"Then you have no desire to go back or to have anyone from there find you?"
"Correct on both accounts. I want to return to my safe little corner of the world." Besides, Quinn was never going to look for her. "Can I go home now? Are we done?"
"You may go home. However, we are not done. You did not satisfy my request, but I'm generous in heart so I will allow you another opportunity to make good on your debt."
Reese rolled her eyes, not even caring at this point if she got swatted. She laughed to herself. If she had to deal with him again to get her powers, it couldn't be as bad as this last trip, right?
The lights dimmed in the dome. Her eyelids grew heavy and dropped.
She tried to shake off the sluggish feeling, but she slept deeply until a honking horn woke her.
Her eyes popped open.
She was standing inside her apartment in San Diego. At least Yaahl hadn't dumped her in the yard or the middle of the street. Gibbons!
She couldn't wait to get a big sloppy hug from her dog, but she was filthy and starving.
After racing through a shower and throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, she was making a sandwich when the door opened and Gibbons came barreling in. She turned just in time to catch his paws when he jumped on her, whining and licking. Dogs were a gift to humans.
They loved unconditionally and missed you when you were gone. Gibbons always knew when she needed a hug.
Right behind him, a sweet girl with pink hair--this week--and a dazzling smile walked in carrying his leash and laughing. A tiny diamond in her nose winked. "I saw your Jeep outside and figured you'd be ready for company."
Yaahl had returned her Jeep?
Without thinking, she glanced toward the corner by the sofa, where she normally kept her shotgun and short sword stashed. There sat the innocuous-looking backpack made of heavy, rip-proof canvas, with the lock fastened on the zipper.
Well, well.
Reese might just have to thank him next time they met if it wasn't another ten years down the road. She said, "Yeah, just got back. How's it going with your boyfriend, Snook?"
"He's an idiot. I'm on to the next one." Snook made herself at home and fixed a half sandwich, then started chomping on it.
Gibbons finally dropped down to stand shoved up against Reese's leg. She buried her fingers in his thick, curly hair, so damn happy to be home even if she didn't have her powers back.
Snook asked, "How was your trip? We missed you."
Reese smiled at the fact that people did care for her. Yaahl had told her when she first left his realm to live on her own that she couldn't have her powers back until she would respect them. He'd told her she was closed off from everyone and that a person didn't need powers to be alone. Last, he'd said that powers shouldn't be wasted on someone with a death wish.
She'd left ten years ago, angry and determined to hunt demons in spite of his accusation.
The burning anger had subsided.
She'd fight a demon if need be, but after this last trip, she had no desire to hunt them.
Maybe he'd been right and she'd had a death wish at one time, but now?
Things did feel different. She felt different.
She wanted more out of life than just existing. It had taken meeting Quinn and seeing herself in him for that to happen. He had so much life to live, but he was burying it under guilt.
So had she. No more.
Don't think about Quinn.
It hurt to put him behind her, but he was not part of her world now.
Reese answered, "My trip turned out better than I would have expected. I missed both of you, too." She was so damned glad to have her home and this neighborhood. "Want to have popcorn and a movie here tonight to celebrate my being home?"
"Yes! Let me tell Donella you're home so she'll know where I am. Be right back."
Donella was her foster mother. The woman could be a bit stern at times, but Reese liked her, recognizing her maternal instinct and that she cared deeply for the girl.
Gibbons barked at Snook.
Reese said, "Now he misses you more than me."
"That's only because I spoiled him at lunch." Then she was gone. Reese and Gibbons went into the living room, where she found a houseplant in a painted clay pot, one of Snook's signature creations.
It had a small card sitting in front of it.
Reese smiled. She'd been telling Snook that people spend too much time online and don't appreciate the value of a written note until they get one. For the two years Reese had lived here, she'd been writing Snook notes.
She always wrote a thank you note for watching Gibbons and sometimes included a gift card to Snook's favorite clothing store.
Opening the envelope, Reese warmed at the message from a young girl who was on her way to charming the world.
Reese -
Thanks for working so much this summer on my self-defense skills. My ex-boyfriend wasn't thrilled when I made him sorry for trying to stick his hand down my pants. You'd have been proud of me. My new boyfriend saw what happened and was very impressed with me, so he's showing me a few more moves I'm practicing. Can't wait to show you.
Anyhow, please don't kill this plant. It just needs a little love.
Phoedra, aka Snook
*
Grab a copy of Belador Cosaint: Book 9 for more epic adventure.
Continue reading for a sneak peek at the next story.
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Sneak peek at BELADOR COSAINT
Quinn moved with stealth toward a rusty railroad trestle ten feet high, which spanned a narrow creek feeding straight into the Chattahoochee River on Atlanta's west side. The trickle of water barely qualified it as a creek.
He held up a hand for Devon, the Belador warrior following him, to wait a moment. His other teammates, Evalle and Tristan, were approaching along the river from the other side of the railway. He had to give credit to the murdering trolls.
