Dragon King of Treoir Read online

  If not for the history of hate between the Medb and Beladors, she'd take Quinn's intense questions, stacked up beside that grief he was working so hard to hide, to mean he might have buried it.

  That wasn't even logical.

  But she did realize one thing. She'd found a lead on Kizira's body. It burned her to admit it, but maybe Yaahl's timing and location for where he'd dumped her hadn't been so off, after all.

  Huh.

  With the demon poison out of her system, Reese was back in business. She settled into the sofa, prepared to hang in here long enough to find out where Kizira had been buried.

  Then she'd escape.

  Quinn went and ruined her good mood. "Are you aligned with VIPER, Reese? Before you answer that, let me remind you that besides Storm's ability to call you on a lie, I am in direct contact with them daily."

  "No, I'm only visiting. I know VIPER requires anyone who stays longer than three days to register with them. I'll be gone before that." Hopefully.

  "What are you doing in Atlanta?"

  There it was. The question that would hang her. She hedged, "I'm here doing a favor for someone."

  "That's not good enough," Quinn countered.

  Things were about to get real.

  Out of the blue, Quinn lifted his finger in a signal to hold everything for a minute as he stared into nothing.

  If Reese had to make an educated guess based on what she knew about Beladors, she'd say he was having a telepathic communication.

  When his eyes focused again, he said to the other three, "Tzader says a meeting has been called. We need to go now."

  Saved by the bell, so to speak.

  Reese said, "If that's the case, I need to get going myself." She'd leave, then double back to watch for someone out of this group to follow."

  Quinn stood. "You aren't going anywhere."

  "Are you kidding me?" Reese jumped to her feet. "I was minding my own business and got sucked into your fight. I saved lives by killing that demon. I have a personal reason for being here." She eyed Storm quickly, but that was as much the truth as anything else.

  He didn't seem a hundred percent sure about what she'd said, but neither did he throw the bullshit flag on her.

  So why was he studying her so closely?

  Shoot. She'd said she had a personal reason for being here.

  She tilted her chin at a take-no-crap angle. "As I was saying, I have a personal reason for being here. To tell you more would be to break a confidence and expose details about something that I can't share."

  Storm asked, "Does this confidence you hold have anything to do with us?"

  That was a tough one, but she reasoned that she didn't know how they were associated with her task and replied, "I don't see any reason it would."

  That earned her a frown from Storm.

  What did that mean? Undecided again?

  "You have no reason to hold me," she argued.

  Everyone looked at Quinn who said, "But we are holding you."

  She considered several insults and dumped them, going with, "What happened to southern hospitality?"

  Storm pointed out, "I didn't kill you."

  "That leaves me all warm and fuzzy."

  Evalle offered, "Why don't you spend the night here and give your body a chance to finish healing?"

  Reese wanted to snap back at her that she had things to do, but two things happened. She realized that if she stayed close to these people, she might find the body even more quickly. The other reason she changed her tune?

  The incredulous look on Storm's face at Evalle's invitation.

  Reese sweetened her voice just to tweak the demon's nose. "That would be so kind of you. Thank you."

  Adrianna said, "I don't think you did yourself any favors with that sappy tone, Reese."

  Storm had a cat-that-caught-the-mouse gleam in his eyes now. "You have no use of your powers without your medallion?"

  "Nooo." She dragged it out just to let him know he got on her nerves as much as she got on his.

  "Truth," he told everyone. "Keeping you here tonight might just be a good idea. I've got the perfect place for you."

  What the hell did that mean?

  Chapter 11

  Tristan groaned as his booted feet touched the solid ground of Treoir Island and the spinning colors of teleportation dissolved. He'd kept his eyes shut until the end or his vision would be out of kilter when he opened them.

  With a peek, he sighed, glad to be back in one piece even if he'd had to give up his Friday night to come back early with news.

  Twilight softened the edges of everything. The day-night thing never translated the same way here as in the human world.

  That last teleport to and from Atlanta had been erratic, but he'd landed right on target. Spread out in front of him were the bluffs that overlooked a turbulent Irish Sea rolling and crashing against Treoir's rocky shoreline two hundred feet down.

