Blood Trinity

  Quinn blasted the fourth warlock backward with a shot of energy, then produced three Celtic Triquetra with jagged blades and threw them with deadly accuracy. The blades struck the warlock in his throat, heart and eyes, killing him instantly.

  "Not my brother! No!" Kizira screamed. She looked at Quinn, her agonized face a mix of shock and betrayal. When the priestess lifted her hands at Quinn, Evalle dove at her.

  "No, Evalle!" Quinn shouted.

  She slid to a stop at the side of Kizira, who froze in mid-motion with arms extended, eyes stuck open, full of fury.

  Quinn appeared next to the priestess. "I've locked her mind, but I can't hold her long without harming her." He cut eyes teeming with sadness at Evalle. "Help Tzader."

  She nodded, then felt a blow to her midsection and doubled over. Quinn groaned but held his position with his back to the room. When she turned to Tzader, she found him on the ground, the three-pronged spear staked through his chest.

  Tzader looked over at her. His face twisted with pain. Unlink ... before I die, and leave me, he called into her mind. You can't kill this one.

  Evalle looked at the last warlock, who laughed in triumph until he eyed Kizira immobilized. That's when the eyes on the serpent tattoo on his head came to life. That meant he carried the same blood as the Medb High Priestess.

  Evalle looked at Tzader. Escape or fall, we stand as one.

  Agreed, Quinn confirmed on a gasp. But I can't help you and hold Kizira immobile.

  Evalle faced the warlock. Intimidation played a role in every battle won. "You don't look so hard to kill."

  The warlock whispered a chant, lifting his hands to his lips and blowing across the palms. Both hands tripled in size, extending into claws. He swiped one long talon at the nearest wall, digging a trough through stone as though cutting butter with a cleaver. He crooked the same claw, smiling when he goaded her to attack.

  Well, crap. She hadn't really expected to get out of this mess without facing this decision. But she'd only shifted once--partway--and that had been in reaction to terror. Returning to her normal physical state had been a struggle. Could she do it again? Or would she remain a mindless beast?

  No time to worry about what might happen.

  If they stayed, they died. If she shifted ...

  Evalle mentally reached inside herself, deep into the core of her life force. She urged her body to free itself. Power rolled through the center of her, surging into her legs and arms. Bones cracked and popped, skin stretched tight. Her clothes split, shredding into tatters that fell away from her body.

  Leather ripped with a squeal when her feet thickened, toes growing the length of a human hand. Her jaw expanded to accommodate a double row of teeth that sharpened into jagged fangs.

  Nerves and tendons cried out in pain. She roared an echoing, haunting sound, now able to stare down at the warlock from ten feet off the ground.

  He dared to laugh, then threw a ball of energy at her.

  She batted it away, blowing a hole in the rock wall.

  The warlock cocked his head, still smiling, but with a little surprise. He flew at her, arms drawn back to swing a clawed hand at her neck. Before he could sever her head, she blocked him, using an oversize arm that sizzled with unspent power.

  He bounced back, stunned for the two seconds she allowed him to live.

  She curled her leathery fingers into a fist and smashed his face, slamming him backward into the wall, where his body clung, shaking. Bolts of energy popped and sparked around him before he dropped to the ground. When she stepped close to the warlock, he gasped, "You're a dead monster--"

  She lifted a foot as heavy as two cement blocks and slammed down on his midsection, crushing him into two halves.

  His last breath screamed out of him, a sound of agony Evalle never wanted to hear again.

  Brilliant orange light blanched the inside of the cave. His body foamed purple, then disintegrated into a puff of brown smoke. A sure sign he was Medb royalty.

  Evalle took several breaths, calming the power pulsing through her. She begged her body to pull back into itself now that they were safe. Each breath she drew forced another part to tighten and shrink, but hallelujah, she was reversing the change. Sweat covered her skin. Pain daggered her arms and legs, sickened her stomach. Her head felt as though a stake was being driven through her temples, but she'd end up facing worse if the Tribunal found out she'd shifted.

