The Curse

  Storm didn't move a muscle, but he vibrated with frustration. "That's it? I tell you the truth and you're angry?"

  "I'm not angry." She turned to her bike.

  "That's the second time you've lied."

  She pulled her jacket on and lifted her helmet, pausing to look at him. She would have done anything to see him alive again and here he was. How he got here shouldn't matter. But it did. "You're right. And to be perfectly fair, I have no right to be angry. I am glad someone was there to take care of you." Just wish it had been me.

  "Maybe I should take it as a compliment that you're angry." His eyes shone with a hint of humor that barely hid the tethered frustration. "I'm still expecting dinner."

  She'd pulled her helmet on and could pretend she hadn't heard him, but that would be childish. Did she want to see him again? Absolutely. But she needed some time to get her emotions under control. "Let me get back to you on that."

  "We need a way to communicate."

  Just have your guardian spirit contact me since she chases down women for you. Evalle bit back that reply. That wasn't the truth and she knew it, but she'd never dealt with emotions like these and wasn't enjoying it one bit. Which was why she needed some space. "You have my cell phone and e-mail."

  Storm stepped over to stand next to her bike. "Let's not use cell phones yet. I set up a new e-mail account." He gave her the address and the password.

  "Why give me your password?"

  "Because we're not going to actually send the e-mails."

  "We don't send them? How hard did your head hit that wall?"

  He smiled, but his eyes were sad. "I've missed your smart mouth, especially your lips."

  When he said things like that and looked at her as if she were his favorite dessert, she wanted to kiss him again, which went to show how much this man jumbled her feelings. "You have thirty seconds to explain. I'll be late if I don't get moving."

  "Go into the server and open a new e-mail. Write my name and the date in the subject line, then type your message. When you're done, save it as a draft. I'll find your messages in the draft and leave one for you the same way. That way no one can intercept our e-mails or trace them."

  That sounded pretty cloak-and-dagger, but Storm had not been this careful prior to being injured, so he must have good reason to be so now. She'd lost a lot of sleep over his possible death. If this kept him safe, she'd do it.

  That didn't mean she'd have dinner with him.

  She had too much to sort through right now and no time to waste figuring out her screwed-up psyche. Cranking her motorcycle, she reached up to lower her face shield, but Storm stopped her with his hand on hers.

  Then he leaned close and said, "Plan on dinner ... at my place tomorrow night. I'll post the address in an e-mail draft."

  She waited for him to step back, then she dropped her face shield and drove away, glancing at her rearview mirror.

  The sidewalk was empty.

  Storm had disappeared into the night again.

  After pushing her bike through yellow lights the whole way to the Iron Casket, she parked in an open spot far enough from the front door to study the lay of the land.

  The pair of behemoth bouncers guarding the entrance missed little. With the boss they had, their lives literally depended on their performance. Even now she'd bet they were making a mental note of how long it took her to peel out of her jacket.

  Last time she'd been here, she'd come close to a throwdown with the owner, Deek D'Alimonte, over Kardos, a teenage male witch who had foolishly taken an interest in Deek's sister.

  Committing suicide by torching yourself would be an easier death for a man than being caught sniffing around the sister of an immortal centaur.

  Evalle had just barely managed to extricate herself and wisecracking Kardos from that tight spot. Deek hadn't forbidden her from coming back, but he wouldn't be happy to see her either. With a little luck, she'd slip through unnoticed.

  She headed for the door. Tristan had picked a perfect place to meet. Deek allowed no weapons, and no use of majik or powers, inside his club. Tristan didn't have to worry about being surrounded by VIPER agents or a battle with Evalle.

  When she'd first transferred to the southeastern region of VIPER, she'd been warned about Deek. That he'd been in this area long before VIPER formed the Coalition and he'd refused to join it. He took no one's side but his own. Rather than face Deek as an enemy when VIPER was still in its early stages, they'd struck a deal. Deek agreed to be neutral territory if a summit meeting was ever needed. In return, he had full autonomy within his domain.

