by Dianna Love
Something was very wrong. Evalle asked, “Who captured me?”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“No.” A sick feeling started forming in her chest. He wasn’t making sense to her.
She asked, “Who rescued me?”
“All of us.”
“Who is all of us?”
“Why so many questions? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
She shoved him off her. “What’s going on?”
When he didn’t answer, she searched the room that was still nothing but blurry shadows. “Where are we?”
“Wherever you want to be.”
She tried to jump out of the bed to find the door, but she couldn’t move.
Everything spun.
In the next second, she was sitting up with her arms locked against a wall on each side of her. She jerked back and forth. “Storm! Get me out of this!”
He didn’t answer. She looked over to find him and he was gone.
Warmth soaked the front of her clothing. It smelled like blood.
Wait. What clothing? She was naked a minute ago.
A pinprick of light pulled her gaze left.
Mind hazy, Evalle demanded, “What is going on?”
The light continued to grow until she could make out the inside of the room where she was clearly being held in a cell of some sort. Four walls, a floor and ceiling, no more than ten feet in any direction. Her wrists were manacled to a stone wall. Not a medieval type of manacle. These were shiny blue and glowed.
Sniffing, she recognized another odor with the scent of fresh blood ... ew, was that Noirre majik? She dropped her gaze to see a red stain spread across the top of a sack dress she wore.
Now her chest throbbed with a sharp pain.
She groaned and gritted her teeth.
The fog cleared. She knew in her heart it had not been real, but couldn’t stop the breath that squeezed out a desperate, “Storm?”
“Hello, Evalle,” a male voice said in that nasally tone she’d heard when half conscious.
“Who are you?”
“You may call me Germanus.” He spoke with an odd accent that sounded old, like something from another time.
Her heart sank at the complete flip from being safe with Storm to realizing she was captured. More like still captured, now that her mind continued to pull everything together.
Germanus asked, “Did you enjoy your conjugal visit?”
What had happened hit her like a backhand. This monster had used her memories of Storm to inspire the fantasy hallucination. She snarled, “Stay the fuck out of my head!”
No figure materialized yet, but the voice explained, “That was for your benefit.”
That bastard. Making her believe she’d been rescued and was at home with Storm? “My mate will find you, and when he does, I will cheer him on as he takes you apart one limb at a time.”
A loud sigh answered her.
She was making no headway by yelling at him even if it did boost her spirit. “Okay, I’m here, wherever here is. You must have gone to a lot of trouble to have me captured alive. What do you want?” she snapped. Her body hurt from one end to the other. She had a crooked leg and pain streaked through it every time she moved. One of her arms had been broken when they locked her in manacles. It had also healed poorly.
But her chest leaked blood. Too much blood.
Hair hung down around her face in sweaty clumps. Everything that had happened came back to her. The hole in her chest had been left after someone clawed the emerald chakra stone from her body. That had been her closest connection to Storm when they were apart.
No connection now. Someone, this Germanus, had gone to great effort to kidnap her and leave no trail.
She smelled as filthy as she felt, but one thing was clear. They didn’t want her to die or she’d be dead.
Germanus had not answered her.
Short on patience, she asked, “Why am I still alive?”
“Because I have something for you to do.”
“I don’t remember applying for the position. Tell you what. Have your people get with my people and work out the terms, then we’ll talk. In the meantime, stay out of my head or I’ll find a way to kill you myself.” She grimaced over the ache in her chest, which intensified with every breath needed for talking.
“This will go much better if you do not constantly fight me. There is no way for you to win.”
She cut her gaze from side to side, then up and down. “Are you so afraid of me you won’t even show yourself?”
Energy sizzled and a man emerged from a blurry spot on the wall. There was no door to this cell, because preternaturals didn’t always need the kind of entrance humans used.
His body came into focus from the boots up, filling out a loose pair of dark pants, then a sleeveless blue tunic with a Celtic design of braids and those interlocking shapes she never could name, but the center had a dragon face. The lack of sleeves showed off well-shaped arms, but not big guns, plus the limbs ended in hands too perfect for a warrior.
When Germanus finished coming into view, he had carved cheeks, a narrow nose and smooth lips. His dark eyelashes gave his elf-like, deep blue eyes the look of being outlined. Black hair fell in waves to his shoulders. He wore a thick gold chain with a pendant sporting the same Celtic dragon emblem as his tunic.
What cosplay event had he dressed for? She gave him her best attempt at a bored look, which was tough to do when suffering multiple injuries. “Let me guess. You’re a Sir Lancelot wannabe. No, wait, maybe you’re one of the alien beings from an early Star Trek show. Or ... ”
With a flick of his finger, a cloth gag shoved into her mouth, a wider strip covered that, then tied behind her head.
“This is no game, Evalle. When you’re ready to listen, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.”
She breathed hard through her nose and hoped she’d managed to jack her glare up to make him worry about ever turning his back on her.
He advised her, “I’m going to allow you ten minutes to heal. I suggest you use it wisely.”
No, no, no. She strained against the gag, grunting that she was ready to listen.
He must not be fluent in grunt speech.
