At this rate, she’d need business cards soon for Evalle’s Alterant Rescue.
She continued her interrogation. “I heard you planned to trade your Alterant to the Medb.”
Inside the eye slits of her mask, Imogenia’s gaze narrowed with menace. “Who told you about that?”
That had been a guess. “Let’s revisit the fact that I’m not the one answering questions. How’d you intend to meet with the Medb if you don’t know where TÅμr Medb is?”
“Same way as everyone else looking to cut a deal,” Imogenia said with a wave of her hands, indicating this was common knowledge. “At the ABC.”
Evalle debated admitting she didn’t know what Imogenia referenced, but the minute Evalle left this venue she lost her best shot at intel. Go strong or go home. She raked a hand over her head. “ABC?”
“You don’t know?” Imogenia enjoyed a smug moment. “The Achilles Beast Championship.”
“Championship fights. Where? When?”
Time slid by as Imogenia debated something. “Tomorrow night. Cumberland Island.”
Three hundred plus miles away, just off the southeast corner of Georgia, but Evalle would gain more information by sounding unfamiliar with the area. “Where’s that? We’ve just arrived from Brazil a couple days ago.”
Imogenia nodded and seemed to relax. “I was wondering why I hadn’t heard about you . . . or him around the beast fights. Can’t be too careful these days.” She explained about accessing Cumberland Island by ferry from a town called St. Marys at the farthest southeast corner of Georgia on the Atlantic coast.
Evalle cast a look over at Storm but spoke to Imogenia.
“Is that what the Domjon meant by the big game?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the buy-in for the ABC?”
“They want strong competition. Sponsors of dual forms and Alterants need a Volonte as buy-in, but any Alterant without a sponsor gets in for free. All others negotiate at the door.”
“What’s a Volonte?”
“I didn’t agree to be your private tutor on all things powerful.”
Evalle let silence fill in the next moment until Imogenia made a noise in her throat that sounded like rocks being ground. “Volonte are bones from the grave of the sorcier Guillory.”
“And,” Evalle prompted before she strangled the witch for feeding out information in tiny pieces, “who was this sorcerer?”
Imogenia made a dramatic show of “whatever” with her hands. “Guillory died in France in the tenth century. When his followers stole his body and reburied him, many thought it nothing more than grave robbers who were after the spell-casting rings he wore on his hands. That was until just over a year ago, when an archaeological dig uncovered his grave and identified him by the rings bearing the Guillory crest. Then his body disappeared again several weeks back. Those of us who are informed know his body was stolen for the bones.”
Those of us meant dark witches. Evalle turned to Storm, who drew in a slow breath, then nodded. “She’s telling the truth.” But he clearly didn’t trust her. “What makes these bones valuable?”
Imogenia looked to Evalle, who shoved the look right back at her. “Answer his question.”
No doubt surprised at being addressed by someone the witch considered nothing more than a glorified slave, Imogenia shrugged it off. “Any of his bones have power, but the ones from Guillory’s hands still carry his power. In the hands of a skilled owner, a Volonte provides power over spirits and demons. For example, if I wanted to speak to the dead, the bones of his index finger would give me the power of necromancy. Guillory delivered kingdoms to kings . . . until he slept with a ruler’s favorite mistress.”
Imogenia sliced a finger across her neck. “Heads roll when that sort of thing happens. Guillory’s body was found headless.”
Evalle didn’t care about a sorcerer who couldn’t keep his pants zipped, tied or whatever they did back then. “How many of those bones could be floating around?”
“Not many, since they’re illegal to trade.”
“Then they can’t be expecting a high turnout at the ABC.”
“Oh, but they are.” Imogenia preened at being the one in the know. “With the Medb making a show and cutting deals prior to the matches, they expect a very high turnout.”
If not for the excitement buzzing in Imogenia’s voice, that would be great news about finally locating a concentrated group of Alterants.
“What’s the payoff for an Alterant sponsor?”
“Plenty if my Alterant makes it to the final round.”
