Uh, yeah, that was the concern. “Didn’t you once use your powers to conjure a pen and instead took out the entire northeast corridor?”
Jake bared his teeth, looking more like a hairy hog posing for a family picture than a dangerous troll from his native Jotunheim. “I can control them, I—” He stopped and angled his head to listen, then frowned.
If he was screwing with Evalle again, Tzader was going to eat troll balls for breakfast. “Put it on speaker.”
“Calm down.” Jake hit a button on his little box.
A female voice came through the static intermittently. “VIPER 66—” The next part skipped, then Tzader heard, “—caid.”
“Call sign not clear,” Jake responded in a voice washed with boredom. “Repeat—”
There was no mistaking who it was anymore when Evalle’s fury-ridden voice yelled, “Open the wall … now!”
Tzader saw red. “Cut the shit, Jake. That’s Evalle and you know it.” And she was in mortal danger. The longer she was out there, baking in the sun, the closer to death she came. “Open the door, Jake.”
Jake’s eyes turned completely black. “It’s jammed again. I can’t.”
Tzader felt his knives rattling against his thighs as his fury mounted. The bastard could have kept the door open long enough for Evalle to get inside out of the sun. “Open the damn door!”
“I. Can’t!” Jake roared. “Why don’t you use your powers and open it?”
For the same reason Jake couldn’t.
No one was allowed to use powers here … except Sen.
“Get down here, Sen!” Tzader shouted, sending his voice straight into the bastard’s head. “Kincaid is coming in hot and the door’s jammed tight. If we don’t get it open, we’re going to be scraping her off your new door.” Or worse, scraping her boiled ooze off the pavement.
Sen appeared at Tzader’s side and lifted his hand, flexing his fingers at the entrance forty feet away.
Rock disintegrated.
The whine of a high-powered engine screamed ahead of the motorcycle that pierced the dense fog hanging in place of the rocks.
Evalle came in like the Ghost Rider hell-bent for his contract holder. The front tire squealed when she engaged the brakes, laying a strip of rubber across the hard rock floor. The rear tire lifted off the ground, rising chest high, while the bike skidded the last fifteen feet, then stopped eight feet in front of Tzader. It swung around and slammed down on the rear tire in a one-eighty Enduro finish, complete with the side stand down.
Evalle ripped off her full-face helmet and pitched it at Tzader like a sideways pass. He caught it without hesitation. She shoved a pair of dark sunglasses on her face, hiding her scary luminescent green eyes. But the glasses did nothing to conceal her fury, which pulsed through the room in sonic waves.
She snarled in Jake and Sen’s direction. “Which one of you bastards was trying to kill me?”
Jake went rigid. “Let’s not get into questioning each other’s parentage, shall we? After all, you’re the one with a faulty bloodline.”
Tzader cringed at what had to be the most blatant act of suicide he’d seen in awhile. Even a troll should know the limits of his stupidity.
But obviously Jake had flunked Survival 101.
Wet strands of black hair clung to Evalle’s neck and face where the Georgia heat had boiled her inside that insulated black suit she was forced to wear to keep the sun from searing her skin.
“Alterant,” Sen warned softly when she slammed a boot to the ground and stepped off the bike.
She pinned him with an acid-lined glare and a curled lip. “Don’t ‘Alterant’ me.” Tzader could swear he heard a “you prick” in that tone. “What took so long to open the wall?” She stormed across the twenty-foot space between her and Sen.
“Alterant,” Sen cautioned again.
Jake swallowed hard. “We’re evaluating a new door system and it’s got a flaw … or two.”
“Of course it does. One conveniently programmed to only act up when I’m coming in during daylight hours.” Evalle stopped inches from Jake. Standing almost six feet tall in her riding boots, she stared down the guard, whose snarly attitude waned.
He shrank under her blistering glare and flinched when she lifted her hand.
