The Curse (Beladors) Read online

  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 Rías 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 Rías 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.

  Evalle had to get him moving before the other humans saw him. She taunted the beast, “Come on, you ugly dog. You gonna let a woman kick your butt?”

  Tzader’s orders kept pouring through her mind as he directed the team, then he told her, Evalle, once the Rías charges you, run toward that patch of trees on the west side of the field.

  Evalle glanced away just long enough to make a mental note of the distance. A good hundred yards away. Be ready when I get there.

  We will.

  Tzader and four Beladors would be waiting to capture this beast … unless they were forced to kill it.

  The minute Tzader withdrew from her mind, Tristan’s voice snapped at Evalle, You want a tip on the traitor or not?

  The traitor? Could Tristan know where Conlan O’Meary was hiding? That would buy her all kinds of points with Macha.

  About time she had some good luck. Keeping an eye on the Rías as the beast’s vision cleared and he focused on her, Evalle called back to Tristan, Where—

  A chain wrapped around her neck and tightened with inhuman power from behind.

  The beast howled and rushed her.

  THREE

  Evalle shut her mind down to everything except surviving. She dug at the thick chain strangling her and focused kinetic energy into her fingers to keep the steel links from crushing her windpipe.

  But in two seconds, the Rías in front of her would cut her to pieces with his claws if she didn’t block the attack.

  Pulling one hand off the chain, she slapped a short blast of energy at the beast.

  The chain tightened. Yanked her neck.

  Stars shot across her vision. She gagged for air.

  But the beast charging her bounced sideways, rolling over the ground.

  She stumbled, dragged backward by the bastard trying to kill her. Her vision blurred. She risked splitting her focus for a second to send a quick telepathic burst. Tzader … help!

  No air. She was suffocating. Couldn’t force enough energy through her fingers to pull the chain away.

  Was the chain charmed? What had ahold of her?

  Fighting to stay conscious, she lifted both hands over her shoulders and clapped kinetically at whatever held her from behind, which sure as heck wasn’t a human.

  Her attacker jerked from the hit of energy and stopped pulling her. His grip loosened.

  Blood couldn’t circulate fast enough. Her head still felt as if it would explode any minute. She sucked in a hoarse gulp of air before the chain leash towed her backward again. Shuffling quickly, she stayed on her feet.

  She stomped her next two steps, releasing blades hidden in the soles of her boots, then shoved a boot straight back, connecting with bone.

  Her attacker twisted the chain and growled an unearthly sound, similar to one she’d heard trolls make. Even with Tristan’s distraction, no troll should have gotten the jump on her without her feeling his presence first. And she’d never battled a troll so unusually strong.

  If every Belador weren’t fighting more than one opponent, she’d draw hard on their link for maximum strength and break loose. But that worked best when everyone fought the same opponent and could coordinate their movements.

  She wouldn’t compromise another Belador’s defense by draining power from them when she didn’t know what the others faced right now.

  The Rías beast in front of her had regained his footing. His body shook with fury when he came at her again.

  She blinked at the blurry image and raised arms that trembled from her body shutting down. Defending herself would take her last bit of energy, and she’d still lose.

  That left her only one thing she could do—protect her people and her best friend.

  She dropped her mental shield briefly and called out to the Beladors in the cemetery, Everyone unlink from Evalle … now! I’m in mortal danger.

  No! Tzader shouted over her before she closed her mind again, prepared for the Rías to attack.

  Her vision grayed. She couldn’t think, barely able to focus on three razor-sharp claws whipping toward her throat.

  A split second before the Rías made contact, its head exploded, blowing chunks of gross crap all over her.

  Who had done that?

  The debris from the head bomb must have hit the attacker behind her, who coughed and made spitting noises.

  The chain around her neck went slack.

  She sucked in a breath and felt unexpected Belador power flood her. Her vision sharpened in time to see Beladors converging on her from all directions. They were focused on her, sending her more energy, but the nearest warrior was over a hundred yards away.

  She couldn’t waste time waiting for them to get closer and squander the opening they’d given her to escape.

  Gasping a deep breath, she gripped the chain, hunched forward quickly and dropped to her knees, jerking her attacker over the top of her body. He landed on his back, then leaped to his feet and turned on her as she stood. Everything from his buzzed black hair, pale skin and beefed-up body to the leather jacket and jeans looked human … until his glamour wavered.

  All she needed for final confirmation that he wasn’t human.

  She fisted her hands and sent him a double punch of energy.

  His head snapped back with the hit, but he shook it off.

  What the…? Was he a troll or not? She’d never known one who could take an energy strike that hard and still stand.

  He snarled with a grin, wide mouth stretching with teeth that sharpened to points as a little more of his glamour fell away right before he charged her.

  Bad decision.

