The Curse (Beladors)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  He turned back to her. “You summoned that thunder on purpose.”

  Lanna did not agree or try to lie. Instead, she waved him off. “Go, Cousin. I understand. You are busy and can not play guide with me.”

  “You really think I’m going to leave you out here alone?”

  She hoped not. “I am fine, Cousin.”

  He lifted handle of her rolling suitcase and tilted his head to point the way he wanted her to walk.

  She followed, letting her steps take her by the dice that sat in piled leaves, where she scooped them up on her way by. She had located people by holding personal items and hoped it would work this time.

  “Where are we going, Cousin?”

  “To my hotel. I can’t deal with this right now, but I’ll be back tonight and you’ll be safe if you stay out of view.”

  Quinn waved a taxi over. The driver took them to a nice Ritz Hotel where the doorman spoke fondly to her cousin. Everything about hotel bragged of much money, from porters to fancy doors.

  She had just stepped from taxi behind Quinn when he paused and stared into distance again. This time only for few seconds. He dismissed whatever had stopped him, then scratched his head and gave Lanna a card from his pocket. He spoke low for her ears only. “The Belador Maistir called. I have to go. It’s important.”

  Ah. He had communicated with his mind again.

  Quinn handed her a plastic card. “Here’s the room key. If you’re hungry, order food. You can watch movies, too.”

  Taking the room key card, she hurried to speak before he started giving orders and demanding promises. “I understand. Thank you for room, Cousin. Do not worry if you find me asleep when you come back. I am very tired and hungry. I could sleep for two days after bumpy trip here.”

  His irritation softened. “I’m sure it was a difficult flight. If you need anything—”

  “I will call from room. I can tell this hotel will be most helpful. Go, Cousin. Do not worry about me. No one will bother me.”

  Quinn spoke quietly, but in a rush. “I just checked in today, so no one other than the hotel staff knows I’m here. I don’t like leaving you without the warding on the door—”

  “That would not be good unless you can stay for half hour to find out if my majik reacts to warding. Last time I—”

  “Never mind. Double-lock the doors.” He handed her a business card that displayed a phone number. Nothing else. “Call me immediately if you need me.”

  “Yes, yes. I know how to get help. Go and be careful.” She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed Quinn’s cheek. “Do not let something happen to you. I would be lost without you.”

  He patted her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  She told him good-bye and turned to walk away, knowing he would not leave until she was inside. Dangerous trolls were in Atlanta. The world was lucky to have men such as Quinn who protected humans from bloodthirsty creatures.

  After reaching the suite and depositing her suitcase, she ordered food and felt much better, then left a note for Quinn. Before riding back down in the elevator, she experimented with cloaking herself. Last night she had disappeared completely, but now only the top half of her body vanished before she gave up. Majik was much trouble some days.

  Once she found Kell and Kardos, she would get the location of the strange trolls’ headquarters and give that to Quinn when he returned to the hotel.

  Quinn would worry if he knew what she was up to, but she had fought a troll in Transylvania last year.

  That one had no special marks, but a troll was a troll.

  She only needed help with evil wizards.

  SIXTEEN

  Asking Isak Nyght for a weapon that killed nonhumans would open a door Evalle might never be able to shut. She grabbed a towel to dry her hair, needing to head out soon even if the meet point was close to her underground apartment in downtown Atlanta.

  Isak had to know she wanted a weapon after she’d sent a text asking to borrow something. What else would she want to borrow from a man who created custom weapons just to kill beings with supernatural power?

  Could she avoid telling him why? Not an easy task when she had yet to give Isak a straight answer about why she sometimes ran into nonhumans. At least he wouldn’t remember that he’d discovered she was an Alterant three weeks ago.

  Nope, she wasn’t worried about Isak … as long as he didn’t kiss her.

  He’d kissed her only a couple times, unexpectedly. The man had a nice mouth, more than nice.

  But then Storm had kissed her.