She pointed her index finger at him. “You ever hesitate to open the wall for me again when I’m treading daylight and I’ll rip off your balls and wear them for earrings.” She turned away, taking wide steps on those toned legs.
It was all Tzader could do not to smile. But he couldn’t fault her for her anger. They’d come close to ending her days, and if anyone had a right to be pissed, it was definitely her.
“Like this was my idea,” Jake mumbled.
She strode to her bike. “What lazy moron thought hydraulic doors were a good idea when there’s enough psychic juice in here at any given time to move an entire mountain?”
Sen cleared his throat and narrowed a deadly look at her. “I would be the moron who came up with that idea since I’m the one stuck opening it most of the time. Not like I have better things to do than play butler to VIPER.” His nostrils flared. “Good thing for you I was here so promptly, but don’t rush to thank me.”
She lifted a shoulder with indifference. “You the same person I should thank for hauling my ass in here during daylight?”
The look he gave her said it all. I don’t answer to you and you better remember that … bitch. “Get to the war room.” Sen vanished.
Evalle curled her lip at his departure, then smoothed out her expression as she looked at Tzader. “Thanks for getting the door open, Z.”
He inclined his head to her. “Don’t thank me too soon. I just didn’t have time to waste picking out caskets today. And speaking of your blatant death wish … could you stop antagonizing Sen?”
“Why would I ever want to do that? I’ve had no sleep in two days and he calls a red alert, knowing I’ll cook all the way here.” While Evalle kept protective motorcycle gear on her bike, it was black to help her blend in with the night, which was when she was out and about. Not the coolest color to wear in full sun. And she couldn’t ventilate it, because any bit of daylight on her skin bubbled it.
Unzipping her black jacket, she discarded the suffocating outer layer, leaving on her soaked BDU shirt and damp jeans. “So what crawled up Sen’s ass and died?”
“I don’t know. I saw Trey and Lucien here, but I haven’t been to the war room yet.”
Digging a towel out of her tank bag, she wished she could trust talking to Tzader in this place—even telepathically—but he wouldn’t want to risk Sen overhearing anything they discussed.
She whispered low to Tzader. “We need to talk …”
“Find something?” Tzader leaned heavily on the last syllable. He meant the second Cresyl she’d been hunting.
“Sort of.” She looked over at Jake, who acted as though he wasn’t tuning in to every word, but she knew better. One of his jobs was to spy for Sen. “Not here.”
Tzader nodded. “I’ll swing by your place tonight, but I’ve got to leave right now.”
She scowled at that. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a meeting without him. “What about Sen’s powwow?”
“I already told him that I’m tracking a lead on Noirre. I could stay, but I’ve got a window of time for finding someone.” He put emphasis on “someone,” clueing her in that Tzader meant his informant.
Ah, that made sense.
Far more lethal than black majik, Noirre majik was the most ancient of all and thought to be practiced only by a few covens. The Medb being one of them.
She put her towel down. “I got you. Is Quinn privy to this mission today?”
Tzader stepped close and lowered his voice. “Yes, which reminds me of something. Keep your head down in this meeting. And you better get going. You’re about to be late.”
“Don’t worry. I’d hate to cause Sen to stroke. Then again …” Wrinkling her nose at him, Eval
le grabbed a bottle of water from the nylon MotoFizz bag strapped to the back of her seat. “So why should I keep my head down? What are you worried about?”
“You. Sen said Trey would fill me in later, as if he thought I wouldn’t hear about it from you. That makes me nervous.”
Yeah, her too. She didn’t like the sound of that at all, but she dismissed it. “I’m sure Sen was just pointing out that Trey is available any time, not just at night. Like everyone else, he finds me lacking. Thinks I’m only good for intel and grunt work, nothing more.”
“Not everyone thinks of you that way.”
“I know you and Quinn don’t.” The rest of them …
She might as well be called Fido.
“Brina considers you a valuable member of our tribe.”