  He'd stopped first at the castle, but had earned a little reprieve before giving his report when Daegan hadn't been available. He planned to spend it gliding over the island in his gryphon form, clearing his head.

  A shrill screech pierced the air.

  He covered his ears.

  Trees crashed against each other in the forest behind him.

  Just five minutes of peace. Was that too much to ask? He turned just as something slammed across his back, knocking him off his feet. His body shot forward.

  He had no time to use kinetics to break his fall, so he shoved his hands out instead. That didn't stop him from hitting the ground hard. His face and hands plowed up tall grass. There were no giants on Treoir that he knew of, but damn if that hadn't felt like being hit by a mega baseball bat belonging to one.

  When the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard furious flapping and stomping too close for comfort.

  Tristan spit out dirt. Fucking gryphons were at it again.

  The ground shuddered with heavy pounding headed his way.

  He flipped over fast, prepared for an attack.

  A pair of ten-foot-tall gryphons battling each other crashed out of the woods.

  That meant a tail as thick as his thigh had swatted him.

  The closest beast to Tristan flapped up and down in an exaggerated backwards hop.

  Shit! Tristan rolled again to his right and barely missed getting his head crushed under a monster paw.

  His nostrils stung with the stench of fresh blood and singed feathers.

  What the hell had happened since he'd left the pack this morning?

  The tangled-up gryphons crashed into a tree, which didn't slow them down a bit. They kept right on beating their huge wings and lunging at each other with sharp beaks that gouged bloody gashes. With the head and wings of an eagle stuck on a lion's body, they had plenty of ways to rip each other apart.

  Son of a bitch. Can't I just get one break?

  Tristan recognized the black feathers intermixed with bright red ones.

  That would be dickhead Ixxter.

  The silver-gray-feathered gryphon with a gold head was no mystery either. Bernie could be just as dangerous as any of the other seven on this mystical island.

  But in human form, Bernie was a skinny little guy who never gave Tristan grief and always stepped up to do anything asked of him.

  Ixxter, on the other hand, was a vile man in any form, who made life here a misery and enjoyed exerting his power over all the other gryphons who stayed on Treoir.

  All except Tristan.

  I might need to revise that if I have to tangle with that beast right now.

  Ixxter couldn't win a fight if Tristan had a chance to return to full power, but after the round trip teleporting from this realm hidden in the Irish Sea to the human world, and back, he was spent.

  Teleporting hadn't been a natural power for Tristan to begin with, and using it sucked his energy faster than anything else.

  Shoving up to his feet, Tristan knocked weeds out of his hair and spit out dirt. Maybe h
e'd get lucky and those two idiots would wind down.

  Nope. Bernie and Ixxter kept battling as if he weren't present.

  Whatever had that pair pissed off was nothing compared to Tristan's frame of mind right now.

  None of them could speak in gryphon form. Tristan opened his mind to shout at them telepathically. Stop fighting right now or I'll kick both of your asses.

  Heh. When in doubt, make empty threats.

  Ixxter shouted back loud enough to make Tristan's head vibrate. I'm sick of this little prick's bullshit. He thinks that golden head makes him special, but he's no different than the rest of us.

  Bernie complained, It's Ixxter's fault ...

  Ixxter took advantage of Bernie's distraction and flew at the smaller gryphon, but Bernie hadn't survived this long by being slow. He ducked his head and dove under Ixxter's chest, taking out Ixxter's legs. That turned into a new round of wing beating, claw slashing and beak snapping.

  Remind me again why I agreed to deal with the gryphons while Evalle was gone? Tristan silently asked himself. He wiped his hands over his face, trying to wash away the fatigue from weeks of this crap. All the gryphons tipped the scales at around two tons, but Ixxter had another two hundred pounds on Bernie.

  The real difference between the pair was that Bernie hated fighting and Ixxter lived for stomping anyone's butt.

  Tristan understood needing to blow off steam.