They'd chosen well for a hideout.
They'd have remained hidden, too, if they hadn't started killing adults and kidnapping children.
Giving Devon a hand signal, Quinn continued on, preparing to insert his team and rescue kidnapped human teenagers from dangerous preternaturals.
It would be simpler if Quinn and his people didn't have to hide whatever happened from humans in the area.
Rush hour traffic had started hours ago, but still slogged along the interstate fifty yards away where six lanes crossed the river.
At least now it was dark. Between that and today being Monday, he had less chance of his team getting seen by some sporting enthusiast floating down the Hooch, as this part of the river was known locally. On the other hand, the city was enjoying warm temperatures for early April. Some adventuresome spring breaker might decide to get wet.
Eyeing the trestle ahead, Quinn shook his head. What had triggered this insane action?
The local trolls had to be out of their minds to harm any human, but to go after families of Belador warriors was suicidal. Beladors had even stopped a preternatural who'd been killing trolls last year.
Relations had been pretty decent, until now.
In the latest attack at a midtown home, a mother had been found dead, mangled, and her two teenagers missing. That made f
ive attacks in two days.
Three dead and a total of eight teenagers taken.
So far.
Those two words twisted his gut. No child should fear being kidnapped.
What about my child? Who is watching over her?
Quinn's chest tightened with pain. Weeks of searching for a child he'd learned of only recently, and he'd turned up nothing. He had a duty to save these teenagers first, then he'd go right back to hunting Phoedra.
Devon tapped his shoulder.
Quinn turned to see what the Cajun wanted.
Evalle and Tristan were Alterants, mixed-blood Beladors, with bright green eyes they hid behind dark sunglasses, but they had natural night vision.
Like Quinn, Devon was a full-blooded Belador with supernatural powers, but they had to utilize night vision monoculars. Quinn looked down to where Devon had located four-toed footprints heading toward the dark underpass. Each toe had a deep claw mark.
That confirmed the intel.
Nodding, he turned to move ahead. He and his team had finally gotten a break on today's heinous crime, which led them to this location.
Good thing since Storm wouldn't be back until later this evening. Evalle's Skinwalker mate could track any scent, even a preternatural one, in his human form or as a black jaguar. He'd been in Roanoke, Virginia, for the last twenty-four hours helping a short-handed Belador team dealing with similar attacks there.
Six hours had passed since a Belador father here in Atlanta, just off patrol, had walked into his house expecting to find his family getting ready for a spring break trip.
Instead, the Belador had found food scattered around the kitchen island, his wife ripped into pieces and his two children missing.
Quinn continued moving slowly toward the underpass.
His team was exceptional, but they were also friends he didn't want to see harmed. As their Belador Maistir, he ordered people into danger all the time, but everything about these attacks said this was not a normal situation.
He did a mental eye roll at that thought.
Talk about an oxymoron.
Everything Beladors confronted fell under the heading of abnormal.
Reaching the spot where he and Devon were to watch for Evalle and Tristan, Quinn dropped into a crouch behind a small bush to scan the area. From the other side of the narrow rail bridge, Evalle removed her dark sunglasses, exposing her glowing green eyes. She blinked twice at Quinn to signal that she and Tristan were in place.
Quinn gave a hand signal of confirmation, then looked over his shoulder at Devon, who crouched close behind him. Quinn gave the signal to move out. Devon had limited telepathic ability, but the Cajun could move in this environment as silently as a lizard.
Speaking mind-to-mind would be simpler, but Quinn had been the one to caution against using telepathy unless they had no other choice.
Until recently, no one besides other Beladors or their Treoir rulers could communicate with a Belador telepathically. The one exception to this rule being select Beladors who could reach the VIPER liaison, Sen. But the Laochra Fola, an enemy group related to Beladors, had appeared in Atlanta recently with the ability to pick up their telepathic messages.
As if trolls weren't enough to contend with?
Quinn opened his senses wide as he picked his way over rutted ground that deteriorated further every time foul weather drove the water hard through here.
He smelled rotting foliage, but no trash.
Another sign this had to be the right place.
Trolls kept the area leading to their nest free of human debris.
Dirt had been piled against one shoulder of the underpass.
Using his telekinetic ability, Quinn pushed gently at the loose earth. The dirt shifted aside easily, meaning it hadn't been in that spot very long.
As he used his power to quietly clear dirt out of the way, a rough-cut, wooden covering five feet across and six feet tall came into view.
No hinges.
It should lift away, but what waited on the other side?
Cutting his eyes around, he signaled Evalle and Tristan to watch their backs.
Quinn motioned Devon into position on the opposite side of the wood covering.
Devon moved with Belador hyper-speed.
Since they were somewhat hidden, humans shouldn't see anything unusual that happened down here unless this turned into a battle of power and majik that exploded in bright bursts.
Letting out a slow breath, Quinn lifted his hands and nodded at Devon, who mirrored his moves.
