The Curse (Beladors)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Or to show any concern about her being buckled up.

  Not that she’d needed his help, which meant she had to have the most contrary emotions to feel hurt over the way he’d ignored her this time. She hadn’t considered what Isak meant to her before today because of their bizarre friendship, but she already missed what they’d had.

  Riding with someone who hated you sucked.

  She’d had good reasons for not telling him the truth, but somewhere inside her cluttered heart she admitted that he deserved an apology. “I’m sorry, Isak.”

  Still no reply.

  “What’s it gonna take to fix this?”

  Not a word from the driver’s seat.

  She could appreciate his reason for being angry. Still, he of all people should understand why someone like her had to protect her identity. Especially to shield it from one of the few humans capable of killing her in a one-on-one battle.

  She tried a different tack. “I like Kit.”

  “Stay away from her.”

  Four whole words spoken in a command, but she’d take that over brooding silence. Keeping her voice light, she pointed out, “Did you miss that Kit ordered me to see her again? You may be able to ignore her, but she scares the stuffing out of me.”

  Had his lips twitched?

  Maybe she’d hit on the right topic. She kept going. “I saw the way those men jumped to attention. And who wouldn’t when a human woman is fearless in front of nonhumans? Easy to see why your men all respect her.”

  She could swear Isak’s jaw softened.

  What else could she say to keep the stubborn man talking? She’d been making progress with the truth, but he’d been right about one thing. She had no parental experience to draw upon. “I can’t imagine growing up with a mother, especially one like Kit. You’re lucky to have her.”

  She hadn’t intended to be quite so honest, but the longing in her voice had been as real and true as her words.

  It still took Isak a moment to respond. His words came slowly when he did speak, as if he didn’t want to allow this conversation to keep rolling and pick up speed toward actually communicating again. “I know.”

  Two words, both filled with admiration and love.

  She’d never envied a human anything other than the ability to walk in the sun, but she coveted what Isak had—a parent who cared deeply for him. Someone he’d known since birth.

  She let him drive silently while she considered how else she could widen the tiny opening he’d allowed. Killing demons was a whole lot easier than dealing with cranky men. She could ask him about the weapon Kit had loaned her, but Isak’s man Lambert had gone through the operation of the weapon with her—because Isak wouldn’t. To be honest, a monkey could hit a moving target with that custom superblaster.

  The Nyght family built impressive kill toys.

  “She likes you.”

  Evalle jerked around at the unexpected words from Isak. “Really?”

  “She likes the forklift driver, too.”

  In other words, don’t go taking what he’d said about Kit’s liking her to heart. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. Kit’s hard as nails on the outside with a gooey center. Worst person I ever saw for taking on the broken refuse. Thinks she can save everyone.”

  Now Evalle understood why he’d decided to speak to her. He wanted to make it clear how low she ranked on the scale of life in his world. Not worth saving.

  All her good intentions toward Isak dissolved with that ice pick to the heart. The muscles in her neck clenched at the need to yell at him that she was not some homeless animal. She hated being treated like a dangerous creature who had no control over killing others, but more than that?

  She hated being pitied.

  She was not a loser and did not need him, Kit or anyone else saving her.

  Isak scratched his head, then grumbled something under his breath and elbowed the door panel hard enough to crack it. That wasn’t going to improve his mood.

  Evalle’s resolve not to snap at Isak crumbled under his whip of anger. The man couldn’t ride for a few more minutes in peace? Was sitting inside a vehicle with her so abhorrent?

  He clearly had something he wanted to say and might as well say it now.

  “What, Isak? Think of some new insult? By all means, don’t waste your chance to get back at me for being born. Go ahead and tell me whatever you’re grumbling about, because you won’t get another opportunity.” Not if she had anything to say about it. What did she need with him as a friend?

  A friend who insulted her.

  “Yeah, I’ve got something else to say,” he admitted glumly. “Kit would be pissed with me if she heard what I just said. That forklift driver’s a good guy and a brilliant combat engineer life kicked in the nuts. She wouldn’t consider you or him as broken or refuse … and neither do I.”

  Evalle’s thoughts stumbled all over themselves at the unexpected admission. Why would Isak tell her the truth when he had plenty of reasons for being ticked off at her?

  Anyone else would use that opening to vent.

  She knew why Isak hadn’t. He had a personal code of honor. The same one that had stilled his trigger finger when he’d discovered her identity as an Alterant and his heart had screamed at him to shoot, that she deserved to die.

  That all Alterants had to pay for the death of his friend.

  She’d feel the same in his shoes if someone had killed Tzader or Quinn. But just like her two best friends, Isak was a man of honor.

  This friend business could be so messy and complicated some days. Just like the situation with Quinn and that he’d lied to her about what he’d told Kizira. What was she going to do about Quinn? Should she give him another chance to explain? Storm had confirmed at least a part of what Sam Thomas had tried to tell Evalle. Her chest ached from feeling betrayed by someone she’d lay her life down for, and the pain would not subside until she found out if he was truly guilty or not.