  Hell, he could fuel a locomotive with all the steam he needed to release. Getting laid would help, but that wasn't going to happen in this place and the only woman he wanted was human. Mac had been gone during his last visit to the human world or he'd have carved out some time with her.

  Screeching reached an ear-bleeding decibel.

  He should kinetically shove those two knuckleheads into the thick trees surrounding this normally peaceful clearing, but being a quart low on power had him hesitating.

  Best to not risk exposing a weakness, which would happen if his kinetics failed to knock Ixxter off his feet.

  Ixxter broke free of Bernie's claws, which had been gripping Ixxter's chest. The larger gryphon backed away, flapped up in the air and flew at a wobbling Bernie.

  Ixxter hit his mark, then tucked his wing, rolled and gained his feet. He jumped on Bernie, bouncing up and down.

  That fucking Ixxter would crush Bernie one bone at a time if Tristan didn't stop him.

  Tristan ripped his shirt off and shed his jeans, then called up his gryphon form, forcing the change fast.

  Damn that hurt.

  He groaned at the pain when muscles stretched and pulled. Bones extended and his back split on each side as two wings burst from his body, which was now the color of a thundercloud. Blue and black feathers sheathed his wings.

  He shook out the kinks and pains, feeling spent as a battery with only a surface charge.

  These gryphons had been stuck here too long and by no choice of their own. They needed a chance to return to the human world and feel like real people again.

  All except Ixxter.

  He needed to feel Tristan's foot shoved up his ass.

  Bernie whimpered and tucked his wings, trying to protect his body. Ixxter kicked the balled-up gryphon.

  Fully shifted, Tristan cracked his neck.

  Their resident bully-gryphon needed to be reminded who was in charge.

  Tristan sent a challenge telepathically. Ready to take on someone your own size, Ixxter?

  Ixxter swung around, feathers puffed. Hatred burned in his eagle eyes. In human form, they all had glowing green eyes, something they shared from their Alterant heritage. Just a bunch of bastard half-breed Beladors, but in a battle they were the baddest of the bad. Ixxter fluttered his red-and-black feathers, puffing up his wings and body even further.

  Tristan said, Nice trick. I'm so impressed. I'd clap if I could.

  Fuck you, Tristan.

  I have standards. Not unless you buy me dinner first.

  Ixxter's razor-sharp beak could snap off a human head, but he'd have to work harder to cut off Tristan's eagle head. Ixxter's chest feathers blazed fire red then blended into dark brownish-black skin with translucent scales on his lower half. He stood on tree-trunk legs bulging with muscle. His thick tail swatted Bernie.

  What a bastard.

  Tristan opened his stance. What's the matter, Ixxter? Change your mind? Or is it true that when bullies face a real threat the truth comes out? They're just spineless dweebs with short dicks? I know the short part is right, what about your spine?

  With a sliver of luck, Ixxter would let this go and give Tristan a couple hours to rebuild some of his strength. But if Ixxter still wanted a throwdown, Tristan would accommodate him and not be the only one walking away bloody.

  A noise ground out of Ixxter's throat, then the gryphon's harsh voice scraped across Tristan's mind. You're not our leader.

  Technically correct.

  The most powerful gryphon led the pack and that would be Evalle Kincaid, who was currently in the human world with a team hunting a serial killer. He'd hate to be in her shoes, tracking some unknown threat, and not be able to shift into gryphon form in the human realm.

  Maybe their new leader, Daegan, would fix that rule.

  Tristan might be tired of flying around Treoir as part of the island security some days, but he liked the freedom to change forms whenever he chose.

  And he believed Daegan meant it when he said the gryphons didn't need anyone's permission to be free.

  Ixxter huffed and scratched the ground.

  Tristan wasn't the true gryphon leader, but he couldn't stand by and allow that ego-bloated bastard to unleash his frustration on poor Bernie.

  Ixxter stalked forward slowly with his wings hunched.

  The last time this gryphon had started a fight that Tristan interrupted, Ixxter had moved in the same manner, acting as if he was heading over to fight.

  But in the end, Ixxter had passed Tristan and kept going another twenty feet before taking flight.

  Tristan didn't trust Ixxter one bit.