They each raised one side of the wood hatch by using kinetic power, and moved it an inch at a time until Devon took control of the cover and slipped it softly to the ground.
No one came flying out with a mouthful of sharp teeth, but trolls wouldn't need to when they could wait in the perfect ambush spot.
Quinn squatted to look inside.
Stone stairs went down, disappearing into a black hole.
That could lead to a simple, large room if the trolls hadn't been here long, or if they'd had more time, to a maze of tunnels.
He hated tunnels. Only one way in and one way out unless you had inside information.
The trolls would have an exit plan, but they'd also keep it well hidden, which made for a perfect trap if someone was crazy enough to break into a troll nest.
Schedule me for a psych eval as soon as this is over.
Quinn ducked his tall frame into the hole, glad he'd worn cargo pants for ease of movement. They were all outfitted in similar black clothing from neck to toe.
The air had a damp, sour odor to it the deeper he went, but he had no complaint about the solid rock steps.
No squeaking noises.
No sound at all.
His skin crawled with warning.
Trolls had never been a docile group, but for the most part the local ones kept to themselves. There had been one instance when Svart Trolls from another country invaded Atlanta with plans to take over the city. Other than that, the trolls tended to be good about policing their own community to avoid VIPER stepping in to do that for them. The VIPER coalition acted as a governmental body over all preternaturals in the human world.
With the exception of a select few, humans never knew what happened in the supernatural underbellies of cities across the country because VIPER did police its own. But trolls attacking the human families of Beladors threatened to expose the preternatural world if they didn't put a stop to it.
Once humans discovered just what lived among them, it would be chaos.
Twenty steps down, Quinn moved aside to allow Devon to join him. Tristan followed with Evalle taking up the rear.
Quinn gave them a sign to wait, then stepped away to figure out what lay ahead of them. The area opened up into a wide hallway fifteen feet across and an easy eight feet tall, but maybe forty or fifty feet deep.
A light glowed way down at the other end, which outlined an arched opening into another room.
Giving a hand signal to move out, but be alert, Quinn led them forward.
Halfway to the end of the tunnel, Quinn sniffed. Ah, the putrid stench of troll.
He looked around at Evalle, Tristan and Devon who all pinched their noses to let him know, yes, they smelled the nasty beings.
Quinn would have liked for Storm to be here, since the Skinwalker could discern just how many trolls they were going up against.
Devon touched Quinn's shoulder. When he looked back, Devon pointed at Evalle, who tapped her ear.
Quinn listened, and the faint sound of a child crying reached him. Shit.
He nodded and moved ahead.
At the end of the tunnel, he peered ahead into a cavernous area with a higher ceiling. Ripped roots dangled from where the trolls had hollowed out earth for their hideout. The barren space held two wooden tables and four beat-up chairs suitable for the dump. Two torches were mounted on each side of a room sixty feet across.
Quinn couldn't determine the depth.
The room fell away into blackness.
The child's whimpers were louder now. Was it real?
His instincts screamed trap.
Troll stench permeated the air. He was not leaving until he knew for sure whether the children were here or not.
He took it all in, trying to figure out what he couldn't see. There had to be some kind of strong glamour hiding the true interior of this place and the number of people actually inside here.
A child whimpered again.
Stepping inside the room, he moved quickly to the right, leaving enough space for Devon to follow his lead and stand with his back to the wall as well.
Evalle and Tristan did the same on the other side of the archway.
Tristan leaned forward and gave Quinn a signal that he had an idea.
Oh, hell. Quinn's disconcertment must have shown because Tristan sent him an irritated look.
A bonus of being half-blood Beladors meant Tristan and Evalle could shift into gryphons. This would be the worst place for them to shift, though, with limited room for movement.
What else could Tristan be thinking? He sucked at hand signals.
Then it hit Quinn.
Tristan had once been given a special, majikally-spelled drink by a witch. A power highball, as Tristan described it, which had included the blood of immortal beings. He'd ended up with the ability for limited teleportation under the right conditions.
Teleporting here would be just as insane as shifting.
Tristan had no idea what area would be safe for landing.
Still, their dragon king had made Tristan his second in command. Since then, Tristan had proven himself to be competent and loyal as hell. A real change from when Quinn had first met the young man, so he gave Tristan a go-ahead nod to show the team what he had in mind.
Tristan blinked out of view and all hell broke loose.
Order your copy of Belador Cosaint: Book 9
Reviews on Belador books:
"...non-stop tense action, filled with twists, betrayals, danger, and a beautiful sensual romance. As always with Dianna Love, I was on the edge of my seat, unable to pull myself away."
~~Barb, The Reading Cafe
"...shocking developments and a whopper of an ending... and I may have exclaimed aloud more than once...Bottom line: I really kind of loved it."
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"DEMON STORM leaves you breathless on countless occasions."
Dragon King of Treoir Page 32