This was going to take all night. “The more specific you are and the quicker you answer my questions, the better chance you’ll have of leaving with Bernie.”
Behind Imogenia’s mask, her eyes flared with anger, and her fingers curled again, as if she had claws, which she didn’t. She stretched her neck and gave her shoulders a little shake, then lifted her fingers to toy with the sparkling fire-opal pendant caught in the valley between her breasts. After taking a breath, she finally started rattling off specifics.
“Stakes are highest for the Alterant matches. If your Alterant dies, you’re out of the competition, but the last five to survive the finale Elite rounds earn the sponsor a chance to negotiate a trade with the Medb.”
Imogenia didn’t have to spell it out any better.
Every dark witch on the planet salivated at the idea of gaining Noirre majik knowledge from the Medb. Handing over Noirre spells to five black witches powerful enough to have acquired Alterants would be like trading the plans for a nuclear bomb to the top five terrorists in the human world, and supplying the uranium.
Right before the Medb captured Tristan, he told Evalle the Medb were hunting Alterants to use in a plan against the Beladors. What a brilliant way to capture the Alterants. Let everyone else do their work by holding a competition with high stakes.
Rescuing Tristan and his group, which included his sister, Petrina, and two friends, had just gotten more complicated. Now Evalle had to also figure a way of preventing the Medb from taking possession of those Alterant fighters entered in the Achilles Beast Championship.
But Imogenia could have lost her Alterant tonight.
Evalle asked, “Why risk your fighter here?”
“I don’t have to answer—”
Storm cut in. “To train him.”
Imogenia sliced a mean look at Storm and muttered, “I wouldn’t tolerate insolence.”
Evalle ignored her. “What about the Alterants without sponsors? What are they fighting for?”
“Oh, all five of the top Alterants are also offered a chance to escape persecution and become immortal warriors.”
If Evalle hadn’t been clenching her teeth up to this point, her jaw would have dropped. The chance for immortality should bring in any loner Alterants.
Was that why Tristan had signed on with the Medb?
If he had?
Evalle asked, “Do you have more than one Alterant?”
“No.”
No reaction from Storm, so that had to be the truth. Now what? Use the intel tip Evalle had been hoarding to trade with? She cast a thoughtful glance over at Bernie. “I doubt I’ll run across any sacred bones before the ABC, and I do plan to enter, so I may have to take your Alterant after all.”
“No. I answered your questions.” Energy sizzled around Imogenia. Her hair lifted away from her shoulders and body and her shoulders shook, but Evalle couldn’t pin down if the reaction was from fear or anger.
Her senses picked up paranoia . . . and worry. How often would any witch have a chance to get Noirre majik from the Medb without risk to her person? Evalle said, “No, you haven’t answered all my questions. You don’t even know how to access TÅμr Medb. I’m not feeling satisfied.”
But Imogenia had to be planning to show up with a Volonte bone to get her Alterant in. If Evalle could get her hands on that, she’d have a way for herself and another VIPER member to enter the championship undercover.
As an Alterant, Evalle could enter for free if she entered as a fighter. But she couldn’t do that unless she wanted to die, since she was forbidden from fully shifting. A Volonte would guarantee her access if she had someone else with her.
Someone other than Storm.
No more death fights for him. Evalle would not allow him to put his life at risk for her again, and definitely not for VIPER. Sen could choose who went in undercover as a fighter.
Imogenia worried the chain holding her pendant. “What else do you want to know?”
Evalle crossed her arms, tapping a thumb against her bicep. “To be honest, I’d rather enter my shifter in the ABC than your Alterant, so here’s the deal—I keep your Alterant until you bring me a Volonte bone, then you get Bernie back. Simple as a pawn deal.”
Imogenia released her necklace and fisted her hands. When she spoke, it was in a voice meant to raise the hair on any living creature. “He’s my Alterant.”
The witch must be drinking her own cauldron brews. She was jumpy as a crack house junkie.
