“There’s only one person who would have something of that nature. Isak Nyght.”
“Yeah, I thought about that, but I haven’t figured out how to get one from him without Isak’s bunch realizing these battles involve nonhumans.”
“Nyght sells to the military. Any chance your government contacts could get the weapon?”
“How? They’d have to tell him they needed a weapon for nonhumans, which would expose our Beladors in the government since humans aren’t supposed to know about us.” Tzader ran his hand over his head, thinking. “That’s all we’d need to draw Isak’s attention. He’d have been in the middle of these gang battles already if he’d known trolls were involved and had any idea of when the battles were going down, but the fights erupt with no warning. There’s no way to approach Isak without alerting him to VIPER, and that would turn his sights on our people.”
On his way to get Tzader another beer, Quinn had an idea how to acquire a Nyght weapon. A suggestion Tzader would not like. “There is one person who can ask Isak for a weapon without drawing his attention.”
“Who?”
“Evalle.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“She knows him better than any of us, and he likes her.”
“That’s the problem.” Tzader started pacing again. “Isak likes her a little too much.”
Quinn pulled another Guinness from the small refrigerator. “She’s a big girl who can take care of herself. And Isak would give her a weapon if he thought she needed it for protection.”
Tzader stopped at the massive window, looking out at Atlanta twinkling against the night sky. He turned around, accepting the cold brew, and leaned against the windowsill. “He won’t hurt her as long as he doesn’t know she’s an Alterant, but Isak and his men drew down on Evalle once already.”
“When did that happen?” Quinn hadn’t seen that in in any e-mail briefings.
“After I left your hotel room that night you were out of it. Isak and his men saw Tristan’s green eyes and wanted to blast him and his group, but Evalle protected them.”
“Of course.”
“Then Sen showed up out of thin air, which didn’t help.”
“So Isak realized Evalle was an Alterant?” That changed everything. Quinn had missed a lot.
“I don’t know if he knew for sure that night or not, but his entire team fired when Sen just appeared.”
“Bad move. Did Sen vaporize them?”
Tzader chuckled, a dry, sarcastic sound. “Not even Sen is going to kill a human and face the Tribunal. He stopped the bullets with his hand.”
“He teleports, vaporizes bodies, materializes whatever he wants out of thin air, wipes minds and probably hasn’t even shown us all that he can do. What is that guy?”
Tzader lifted the bottle when he shrugged. “Wish I knew.”
“So now Isak knows that Evalle associates with Alterants? Or does he know that she is one?”
“No on both accounts. Sen wiped the minds of all the Nyght men before he teleported Evalle away, so Isak and his men shouldn’t remember anything.”
“Sen probably regrets having wiped those minds with Evalle free again.”
“Bet on it,” Tzader said.
Quinn returned to their original topic of finding a weapon to kill trolls. “Then Evalle can still ask Isak for the weapon.”
Tzader growled, but an agreement surfaced in the midst of the sound. “I guess she can do that—”
“If Isak’s interested in her as a woman, she should be safe enough.”
“I don’t want to hear that. Bad enough that she’s been in such a foul mood with Storm missing that she’s become a one-woman demolition crew in battle.”
Quinn kept his face neutral, but secretly smiled at Evalle’s budding social life. He didn’t want her harmed any more than Tzader did, but she needed a chance to have a real life. “What’s the story on Storm?”
“We don’t know, and Evalle hasn’t told me anything other than Storm helped her when the Tribunal sent her to hunt down the missing Alterants.”
“Oh?” Quinn lost his battle not to laugh at Tzader’s flat don’t-go-there gaze, which only pissed off Tzader that much more.
“What’s so funny, Quinn? You okay with all these guys sniffing around her all of a sudden?”
“You are the epitome of the overprotective big brother. Let’s just say that I think we’ll know if anyone gets out of line.” Quinn did admit, “I’d enjoy sending someone into the next world if they hurt her physically, or emotionally, but I’ll place my money on Evalle dealing them as much pain as we would dish out if someone dared to harm her.”
Tzader finally relented and smiled. “Yeah, guess I need to accept that she can’t be protected from everything.” His phone buzzed. Lifting the small cell phone from his pocket, he read the screen. “Damn. Got a battle going on in south Atlanta.”
“Another cemetery? Let me get my key.”
“It’s a cemetery, but a small battle. They have a local troll in hand. Told them to call me when we had someone to interrogate. You stay here and talk to Evalle. Explain to her about getting the Nyght weapon.” Tzader shoved the phone into his pocket, then snapped his fingers and stopped, giving Quinn a pained look. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“On the way here, I got a call from one of our Beladors who’d been trading for intel with a Nightstalker. He picked up a tip that a woman was asking around about you early this evening. I’ll break loose a couple of agents as soon as I can to see what they can find out.”
Quinn had no idea who it could be. “Did you get a name?”
“Just a first name. Lanna.”
“Bloody hell.”
Tzader had started for the door and swung around, his gaze sharp with concern. “The Medb?”
“Worse. Family.”
ELEVEN
Evalle’s mouth tasted too disgusting to describe.