  She stopped rubbing her hair and tossed the towel over a hook. Thinking of Storm and Isak at the same time gave her a headache.

  No kissing tonight. She’d treat this as business. One goal—get the weapon. But she couldn’t tell Isak about the trolls. That meant she had to play up her fear of something nonhuman.

  She’d rather spend a day off with Sen than act afraid of anything.

  Take one for the team. Tzader and Quinn sure as the devil couldn’t pull off looking frightened of anything.

  She finished dressing and went out to the kitchen, where her two-foot-tall gargoyle, Feenix, sat on the island counter playing with his pile of lug nuts. The leathery skin on his wide forehead wrinkled with how hard he concentrated to place the silver half-inch circles on top of each other with his pudgy hands, especially while having to reach around his potbelly.

  “Whatcha doing, baby?” she asked on her way to snag a power drink from the fridge.

  “Cathel.”

  Took her a minute of studying the wall and tower structure he’d built to understand he meant castle. “Fun. Did you see a castle on TV?”

  “No-o.” He answered her as if he expected her to know the right answer.

  Where had he seen a castle? She’d found Feenix during a mission to locate and stop a mad sorcerer who’d been creating an army of vicious creatures that killed on command. Feenix had been left in a cell with a note marking him as a flawed creation to be used for food. The best she could tell, the poor little guy had failed as a killer. Easy to understand with all the other creatures towering over ten feet tall and Feenix so much smaller and with a sweet disposition.

  Quinn would argue that Feenix could blow a hole in the wall with a blast of fire if something frightened him.

  True, but he knew he was safe with her. “Who lives in the castle, baby?”

  Feenix angled his head to look up at her. Bright orange eyes flashed with intelligence when he smiled. Two small fangs poked down on each side of his overbite, glowing against his brownish-green skin covered in dark green scales. “Printheth.”

  “A princess, huh?” Oh, that’s right! She’d watched The Princess Bride with him the other night. “That’s a great castle. Is it for Princess Buttercup?”

  “No-o.” He shook his head and his batlike wings flapped gently. The chortling sound he made usually meant he was proud of something he’d figured out. “For Printheth Evalle.”

  Her heart thumped. She’d never celebrated a birthday or received a wrapped gift, but moments with Feenix had become as cherished as any package in shiny paper. “Thank you, baby.”

  He pointed at another lug nut. “Demon.” Then he picked up that lug nut and tossed it into his mouth, chomping on the steel and clapping his hands.

  “Attaboy.” She smiled. “I’ll be back in a while. Don’t eat my pots and pans, okay?”

  Feenix quieted and dropped a hand to his bent knee, which he patted slowly as if saying, That again? “Accthident. Member?”

  “Yes, I remember, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget.” It wasn’t as though she did a lot of cooking, but she would like to keep the last two pots she had. She hadn’t figured out if he had short-term memory loss sometimes or if he just did things out of pure mischief.

  “’Kay. Go ride?”

  “Not right now. Maybe later.” Once she knew for sure the Svart trolls were gone. Before heading out on her motorcycle, she leaned over and kissed his forehead, ca
reful not to get stuck by one of his horns.

  The ride to meet Isak took no time since the meet point was only a mile from home.

  His black Hummer sat alone on the top level of an expansive parking deck. The deck was not being fully utilized, and she’d chosen this location specifically because the upper floors would be empty in the early evening. After stowing her gear and adjusting her sunglasses, she turned to find Isak standing by the open passenger door of his truck.

  Black dress pants and a cobalt-blue, button-down dress shirt did nothing to tone down the black-ops warrior beneath the civilized veneer. Short brown hair with gray flecks at his temples shouted former military, just as much as the hard jaw and intense blue gaze that scoped the area around her in a blink.

  “How ya doin’, Isak?”

  “Not bad. Ready?”

  “I hadn’t planned on going anywhere.”

  “Thought you wanted to borrow something.”