Imogenia took a ragged breath and, on the exhale, calmed down but still threatened, “If I go to the Domjon and he believes you’re dealing in bad faith, he’ll rule in my favor. If that happens, I walk away with both fighters.”
Ah, crap. If I back off now, she’ll know she has me and turn the tables. In spite of that threat freezing the blood in her veins, Evalle forced a confident expression and responded as if nothing mattered. “Maybe, but what if he doesn’t? You’ll lose your Alterant for sure, because I won’t continue to negotiate at that point.”
Imogenia became very still.
Evalle pressed her slight advantage. “Seems like you’d know where to get a bone if you were all set on entering Bernie. If you can’t tell me how to get into TÅμr Medb and you don’t have a bone, we’re at a stalemate for a satisfied deal.”
Imogenia spent the next few seconds stewing until her mask lit up, a bright, blinding white. When her mask settled down to a soft glow, she released a stream of air from between clenched teeth and said, “I have a Volonte.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
No way. This was too good. “Show it to me.”
Imogenia raised her forearm that sported an armband woven of gold and bronze threads. It smelled old and strangely alluring.
Evalle and Storm leaned forward at the same time. A small bone that could be from the tip of a man’s pinky finger had been caught inside a web of crisscrossed bronze threads.
Sounding more like a witch in control, Imogenia said, “Make me a worthy trade and I’ll give you the bone if you’ll declare this deal satisfied.”
“What do you want?”
“A strand of hair.”
Storm’s jaw flexed against the “No” Evalle knew he wanted to shout. She laughed at Imogenia, making it clear she thought the suggestion stupid. “As if I’d give you something you can use against me?”
“I use hair for many things. It’s not always about the donor.”
“Tell you what. I’ll give you something better.”
“Such as?”
“The name of a witch in your coven who wants to take over and intends to use you for a blood sacrifice to do it.”
The witch’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not, Imogenia,” Evalle emphasized. “I’ll prove it. In your last Carretta Coven meeting, one of your witches sacrificed the wrong animal. A wolf you had other plans for.”
“How could you—”
“Let’s not waste time asking who told me that or how I know your name. I needed something to trade for information that I heard you had on Tristan and the Medb. Do you have anything else to tell me about those two?”
“No.”
Evalle checked Storm, who lifted his chin, confirming the witch wasn’t jerking Evalle around. She turned back to Imogenia. “I’ll make a final offer. You hand over the bone. I give you the witch’s name. We call it even. Bernie leaves with you.”
“Agreed.”
Storm asked, “How will you get your Alterant into the ABC?”
Imogenia smiled. “I have a source. Now, I want that traitor’s name.” Fury seething in Imogenia’s eyes this time was clearly for the traitor.
“The bone first.”
“This armband must be given and accepted. You have to want the Volonte. Do you want it, and do you accept possession once I take it off?”
Storm growled in aggravation, but Evalle rolled her eyes and said, “Yes. Can we get on with this?”
“Your arm must be free of tattoos, piercings, jewelry, anything from the elbow to your fingers.” When Evalle shoved her sleeve back, showing that she had nothing but bare arm, Imogenia lifted her arm and whispered, “I am gifting you to another. Release.” The armband unclasped, dropping into the witch’s waiting hand.
Evalle held out her palm to accept the jewelry.
Imogenia slapped the armband on Evalle’s forearm, and the clasp clicked shut.
Storm moved as fast as a thrown dagger, grabbing the witch by her throat. He lifted her off the ground. “Get it off of her now!”
Everything around Evalle blurred at the edges.
Imogenia flailed her arms, eyes bulging. She squeezed out, “She . . . she . . .”
Evalle stared at the band locked on her arm and had the strangest relaxed sensation, as if nothing was an issue. She didn’t feel any tingling or power sensation, just a sense that all channels were open and flowing in her body.
A gurgling noise drew her attention from the armband to Imogenia’s mouth, which was pulsing like that of a fish out of water gasping for air.