  The last three weeks had sucked, and her frustration level had boiled over with Macha’s visit. After holding back all week against human predators, Evalle wanted nothing more than to kick some nasty’s butt right now.

  She met the troll halfway, whipping her leg in a high arc with a boot aimed at his head.

  But he surprised her by moving faster than she could believe, ducking his head, and locking his hands together, then swinging his arms across her body as he raced by.

  The blow to her middle knocked her backward and off-balance. Her stomach wanted to heave inside out, but she spun, staying on her feet so he couldn’t jump on her back and pin her to the ground.

  A troll? Really? Who had trained this thing?

  She pitched short, hard kinetic blasts at him that he dodged as she ba
cked up.

  The troll’s glamour faded more, exposing a slick head with dark-green-tinted skin cratered like bad acne on one side of his face.

  Black and dark green tattoos covered the other half.

  He walked toward her, but he had that chain in his hand again, whipping it around faster and faster until the links made a whining sound.

  Tzader’s voice came into her head. Wait for—

  She shut her mind down to time her next move.

  When the troll released the chain, she waited … waited … then bent backward at the waist, twisting to the side to avoid the chain as it spun inches above her face. The thick links slapped the ground behind her with a heavy kathunk.

  The troll had used that only as a distraction.

  He kept coming at her and got within two steps of reaching her with his mouth open to bite when she whipped her body from right to left, swiveling at her waist as if she intended to cartwheel away.

  He adjusted, thinking she was running.

  She didn’t run from anyone.

  Using the momentum, she scissor-kicked her legs. The blades in her boot soles sliced horizontally across the troll’s forehead and beneath both eyes.

  Landing on her feet, she swept around and punched the top of his head with her fist, knocking away the frontal lobe and half of his face. The air reeked with stink like a bad sewage drain.

  The troll’s mouth locked in a silent scream as he fell backward onto the ground.

  Tzader ran up to her, yelling, “Are you okay?”

  She rubbed her neck and squeezed words out of her raw throat. “Yeah. But is that thing a troll or not?”

  He didn’t look down at the body, just took a deep breath and shook his head. “You scare the hell out of me some days.”

  As if the night hadn’t been full of enough surprises, her other closest friend, Vladimir Quinn, reached her next. She hadn’t seen him in weeks. Two men couldn’t look less alike than Tzader and Quinn. Tzader was an ebony Adonis sculpted of lethal edge and cut muscle that stretched his gray T-shirt at the chest, where fair-haired Quinn’s deadly air had a certain elegance set off by a black cashmere sport coat and crisp slacks. Only Quinn could look pristine after a battle.

  Russian by birth, Quinn spoke with a British accent gained through an Oxford education. Right now that accent held undisguised fear, clearly for her. “How badly did he hurt you, Evalle?”

  “I’m good. My throat will be sore for a day or two, but he didn’t crush my windpipe.” She took in Quinn’s narrow face, thinner now than when she’d last seen him. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in three weeks, other than a brief e-mail right after her release from VIPER prison, saying he was glad she’d been freed. Tzader had told her only that Quinn had gone away to heal from a particularly bad mind lock he’d performed for an investigation.

  Quinn let out a gush of air and ran his hand over his hair. “I had no idea this was going on or I’d have tried to return sooner.”

  “How long have you been back in town?”

  “Just got in. I was on the way from the airport to my hotel when I heard Tzader’s call to arms.”

  She wanted to ask him where he’d been and why he’d disappeared without letting her know before he left, but in her evil mood the questions would sound too much like interrogation.

  Speaking of the reason she’d been in a foul mood for weeks, she hadn’t heard a word from Storm either, not since she’d gotten a vague e-mail that same night Quinn had vanished.

  And Tzader wondered why she’d been so pissed off for days?

  Storm had partnered with her on several VIPER missions … and had stirred up her emotions. She harbored doubts about whether the blunt e-mail she had received from Storm had actually been from him.

  Maybe sent from Storm’s cell phone, but not typed by his hand. She couldn’t think about him right now. Not without risk of exposing how every one of the past twenty-two days had been a challenge to get through without giving up hope of ever hearing from him again.

  Evalle shoved those thoughts away so she could function. She had another question for Quinn—something that had haunted her since the last time she’d seen him—but that would have to wait until a better time, too.

  More Beladors crowded around them. Devon Fortier’s face popped up nearby. The Cajun was headquartered in Savannah, but Tzader had pulled in as many Belador assets as possible to supplement VIPER teams in Atlanta when the gang wars erupted.

  Devon whistled low and made an mm-mm sound. A female operative at VIPER once described his voice as a night wind sneaking through the backwoods of Louisiana. Devon wore his sun-streaked golden hair pulled taut in a ponytail, but a wavy strand had escaped and dangled over his forehead. The perpetual shadow on his cheeks and strong jaw gave him a devil-may-care appeal … for a woman who welcomed trouble.

