The Curse

  "Evalle will understand."

  "If you really believe that, you're not as bright as I gave you credit for."

  The witch might have a point. Evalle did have a volatile temper when it came to Adrianna. Ridiculous really, since Evalle had no reason to suffer jealousy, but a wise man would avoid mentioning that Adrianna had been here with Storm all this time. That might work if not for his Ashaninka ability to detect a lie, which came with a counter side--he suffered serious pain if he lied.

  A gift that Evalle knew all about.

  He was too exhausted to think on that at the moment. He needed to focus on healing fast and regaining his strength so he could get out of this bed. Right now, he'd have a hard time lifting the bottle of water on his own. "I'll find her in a couple of days. What day is it anyhow?"

  "Last Thursday in September. Think you'll be fully recovered that fast?"

  No, but that wouldn't stop him from sucking it up enough to get behind the wheel of his SUV and track her down. "I'll manage."

  "From what I hear, Evalle's not the only woman waiting for you to call her back, Casanova."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I hear there's a female with a Spanish accent asking around about you."

  "What the--where'd you hear that?" He'd told no one, except Evalle, about the Ashaninka witch doctor, but she'd never say a word.

  "From a Nightstalker. I heard about her while I was searching for intel for VIPER the week before you got hurt."

  "You traded for information on her?" he asked. The old ghoul Nightstalkers could take ten minutes of human form if they shook hands with someone who possessed powers.

  "No. The Nightstalker tried to cut a second deal for intel on a woman with powers from South America who was interested in a Skinwalker who could shift into a jaguar." Adrianna paused and looked straight at him. "I wasn't aware of any Skinwalkers ... then."

  Adrianna knowing about his jaguar form wasn't a problem, but Storm had kept that information from Sen.

  Sen had brought him in as a tracker for VIPER, an agency that protected humans from supernatural threats, but Sen's real purpose had been for Storm to catch Evalle in a lie, to get her booted from the team or locked up. Storm had decided to help Evalle instead.

  The question now was whether Sen knew the black jaguar he'd crushed against that brick wall was Storm. Had he meant to kill me? A bigger concern shoved forward.

  If Sen found out about the witch doctor, he'd have the perfect anonymous weapon for getting rid of Evalle, permanently, and all he'd have to do was point the bitch in Evalle's direction.

  And nobody--not even the Tribunal--would be able to prove that Sen had orchestrated the death of an innocent woman.

  TWO

  Evalle looked up from her menu, expecting to see the tall waitress with blunt-cut, purple hair and tattoos for sleeves ... not a pissed-off Celtic goddess with the power to destroy everything in sight.

  "Hello, Macha." Evalle mustered the calmest voice she could, considering how much trouble she might be in. Macha wanted information Evalle didn't have. Facts about Alterants like her ... beings who were part Belador and part unknown.

  As an ancient race who appeared human, Beladors shared unusual gifts such as kinetic and telepathic powers. Since they all belonged to Macha's pantheon, they weren't a concern. It was that unknown part of Evalle's blood that labeled her Alterant, an outcast among her own people. That bothered Macha.

  The Goddess wanted to know what caused an otherwise human-appearing person to shift into a beast with exceptional powers, even beyond those of normal Beladors.

  Well, human in appearance, except for glowing green eyes in Evalle's case. The dark sunglasses she wore day and night shielded that little oddity.

  Macha arched a graceful, yet deadly, eyebrow at her. A cool September breeze ruffled the goddess's waist-length waves of auburn hair. Her gown shimmered with colors stolen from an aurora borealis. "I have allowed you three weeks."

  Evalle had known this day was coming, but not so soon.

  Something must have happened to instigate this unwelcome early visit.

  She cast a quick glance around the upper deck of Six Feet Under, her favorite restaurant in downtown Atlanta. A few people had given Evalle's dark eyewear a second look when she'd walked in after sundown, but none of this late-Friday-night crowd seemed to notice the gorgeous, glowing female deity.

  Macha must be cloaking her appearance and voice.

  Think the humans would notice if Macha turned me into a ball of flames? Probably not. They'd just chalk it up to another unexplained incident of spontaneous combustion.