Evalle shook her head and everything came back into focus. She didn’t know the rules of a Beast Club, but she doubted she and Storm would walk out of here alive if he killed a sponsor. She touched his arm. “Put her down. The armband isn’t doing anything to me.”
He reluctantly lowered Imogenia until the woman’s kicking feet hit dirt, but he kept his fingers around her throat and demanded, “Why do you smell of licorice?”
“What?” Imogenia’s eyes were still bulging. “Incense. Bought it.”
He growled at Imogenia, “Take off the armband and hand her the finger bone.”
Imogenia coughed and sputtered.
Evalle said, “Let her breathe, Storm.”
When he released the witch reluctantly, Evalle told Imogenia, “Now take it off.”
Imogenia rubbed her neck, then held up shaky fingers. “Give me a chance to explain. The bone was already woven into the armband when it was gifted to me and can’t be removed. The gold and bronze is five centuries old and protects the Volonte powers.” Nodding at Evalle, Imogenia continued, “She’ll have to free the armband the same way when she hands it over to the next owner or the bone will attack her. It resents being stolen. Every time it moves from one person to the next, it must be passed as a gift or it attacks both the new owner and the previous one. And—” Imogenia’s eyes smirked at Storm. “If you give it to a shifter, they can’t shift.”
A pet bone with emotional issues. Just what Evalle needed. “Can I take it off to shower or go to bed?”
“No. The Volonte will retaliate if you try to remove it for any reason other than gifting the armband to a person who accepts it.”
“Retaliate how?”
“You’ll be blinded.” Imogenia looked at Storm, whose chest moved up and down with angry breaths. “I’m telling the truth.”
“What else do I need to know about this thing?” Evalle asked, eyeing the creepy armband.
Imogenia must not have answered quickly enough to suit Storm. He growled at her and the witch started issuing instructions. “Before you give it away, you have to take full possession by telling the bone it belongs to you.”
Evalle felt heat around her wrist. “When?”
“Sooner than later. It will get hot when it’s angry to the point of a burn scar if you wait too long. Then the bone will burn through
your arm. Once that starts, your body begins to die. Is it warm yet?”
“Yes,” Evalle hissed.
“Then talk to it.”
“I can’t believe I have to—” The skin on her arm felt as though she held it in a flame. “Okay.” Evalle lifted the bone into view. “You belong to me.” She’d read her horoscope in the paper this morning.
There hadn’t been one word about owning slave fighters or sentient cadaver bones.
Imogenia continued her directives. “When you’re ready to hand off the Volonte, do the same thing I did. Just tell the bone that you’re giving it as a gift, then order it to release and put the armband on the arm of the new owner.”
Storm stared at Evalle’s arm, then warned Imogenia in a low voice, “If that bone harms her, expect to see me again.”
“If she does what I told her, she’ll be fine.”
He wasn’t sold. “Did you give her that armband to harm her in any way?”
“No.”
“How will it affect her?”
“Unless she uses it in the dark arts, this bone’s power will only enhance her desire for whatever she wants.” Imogenia shoved her attention back to Evalle. “Now, you owe me a name.”
How could enhancing be harmful? Other than that one moment, Evalle still didn’t feel anything playing around with her Belador powers, so she told Imogenia, “The traitor is Daniella.”
“That evil, backstabbing bitch.” Imogenia waved her hands and muttered a string of words, then turned to Evalle. “I’ve cleared the shielding spell. We’re done.”
When the witch took a step to leave, Evalle said, “One more thing.”
“What? ” Imogenia snarled, hair whipping around when she spun to face Evalle and Storm.
VIPER needed the name of the person who’d be offering the trade at the games, the person who would spend eternity locked away for dealing Noirre majik. “Who’s negotiating on behalf of the Medb for the five Alterants at the end of the ABC?”
“Tristan. He’s in charge of all Alterants for the Medb.”
Tristan? “You held that back.”
“I did not. Thought you knew that. It’s common knowledge.”
“How will anyone believe him?”
Imogenia muttered something to herself. “Do I look like your tour guide?”
Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4) Page 5