  He watched for any movement that might televise Ixxter's intention to take a cheap shot.

  When Ixxter came shoulder to shoulder with Tristan, he paused, giving Tristan a hard, eagle-eyed stare.

  Really? Now they had to play a stare down game?

  Ixxter snorted and continued toward the edge of the bluffs, picking up speed to take flight. It was that or fall to the cliffs below.

  Tristan let out a long breath.

  Pain still spiked through his muscles from shifting so quickly, especially when he was physically drained, but his joint aches were worth ending a conflict without bloodshed this time.

  The sound of wings flapping behind him confirmed Ixxter's departure.

  Good riddance.

  Now Tristan could focus on the gryphon still curled up on the ground. Are you hurt, Bernie?

  I'll be okay, Bernie mumbled as he struggled to his feet.

  What the hell were you two fighting over?

  It wasn't my fault, Tristan. Ixxter started talking trash--

  Dammit, Bernie. I told you to not let him bait you.

  I know, Bernie said, stretching his wings and shaking his head. He turned to face Tristan and his bright green eagle eyes rounded in panic. Tristan! Wa-watch out!

  Tristan turned as Ixxter dive-bombed him at full speed, knocking Tristan backwards and sending him cartwheeling.

  When his paws found the ground, Tristan clawed to stop and pushed up, flapping hard to catch his balance.

  Ixxter whipped around in midair and came right back, ramming Tristan sideways and drawing a bloody line along Tristan's wing.

  The guy was crazy.

  Bernie's voice burst through Tristan's thoughts, I'll distract him so you can get away.

  Tristan shouted, No. Stay back or you'll get in my way.

  He shut out everything but the whooshing sound of Ixxter's wide wingspan as the gryphon worked his way back again.

  Adrenaline ru
shed through Tristan in a surge of energy. He quivered with fury and called up the Alterant beast that lived inside him. They had all started life as Alterants, a mix of Belador and Medb blood. That beast had been his alter-form prior to evolving all the way into a gryphon. His beast energy could still boost his ability to heal.

  But nobody knew his entire ability, not even him.

  While stuck in a jungle prison, he'd been given a witch highball that allowed him to beef up even faster. Muscle beneath his feathers and the scales covering his body began pumping up, bulging and rippling.

  Shifting back later was going to suck, but Tristan had to survive long enough to worry about the agony of returning to human form.

  Ixxter had not stayed on Treoir out of loyalty to anyone. No, this had been the only sanctuary of a sort.

  His gritty voice slapped the inside of Tristan's head. I've had it with that sniveling twerp and your bullshit. I've waited long enough to get off this fucking island and you should have made that happen by now.

  Tristan replied, Everything is not about you, dickhead. If you'd stop causing trouble I could spend more time getting all of you off the island for a break.

  I don't want a break. When I leave, I'm not coming back. Ixxter came in fast, front claws ready to flay Tristan the minute he slid in for a landing.

  Tristan kept his wings wrapped around his body and whispered to himself, Wait for it ...

  Ixxter's body dropped to twenty feet off the ground, fifteen, ten ...

  Tristan opened his wings and showed Ixxter what a gryphon jacked up on witch juice looked like.

  Ixxter's bright eyes widened, but his momentum drove him forward and his arrogance rode shotgun.

  Tristan released an unearthly battle cry and flapped up in the air just high enough to use his sharp lion claws. He raked Ixxter's chest over and over, driving the crazed gryphon back.

  Tristan's plan had been damned good.

  It would have worked, too, if Ixxter hadn't twisted away and caught one of Tristan's hind legs with his beak, dragging them both to the ground.

  Tristan clenched his beak to keep from screaming at the white-hot pain shooting up his leg every time Ixxter yanked, ripping muscle.

  Any strategy went out the window right then.

  Tristan fell back on what he'd learned as a street fighter, which was to do whatever it took to survive.

  He should kill Ixxter and rid the world of one more homicidal maniac, but dying would only make Ixxter more powerful. The gryphons regenerated up to three times due to the way the Alterant-gryphons had evolved.