  Feeling the last of her body return to human form, Evalle swung around to Tzader, who lay perfectly still. When she reached him, she yanked the spear free. Blood gushed from the three holes. Mortified by her naked state but unable to repair her shredded clothing, she dropped down on her bare knees and pressed her hands over the gaping wounds to stop the flow of blood. But she had no power to save him from all the internal damage.

  "He can't be dead, because we're alive," Quinn said in a wheeze over his shoulder from where he still controlled Kizira.

  "You're right." Evalle and Quinn had a chance to survive if they unlinked and escaped, but she couldn't walk away from Tzader. He was not the traitorous Belador. If she unlinked, he'd lose the strength she still gave him. Her abdomen hurt, too, but ... not as though she'd been stabbed. Why didn't she feel like she was dying?

  Could an Alterant linked to a Belador not die?

  Tzader's eyes fluttered.

  "I'm here," she assured him. "I won't leave you."

  He gasped hard for air, chest heaving. His hand shot up to grab her arm with a strength that surprised her.

  "He's living ... I feel him getting stronger."

  Evalle glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. "Me, too."

  Tzader groaned. "You can move your hand now."

  When she looked down, his face was robust with life. She pulled her hands away. The holes in his chest were shrinking. She stared in shock. "What'd you do?"

  Tzader sat up and stretched; then his shoulders slumped with the effort. "You saved my life, Evalle."

  "No, I didn't." She stood up and backed away from him. "I do not have those powers."

  Pushing up to his feet, Tzader turned to her, politely avoiding her naked body. "You ought to grab a robe."

  She yanked a robe off the ground where it had been left behind when one of the warlocks had disintegrated. She shoved her arms through the sleeves. "Now. What happened to you, Tzader?"

  He moved slowly, still recovering. "Best I can tell, the spear tips were made of lava from a volcano I'm not telling either of you about since it's the only thing that can kill me. But the tips have to stay in place while I die a slow death. If you hadn't defeated the last warlock and pulled out the spear, I'd be dead."

  Beladors were not immortal, as a rule, as far as she knew. "Why can't you be killed?"

  When Tzader didn't reply, Quinn did. "Might as well tell us. Then Evalle can share what it takes to kill her, too. I'm not leaving here without knowing more about both of you."

  She gave him an arch stare. "I think you two know all you need to know about me right now."

  Tzader shrugged. "Let's just say I'm the descendant of a Belador who had me blessed, or cursed, depending on your point of view, and leave it at that, okay?" He walked over to Quinn. "Can we get outta here?"

  "Yes. I pulled the exit route from Kizira's mind."

  Evalle stepped up to both of them. "I doubt she's going to let us go without a fight once you unlock her mind."

  "I won't kill her," Quinn said with quiet conviction. "I can leave a blank place in her thoughts when I release her that will last maybe a minute after she comes out of this state. That's enough time to reach the surface."

  "Do it." Tzader glanced at the still-open wall. He whistled shrilly. Two spinning knives with Celtic designs on the handles flew into the room and circled him, landing at each hip. The tips of the blades snarled and hissed.

  Evalle missed her boots more than her clothes, but she had bigger worries. She knew better than to believe these two would protect her secret unless they gave h
er their word. But what Belador would risk his existence and his family for an Alterant?

  "We have to go now." Quinn stepped away from Kizira, who stood motionless, like an eerie statue. He led the way, racing through a maze of dark corridors that climbed upward to the surface.

  Tzader followed Evalle, who kept pace with Quinn.

  "We're all good with keeping a few secrets, right?" Evalle was dying to know why neither of the men had commented on her shifting. She'd do anything to protect her tribe, but she would not go willingly into a cage again.

  Not after spending her childhood locked away as a freak.

  Tzader's steps pounded close behind. "Let's get outta here first, then talk."

  Fear went through her. He was going to throw her to the higher-ups. She knew it. He just wasn't man enough to tell her until he was safe. "You can talk and run. Admit what you saw. I changed right back into my normal state. I'm not out of control. I chose when to shift and when to come back."