  Evalle dug into her pocket for a Bluetooth earpiece she'd found in a parking lot. Clipping on the inactive communication device provided her the perfect cover for conversing with an invisible person. "I know you've been patient--"

  Macha's glare returned full force. "What gave you the ridiculous idea that I'm patient? I had you freed from the Tribunal prison based upon your agreement to investigate, and deliver, the origin of Alterants. Have you forgotten?"

  Let me think about this. No, I generally remember deals made with deities. Sarcasm would only get her toasted. Literally. Evalle explained, "I've been trying to--"

  "I know what you have not accomplished, such as bringing Tristan in to swear loyalty to me and the Beladors. You said that Alterant would provide significant details about your kind. Where is he?"

  "I don't know ... yet." The night Evalle agreed to the deal with Macha, Evalle had been facing imprisonment for the rest of her life, for crimes she had not committed. Who wouldn't jump to make a deal for freedom at that point? And she'd been sure Tristan would agree, since he and his sister were on the run from VIPER as escaped fugitives. But after three weeks of calling out to him telepathically Evalle hadn't heard so much as a whisper in response.

  "Perhaps I was hasty in getting you released."

  "No, you weren't." Evalle couldn't afford for Macha to change her mind and end Evalle's hope for true freedom. "The VIPER teams need every able body in Atlanta right now, which is why I haven't had time to hunt down Tristan. You told me I had to fulfill my Belador duties with VIPER. We've all been running constantly because of this outbreak of gang wars."

  "Gang wars are a human problem." Macha waved a hand in dismissal at the mention. Belador warriors, who lived secretly among the human population, made up the bulk of VIPER assets. Her derisive tone left no doubt about where Evalle's other commitments fell on the goddess's list of concerns.

  "Not this time," Evalle explained. "We've found trolls involved with the gangs." She checked to see if anyone observed her talking, but no one seemed to notice. People flowed around them the way water avoided a rock in a stream.

  "Your first priority is your warrior queen when her safety is in question."

  That snapped Evalle's attention back to Macha. "Has something happened to Brina?" As goddess of the Beladors, Macha's first concern was Brina, the last living Treoir. Belador powers depended on a living descendant residing on Treoir Island.

  "The answer to that should be obvious since you're breathing."

  Macha would never be known as the nurturing goddess.

  Evalle asked, "But Brina's not under immediate threat, right?"

  "You don't think so? As of now, you are still the only Alterant who has sworn fealty to me and the Beladors, in spite of the sanctuary I offered to all who will." Macha's tone sharpened, making it clear that she considered the lack of Alterants coming forward to be an insult. "Tristan and his group of beasts remain at large, not to mention any other Alterants we haven't located. With so many beasts and that traitor O'Meary unaccounted for, of course Brina is under immediate threat."

  Evalle flinched at Alterants being called beasts. She hated that term almost as much as she hated the unknown blood that gave her the bright green eyes and the urge to change into a monster when threatened.

  As for the Belador warrior queen, Brina should be safe in her warded castle on Treoir, hi
dden in a mist above the Irish Sea. But Evalle caught the shift in Macha's demeanor, the chill in her tone when she mentioned the Belador traitor, Conlan O'Meary. Evalle frowned. "I don't see how Alterants are connected to the traitor."

  Macha's luminous hazel-green eyes turned to flint. Furious energy whipped across Evalle's skin, singeing fine hairs along her arms. "I'll speak slowly so I don't have to repeat myself. The traitor is working with the Medb Coven. You claimed the Medb intend to use Alterants to invade Treoir Island and attack Brina. Even you should be able to connect those dots without paper and pen."

  Evalle wiped a damp palm on her jeans and bit back a retort. Three weeks ago, she'd been locked in a prison with no hope of escape because she couldn't bring herself to hand over other innocent Alterants and condemn them to the same fate. She owed Macha for her freedom and for giving her a chance to prove Alterants were not mindless animals and deserved to be a recognized race.