The bastard left.
But the gag vanished with him. She spit to clear her mouth and yelled, “You miserable shit!”
No one answered her, but a small hourglass appeared in the air in front of her at eye level. It flipped and began spilling sand.
Ten minutes was not enough time to heal everything wrong with her, but she called up her beast, hoping to flood energy into her chest first.
The flood turned out to be more of a trickling stream.
What the hell was wrong?
She directed the energy specifically to her chest. Fiery heat burned as she pushed hard to force healing power into her most debilitating wound. She arched away from the wall, enduring the pain, gritting her teeth.
Stars flew through her vision.
Don’t black out, she silently pleaded with herself.
Who was Germanus? What did he want? Maybe the job he had for her was something she could do as long as it didn’t harm anyone.
Exhausted from what little healing she could manage, her eyes drooped. She opened them wide in panic. She couldn’t go through another round with fantasy Storm. Her heart couldn’t take losing him over and over.
A new worry struck her as she played the sexy dream back through her mind.
Maybe Germanus wanted more than her Belador and gryphon powers to perform some task.
He might be able to keep her from tapping her powers, but if he tried to physically attack her, she’d make him regret being born male.
CHAPTER 12
“’Tis the way it must be, Tzader,” Daegan argued right back. “You cannot go with me. This may not be a brief journey.” That was better than admitting out loud that this team might not return. He had to tell Tzader of the possibility, but now was not the moment.
<
br /> Tzader kicked a chair in Brina’s solarium. “I’m tired of Evalle being screwed six ways every time I turn around. She deserves to be happy with Storm.”
“Agreed, but that won’t happen until we find her.”
Furious, Tzader swung to face Daegan. “What about that damned stone he stuck on her? Doesn’t it work?”
Sighing, Daegan explained all of what had happened.
As the truth sank in, Tzader’s normally rich brown skin turned a sickly color. “They ripped her chest open?”
“Yes. That’s why I don’t believe she’s in the human realm, but there are many places she can be. Before you start on me about the Medb being at fault, I am considering all possibilities including Macha, but someone expects us to default immediately to those two. We can’t make a mistake by jumping to conclusions or we might lose Evalle.”
Sounding more like the Maistir who had watched over North American Beladors before Daegan showed up to take control of Treoir, Tzader said, “We need to eliminate everyone we think isn’t behind this so we can be sure where to hunt.”
“Good point.”
Turning a steel-eyed gaze on Daegan, Tzader ordered, “You need to go to a Tribunal and make them pull in Macha, Maeve and ... anyone it might be just to rule them out. Or to finger the guilty.”
Daegan stroked the short beard he’d allowed to grow. “The coalition does owe us at this point, in return for Beladors rejoining the agents of VIPER.”
“Damn right. I wouldn’t suggest you going there, but Quinn told me the way you gave them a smackdown. So you’re good to go, right?”
“Is that an order, Tzader?”
Catching himself, Tzader said, “Sorry. I’m not used to staying behind.”
“I understand, but there is no one I would entrust with Brina’s safety, the future heir’s safety and the entire Belador power base, but you. As great a warrior as you are, I am the one who has to lead this team. I’m the only one who can teleport a group anywhere.”
“I know.”
“When did you two intend to tell me about Evalle?” Brina asked, storming into the room and looking like the warrior queen she was even at seven months pregnant.
Tzader muttered, “Fat’s in the fire now.”
Daegan opened his arms. “Come here, niece.” As he hugged her, he said, “’Tis bad manners to eavesdrop, niece.”
“I don’t care about manners when one of mine is in danger,” she replied and stepped out of his embrace, then moved to Tzader’s side.
Her future husband kissed her head. “I was going to tell you as soon as we were finished here.”
“I should be in this meetin’.” Then she flinched and twisted to the side.
“What’s wrong?” Tzader demanded.
“This child is practicin’ for battle.” Shaking it off, Brina placed a hand on her side and asked, “Can you find Evalle through dream walkin’?”
Tzader’s face lit up at that thought.
Unfortunately, Daegan had to douse his hope. “No and please do not dream walk while I’m gone. I was able to come to both of you in the dream world before I escaped TÅμr Medb, but no one knew I could reach out that way at the time. Now, anyone who dream walks could be waiting for me, or you. If I were killed or even captured, there would be no one to teleport our team. If anything happened to you in the dream realm, that would leave Brina unprotected.”
“You’ve a good point, uncle.”
Anxious to get moving, Daegan said, “I must see Garwyli before I go. I will get word to both of you as soon as I know something.”
“Daegan?” Brina said, stopping him from teleporting away.
“Yes?”
“I refuse to have a weddin’ without everyone and I mean everyone.”
“I will do my best, niece.”
“No, you will bring her back,” Brina clarified, but her words were more worried than demanding.
“I won’t return without Evalle.” Daegan teleported to the center area of the castle where the entrance met the hallways. For some reason, that seemed to be the best way to find the old druid as opposed to jumping around to hunt him.
“Garwyli! Where are you?” Daegan shouted, adding power to his voice.