  But Kit had given Evalle the benefit of the doubt—a second chance. Could she do any less for Quinn? And what about Isak? He could have killed Evalle and Kit wouldn’t have said a word, but he hadn’t.

  So she shouldn’t give up on trying to keep Isak as a friend.

  Once Isak pulled inside the parking garage and parked next to her motorcycle, Evalle took her time unbuckling her seat belt to give him long enough to come around to her side.

  She wanted to grin, but didn’t. The gentleman in him had to open her door.

  Taking in a deep breath, she schooled her face to be calm and prepared to take one more shot at parting under better terms. She had an idea—one that might backfire on her, but she’d gambled her safety on worse odds.

  When he opened her door, he moved back, stopping between her and her bike.

  She climbed out and took a slow step toward him, watching to see if he’d flinch or back away.

  Like a wall of determination, he didn’t budge.

  She closed the space between them to inches, then lifted her hands slowly and gripped the lapels of his shirt. When he didn’t shove her away, she pulled herself up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  He didn’t lower his head or kiss her back, but he wasn’t entirely indifferent either. She’d opened her empathic senses and picked up a flush of heat coming off him. The kind of heat she’d recently figured out meant interest from a man.

  Easing back down, she released his shirt and said, “I am your friend.”

  He didn’t respond. Just stood there like an Isak statue.

  Turning around to the Hummer, she retrieved the modified viola case that held the compact weapon and slung the strap over her shoulder. She’d settled the case across her back when energy stirred through the air.

  Something strong and tense.

  Spinning around slowly, she searched the dark parking deck for a hint of what that could have been, listening for a sound. Human … or other?

  “Evalle?” Isak said in an even tone.

&nb
sp; That drew her full attention. “Yes?”

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  Well, crud. She’d never figure out men. This one just used up all his good deals and the last dregs of her patience. “You can bank on me not ever kissing you again.”

  He stepped up to her, crowding her comfort zone. Did he think she’d back away? Not a chance.

  His big hand came up slowly to her cheek. “That’s not what I meant.”

  There weren’t enough hours in a day to figure out how a man’s brain worked. “What did you mean?”

  “Don’t ever just …” He leaned closer, whispering, “Peck me and call it a kiss.” His lips touched hers, warm and simmering with heat.

  She barely had a chance to catch her breath before he took it away with his kiss. Nothing like the last time he’d kissed her, which had been gentle and sweet. This was a bold kiss, one she wouldn’t soon forget. He slipped his hands around her neck and back, drawing her in closer with each pass of his lips over hers.

  Her skin tingled with excitement, a warm feeling that reached her toes and started back up her body. She’d just gotten her bearings when the kiss ended as abruptly as it had started.

  She licked her lips, trying to figure out how she felt about that kiss. That very sensual kiss, which had started out as only a let’s-stay-friends kiss. At least on her part.

  When he pulled back, dark satisfaction ringed his harsh eyes. He touched her chin with one finger and said, “Just a warning for the next time I see you.”

  What exactly was he warning her about? “Does this mean we have a truce?”

  “Truce.” With that, he dropped his hand and walked around, climbing into the Hummer.

  Another wave of energy swept past her, much fiercer this time.

  She opened her empathic senses all the way, searching quickly to figure out what was hovering nearby.

  The energy retreated, but she picked up a cold rage so chilling her skin pebbled in reaction.

  Isak cranked his engine and looked her way, waiting until she waved him off before he backed up and left.

  The minute the Hummer disappeared, Evalle lingered to see if the energy continued to pulse, but nothing followed that last quick rush. Who, or what, had been watching her and Isak?

  Another Rías?

  She lifted the strap off her shoulder, bringing the viola case around to sit on her bike seat where she could access the weapon inside.

  A deep male voice that belonged to her favorite Nightstalker rumbled with Southern undertones. “Don’t tell me you done gone and started violin lessons. I ain’t listenin’ to no screechin’, so don’t come ’round here to practice.”

  Evalle looked over her shoulder to find the translucent image of Grady in his usual red-and-black-plaid, short-sleeved shirt and wrinkled trousers a size too big for his tall, bony frame. He hadn’t aged beyond sixty-eight, the age he’d been when he’d died well over a decade ago. “I didn’t ask you to listen to me play, old man, and this case is for a viola, not for a violin.”

  “Why don’t you git a gee-tar?”

  She heaved a sigh and stood the case against the back wheel of her bike. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Watchin’ your pitiful excuse for a love life.”

  That meant Grady had been here long enough to witness her kissing Isak. “Can we move this along? Why are you here and not over by the hospital?”

  When he’d failed to give her a name the first time she’d met him, Evalle had started calling him Grady due to finding him always around Grady Hospital.

  He got that ornery-old-cuss look. “Gotta shake if you wanna know what I know.”

  She hadn’t shaken hands with him since she’d made the mistake of doing it too long one night out of sympathy when she should only have been shaking for intel. The result had allowed Grady to take human form with no help at times and hold that form longer than he should.

  “What happened to taking human form any time you want, Grady?”

  “I never said any time.” He bunched his lips and squinted one eye in a stare meant to let her know she’d aggravated him.

