The Curse (Beladors)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Don’t give me a reason. Then he disappeared from her mind.

  She had to get moving. And she had to eat. There’d been no time for food, thanks to Macha. With any luck, she’d get to the Iron Casket early and grab a bite while she waited on Tristan, but first she needed to clean the ick off of her from the exploding Rías.

  When Tzader finished his call, he said, “Going to be a little later than midnight, more like one. Let’s meet at—”

  “How about my room at the Ritz downtown,” Quinn interjected, giving his room number. “That will allow us adequate privacy.”

  Tzader’s gaze eased from Quinn to Evalle. “Good by me.”

  Evalle hated putting off talking to Quinn, but with Tristan waiting, she didn’t have time right now. “I’ll be there by one.”

  She hoped. Tristan could be slippery and she didn’t plan to lose track of him this time. She started picking body goo off her shirt. “Z, you got enough people here for cleanup?”

  “Plenty.”

  “I’ve got an errand to run.”

  “Anything I should know about?”

  “Nothing I can talk about.” She cringed at how that sounded. When Tzader didn’t respond, she knew he expected her to expound. “I was talking to Macha right before you called me in.”

  “Oh?”

  She didn’t meet his eyes, but she could feel them bearing down on her. Few Beladors spoke directly to Macha, Tzader being one of those. Evalle didn’t particularly like being in that group, but neither did she have a choice. “I have to do something for her.”

  When the silence that followed hung too long, Evalle looked up to find Tzader frowning. She held her hands out in a motion of asking him to understand. “You know I’d tell you if I could.”

  “I know that. I also know how Macha is. Be careful.”

  “I will, and don’t worry if I run a little late.” Evalle gave Quinn a smile she had a feeling looked as forced as it felt, but she’d been through a lot with him, and with Tzader. She wouldn’t believe that Quinn had betrayed her based solely on the words of a Medb witch. “See you later.”

  Quinn nodded, too quiet and reserved, even for him.

  Time to finally deal with Tristan.

  After hiking back down Memorial Drive, Evalle found a water spigot behind a string of restaurants in the block that included Six Feet Under. She cleaned up the best she could, happy not to smell so nasty even if her clothes and hair were now damp. The chilly air felt refreshing on her skin, especially after all that clammy death.

  She left her shoulder-length hair loose to dry while she covered the next couple blocks. She found her motorcycle parked where she’d left it on a side street, lit only by a single overhead security light.

  Shadows moved and murmured in her wake.

  Nightstalkers probably. Ghouls who had once been homeless people before they’d died in natural disasters. None were trying to get her attention tonight. They just hovered nearby. But when she reached her motorcycle, she felt energy moving toward her. Something nonhuman lurked a few feet away.

  Turning, she waited for a Nightstalker to glimmer into view and ask for a deal. But what emerged from the shadows was no ghoul.

  Storm was alive.

  FIVE

  Storm ignored the residual pain lingering in his body and stood with his feet apart, prepared to deal with an angry Alterant.

  But seeing Evalle again could heal a dying man … which he’d been up until yesterday.

  As usual, dark sunglasses protected Evalle’s sensitive, glowing-green eyes, but nothing could shield her emotions from him. Like now, when he sensed her turmoil, with no way to ease her anxiety. Not yet.

  The first time he’d set eyes on her during a meeting at VIPER, he’d caught her silent distress. Thinking only to help, he’d reached out with gifts bestowed by his tribal ancestors to soothe her … and had gotten a biting earful later for his efforts.

  She was harder to get close to than a pissed-off hornet, but in those rare moments when he had her in his arms, no other woman equaled her.

  “Storm?” she asked tentatively, still standing near her bike. “Where have you been?”

  Emotions boiled off of her, slamming him with a chaotic rush of thrill, worry and frustration.

  He waited as a noisy beater car passed, leaving the side street silent again in the wake of loud music muffled by the rolled-up windows. Striding forward a few slow steps, he paused close enough to reach out and touch her, but he waited, watching for any signs of hesitation on her part.

  Or that she’d attack.

  She’d been hurt at some time in her past, physically as well as emotionally, and would strike out like a wounded animal when caught off guard. “I’ve been healing.”

  “I see.”

  Worse than angry. She sounded hurt. His empathic gift picked up on the swell and ache of that emotion.

  He had plenty to tell her, but he needed her to hear something first before he shared all the details about what had happened. One thought kept jamming his brain, pushing its way to his lips. “I missed you.”

  She stood there, racked with indecision for several seconds, then gave him a watery smile and lunged into his arms. “I missed you, too.”

  He caught her, hugging her to him, surprised at how his body trembled at the feel of her close again.

  His definition of heaven.

  One he fought guilt over enjoying since she didn’t know he had no soul. Back in South America, those who knew his history had called him a demon. What others thought hadn’t mattered … until he’d met Evalle.

  Now he had every intention of fixing that problem.

  Just as soon as he got his hands on that witch doctor who’d stolen his soul.