  In other words, stay out or enter at your own risk.

  Weapons could be found with a body search, so she left her spelled dagger hidden on her bike. When she reached the entrance, she handed cash for her cover charge to one of the Goth giants guarding the door and walked in.

  Inside the two-level, glittery nightclub, which had a soaring open center, music rocked the walls with heavy bass and screaming guitars. Sweat and alcohol leaked from the pores of gyrating dancers. Deek had pulled out all the stops to turn a basic warehouse into floor-to-ceiling sparkly when he'd dated a Fae woman, but that had been before the ugly breakup.

  No Fae allowed now, thus the reason for the tongue-in-cheek name Iron Casket, since Fae majik supposedly would not work around iron, and Deek would kill anyone who broke his rules.

  Calling this crowd Goth would sound too homogenized for the creative types that packed the dance floor, crowded the bar and filled dark pockets everywhere.

  Waitstaff circled the room carrying casket-shaped trays filled with drinks in crystal glasses. Evalle waved off two before a familiar voice close behind her said, "Don't you ever dress for going out?"

  "Some of us have to work," she said, turning to find Tristan, who had taken his wardrobe for tonight more seriously than she had. He wore a long-sleeved, button-down shirt in a saturated bloodred color, black dress pants and dark sunglasses. He'd wised up after a month in civilization, now hiding his Alterant-green eyes at night, even though his eyes weren't light sensitive and he didn't have natural night vision like hers. His blond hair had grown out, brushing his collar.

  Women passing by gave him looks filled with erotic offers.

  He returned their smiles, the rogue, telling Evalle, "Like you ever wear anything different for work or play? Oh, wait, that would require having a playful bone in your body, right?"

  He could save his breath at trying so hard to get under her skin. Just by saying hello, Tristan could irritate her more than poison ivy on intimate body parts. "I might enjoy a night off and expand my wardrobe if I didn't have to spend my time tracking down losers like you. Where have you been? Why didn't you answer any of my telepathic calls until now?"

  His gaze tracked past her, sweeping over the room. "We can't discuss this here. Follow me."

  "No way."

  He shot her a glance lacking patience. "I've got a private room upstairs so we can talk. You know I'm not going to pull anything in Deek's place."

  No, she didn't know that, if he and Deek had become friends. Before asking him her next question, she tapped into her empathic sense for something that might help her determine his intent. Her empathic gift was still new to her, but she often picked up something useful. "You know Deek well?"

  "I know of him. I hear he's dangerous to cross and has zero tolerance when it comes to using any powers or majik in this place. I don't know what he is, but just his reputation sounds deadly. I'm not crossing him."

  Tristan's usual arrogance came through perfectly clear, but mixed in with it had been a healthy dose of respect when he mentioned Deek.

  Most nonhumans feared Deek for good reason, and she doubted anything intimidated the centaur, but as long as you played by his rules in this club, Deek wouldn't touch you.

  Break a rule and you were fair game.

  Feeling better about going upstairs, Evalle gave Tristan a nod to lead the way. At the second level, he directed her t
o an alcove with a plush love-seat-size sofa, two cushy side chairs and a low glass coffee table. Sparkling translucent silver curtains pulled back with gold-and-silver cords framed each side of the opening.

  The waiter who stepped out from a dark hallway had nickel-size, black earrings, a pin through his nose, a skull-patterned scarf that hung to his waist and gorgeous tats climbing one arm. He carried a tray with a mixed drink, bottled water and a bowl of fried calamari.

  Once the waiter left, Evalle snagged the bottle of water and took a side chair, angling it so that she could see anyone approaching.

  Tristan took up most of the sofa, spreading his arms. "You like calamari, right?"

  "I can take it or leave it." Right now she wanted to take all of it. Her mouth watered. "Where're you getting money?"

  "Eat, Evalle. Unless your life has changed drastically, you still run on fury and determination. I ate before I came here and the money is from a friend who's helping me."

  No point in wasting the food. She dug in, practically moaning over the flavor. Deek prided himself on having the best of everything.