  He sent a sly look at Evalle and said, “Another Kincaid massacre. You’ve been on a tear this week.”

  “Hey!” She regretted trying to yell at him, swallowed and said, “I didn’t do all of this.” She had been taking her frustration out on a few gangers and trolls, but just like tonight’s carnage, she’d only inflicted injuries as a result of self-defense. “Is everything under control? Any of ours hurt?”

  Devon wiped sweat off the side of his face. “No, our people are good. We had the humans contained when Tzader sent us this way to set up an ambush for the Rías. Most of the gangers ran. I put some Cajun mojo on the others to keep them in La La Land until cleanup gets here to wipe their minds.”

  Not sure what power or majik Devon possessed, Evalle just nodded, glad the Beladors hadn’t been injured while linked to her. “Who killed the Rías?”

  “That would be me, my dear,” Quinn admitted with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “None of us was going to reach you in time, so I …”

  “Used your mind lock … and blew up his head?” she finished, hating that he’d had to use extreme force for her. Quinn had an unusual ability to mind lock with other beings, and could damage or destroy a mind, but he kept his power under a tight tether and had never before physically exploded a head that she knew of. Plus, he couldn’t use deadly force through his mind lock unless he received prior approval or was under mortal threat himself.

  “That’s a graphic way of stating it,” Quinn said. “But basically, yes. Tzader authorized the kill. I tried to stop the beast by taking control of his mind, but he didn’t drop fast enough, so I used kinetics to assure he didn’t touch you.”

  Tzader snorted. “Think I remember it more as an order than authorization.”

  Evalle cocked her head at Tzader. “Thought only Brina, or Macha, could give that approval.”

  Tzader shifted, lowering his voice. “With the threat hovering over Brina, Macha gave me clearance to give the order if I saw fit.” Tzader and Quinn could be over-protective to the point of aggravating, but she appreciated them more than they’d ever know. They were the closest she’d ever come to having brothers, or any family.

  She cast a quick glance at the dead Rías and winced. The beast had shifted back into a human form, so now she had to look at a headless, naked human body.

  In the face of a threat, Quinn could kill an enemy without hesitation or remorse, but he still suffered when forced to destroy the mind of any living thing, even a dangerous beast. But he would do whatever it took to protect those he cared for, and that’s what Evalle kept telling herself—he did care about her.

  That’s why she’d suffered this sick ball of guilt in the pit of her stomach for the past three weeks.

  She hated the seed of doubt that Kizira—a Medb witch priestess Quinn had history with—had planted in Evalle’s mind about him. How could she question one of her two best friends in the world?

  Her heart knew better than to believe a lying Medb, the most dangerous enemy of the Beladors, but Kizira had produced evidence that Evalle couldn’t easily dismiss.

  With bodies scattered across the landscape, that conversation with Q
uinn would have to wait. She told him, “Thanks.”

  Tzader issued orders, pointing at several Beladors as he did. “You five form a perimeter around this area to keep any other humans from coming in while we wait on additional VIPER assets to arrive for cleanup.” He turned to three more, nodding toward the battlefield. “Get a head count of humans and find out if any of them realized what was going on over here. We need ambulances for injuries.”

  Devon spoke up. “Hate to tell ya, but three humans did see the Rías shift and attack. Two of ’em passed out from shock. Third one pissed himself. I gave him a tap to put him to sleep. We’ve got those three pulled away from the other humans. Any chance that hot Sterling witch is nearby? She could help us out by altering the memories of a few minds.”

  “Adrianna’s still on leave,” Tzader answered. “Supposed to be back tomorrow.”

  Evalle just realized she hadn’t seen the Sterling witch in the past three weeks either. No loss in my world. Men acted stupid when Adrianna showed up with her designer clothes, angel-face makeup and red pouty lips, especially now that her bobbed blond hair had grown halfway to her waist practically overnight.

  I hope she stays on leave … finds a new profession … gets kidnapped by aliens …

  Devon’s gaze roamed over the bloody field that darkness thankfully shielded from any curious humans. “Guess that leaves us with calling in Sen.”

  Of course they’d have to call in Sen, the one person Evalle could go the rest of her life without ever seeing again. She kicked the dead troll. “Thanks.” Not meaning it one bit. “This day just gets better all the time.”

  Her shove caused the troll’s head to rock from one side to the other and his arm to slide off his chest. An odd burn scar on the inside of his forearm looked intentional, something like a gang insignia.

  Tzader looked down, doing a double take on her lobotomy kill. “What the hell?”

  She arched an eyebrow at Tzader. How did he get away with cursing? Brina hated foul language. Their warrior queen never left her castle except as a hologram, but she had the ability to reach out kinetically to touch someone if she chose and always seemed to know when a curse slipped out of Evalle’s mouth.