She looked up in a mock show of trying to remember. “Let me think. You mean the very first time in Piedmont Park when you turned Nightstalkers into demented ghouls that attacked me?”
“I didn’t change them. The Kujoo warlord did that.”
“I don’t see the difference since you were working with the warlord.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Do you want to know how I met Webster and Aaron or not?” He waited for her noisy sigh before continuing. “When I got a chance to slip away from the warlord, I was down in the project housing late at night when Webster and Aaron tried to mug me. I didn’t want to hurt them since they were human, but the demented ghouls had followed me and swarmed those two, then Webster and Aaron started shifting.”
“So maybe it takes an unnatural source of hostility like the sentient fog or aggressive ghouls to cause the Rías to shift.”
“Maybe.”
That supported the theory she’d worked out with Quinn. She’d have to let him and Tzader know. “The Rías I know about had no control. They just shifted and killed immediately. What about Webster and Aaron?”
“They would have, but I shifted into my Alterant beast the minute they changed.”
Evalle groaned. “VIPER would have gone crazy if they’d heard about that.”
“Screw VIPER. I can control my beast and I have no doubt you can control yours. The minute I grabbed those two guys and made it clear that I was the dominant beast, they immediately changed back into their human forms, scared shitless.”
She wasn’t acknowledging or denying that she could control her beast since no one could know that she had fully shifted once. “So fear of something more powerful that forces back their aggression snaps them out of the change?”
“That’s a possibility,” Tristan said, more to himself than her. “I spent a couple of hours with Webster and Aaron, making them shift back and forth, then explained the danger of being exposed to VIPER agents. Once I believed they could control their shifting, I stuck them in the Maze of Death to hide them.”
She remembered that place beneath the underground MARTA rail system all too well. “Weren’t you worried a dangerous spirit in there would trigger their change?”
“Not where I put them. You met the passive spirits in the chamber where I’d left those two.”
“I also met that crazy spirit with a pitchfork who stabbed you.” But she lifted her hand, stalling any further talk on the Maze. “Back to my original question. How are Rías different from Alterants?”
“From what I’ve figured out, they have super strength and some weak kinetics, but nothing like an Alterant’s powers.”
“I beg to differ. I fought one three weeks ago that slammed me with a kinetic punch that knocked me off my feet.”
“Really? That’s new. Maybe it’s hit or miss on their powers, because I haven’t met one like that.”
She tucked that into her ongoing mental file on Rías. “What else can you tell me?”
“Like I said about you and me, I think Alterants can control their beasts from the first time they change, but the Rías seem to immediately turn into aggressive beasts on attack.” Tristan paused. “I think the difference is our blood. We carry Belador blood, but maybe they don’t.”
Evalle considered everything he said, then argued, “But there were reports of Alterants who shifted and killed, several in the Southeast in the past year.”
“I heard about those reports,” Tristan echoed with a heavy dose of accusation. “Who says so? Macha and Brina? But you haven’t witnessed an Alterant turning into a mindless beast, have you?”
“No.” Much as she hated to feed Tristan’s distrust of Macha and Brina, Evalle had to admit he had a valid point.
“And that’s why I’m getting my group somewhere safe soon.”
Evalle snapped her fingers, excited. “Wait. I haven’t told you the good news. That’s why I’ve been trying to find you. Macha is the one who got me out of prison. She petitioned the Tribunal for Alterants to be recognized as a viable race … and, wait for it, Macha has offered amnesty to all Alterants who come forward and swear loyalty to her. They’ll be safe as long as they can keep their beasts under control.”
Tristan listened with interest, unable to hide his surprise at that last declaration.
She beamed at her accomplishment. “See? You can stay.”
He started shaking his head. “I can’t give her or the Beladors that kind of trust, not after what they did to me.”
Evalle tried not to lose her patience with him since he’d been locked away inside a spellbound enclosure in a South American jungle … twice. But he couldn’t turn his back on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
With Macha, this could mean a life-or-death opportunity.
“This is a limited offer with a short time span, Tristan.”
He scoffed at her. “That’s what I mean. So much for a sincere offer.”
“It is sincere, but I haven’t been able to find one Alterant in three weeks to bring forward as a show of good faith from our kind. And now an Alterant—or a Rías—has killed one of Dakkar’s bounty hunters, so Dakkar’s screaming for justice.” She could see his disgust at her taking Macha’s side in this, but fair was fair. “How can Macha stand before a Tribunal and support us when no Alterant besides me is willing to come forward?”
Tristan’s gaze traveled everywhere but her face. He muttered, “She should have thought about that five years ago when she had Brina lock me up for no reason.”
“I’m not discounting what she did to you, but things have changed and she’s making you—and every other Alterant—an offer you aren’t going to find anywhere else. She’ll probably accept Webster and Aaron, too, once we show her their control.”
“There is no way in hell I’m trusting any offer from Macha.”
Evalle kept her voice calm and understanding. “You’re the only person I’ve met who claims to have information on the origin of Alterants and what we all have in common.”
“It’s not just a claim and it’s more about our origins in particular. Mine, yours and my sister’s.”
