buddies?”

  “They didn’t want to come since they aren’t in human form and their beast form isn’t pretty like gryphons,” Tristan said with his usual dry sarcasm. “So they’re hiding nearby ... to scope out the Belador women before they’re allowed to shift back to men.”

  Evalle smiled. She’d met the two Rías when Tristan took her to the Maze of Death, a bunch of tunnels beneath Atlanta that harbored Civil War ghosts. With the exception of having normal human eyes where Evalle’s were bright green, Rías shifted into monsters similar to Evalle’s original beast form–the one she’d had before she evolved into a gryphon–and they were definitely not an attractive sight.

  The gryphons were pretty, magnificent even, and she was one of them. In fact, she was now their leader, the strongest in the pack.

  Or she would be when she came back from finding Storm. Tristan had better do his job as leader while she was gone to the mortal world.

  Turning back to Macha, Evalle noted the indecision that seemed to hang in the air.

  What had the goddess hesitating?

  Macha finally came to some decision and said, “We welcome the gryphons who defended our island and remain to watch over Treoir. Now that we know what an Alterant is, or at least what one becomes, I will finalize the petition to have Alterants recognized as a race with rights. Every Alterant who swears fealty to me and the Beladors will from that point forward belong to my pantheon.”

  Chills raced along Evalle’s skin.

  How long had she waited to hear those words? To be accepted as a true Belador and no longer be persecuted for the unknown part of her blood?

  She turned to Tristan, whose jaw was slack with disbelief, then he snapped his mouth shut.

  She held her breath to see if he would forgive the Beladors for their transgressions against him when he’d been caged like an animal. Or would he snub Macha’s offer? Brina may have been the one who actually locked Tristan away for five years inside that cage in a South American jungle, but Brina took no action without either Macha’s blessing or direction.

  Would any of that matter to Tristan?

  Macha stood perfectly still and Evalle realized the goddess waited for a sign from the gryphons.

  The Belador warriors turned en masse to stare at Tristan, Evalle and the gryphons.

  Technically, Evalle was already a Belador, but she bowed her head and prayed that Tristan would not start mouthing off.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slowly lower his head, then six gryphons dropped their upper bodies and dipped their heads, wings spread in a breathtaking display of colors and acknowledgment.

  Evalle’s eyes were swimming but she wasn’t about to put on a waterworks display, not even one with happy tears.

  She was a warrior.

  No, she was a Belador warrior, equal to everyone here.

  Macha’s voice rang out. “Your fealty is accepted, gryphons and Rías, and your service in continuing to guard Treoir is appreciated.”

  Standing upright again to face her goddess, Evalle searched for Tzader and Quinn. She found them standing off to the side, both rigid with arms crossed.

  Not a happy face between them.

  They were her two closest friends. The two people who knew more than anything what this meant to Evalle.

  What was wrong? Why weren’t they winking at her and smiling? What could have those two so upset?

  Oh, besides the love of Quinn’s life stepping between him and death to suffer being gutted, only to die in his arms? Or Tzader racing into the castle to protect Brina, only to have the ward almost kill him–correction, it did kill him–and come back to life to find nothing but her holographic image left?

  Tzader had never told Evalle, but she’d seen enough to suspect that Brina was far more to Tzader than just the warrior queen of the Beladors.

  Yeah, her two best friends were suffering. Celebrating on her part could sit on the back burner until their worlds were better.

  That wouldn’t happen for Tzader until they found Brina.

  As for Quinn, Evalle had no idea how to console someone for the kind of loss he’d suffered. There would be no consoling her if Storm had died in her arms. She couldn’t even think about that without her heart having spasms.

  Macha was going on about how they would stand strong in the face of the damage the Medb had done to their tribe. They would return Brina to the castle and, moving forward, that changes would be made to insure he
r safety and protect the Belador power base.

  Got it, Macha. Can you move this along a little faster?

  Macha paused and her gaze tracked to Evalle.

  Oh, hell. She couldn’t have heard that thought, could she?

  Irritating Macha again before teleporting was a good way to end up flung back to Atlanta like a ragdoll thrown through a wood chipper, and Evalle didn’t need encouragement to toss her cookies even on a smooth ride.

  She teleported about as well as Macha accepted criticism.

  Not a pretty scene.

  “Now we face an even greater battle,” Macha went on, talking about what came next. “Many of you suffer intermittent or non-existent powers as do other Beladors across the world. Preternatural criminals are attacking Beladors, which means the word about our power base being weak is traveling quickly.”

  There had never been a plan for ending up with only an empty-eyed hologram of Brina inside the castle. It had happened when a Belador traitor had tossed deadly Noirre majik dust on Brina.

  Macha wrapped it up by saying, “Maistir Tzader Burke of North America will decide who stays here and who returns to the mortal world.”

  Maybe Evalle could hitch a teleportation ride back with a group without having to draw Macha’s attention to her specifically.

  When Macha disappeared and the crowd began to disperse, Evalle turned to Tristan. She was ready to go, but had to make sure she didn’t come back to fallout from him irritating Macha.

  The gryphons flocked on the lawn, a herd of giants whose bodies would glisten beneath the sun back home. Evalle wouldn’t mind some sunshine, but none shone in the sky above Treoir.

  In Atlanta, she’d lived in the dark, because the sun would burn the flesh from her body. But that had changed when she morphed all the way into a gryphon.

  Please tell me this is a permanent change and I will never be relegated to living in the dark again.

  Evalle decided to take a positive tack and compliment Tristan on his good behavior to set the right tone for discussing what he had to do. She smiled to sell it. “Thank you for accepting Macha’s offer. She might not deserve forgiveness, but the Beladors deserve to have all of us in the tribe. And now Alterants evolved into gryphons and any other Alterants still out there can have a life.”