  She also didn't want to be turned into a charcoal briquette. "I see your point and with a little more time--"

  "Neither of us has the luxury of time, especially you. An Alterant has killed one of Dakkar's hunters. He filed a grievance with the Tribunal, demanding justice and compensation."

  On a scale of bad news, that slammed the top. Dakkar ran a bounty-hunting operation that VIPER allowed to function as long as Dakkar executed the occasional contract for VIPER. But he could be wrong about fingering an Alterant for the killing since Rias were humans who also shifted to beast state, and the Rias she'd witnessed had slaughtered without thought.

  Evalle asked, "Is Dakkar sure an Alterant killed his bounty hunter? Could have been a Rias. Their eyes--"

  "Yes, yes, I had a report about Rias eyes appearing human in color instead of bright green like yours, but I doubt the dead bounty hunter was able to report the beast's eye color," Macha finished with dry sarcasm.

  Evalle started to point out the differences didn't stop at eye color alone, because she could control her beast when shifted and so could Tristan. But she wasn't allowed to shift, and with the exception of two Rias that Tristan had trained, the other Rias she knew of were mindless beasts when they changed form, immediately mauling and killing any humans within reach. To some, all beasts looked alike.

  Macha added, "Until you supply information to differentiate the two, a Rias is simply another version of an Alterant."

  Evalle had no argument when she couldn't clearly establish the origin of her own kind. "So what happens now with Dakkar?"

  "A hearing is scheduled for tomorrow to decide who is responsible to him for compensation and what Dakkar should receive. Deliver me Tristan and his information by the time I return from that meeting or I will withdraw my support for Alterants to become a recognized race."

  The goddess disappeared in a flash of blue and pink light.

  Evalle hadn't found Tristan in three weeks. What was the chance of finding him by tomorrow?

  Even less chance if she didn't get something to eat soon. The smell of fried fish saturated the air and brought on another round of grumbling from her stomach. She lifted a hand to wave over the waitress and order something to go when she felt Belador power blast into her mind.

  The telepathic voice of Tzader Burke, Maistir of the North American Belador warriors, yelled, Calling in Beladors! Gang war going down in Oakland Cemetery.

  The upper deck of Six Feet Under overlooked Oakland Cemetery.

  At Tzader's call to arms, Evalle threw cash on the table for her drink and hurried down the stairs, then took off running across Memorial Drive. All Beladors in the area would rush to aid their Maistir, but Tzader was her best friend. She ran hard to protect his back.

  She called to Tzader, I'm coming from across the street. Where're you, Z?

  East end. Potter's Field near Boulevard.

  That narrowed down the forty-eight-acre landmark. Oakland was the seventh cemetery in the metropolitan area to be turned into a battleground this week.

  Gangs had little respect for the living or the dead, but this level of hostility among so many at one time was unprecedented in Atlanta. Why all these throwdowns now?

  And why were trolls all of a sudden infiltrating gangs?

  Someone at VIPER had suggested this might be connected to the troll crimes that Belador teams had been investigating in Savannah. That some of those trolls had splintered off to create their own gangs here, but that still didn't explain why they were battling in cemeteries or why every attack involved members of multiple gangs. It didn't make sense.

  She found a shadowy spot along the sidewalk where no humans could see her use kinetics. Bending her knees, she vaulted over the shoulder-high brick wall into six acres that had been part of the original cemetery established in 1850. Now she could tap into her Belador speed to cover the half-mile run through a moonless black night.

  Tzader added, This is bad. Must be seventy of them out here ... something's not right.

  Like what?

  There's-- His voice cut off and withdrew from her mind as if sucked out.

  She ran faster, ignoring the thump of worry pounding her chest at the sudden loss of connection.

  She told herself that something had taken Tzader's attention, not his life. Darting between tall marble statues and elegant grave markers, she navigated through pitch dark easily with her natural night vision, which made the world look like daylight rendered in shades of blue-gray, even with sunglasses.

  As she watched for any threat, she noticed the lack of normal spirit activity in the burial grounds. Not even an orb. That was just weird.

  Her fingers curled, ready for a fight, but she couldn't use her powers, or her dagger that carried a death spell.