“Okay. Great. I need that information and your help now while we have this chance to become a recognized race. You may be willing to live with a target on your back forever, but other Alterants deserve the chance for freedom.”
That must have struck a chord in Tristan. He leaned forward as if reconsidering his stance, then shook off some thought and sat back, arms crossed. “I’m not sharing anything unless you talk to my guy.”
They were back to that. “If I agree to go with you tonight, then in return I want you to talk to Brina about Alterants.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not meeting with Brina or Macha. The minute I come out of hiding, I’ll lose any hope of getting back to my sister or leaving the country with my group.”
“VIPER is everywhere, Tristan. There is no safe place where you won’t be hunted.”
His mouth set in a stubborn line. She was not going to get him to budge on that point. “If I can guarantee that you can walk away, would you consider speaking to the Tribunal?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Can you guarantee that?”
“I have to talk to Tzader first. If he says he can do it, then you’ll be safe. So what do you say?”
“Meet with my guy and I’ll talk to Tzader. If he convinces me I can’t be trapped, then I’ll consider a meeting on neutral ground.”
That was a step closer, but Evalle needed to end up with something tangible tonight. “Okay, but as a minimum I want what you have on Alterants before I leave tonight’s meeting.”
“Agreed.”
Finally. She finished off the calamari and followed him outside. “Give me a minute to stop by my bike.”
He turned around. “No. We’re leaving straight from the club. It’s the only way to be sure you won’t have a weapon.”
“I won’t use my dagger on anyone �
�� if I don’t have to.”
“No weapons. That was the one requirement this guy made from the first minute I met him, and I’ve stuck by it. I’ve been around him for three weeks. He’s not a threat. Even if he was, between the two of us, he’s no match.”
“You want me to just trust you?”
“Says the woman who wants me to walk into Macha’s lair.”
“Never mind. Let’s go.” She still had the blades in her boots.
When Tristan reached a four-door Toyota, a rental car, Evalle noted how the license plate had mud over the numbers. She’d settled into the passenger seat when Tristan tossed a wad of cloth onto her lap and said, “Put that on.”
She picked up the black bag. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack. I agreed not to let you know where I was taking you and that you wouldn’t bring anyone with you.”
“If that’s the case, why don’t you just teleport me, or can’t you still do that?”
“I can, but my sister, Webster and Aaron are at a different location this guy’s people are guarding. I can’t teleport long distance two times in a row easily, so I’m conserving my power in case I ever need to get to my sister quickly.”
That meant he could teleport away as soon as Evalle met this other guy and leave Evalle stranded. “I’m not comfortable with this, Tristan.”
His sigh stretched into a growl. “Look, I didn’t want to say this until you spoke to my guy, but you really need to talk to him for your own safety.”
“Why?”
“Remember when we were underground in the Maze of Death with Kizira?”
“I tend to remember near-death experiences, so, yes.”
“Did you tell anyone that Kizira said Quinn told her where to find you?”
“No.”
That shocked Tristan. “Not even Quinn?”
“He’s been gone for the past three weeks, too, and just got back tonight. I’d be discussing it with him right now if not for meeting you.”
“What about Tzader?”
“No,” she said louder. “I’m not throwing any suspicion on Quinn based on something that Medb witch said.”
“This guy says Quinn did tell Kizira how to find you.”
“How could he know?” Evalle fisted her fingers, unwilling to believe Quinn had betrayed her but needing the truth.
“He says Quinn is tied to the traitor.”
“What?”
“End of discussion. Put the bag on your head and don’t try to contact anyone telepathically. I’ll be able to hear it.”
Evalle lifted the sack and took a deep breath she let out slowly. Her pulse hit panic pace, but she couldn’t back out this close to finding answers on the traitor.
And on Quinn.
SEVEN
Tzader hated being out of his body.
Felt creepy every time.
Purplish haze blurred his vision when he traveled in hologram. This beat not seeing Brina at all. His physical body couldn’t pass through the warding at Treoir Castle. No immortal, except Brina or Macha, could enter without dying.
Brina’s father had installed that little safety feature to protect his only daughter when he and his sons went to battle the Medb four years ago. None of the male Treoirs had returned alive and that had left Brina the lone survivor, stuck in Treoir Castle.
I shouldn’t be immortal. Tzader loved his father, but the man had done his part to doom him and Brina, too. On the way to battle alongside the Treoir men, Tzader’s father had asked Macha that if he died in battle, to make his only child immortal.
Then his dad had died that night, fighting beside Brina’s.
Tzader’s life would be a tragic comedy if he could find any humor in this screwed-up situation.
The distorted sensation of winding through a vortex of blurred colors calmed until he floated in a cloudlike haze. Entrance to the castle required Brina to offer invitation each time Tzader visited in holographic form.
He called to her telepathically. Brina, I’m here.
At one time, he’d have gotten an immediate answer. A breathless answer filled with anticipation.
Nothing. He shouldn’t be surprised since he hadn’t heard from her in weeks and their last meeting had ended poorly, but as the minutes stretched on, the delay bordered on insult.