  She grinned, refusing to make this easy. The wily old dog could outmaneuver the best of VIPER agents. Shaking too quickly would cost her more next time.

  Grady gave up on his mean look and turned pouty. “I can still do it some on my own, but I had to use up my solid form to come here.”

  “Why? What was going on here?”

  “Nuh-uh. You know the rules.”

  Now she shoved an ornery look at him. “All right, but this needs to be quick.”

  “Like Ironman said, ‘Waitin’ on you now.’”

  She’d ask him where he’d seen that movie, but she didn’t have the time to waste on chitchat.

  When his filmy hand connected with Evalle’s, heat flushed through her hand and arm with the power she generated.

  Grady’s form turned opaque, as if someone had poured cocoa-brown pigment into his body. Even the faded colors on his shirt sharpened. His face muscles relaxed into an unguarded smile that always gave her a warm feeling in her chest.

  “Start talking, old man. What were you doing here?”

  Grady stretched his arms as if just waking up, then wiped his wrinkled mouth in a patent sign that he wanted a drink, but she had nothing to offer him this time and he knew it. He said, “You don’t want to know about the Svart trolls first?”

  “What have you got on them?” He’d more than earn this handshake if he had information on Svarts.

  “They’re stirrin’ up all this gang mess.”

  “We know that.”

  “Bet you don’t know how many are here.”

  She’d heard Horace tell everyone last night that the Svarts often worked in teams of two or four, so she expected more than one. “How many?”

  “Eight came into the city and—”

  “Eight? Crap!”

  “Save all that exasperation for the bad news.” Grady licked his lips and scratched his grizzly beard. “There’s more comin’.”

  “Why? What do they want?” Evalle had the best snoop in the underworld of Atlanta standing in front of her. Grady always had more pertinent information than any other Nightstalker she could name.

  “Don’t know. But those Svarts are plannin’ for more trolls like the local ones to arrive as soon as the Svarts finish somethin’. Sounds sort of like a troll convention in the makin’ with Svarts runnin’ the show.”

  She chewed on that mentally. “What could be worth their facing off with VIPER, especially this division?”

  “Somethin’ they been promised once they finish their job would be my bet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our world—the unnatural one—don’t work like human-world logic. If the Svarts are here now, it’s to do somethin’ for a powerful group. And if they’re plannin’ on callin’ in all kind of trolls soon, that makes me think whoever they got a deal with has the Svarts believin’ VIPER ain’t gonna be able to protect this country soon.”

  Unimaginable. But she’d seen enough in her five short years, since becoming a Belador warrior at eighteen, to know that anything in her world was possible. “Svarts are pretty powerful, but I don’t see where eight are a force to match with VIPER. I’m not wishing more trolls of any kind to deal with, but if the Svarts intend to bring in more, why aren’t all those extra trolls here now?”

  “My guess would be that the Svarts are waitin’ to call in the rest after someone else clears the way.”

  She tapped her forehead, drawing together all the bits and pieces she’d gleaned and adding those to Grady’s information. “I’m confused. If the Svarts believe they’re capable of taking down the North American division of VIPER, which I hope can’t happen, why would they wait on anyone else to pave the way?”

  “You ain’t listenin’. Svarts do exactly what they contract for. If they’re holdin’ off callin’ in more trolls, it’s probably because the folks the Svarts made a deal with
are the ones that are gonna take down VIPER, not the Svarts.”

  Pieces of the puzzle started flying at her, demanding to be put into place. “Who could possibly think—”

  “You ain’t lookin’ at the big picture.”

  That wrenched her attention back to him. “How much bigger should I think beyond seeing this world destroyed by a bunch of trolls led by seriously dangerous ones?”

  Grady gave her an indulgent look and switched into his all-knowing—and much better educated—teacher tone, which popped up at the most unexpected times, hinting at a past that contradicted his homeless persona. “What’s the backbone of VIPER, the strongest force within the coalition?”

  “The Beladors.”

  “Right, so it stands to reason that whoever made a deal with these ugly cannibals may have a plan to take down the Bel-a-dors,” he stressed as if he spoke to a slow student. “If that is the case, then maybe the Svart only have to accomplish whatever their mission is, then wait for their client to destroy the Beladors, which would gut VIPER. Once that happens, the Svart can call in their other buddies and turn Atlanta into Troll Central. Then the whole US of A.”

  Could he be right? Could this be about the Beladors? And, if so, that would make the Svart client … “The Medb could be behind this.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  She flexed her fingers in and out, ready to get moving. Grady had put together a lot of information. “Did you figure out all that on your own?”

  He scratched his neck, jumping back into his street persona. “Naw.”

  “Got anything else to tell me?”

  “Only that those things are huntin’ you.”

  Just like Storm had told her when he’d followed a Svart’s trail to her bike this morning while she met with Quinn. “So that’s why you came to find me.”

  “Had to since you ain’t got sense enough to stay outta trouble.” He cut his eyes at her with intent. “Next time, you best have a bottle if you want to trade.”

  Grady knew some places to hunt for her, but he wouldn’t have known to locate her bike in this deserted parking deck. “How did you find me?”