  “I do, but I haven’t told you what yet.”

  “Does it turn demons into shrapnel?”

  She didn’t want to explode the troll. “Maybe.”

  “Then I know what you want. Let’s go.”

  “Are you going to put a sack over my head, Isak?”

  “No.” Mr. Serious didn’t even crack a smile.

  “Then why can’t I just follow on my bike?”

  “Because you’ll be blindfolded.”

  Crap. She walked over and put a foot up on the running board, picking up the seductive scent of cologne. Humongous hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the seat before she could protest. Taking a breath to keep herself calm, she told him, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m five-ten, I’m wearing jeans and need no help getting into a truck.”

  He put his left hand on the back of her seat and leaned in, a glint of heat burning in his eyes. “I noticed. Every. Sweet. Inch. Especially the jeans. Buckle up … unless you want help with that, too.”

  Guess she’d find out how much of a gentleman he was, or he’d find out just how dangerous she could be.

  Once he had the wide black cloth in place over her sunglasses, she prepared to be pelted with questions about why she wanted a special weapon. But when Isak cranked the engine, Garth Brooks crooned a country tune as the vehicle backed up, then headed forward.

  Ten minutes into the ride, Isak hadn’t said a word.

  She tapped her fingers, picking up speed with each tap until a warm hand covered hers.

  Every muscle jumped to alert.

  He started brushing his thumb back and forth over her skin, the simple gesture reminding her that he was no threat to her. With that realization, tension that had locked the muscles in her shoulders all afternoon eased.

  When the truck rolled to a stop a half hour later, Isak said, “You can remove the blindfold.”

  She uncovered her sunglasses to find his truck parked inside a huge warehouse. At the far end of the ginormous building, people stood beneath bright fluorescent lights at workstations. She assumed they were assembling weapons or some defensive devices that Isak manufactured.

  Heavy-duty, twelve-foot-tall stainless-steel cabinets lined forty feet of one wall in the thirty-thousand-square-foot building with a ceiling that peaked at twenty feet. One section of the warehouse had been framed in as an office area that could provide six to eight average-size rooms.

  But this was not the hangar she’d visited the night Isak had kidnapped her for an Italian meal. The hangar hadn’t been as bright inside, and it had been more open, with fewer shelves and minimal office area. A place his teams—the Nyght Raiders—could congregate and plan.

  This place was a production facility with bright lighting, tools on workstations and the smell of machine oil.

  One young man in jeans and a flannel shirt ran a forklift, carrying loads from the rear of the building to the front. He moved stacks of crates, lifting them high in the air to place on neatly organized shelves running in rows just left of the overhead door behind Isak’s Hummer.

  The forklift driver’s shaggy gray hair and rumpled clothes didn’t match Isak’s buff military look, but the guy’s sharp gaze scanning everywhere as he worked and his taut posture spoke of alertness on a par with the other Nyght Raiders.

  Two more vehicles were parked inside. With the right color scheme and a few decals, one could have been an armored security truck for money pickups. But who drove that sleek, do-me-red BMW Z8?

  Not Isak, who filled the cockpit of this Hummer.

  He’d have to wear that tiny car.

  “You’re looking for one of my Nyght weapons, right, Evalle?” Isak hadn’t made a move to get out of the Hummer yet. He had his arms crossed and his attitude locked into quiet-curiosity mode.

  “Yes. Hopefully, a smaller version of the one you used to destroy that demon when we first met.” She’d been interrogating a Birrn demon until Isak blasted it with one of his superweapons. The demon imploded before she could get intel she’d desperately needed. Granted, when Isak showed up the Birrn had appeared close to chowing down on her. Small detail.

  “What’re you trying to kill?”

  She could only dodge him so long without having to share something. If she said the weapon was for another demon, she’d get the wrong weapon. “I need something that would stop a troll without drawing the attention of … citizens.”

  The drone of the forklift motor running back and forth filled the pause before Isak said, “Trolls.”