  Tristan lifted his chin in the direction of the area outside their alcove. "I was told these rooms are soundproof even with the curtains open."

  "I doubt anyone could hear us yelling in here with that music going on." But she had to give Deek credit for his design or whatever he did that made it possible to talk at a normal level in this pocket. She sat back, tapping her finger on the chair arm. "Okay, what gives? I know better than to think you contacted me only for my benefit. Not after leaving me to face the Tribunal empty-handed after I saved your butt."

  "That was unfortunate--"

  "Unfortunate? No, no." Evalle sat forward. "Getting a speeding ticket is unfortunate. Losing your wallet is unfortunate. Getting locked away forever in VIPER prison is more like being castrated with a dull knife and no morphine."

  Tristan flinched hard at that. "Looks like you got yourself out of jail."

  "No thanks to you."

  Tristan ran his fingers through his hair and looked away. When he turned back to her, he actually appeared remorseful. "Later on, I thought about everything that happened that night and realized you might not have called in that bunch of military guys to kill us."

  "You mean Isak Nyght's men? You should have realized the truth the minute I blocked for you so you could escape." Isak Nyght hunted Alterants and gave a standing shoot-to-kill order to his men, all former military.

  Isak hadn't known she was an Alterant before that night, and she'd be on his shoot-on-sight list if Sen hadn't wiped the memories of Isak and his men after they'd seen her shield Tristan's group.

  Isak was yet another complicated relationship she didn't have time to dwell on.

  Forcing her attention back to the male complication du jour, she said, "Couldn't you have used a little logic? Why would I have brought in a bunch of black-ops boys with weapons who wanted to kill Alterants?"

  Tristan held his hands out. "Look at it from my side. Sort of tough to reason all that out in a split second when someone's trying to kill me. I had the safety of three people in my hands, which included my sister. Tell me you'd have made any different decision if you'd been in my place, with you trying to haul us in to face a Tribunal and men pointing cannons at someone you care about."

  Nothing would be gained by arguing the past. She picked at the calamari some more and said, "You said you had information on the traitor. What is it?"

  "I can't tell you--"

  She slapped the chair arm. "Don't even start that crap with me again."

  "If you'd let me finish, I was saying I can't tell you because I don't know anything about the traitor, but I have someone who does."

  "The friend who gave you money?"

  "Yes."

  "Where is he or she?"

  "He, and that's why I'm here, because he said he can't get near you with Tzader, Quinn and everyone else so close."

  "Tell him to call me."

  "Nope. He won't risk talking on the phone or any other electronic format. He wants you to meet with him."

  "Why?"

  "Because he has a personal interest in helping the Beladors and said you'd understand as soon as you meet him."

  She toyed with that, trying to decide what to do with this opportunity. "Why is he helping you?"

  "He runs the equivalent of an underground network that helps people like us, beings without any support or pantheon."

  What choice did she have at this point other than to play along? She needed Tristan and he knew it. "It will have to be at night and I'll pick a place"

  "It's tonight and I know the place. I'll take you there."

  She made a chuffing sound of disbelief. "You really think I'm going to let you take me somewhere?"

  "It's the only way he'll talk to you. He wants to talk to you specifically about Conlan O'Meary."

  Crud. Could this be for real? Tristan shouldn't know about Conlan, so clearly this guy had some information. "Let's say I agree to do this. What do you get out of it?"

  "Safe passage out of the country for me, Petrina, Webster and Aaron."

  "Where'd you put your sister and those two Rias?"

  "Somewhere safe."

  "Webster and Aaron still able to control their beast?"

  "Yep. Getting better all the time."

  That brought up a question burning the inside of her brain that Tristan might be able to answer. "Speaking of Rias, what do you think makes them different from us ... besides eye color?"

  "Why?"

  "Because we've had another one shift in Atlanta."

  Tristan tapped his chin with a finger. "That fog return?"