  "It's complicated, Evalle." Quinn led them with confidence, choosing turns without hesitation and running all-out.

  Until he reached a pile of rocks that blocked their path.

  Everyone skidded to a stop.

  Neither man made a move to clear the rocks, and their minute of a head start was close to ending. Evalle looked at them. "Let's get kinetic, shall we?"

  Quinn shook his head. "We can't move these rocks that way. I pulled several chants from Kizira I believe are connected to this route, but--"

  "But what?" Anger mixed with fear inside her. "Start the freaking chant before your crazy priestess wakes up from her little nap."

  "I might kill us if I use the wrong chant. And she's not crazy." Quinn's tone told her his patience was strained.

  An unearthly shriek right out of a B horror movie rocked the underground tunnel.

  "Sounds like Sleeping Beauty's awake," Evalle sighed.

  "I liked you better when you didn't talk," Quinn snapped, losing all hold on his composure.

  "I don't like either one of you right now." Tzader glared at them. "Open the damn exit or I'm gonna have to kill one seriously pissed-off priestess."

  Kizira's shrieks grew in volume.

  Quinn faced the rocks and spewed out a rapid sequence of mumbo jumbo Evalle couldn't begin to translate or remember.

  Boulders started falling away to each side, parting to make an opening. She took one quick look behind them for Kizira. Quinn might not want to hurt his evil-eyed honey, but Evalle did. If not for the Medb she wouldn't be facing imprisonment--or worse--for shifting.

  "Let's go." Tzader grabbed her arm and dragged her through the opening. "Seal that mother, Quinn!"

  Quinn's chant was lost in the sound of rocks piling in behind them.

  When Evalle caught her footing she was above ground.

  In daylight. No shelter within a mile.

  An August sun blistered the desert landscape, and it blistered her.

  "No!" She curled inside the robe, pulling the thin protection around her. Skin on the back of her exposed hand started turning a nasty green color.

  Tzader and Quinn shouted something, but her screams drowned them out. Heat scorched through the blood vessels in her arm and into her body, carrying the poison into her system.

  She wouldn't face imprisonment after all.

  The sun would kill her first.

  CURRENT DAY

  ATLANTA, GEORGIA

  ONE

  Evalle kept a city block between her and the Cresyl demon skulking along Peters Street through one of the riskier sections of downtown Atlanta after dark.

  Three-in-the-morning dark. Graveyard quiet for a Sunday morning. Where were all the people leaving the bars? There should be more on the street than this.

  But more importantly, who had sent a Cresyl demon into this territory--again--and why? Second time in ten days, and she wouldn't have identified this one so quickly if not for having studied up on them after the last one showed up and ruined her day.

  So many nonhumans to learn about, so little time. Especially while hunting them. But the last Cresyl sighted in Atlanta had disappeared before causing any trouble.

  This time, they weren't so lucky. A human had died, and in a suspicious manner for a demon attack. A death that meant trouble for Evalle in the worst way with VIPER.

  The body of a young female had been mauled with only the heart missing. Worse had been the stink of sulfur, which told her exactly how nonhuman the attack had been. But that didn't make sense. A demon had to ingest the entire human to take a soul, so why only one organ? Why maul the body?

  It didn't smack of demon. It smacked of the way Alterants had decimated bodies in the past.

  Was someone intentionally trying to make the killing appear as though an Alterant had attacked the woman?

  Or am I just being paranoid?

  She wished Tzader and Quinn hadn't both been called out of town. They could sort reality from paranoia. She hadn't been really good at doing that for herself since surviving their escape from the Medb two years ago.

  Had the Medb sent this demon?

  Were they still trying to get her?

  But that didn't make sense either. Cresyls were South African and not Celtic, therefore they weren't the kind of demon the Medb would use.

  Stop with the crazy thoughts and catch that friggin' thing sneaking around the city. If she handed proof of what had killed the human to VIPER before they opened an investigation, she wouldn't face even suspension. If not, the first finger would point at her the minute they found out about a ripped-up human.

  Always worked that way.