  She nodded, but that hadn’t been a question.

  “When did you see a troll?”

  Answering that honestly opened the door to more questions. “I’d rather not say.”

  “But you’re not protecting the troll.”

  “No. I want to protect myself from the troll.” There. She’d played the girl card in spite of how vulnerable that made her sound. She could kick a troll’s butt any day.

  Isak shifted his body, muscles bunching when he propped an elbow on the driver’s door. “Tell me where to find this troll and I’ll handle it.”

  She stopped herself a second before snarling that she didn’t need a man protecting her. What had made Quinn believe she could do this? Unclenching her jaw, she spoke with an even tone. “I don’t know where the troll is right now.”

  “I can put a detail on you.”

  Isak could be a persistent son of a gun, but he wasn’t going to get the answer he wanted. “I’m not interested in having bodyguards follow me around. If you don’t want to loan me a weapon, then just say so and I’ll figure out something else.”

  Isak gave it a couple beats, then said, “Wait for me to open your door.”

  That wasn’t a yes, not yet.

  He allowed her to step down unaided.

  Just as her boot touched the concrete floor, the door to the office area opened and a slim woman of average height walked out. She could be late forties or early fifties, too attractive to pin down. Beautiful brunette hair in a short, swooshy style fanned around her tanned face. She wore knee-length white pants and an aqua-blue shirt with a flared collar. Cinnamon lips smiled when she noticed Isak.

  He put a hand to Evalle’s back, gently urging her toward the office and this woman.

  The forklift’s tires squealed with a sharp turn.

  Evalle glanced at the machine … then at the driver, who was heading straight for the three of them.

  The driver’s head began stretching into a grotesque shape, his mouth widening with fangs. Brown eyes.

  Seconds slowed down with each heartbeat that thudded in her chest at this living nightmare unfolding.

  A Rías.

  As the forklift careened toward them, Isak grabbed Evalle, then lunged for the other woman, shoving them both toward the office.

  Evalle kept her balance and spun around in time to see the driver alter his direction toward her and the woman.

  She didn’t doubt that every person in this building was armed, but not one of those technicians two hundred feet away would g
et here in time, and the handgun Isak had just drawn would only anger the beast further.

  No one could stop that Rías in the next five seconds.

  Except Evalle. If she didn’t use her kinetics, this woman would die, and possibly Isak as well.

  No time to worry about consequences.

  Evalle slapped a kinetic shot at Isak’s hand, knocking the weapon away. She ignored his furious shout and threw up a wall of kinetic energy to block the forklift from plowing into her and the brunette at full speed.

  The forklift hit the invisible energy and bounced backward with the front end lifting into the air.

  What had been a human driver only a moment ago had now fully shifted into a Rías, which dove off the forklift as the machine tilted over on its side.

  The beast lunged to attack.

  Evalle called her dagger up from her boot, spinning it in her hand as she surged forward to meet the threat. She pulled her arm back, aiming to drive the dagger into his chest, but the Rías moved like a spear of lightning, diving for her feet.

  He knocked her legs out from under her.

  She flipped, landing on her back, and jumped up.

  The Rías came at her again.

  She hit the beast with a kinetic blast, but he swatted it back at her, knocking her glasses off. The sudden light blinded her.

  Out of instinct, she kinetically exploded all the overhead lights, confusing the Rías long enough for her to spin around and boot him hard in the chest. He flew backward twenty-five feet, slamming against the wall and falling to the floor … where he started shifting back into a human.

  It all happened in a matter of seconds.

  The sound of weapons being racked echoed behind her.

  Evalle shouted, “Don’t shoot! He’s a human.” She turned, looking for her sunglasses.

  Red dots lit up her chest.

  Her sunglasses were hooked over the long barrel of a Nyght demon blaster Isak pointed at her heart. “So your eyes are green. Alterant green.”

  “I can explain, Isak.”

  “What makes you think I care?”