The old guy stuck his head out of a doorway halfway down the hall on Daegan’s left. “Ya coulda just walked ten more steps, dragon.”
“Only if I knew you were there.”
Shaking the white head of hair that fell well past his shoulders, Garwyli muttered as he stepped out, then tottered down to Daegan. He was missing his cap, but he wore his standard robe. His white beard reached his waist.
“What ails ya, dragon?”
Ignoring the way Garwyli liked to address Daegan, he asked the druid, “Are you making any headway with my family’s history?”
“Some, but not so much I would be ravin’ about it. We have few history books here and none I would call more than random scribblin’. I do have an idea of where to search next, though.”
Daegan didn’t have time for one of Garwyli’s long-winded visits. “You haven’t determined who might have freed Lorwerth from Anwynn or how he showed up in Atlanta with Laochra Fola warriors, have you?” His uncle had been sent to the underworld realm, and he shouldn’t have had any way to escape. Someone had bargained to take him out.
“Not yet, but Lorwerth was your father’s bastard brother, right?”
“Yes.”
“In thinkin’ on that, plus the fact that Laochra Fola were created at the same time as the Belador warriors, it comes down to one simple point of origin.”
“What are you saying?”
Garwyli’s thick white eyebrows lifted. “That knowledge had to come from someone who knew your family history. Start by lookin’ at those who were around when your father still lived.”
Daegan knew this, but he hadn’t really focused specifically on that since so many preternaturals in today’s world were a threat. But the old druid made sense.
Based on that, it had to be Macha or Maeve. Both would have that history. Add Cathbad to that list, as he’d been around then, too.
Lifting a wrinkled finger, Garwyli said, “While I’ve been ponderin’ your past—”
In a rush to get out of there, Daegan cut him off. “Do you have anything else that might help me find a missing Belador?”
Garwyli stopped short at that. “Who?”
“Evalle.”
“No.” The old druid looked shaken. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing unless you can think of another enemy capable of teleporting and who would do this besides Macha or Maeve.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I wish I did.”
After the stories Daegan had heard about Evalle and how she’d been misused by Macha, Sen, and others, he wondered if she had any idea how many people stood behind her now.
“I have to go, druid. Please lend a hand to Tzader in watching over my niece and her bairn while I’m gone.”
“Of course I will. I have more to tell you—”
“And I do want to hear it, just not yet. I’ll return as soon as I can.” Daegan teleported away before Garwyli could say another word.
Back in Atlanta, Daegan called out telepathically to his second-in-command. Tristan, meet me immediately.
Daegan? Where are you? What’s going on?
Daegan gave Tristan his location on the roof of a building in a run-down part of downtown Atlanta where they had met before. No tall buildings stood close enough for anyone to see them blink in and out of sight.
In the next fifteen seconds, Tristan appeared with a shirt slung over his shoulder, hair askew and zipping his pants. Yanking the T-shirt over his head, he ran his hands through his tawny hair, taming it a bit.
“Sorry to disturb you on duty,” Daegan said in a wry tone.
“First of all, I didn’t shirk my duties. I traded with Evalle. She owed me.”
“Sadly, that may be the other way around now.”
Tristan hooked his t
humbs in the belt loops on his jeans. “Why? What’s up?”
Daegan filled him in.
“Fuck me. Storm is going to kill me when he finds out she took my place last night.”
That would not help anyone and it brought up the question of whether the attack was meant specifically for Evalle, or for any gryphon.
Daegan ordered, “You will not share that with Storm. He’s got a lot to deal with right now without you two tangling. We all need to work together.”
“Got it, boss. I’m in no hurry to say a word about that to her mate.”
“Our team will be entirely voluntary,” Daegan made clear. “Are you saying you do volunteer to join us?”
“Well, yeah.” Tristan scrunched his shoulders up, looking uncomfortable. “First of all, I’m your guy. You call. I’m there. In addition to that, Evalle would be jumping to the front of the line for me. I’m not giving her any less.”
Here was the young man Daegan had made his Rí Dtús, better known as a right-hand man in this era, but Tristan was so much more. He just didn’t realize it.
“What are we doing now?” Tristan asked, sounding ready to go on attack.
“Our next stop is visiting a Tribunal.”
“You’re really a downer today,” Tristan grumbled. “Are we going to piss anyone off?”
“Most assuredly.”
Tristan grinned. “Fuck yeah, let’s do this, world-beater.”
Daegan shook his head at the irreverent young man who had yet to truly understand his potential. As an ancient being, Daegan wasn’t much for technology, especially when he could normally reach any of his people in the local area telepathically, but Storm was not a telepath as far as Daegan knew.
He instructed Tristan, “Before we go, send a phone message to Storm for me.”
Tristan dug out his phone. “You mean a text, right?”
Ignoring Tristan’s correction of his terminology, Daegan hurried through a message explaining where he was headed and that it would be a brief meeting.
Tristan typed so fast his fingers blurred. He tucked the phone away and crossed his arms. “Ready for takeoff.”
In the next minute, Daegan stood in knee-deep grass at the base of a mountain in North Georgia. “Sen. I have a request.”