  Guilty beyond doubt. Burden of proof on me, no matter how much I prove myself.

  Bastards.

  She'd never harmed a human, but she was an Alterant after all, profiled in the purest sense of the word as a predatory threat for nothing more than breathing their air.

  Even temporary suspension would be unbearable, because it meant having her powers stripped to a minimal level. That would leave her practically defenseless in a city where preternatural beings moved silent and deadly.

  With purpose.

  Like the being that crept along steadily ahead of her.

  If she ran around Atlanta without her powers, it'd be open season on her and she'd end up on a slab in the morgue next to that poor woman missing a heart.

  Much as the idea of losing her powers gave her the shakes, her greater worry would be that the sudden stripping of powers might trigger an involuntary shift into her beast form out of a natural instinct to protect herself.

  That would end any question of her guilt as far as VIPER was concerned, and she'd be doomed.

  She'd face a room full of demons to avoid that scenario. Besides, VIPER needed her out here working. She had the best informants in the city when it came to supernatural intelligence.

  That's how she'd found this demon in so little time.

  The Cresyl stumbled, caught his balance, then stopped as though stuck in place. Dividing her attention between him and her path, she barely sidestepped a pile of putrid-smelling ick on the sidewalk that he'd left in his wake.

  Great ... like walking behind a horse. Jeez. Didn't they have any sense of cleanliness?

  He--the demon's gender as determined by the size of his horns--glimmered in and out of shape, appearing more as shadow and mist than anything lifelike to unsuspecting humans at three in the morning. Even through her dark sunglasses, Evalle's natural night vision picked up his bony spine, slinking tail and leathery skin as clear as a high-resolution image.

  Why was he moving at such a sluggish pace? Cresyls were generally quick and dangerous ... and traveled in pairs.

  Where was this one's mate?

  Which one had ripped into a human tonight ...

  Or had they?

  Something had, and they were the most likely candidates. The remains of the young woman had shown up in the Atlanta city morgue a few hours ago. The morgue where Evalle worked part-time as a m
aintenance tech from ten at night until five in the morning. All agents at VIPER were expected to integrate into the community, preferably somewhere that allowed them intel on supernatural activity.

  The morgue was a perfect place to be. Not just for VIPER but for her own personal reasons as well.

  The dead were not a threat.

  Most of the time.

  And what better place to hear about unusual killings or strange DNA evidence? Being on call for early Sunday morning usually meant processing run-of-the-mill Saturday night violence, not a demon mauling. The graveyard shift supervisor who'd received the woman's body had filed a request that animal control come inspect the ravaged body and gouged chest.

  That visit wouldn't happen until Monday during business hours. But Evalle couldn't gamble on the possibility of VIPER finding out about the mutilation before Monday, since they had other spies with morgue access besides her.

  Even if a wild animal from the zoo could have ripped the heart out of the body so cleanly, any investigator would question why an earthly predator would leave the rest of the body uneaten.

  Animals tended to be sloppy killers. Demons not so much.

  Everything about this death was off, didn't fit anything she'd ever seen or heard about with regard to Cresyl demons--or any other kind, for that matter. Her Spidey sense was tingling off the charts, and she couldn't shake the feeling this was bad for her. Real bad. Having been alone right before work, she had no alibi for the time of death.

  Not paranoia. I'm being set up. I have to be. Nothing else made sense.

  Quinn and Tzader would help with a minute's notice, but they were in Charlotte, and she refused to call them like some helpless female. I came into this world alone and I can handle anything it throws at me.

  And by the gods, she could handle the Cresyls.

  If she didn't make a mistake.

  Or run out of time. With daylight coming in less than two hours, she'd be forced off the streets to hide from the August sun. That was why she'd faked a case of nausea at the morgue and clocked out early to go home. It wasn't a total lie. She really was feeling sick to her stomach that someone wanted her butt in a sling.

  Or more to the point, a cage.

  Evalle flinched as unwanted memories tore through her with sharp talons at that thought. Nothing set off her panic attacks worse than imprisonment.