But she could not ask Deek for water. If she uttered a word, it could well be her last.
She’d sit here quietly on the nicely sodded floor of his office and not draw his attention. Again.
Deek stood bent over with his hands propped on his desk, intent on something he read. Gleaming black hair hung loose around his shoulders. When he took on human form, he did so in a breathtakingly gorgeous body. He’d ignored her for the last couple hours, which had probably been easier to do once he’d showered and changed into the chocolate-brown linen shirt and matching pants.
Had to smell better without the contents of her stomach slimed all over his pants and shoes. His men had washed the residue of her calamari upheaval off the office lawn.
She would never have guessed that Deek would floor his personal space with sod, but then she didn’t spend a lot of time wondering about someone like Deek.
Better to avoid him mentally and in person.
Her wrists burned from where she’d struggled against the shackles anchoring her to the wall, but she’d stopped that once it became clear she breathed Deek’s air for only one reason.
He’d said he’d give her a chance to explain why he shouldn’t kill her. “A chance” probably meant one sentence. She doubted she could plead her case thoroughly in one sentence. But Deek must have some personal code of honor that prevented him from toasting her until she actually supplied him with a reason for being here.
The way she saw it, the longer she kept her mouth shut, the longer she stayed alive.
Her refusal to speak had brought on a bout of yelling.
He’d done so in four languages, one that sounded old enough to be biblical. He’d shifted into a centaur, then back to human form, clothes and all, shouting at her with every breath.
When he’d returned from showering, he’d calmly asked her one time to explain herself.
Nope. She’d kept her mouth shut and held on to her only hope of surviving. He hadn’t said another word since then.
His silence bothered her far more than his yelling.
She could call Tzader or Quinn telepathically, but their lives would be at risk, too, the minute they walked in here. What could either of them do? Demand she be released when Deek had full authority here?
That would probably get her tortured slowly before he killed her. The thought of torture brought on another wave of worry over Tristan. Where was he? What was Kizira doing to him?
Evalle had to get out of here and find a way to help him.
A knock at the door broke into her thoughts and Deek’s formidable concentration. His black gaze shot to her first, then he looked at the door, and it opened on its own.
Now that he’d noticed her again it didn’t matter if she made noise. She sat up, shifting her tired body.
A hot security guy with a smoking body—one of the many who worked for Deek—decked out in a black Iron Casket T-shirt and cargo pants strode in. “We can’t budge it.”
“Ridiculous.” Deek hit the solid-marble desk with his fist. Sounded like Thor striking his hammer.
The security guard held up both hands. “Don’t know what to tell you, boss. Must be warded or something. Won’t roll, and four of us tried to lift it.”
Not roll? They were trying to move her motorcycle?
Good luck with that, boys. They weren’t human, but she hadn’t picked up any superstrong energy, which meant they were probably just male witches.
Anger smoldered in Deek’s vicious gaze for a moment, then his eyes thinned with an unholy smile. He told his man, “Leave us.”
When the door closed, Deek stepped over to where Evalle peered up at him from her uncomfortable position. “Listen up, Alterant. I said I’d give you a chance to convince me not to kill you. I did not say you could stay here while you composed a novel. One sentence.”
Where would he send her?
She’d heard rumors about Deek’s basement—dungeon would be more accurate—and didn’t want to find out if those hideous stories were true. The Beladors would eventually come looking for her, and when they did, they’d find her gold GSX-R sitting outside the Iron Casket. Her motorcycle would be easy to spot after daylight in the nightclub’s empty parking lot.
But that didn’t appear to concern Deek. And why should it, since VIPER was no issue for him?
“Well, Alterant?”
Trying not to offend him, Evalle lifted both shoulders in what she hoped conveyed her desire to discuss the situation, but that she needed more than one sentence to do that.
“You are trying my patience, which is unwise since I have none to begin with. You hold your tongue thinking to prolong your life?”
She smiled and nodded. Now you’re getting it, skippy.
“I can assure you a very long life while you wait, one that will be filled with interesting activities.”
She didn’t care for the sound of that, which must have shown on her face. So much for practicing not exposing her emotions. She’d never make a decent poker player.
Deek grinned. A happy centaur in this situation could not mean good news.
He lifted an eyebrow, smirking. “Your motorcycle is no problem. I can destroy it, even with the warding, but not yet. For now I’ll have it covered with a small storage building or a construction Dumpster with the middle cut out. No one will find it … ever.”
That trumped her staying quiet.
“I see that we’re finally communicating,” he said.
Gloating is unattractive, Deek.
Better to take her best shot now and find out if she had to risk contacting Tzader and Quinn for help getting out of this situation. She drew in a deep breath so Deek couldn’t assume she was done if she stopped to breathe. “I would never come into your building uninvited and I didn’t this time because I had no idea where I was being teleported since someone else was doing it and I’m sorry I threw up on you but teleporting makes me sick and”—she was running out of air—“if you’ll let me go I can promise it will never happen again—”
“Really?”