  Not on humans.

  Gunshots cracked the silence, sharp pops, then the boom, boom, boom of a higher-caliber weapon.

  The acrid smell of blood clung to the wind.

  Evalle slowed as she neared the battle. Racing in blind would risk distracting another Belador. Especially if any of them had linked their powers, which multiplied their strength. When linked, Beladors were a near-undefeatable force.

  But kill one Belador while they were linked and they all died.

  As some of the most powerful warriors among preternatural creatures, Beladors had sworn to defend humans who didn't even know they existed.

  Evalle called to Tzader, I'm here and opening up to link.

  His voice shouted telepathically to all Beladors in the cemetery. Link now with Evalle to share her night vision.

  Eleven hits of power bombarded her from every direction.

  She staggered against the initial linking, then found her footing and stepped into the open space where Beladors fought hand-to-hand with humans. Looked like a hundred in battle.

  At least now the Beladors would have the advantage of seeing in the dark.

  A twentyish male with facial tattoos of the Ice Blood Posse rocketed out of nowhere, slashing a wicked knife in a quick horizontal arc at her throat.

  She bent backward as the blade tip passed below her chin.

  The lack of contact threw her attacker off-balance.

  Evalle spun forward, planting a foot for support, and kicked the ganger against an oak tree as big around as a fifty-gallon barrel.

  His body slammed against the trunk, but he shook his head.

  Not dead.

  She'd promised Tzader she'd show restraint after putting a gang leader in traction yesterday ... and that had been without tapping her Belador powers. That murdering bastard deserved death for killing a young girl he'd raped and beaten.

  Too bad his punishment fell to the legal system or she'd have saved the taxpayers some money.

  Shots were fired from her left.

  With the cover of darkness, she risked shoving a field of energy up to stop the bullets as she turned toward the shooter. Fortunately, he was too far away to see the bullets bounce off the invisible wall of power. She couldn't use her kinetics to harm a human, but she could protect herself and others,
especially if she didn't expose her unusual abilities.

  She sent a mild wave of energy across the field, knocking the shooter backward off his feet. His weapon fell loose, then ... flew up to rest in the nearest tree.

  Imagine that.

  Two wrestling bodies bumped into her.

  She wheeled around, expecting to crack a couple more heads, when one of the men started changing. His head stretched in two hideous directions and his mouth widened, accommodating fangs.

  This just turned way worse than a gang war.

  She called out to Tzader, We got a Rias shifting in the open area.

  Tzader called back, Rias? Not an Alterant?

  Yep. No glowing green eyes. His are natural looking.

  Get him away from the humans.

  Then another voice came into her mind. Evalle, Tristan here.

  Tristan called her now?

  Before she could answer him, Tzader ordered, Get the beast to chase you. Don't engage him until I tell you.

  Evalle? Tristan said louder in her head.

  Power surged through her mind when Tzader started shouting orders telepathically to all the Beladors.

  Evalle shook her fist at Tristan's sucky timing, but she had to wait for Tzader to finish before she could shield her mind to communicate with only one person. The safety of her fellow Beladors came first. Nine Beladors had died last year while linked when the Alterant they fought killed one of them. Which is one reason Evalle's freedom was threatened. Those in power questioned whether she might lose control and also harm humans or other beings.

  Like the one shifting before her. Unlike the two Rias Tristan had trained, this one showed no signs of restraint.

  Which meant it would eat the human it had by the arm.

  She ripped the gang member from the beast's grasp and tossed the cursing human thug thirty feet away.

  The Rias roared as he finished shifting.

  As per Tzader's orders that were still flowing telepathically through her mind, she lifted her hand and slapped the beast with a mild kinetic blast to get his attention.

  That worked, aggravating him.

  He stumbled back a few feet, shaking his oversize head, which had two holes for a nose and a mouth big enough to fit a human head in one bite. Fuzzy hair stuck up across his scalp in a Brillo-pad Mohawk. His forehead hung like a canopy over soulless eyes. Thick arms had ripped his multicolored shirt, and three fingers on each hand curled with sharp claws.