Yeah, right. Evalle groaned silently. Replying to that honestly would only open a debate neither of them would win. Holding Tzader and Quinn’s respect mattered more than being shunned by Brina. Evalle pulled her shoulders back and tried to sound at ease over Tzader leaving when she couldn’t entirely dismiss his concern.
He was intuitive when it came to others.
“Don’t worry, Z, I’ll be fine.”
“If not, have Trey get word to me.”
She hated that, but she wouldn’t be able to reach Tzader herself once he left. No one could break through this fortress telepathically. That always left her with a sense of unease whenever she had to come up here.
Inside mountains no one could hear you scream …
Cue the scary music.
“You’re down to two minutes. Don’t be late.” Tzader stepped away from her and raised his voice. “I’m ready to leave, Sen. Don’t forget my truck.”
By the time Evalle chugged the last of her water, Tzader had vanished. Teleported by Sen. The only thing worse than riding through the sun in full gear was teleporting. Sen had done it to her once and she’d thrown up on him when she’d arrived.
Might be one reason he didn’t like her. But it’d been a great day for her. Not often she got the last word where Sen was concerned.
She kicked off her boots and slipped on a pair of sandals before heading to the war room. The temperature this deep within the mountain was even cooler than back at the entrance. The upside of being in damp clothes was the quick chill that slid over her skin.
Reaching the war room with a minute to spare, she scoped the team assembled so far. Three men lounged around the room, all positioned to face the door with their backs to a wall. The only other Belador present was Trey McCree. He’d stretched out on a leather sofa the color of sand. Since he lived in the Atlanta area like her, he couldn’t be much happier about the run up here than she was.
On the other side of the room, in a wood-and-black-leather antigravity chair, a cowboy sprawled with a nonchalance she was sure he didn’t feel. Reece “Casper” Jordan. He’d been with VIPER for over six years and hailed from Texas—thus the bone-white Stetson hat covering his face and the snakeskin boots he always wore. His personal bane was sharing his body with a thirteenth-century ghost.
Little was known about the third guy in the room, a dark Castilian who leaned one shoulder against the rock wall. Lucien Solis. His name might mean “light,” but he was as dark as sin. No matter where he was, he studied everyone like they were test specimens he’d like to pin to a board and dissect.
“Mornin’ sunshine.” Casper grinned at her, shoving his hat up on his head as he moved the chair upright. “How do you see with those things on?” He indicated the almost opaque sunglasses she wore all the time. “Hell, I walk into stuff all the time and I can see.”
“Sunshine?” Evalle smiled at his dig at her nocturnal life. “Think I heard there were thunderstorms in the forecast for today.”
Casper grimaced. “Not funny.” After being struck by lightning during a visit to Scotland ten years ago, Casper sometimes morphed into the reincarnation of a Highland warrior who’d lived in 1260.
He’d hated storms ever since.
But honestly, she liked him a lot. Unlike most of the operatives, Casper held no allegiance to any deity or clan—only to VIPER.
Having finished off the first bottle of water, Evalle lifted a new one from an aluminum tub against the wall that was perpetually filled with bottled water, iced tea and cold drinks for them.
She settled on a second leather sofa near the entrance.
“Anybody know what this is about?” Trey scratched his head, rumpling his light brown hair, which suffered from perpetual bedhead. He sat up, dropped his feet to the stone floor and propped his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. The heather gray T-shirt and jeans he wore covered a body that would give most nightclub bouncers pause before tackling.
“I don’t have a clue.” Evalle set her water down and watched the entrance.
Trey yawned, eyes red with lack of sleep. “I could do with a little more notice next time.”
Married life must be keeping him up late. He’d taken a wife two years ago. Childhood sweetheart. A nice young witch who, along with her sister, upheld the laws of their coven and practiced a spiritual life within the bright light of peace and compassion. Beladors were rarely allowed to mate outside the tribe, but Brina had approved the marriage. Tzader had told her their union removed the emptiness inside Trey, and he was right.