  When Evalle lifted her head to look at him, he kissed the mouth he’d dreamed about during his fevered days. Her lips were soft and yielding, then demanding. All woman with a passionate side that kept him on his toes, whether she was kicking someone’s butt or allowing him a rare embrace. He’d never call Evalle a tease. She didn’t know how to play those games. Like right now. She kissed without restraint.

  Her emotions sometimes overwhelmed her.

  He overwhelmed her.

  If she ever got past her fear of intimacy, one he suspected was caused by prior abuse, the sex with her would be phenomenal. He had no doubt.

  But for now, he’d take having her in his arms.

  Her heart thumped like wild jungle drums against his chest and she clutched his back.

  She might not realize how big a step this was for her to come to him so openly, but he did.

  When their lips finally parted, he dropped his forehead down on hers. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  She pulled back and brought her hands around to grip each side of his open-collared shirt. “Me? Why didn’t you call or e-mail me again?”

  “Again?” He covered her fingers with his and she let go of his shirt, yet allowed him to hold her hand. Nice.

  “I knew that wasn’t from you,” she muttered, staring at his chest, thinking.

  “I’m not following anything you’re saying.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed her knuckles, bringing a flash of surprise to her eyes, which twinkled with undisguised happiness.

  She smiled. Such a simple thing, but her smiles were gifts to be cherished. He brushed his fingers over the damp hair that fell loose around her shoulders, but the weather had been dry and cool all day. “Why are you wet?”

  Looking down at herself, she said, “What?” She had a thing for vintage clothes and wore a short-sleeved, beige army BDU—battle dress uniform—shirt with jeans and boots. “Oh. We just had another gang battle. This one was in Oakland Cemetery. I had to clean off … stuff.”

  “What gang battles?”

  “Where have you been, Storm?” She lowered her hand from his and moved back, opening up space between them. Her face suffused with concern and confusion. With the change in subject and reminder that he’d been out of touch for thr
ee weeks, she withdrew emotionally.

  He tried not to flinch at the abrupt change in her emotions, the loss of her warmth and happiness so near.

  He should be glad for the uninhibited welcome he’d received and not expect more, but he wanted her body back against his. “I told you, I’ve been healing. I’ve only been conscious twenty-four hours.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I don’t have a phone yet. That’s why I came to see you in person.” And his guardian spirit had been none too happy about Storm going out while still recovering, but he had to know for sure that the danger that stalked him and now threatened Evalle had not harmed her.

  He didn’t know why the witch doctor would target Evalle, only that she did.

  Now that the crazy bitch had tracked him to Atlanta, had she discovered that he cared for Evalle and planned to use that against him?

  If that were the case, why hadn’t the witch doctor shown her face by now?

  Didn’t matter. He planned to find her first.

  Evalle asked, “Have you been in a hospital?”

  “No.” He’d just as soon not discuss his healing any more than he had to, like explaining who had been tending to his wounds. Going back to Evalle’s earlier comment, he asked, “What did you mean by my e-mailing you again?”

  “The e-mail I got from you the night they let me out of VIPER prison.”

  “So they did lock you up?”

  “Yes.”

  Storm had tried to tell her Tristan would screw her over. “Why didn’t you tell Sen where Tristan and his bunch of renegade Alterants went? He could have caught them.”

  “Only Tristan and his sister are Alterants,” she corrected. “The other two are Rías. I couldn’t hand them over to win my freedom.”

  A growl climbed up Storm’s throat.

  Evalle moved her shoulders in a dismissive way. “And do you really think sending Sen after Tristan would have mattered? The last thing Sen would do is something to keep me out of prison. He was thrilled when I had to face the Tribunal empty-handed.”

  If Storm had been conscious, he’d have gone crazy trying to find Evalle when she was locked away. Blood would have flowed. “How’d you get out of prison?”

  “Macha offered me a deal that she’d petition the Tribunal for Alterants to be a recognized race—”

  “That’s great.”

  “—if I can deliver evidence to support our origins and bring in Alterants to swear loyalty to Macha, specifically Tristan.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I wish I was.” Evalle swallowed and winced, which drew his eyes to her neck.

  “What the hell happened to your throat?” He lifted his finger to her raw skin. That move drew him close to her again, so close he’d have to be a stone to miss the flutter of excitement that sheared off of her.

  His ego enjoyed the momentary stroke.

  She waved a hand at her throat. “A Svart troll jumped me tonight and wrapped a chain around my neck.”

  The jaguar inside Storm woke and pushed at his skin, wanting to kill whatever had hurt this woman. He’d never before had the animal who shared his body notice a woman this way, not after what the witch doctor had done to him and his father. But his jaguar shared Storm’s protective urge when it came to Evalle.

  He ran his fingers gently over the skin on her neck and she shivered. “Did you kill the bastard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Though he’d have liked to hunt and dismember that troll himself. “What’s a Svart?”

  “Some kind of black-ops mercenary troll.”

  “You get extra points for killing those, like in a game?”

  She laughed at his teasing and the sound woke his heart with a jolt. Shoving a handful of hair over her shoulder, she said, “No, just extra bruises.”

  With her soft and pliable again, he wanted one more kiss. He lowered his head, touching his lips to hers and smiling over the way she leaned into the kiss and let him bunch her into his arms.