You are welcome to enter, Tzader Burke.
He considered several smart replies and decided raising her hackles would not set the right tone for this meeting.
When the cloud dissipated, he stood in hologram form inside the great hall of Treoir Castle.
And there was Brina. She lounged on a sofa her da had carved from the trunk of a tree. It was intricately detailed with Celtic family emblems. Hair the color of a river on fire lay across her shoulders in a loose, tousled way that took him back to when he could touch her and run his hands through the fine strands.
The triangular Celtic Triquetra, mark of the Beladors, had been stitched in white on the cuffs of her radiant deep-green gown. This woman had taken his breath away when she’d worn baggy pants and a faded shirt for training as a warrior.
He’d waited four long years to touch her again and would wait an eternity if Macha had not forced a promise from him to allow Brina to move on with her life and marry.
According to Macha, Brina claimed she was ready to produce an heir.
Without Tzader.
He’d never suffered a wound so painful as how those words had gutted him.
Macha made it sound like a case of logic. The Beladors needed a Treoir heir to safeguard their future. Brina couldn’t leave, and Tzader couldn’t enter.
Tzader had been raised to understand that sacrifice was part of being a warrior, but he’d never expected to give up something so precious.
“You’ve a report?” Brina asked with a brisk efficiency that exaggerated her Irish lilt.
“Hello to you, too,” he snapped back at her, leaving off Your Highness at the end. Why did she sound as though he were interrupting her day? She’d called this meeting after all.
“Very well. Hello, Tzader. I’m wantin’ news on the traitor. Have you run down the rat yet?”
She’d had the same uncharacteristic waspish tone last time, part of the reason Tzader had given in to Macha’s wishes. In that last meeting, Brina had been clear about both of them accepting their impossible situation.
Ready to move on. That’s how she’d put it.
He admitted, “Nothing on the traitor yet.”
“I expected to be hearin’ we were closer to findin’ O’Meary.” She sat more upright, her fingers flitting around until they settled together in her lap.
Nervous? Was she as unhappy about ending their relationship as he was? Maybe reconsidering …
Her gaze had been as active as her hands until she glanced up and caught him studying her. That put a steel rod in her backbone and grit in her voice. “I still cannot believe he escaped from VIPER lockdown. ’Tis unheard of. Someone must have helped him.”
“I agree.” And I accept the blame since the responsibility is all mine and I just hope— Tzader paused mentally when a guard entered the room from the front hall.
Like all Treoir guards, this one wore an emerald-green and black vest with black pants and a Belador sword in a scabbard that hung against his back.
As Tzader started to admonish the guard for interrupting a meeting, Brina turned her head and … smiled? “I’ll be with you in a minute, Allyn. This won’t be takin’ long.”
The guard—Allyn?—nodded and retreated to the main hall.
She resumed her imperial pose where she perched on the sofa, and her personality flatlined again. “As you were sayin’, Tzader?”
“We’ve had an unusual number of gang battles.”
“Oh, please. If I were wantin’ a crime report, I’d be askin’ Macha for satellite television.”
Don’t snap at her. “This isn’t about local human issues. We’ve found trolls involved in several of the attacks.”<
br />
“I do read your briefings, so how is this news?”
“The trolls alone aren’t news. But things changed tonight. We had a Rías shift and a Svart troll involved.” He watched her face for any sign of concern, because Brina knew how dangerous the Svarts were.
She stilled, masking her thoughts until she finally asked softly, “Was anyone injured?”
In the past she would have wanted to know that he was okay first. Tzader shrugged. “The usual, but no casualties on our side. Evalle fought the Rías and the Svart.”
Unease slipped through Brina’s lack of expression before she contained it again. Lifting her chin and looking off at nothing in particular, she waved a casual hand. “Evalle would be best equipped for facin’ somethin’ so dangerous.”
Where had the Brina he’d known gone?
That Brina would want to face him at eye level, not sit there lounging like the princess she’d never wanted to be.
His Brina would have been pacing the floor, rattling off questions to be assured that her warriors were all safe. Even Evalle. Brina would be demanding to know who did what and strategizing their next move.
Tzader added, “I had to authorize Quinn to use extreme force on the Rías or it would have killed Evalle.”
“Understood. An’ what of the Svart? Was Quinn able to retrieve information to shed light on these battles?”
“He didn’t get a chance before the Svart died.”
Brina nodded, speaking as much to herself as anyone else when she said, “Aye, a Svart will always take his own life before allowin’ himself to be captured or interrogated.”
“Evalle actually ended up killing him.”
“Before Quinn could search his mind?” Brina sat up, fingers tense, gripping the cushions on each side of her. “What was she thinkin’?”
“She was trying to survive,” Tzader said in a voice one bump louder than Brina’s. “The Svart had a chain wrapped around her neck.”
“What about her powers?”
“She was fighting the Rías, too. She did the best she could.”
“Knowin’ Evalle, she didn’t wait for anyone to help an’ just kicked the Svart’s butt herself. You defend her no matter what she does.”
The Curse (Beladors) Page 7