Trey did seem happier these days, at peace.
Lucky bastard.
Evalle felt a twinge of something akin to envy, a stupid emotion she shoved way back in her mind. She didn’t want what he had, not if it meant the risk of being vulnerable again.
Never.
She envied the peace he felt, that was all.
Besides, she couldn’t get involved with anyone. Not until she figured out where Alterants came from and understood her place in the world. Something that was her number one priority at night whenever she had a chance to breathe.
Of course, that came after her obligations to VIPER. Then there was her job at the morgue and taking college classes online.
Yeah, she really had no life.
But this wasn’t the time or place to think about that. Right now, they had a meeting to attend.
She stifled a yawn herself. “This better be important.”
“Sen cutting into your beauty sleep, precious?” Casper winked at her.
“Like he gives a flip when any of us sleep, since he doesn’t ever seem to.” She should probably get up and walk around to keep from nodding off in this cool air.
The loud thump of boot heels approached, banging the slate floor in the long hallway. All VIPER doors were ten feet tall and four feet wide to accommodate the majority of body shapes.
“We’re waiting on two more,” Sen said as he entered. No salutations, his SOP. What agent was he allowing to arrive late? That didn’t sound like their unforgiving Sen.
And if Lucien was a mystery, Sen was a dark secret. Speculation on Sen ranged from god to demigod to the devil himself.
She’d made the Lucifer suggestion.
At six feet in height, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His black jeans rode snug against his hips. She’d seen him taller and thicker. Sen’s body seemed to be a fluid thing, never in one state for very long.
Gone was the dark chestnut ponytail he’d had at the last VIPER meeting, replaced by short, thick hair.
Trey made a sound of irritation. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a serious problem in the southeast.” Sen didn’t elaborate.
Evalle snorted. “We have problems everywhere …” When no one else spoke up, she went on. “So how big a problem are we talking and where exactly is it?”
Utter contempt radiated from Sen’s glare.
Tzader’s warning went through her head, reminding her she would gain nothing by pushing Sen.
Nothing but torture.
Still …
Who or what was he waiting on?
Sen allowed no one to delay his meetings. Something was a beat off with
all of this.
She picked up the approach of someone different. Energy and a swirl of anxiety rushed into the room and scuffed her arms. Her senses had hinted at an empathic gift for a couple years, but this was the strongest assault she’d had to date.
In that same instant the other three agents became alert.
All eyes went to the doorway as a woman entered.
Chin-length blond hair framed a perfect face. The stunning hazel eyes and smooth, unblemished skin would be enough to hate her for, but she sealed the deal with average height and a figure models tortured themselves to maintain.
Then she smiled.
In that instant, Evalle’s empathic sense went wild. As expected, she sensed lust from the men …
But what caught her off guard was a lash of hatred from one of the men so severe that when it whipped through the room she felt the sting on her skin.
What the hell was that? And who had it come from?
FIVE
“This is Adrianna Lafontaine,” Sen said as the blond female took several steps into the war room and paused as though allowing everyone to enjoy her beauty. Her fire red jacket and short skirt ordered all eyes to start at the top and continue to the sparkling red shoes.
Evalle wished she could reach Tzader right now to find out if he knew anything about Adrianna. Everything about this woman raised Evalle’s alarms.
“And this is Storm.” Sen’s second introduction yanked Evalle’s gaze to the man who’d walked in behind Adrianna.
His presence spoke louder than any introduction. Black hair fell to his shoulders—an obsidian color that was matched by his dark eyes. Sun-drenched skin and high, proud cheekbones spoke of ancestors who’d lived in North America long before invaders had shown up. Pebble-sized mixed stones interspersed with inch-long carved claws were strung on a length of rawhide tied around his neck. He wore a lightweight leather jacket over a white T-shirt tucked inside worn jeans … jeans he filled out nicely.
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