  "No. We've had gang wars breaking out and found a few trolls mixed in, but tonight was the first time a Rias appeared in one of the fights." She considered mentioning the Svarts, but changed her mind. Until Tristan gave her a reason to share more, he had all he needed to know for now. "But you met up with Webster and Aaron before the sentient fog was released. Where'd you find those two Rias?"

  "Remember when you and I first met? And I was here with the Kujoo?"

  She looked up in a mock show of trying to remember. "Let me think. You mean the very first time in Piedmont Park when you turned Nightstalkers into demented ghouls that attacked me?"

  "I didn't change them. The Kujoo warlord did that."

  "I don't see the difference since you were working with the warlord."

  Tristan rolled his eyes. "Do you want to know how I met Webster and Aaron or not?" He waited for her noisy sigh before continuing. "When I got a chance to slip away from the warlord, I was down in the project housing late at night when Webster and Aaron tried to mug me. I didn't want to hurt them since they were human, but the demented ghouls had followed me and swarmed those two, then Webster and Aaron started shifting."

  "So maybe it takes an unnatural source of hostility like the sentient fog or aggressive ghouls to cause the Rias to shift."

  "Maybe."

  That supported the theory she'd worked out with Quinn. She'd have to let him and Tzader know. "The Rias I know about had no control. They just shifted and killed immediately. What about Webster and Aaron?"

  "They would have, but I shifted into my Alterant beast the minute they changed."

  Evalle groaned. "VIPER would have gone crazy if they'd heard about that."

  "Screw VIPER. I can control my beast and I have no doubt you can control yours. The minute I grabbed those two guys and made it clear that I was the dominant beast, they immediately changed back into their human forms, scared shitless."

  She wasn't acknowledging or denying that she could control her beast since no one could know that she had fully shifted once. "So fear of something more powerful that forces back their aggression snaps them out of the change?"

  "That's a possibility," Tristan said, more to himself than her. "I spent a couple of hours with Webster and Aaron, making them shift back and forth, then explained the danger of being exposed to VIP
ER agents. Once I believed they could control their shifting, I stuck them in the Maze of Death to hide them."

  She remembered that place beneath the underground MARTA rail system all too well. "Weren't you worried a dangerous spirit in there would trigger their change?"

  "Not where I put them. You met the passive spirits in the chamber where I'd left those two."

  "I also met that crazy spirit with a pitchfork who stabbed you." But she lifted her hand, stalling any further talk on the Maze. "Back to my original question. How are Rias different from Alterants?"

  "From what I've figured out, they have super strength and some weak kinetics, but nothing like an Alterant's powers."

  "I beg to differ. I fought one three weeks ago that slammed me with a kinetic punch that knocked me off my feet."

  "Really? That's new. Maybe it's hit or miss on their powers, because I haven't met one like that."

  She tucked that into her ongoing mental file on Rias. "What else can you tell me?"

  "Like I said about you and me, I think Alterants can control their beasts from the first time they change, but the Rias seem to immediately turn into aggressive beasts on attack." Tristan paused. "I think the difference is our blood. We carry Belador blood, but maybe they don't."

  Evalle considered everything he said, then argued, "But there were reports of Alterants who shifted and killed, several in the Southeast in the past year."

  "I heard about those reports," Tristan echoed with a heavy dose of accusation. "Who says so? Macha and Brina? But you haven't witnessed an Alterant turning into a mindless beast, have you?"

  "No." Much as she hated to feed Tristan's distrust of Macha and Brina, Evalle had to admit he had a valid point.

  "And that's why I'm getting my group somewhere safe soon."

  Evalle snapped her fingers, excited. "Wait. I haven't told you the good news. That's why I've been trying to find you. Macha is the one who got me out of prison. She petitioned the Tribunal for Alterants to be recognized as a viable race ... and, wait for it, Macha has offered amnesty to all Alterants who come forward and swear loyalty to her. They'll be safe as long as they can keep their beasts under control."

  Tristan listened with interest, unable to hide his surprise at that last declaration.

  She beamed at her accomplishment. "See? You can stay."

  He started shaking his head. "I can't give her or the Beladors that kind of trust, not after what they did to me."