  Another small step forward.

  She made a throaty sound and the world disappeared around him. One day, he’d have all of her. But not right now on a public sidewalk. He slowed the embrace, kissing her lips lightly once more.

  This time when she put her hands on his chest and pushed away, she did so reluctantly and with a smirk. “Enough distracting me.”

  “Oh, that’s just a brief interruption. I would need a far more private place to fully distract you.”

  Her eyes flared with awareness.

  She wasn’t backing up and snapping at him, so he went fishing for more. “Speaking of which, it seems like you agreed to have dinner with me for helping you with Tristan.”

  She stabbed a hand at each of her hips, then quirked a saucy eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that was the deal.”

  “I remember dinner being in there somewhere, but we can talk about it later.” He’d planted the idea. “Back to this e-mail. I had no way to send one after Sen tried to kill me.”

  A flash of worry swirled around her when he mentioned his near-death. Storm indulged in a moment of pleasure. He’d spent a lot of the last twenty-four hours concerned over the reception he’d get after not being in touch for almost a month.

  She had a grim set to her mouth. “So you didn’t get your phone out of my tank bag.”

  “No. Thought your bike was warded.”

  She shook her head. “It is, at least against most beings, which means someone powerful got past it.”

  “Was anything else missing?”

  “No. I looked for the clothes you left near the MARTA station, but they were gone … and so were you. What happened?”

  I came close to spending my eternal life wandering in the hellish half-world where my father is stuck because we don’t have our souls. But he couldn’t share that yet with Evalle, a woman who spent her nights hunting demons and other powerful dark beings. At one time he’d thought if he told her the truth about having no soul, she’d see him only as a dangerous demon to protect humans against, but now he worried that she’d take it on herself to hunt the witch doctor. She might be terrified of intimacy, but she was fearless in battle.

  Evalle waited silently. She deserved as much truth as he could share.

  He hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets and tried to explain something most people would have a hard time comprehending without the benefit of his upbringing. But Evalle dealt with strange every day.

  “You know I’m Ashaninka and Navajo. I have a guardian spirit from my Navajo side who watches over me—”

  “Like Grady?”

  “No, your Nightstalker friend is a soul that is stuck in this realm. A guardian spirit is one who chooses to watch over us. Some are passed down from family to family. Mine came to me when my father died.”

  “Is yours a man or a woman?”

  “Woman. Her name is Kai, which means ‘willow tree’ in Navajo. We hold the willow tree in high regard.”

  “How old is she?”

  Storm hid a smile at Evalle’s suspicious tone, confirming that he would be wise to keep the details of his recovery to a minimum. “She was in her late thirties when she died and has been a guardian for many people over something like twelve hundred years.”

  “Oh, okay. So what did she do?”

  “She watched over me while I was unconscious—” He stopped short of saying his guardian had located a human to help him.

  Evalle chewed on one side of her lower lip. “I don’t understand. Did Kai teleport you somewhere safe?”

  “She can’t do that. She cloaked and shielded my body with a field of protective energy—what you might call a smoke screen, but the smoke was invisible.”

  “Then what? Did this Kai save you with majik?”

  “No, she can’t do that either. But I’m healed now. About that e-mail from my cell phone—”

  Evalle had that stubborn look, the one she got when she would not let go of a topic. “If she can’
t save you from dying, then what did your guardian spirit do that kept you alive?”

  He could probably tolerate the low level of pain that came with skewing the truth some, but not an outright lie. Leave it to Evalle to ask a question that left him no way to give anything except a straight answer. “Kai found a human who could help me.”

  Evalle clammed up, staring at him for a long time before she asked, “How did she know which human?”

  Any attempt at maneuvering around her questions would only guarantee a worse reaction once she knew everything. “While I lay dying, I went to her in spirit form and told her I needed help and who she could trust not to kill me while I was vulnerable.”

  Disappointment in Evalle’s eyes sank his heart.

  Storm hurried to reassure her. “I sent her to you first, but she told me later that your spirit had been blocked from her.”

  Her face relaxed at that news. “No, you’re right. I must have been in the VIPER holding cell under the mountain where no one could reach me. Who did help you?”

  He debated on his answer, sure that the edge of anxiety wafting off Evalle now would only turn into roaring anger. “I want you to understand—”

  “Just spit it out, Storm,” she said, not a lick of patience in her words.

  “Adrianna.”

  Realization hit Evalle first, followed close behind by fury. “You told your guardian to fetch that Sterling witch?”

  He waited for the second part to hit Evalle, whose brilliant mind would process it right about now …

  “And you spent three weeks with Adrianna? Alone?”

  SIX

  Evalle curled the fingers on one hand, seething.

  The whole time she’d been sick with worry over Storm, he’d been with that Sterling witch.

  Adrianna. A witch who practiced dark arts, oozed sexuality with every move, and had a voice like an erotic kitten.

  She’d spent weeks with Storm. Alone.

  And hadn’t said a word to Evalle.

  That … witch!

  Tall and foreboding, Storm stood quiet as a night sentinel watching Evalle, and obviously waiting on the tempest to roll in. But he didn’t run from it.