Evalle sucked in a quick breath. “Well, sure. I’m not stupid, Deek. No one breaks your rules in your house.”
“Your time is up.”
Just as well. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. “The Beladors will come for me if I go missing. And there’s a tracker who will find my bike.”
Deek said, “I am not concerned about who comes for you. Don’t try to convince me that VIPER will question my right to sanction anyone who breaches my domain, regardless of the reason.”
True. Especially for an Alterant.
Sen would offer suggestions on how to torture her.
But Deek hadn’t done anything to her yet, so she held out hope of negotiating. “Isn’t there some way we can work this out, Deek? It was an accident.”
He strolled back across his office, then turned, facing her as he leaned a hip against his desk. “Who sent you here?”
Now she’d get Tristan in trouble after he’d clearly given her all his teleporting power to help her escape. “It’s complicated.”
“When you figure it out, let me know.” Deek vanished.
The door opened and two of his security men came in.
Should she use her kinetics and risk getting toasted on the spot?
One guy reached down and unlocked the manacle on her left arm. She yelled, “Deek! Come back.”
The other guard locked a metal collar around her neck.
“Oh, come on, Deek. You want to hear what I have to say.”
Deek reappeared in front of her. He lifted his chin at the two security guys, who immediately withdrew from the room. When the door closed, Deek told her, “Speak.”
“I was with another Alterant and we got ambushed by a Medb hunting party of warlocks. Someone started teleporting me, then a fight broke out, and the next thing I know I’m in here … uh, talking to you.”
“You mean barfing on me.”
“That was unintentional.”
“So how do you plan to work this out, as you say?”
She had one hand still hooked to a steel anchor in the wall, but lifted her free hand in an open-palm gesture. “I’ve apologized. What else do you want?”
“You offered to make amends.”
“Of course, just tell me what I can do.” Hope fluttered in her chest.
“I’ll have to think about it and let you know.”
That sounded like they’d just made some sort of deal, but she’d missed the part with the details spelled out. “I don’t understand.”
“I will let you go and you will owe me a favor.”
Oh, man. Now she understood why he hadn’t killed her. “What kind of favor?”
Things had been rocking along nicely until she said that.
He spread his feet and crossed his arms, staring down at her as if she’d asked a stupid question. “The kind of favor that buys back your life today.”
Good point. “Got it. Just wanting to be clear since we don’t really have each other’s cell number to talk about it later on.”
“I will find you when I have something for you to do, Alterant.”
The second manacle disappeared along with the metal collar as well as the steel anchor that had held her to the wall. She rubbed her wrists where they’d chafed. Did you thank someone who had threatened to kill you, chained you to a wall, then made you agree to an open-ended favor for the chance to continue breathing?
When the person doing all that was Deek D’Alimonte, then the answer was yes. “Thanks.”
Evalle stood up and started for the door, but in two steps she was outside, heading toward her motorcycle.
Had Deek teleported her out here? She didn’t have the urge to hurl. Maybe someone as old as Deek—and she had no idea how many centuries old that might be—had luxury-level teleporting. She couldn’t wait to dig out the bottle of water she’d stuffed in her tank bag and wash out her mouth.
Downing the balance of her water, she considered her next move.
Finding Tristan was going to take some time sinc
e he hadn’t answered her telepathic calls. She doubted he was still at that farmhouse and had no idea how to find it again.
With a little over an hour before daylight, she had to touch base with Tzader and explain being late. After calling out to him with no answer, she tried Quinn, who answered.
Where have you been, Evalle?
She hated her hesitation, but a lot had happened over the past few weeks and she still didn’t know exactly what had occurred between Quinn and Kizira, if anything. She answered, That thing I had to do for Macha took longer than I expected … and I really can’t talk about it. She got me out of VIPER prison and so …
That sounded lame and not like her, because she shared everything with Tzader and Quinn.
Quinn said, I understand completely. We were worried about you.
I called to Tzader, but he didn’t answer.
He’s interrogating a troll from another gang battle. Tzader may have had Sen teleport them both to headquarters to lock down the troll, and couldn’t communicate.
Sorry I missed our meeting, Quinn. I would have called one way or another, but I wasn’t where I could do that.
Where are you now?
Around midtown, headed into Atlanta.
I’d still like to see you.
Had she picked up anxiety in Quinn’s telepathic voice or was it just a case of her being overly suspicious about everything right now? Sure. Where do you want to meet?
He surprised her by suggesting a diner she ate at regularly near Five Points, a block away from Woodruff Park. Not Quinn’s caliber of cuisine at all, but he knew she kept vampire hours due to her deadly reaction to the sun, and sunrise would come soon. Quinn had chosen somewhere close to her underground apartment to make it easy for her.
A good friend. The best.
She hated the way suspicion played fast with her heart.
By the time she parked her bike near the diner, her stomach had settled and now complained again about the lack of food. During normal business hours, the diner hosted an eclectic group of patrons that ranged from men in suits to casually dressed tourists. But the late nighters who stumbled in when Evalle normally ate here tended to dress on the scruffy side.
The Curse (Beladors) Page 11