Rise of the Gryphon Page 8

  "You should be thankful. Now you know about Daniella. Consider it a bonus."

  "How did you find out?"

  "I have my ways, just as you do. Had I not gotten that information to Evalle, she would have had no reason to come looking for you. Comprendo? "

  Imogenia had enough survival sense to be careful around an unknown dark witch, but no witch played her and got away with it. "Who else knows about Daniella?"

  "A ghoul in Atlanta."

  "Nightstalkers? They'll talk to anyone with power who shakes their hand."

  Nadina had that cat-sly look on her face. "No, they won't. I've taken care of that."

  "How?"

  "Come to me, my Langau," Nadina said in response.

  Imogenia started to ask what this certifiable witch was talking about when a dark figure moved into the clearing. The figure coalesced from a smoky image to a solid person, an attractive twenty-ish woman with brown hair cut in a chic style that fluffed around her face and disarming hazel eyes. She wore navy slacks and a mauve sweater with a plaid scarf of both colors.

  And smelled graveyard dead.

  Necromancy.

  That was award-worthy conjuring, but on the intimidation scale this spirit ranked below zero. Imogenia asked, "And you think she's going to keep Nightstalkers from running off at the mouth?"

  Nadina was amused. "Not impressed with my Langau?"

  Imogenia sensed she was heading into dangerous water by amusing the witch doctor, so she shrugged. "First impressions and all that."

  "Do you think a Nightstalker would hesitate to shake with this one?"

  This one never showed any hint of acknowledging the conversation. Her eyes had a blank expression. Should have a Vacancy sign painted on her forehead. Imogenia replied, "No. I think any ghoul would shake hands with her."

  "That is exactly why I have five of these in Atlanta right now, searching for Nightstalkers and shaking hands, which infects the ghoul with a highly contagious virus. The infection is then passed by handshake to preternaturals, where it attacks their abilities. Kinetics become faulty and weak. The virus passes through telepathy, too, then attacks the host. Word is already getting around to avoid shaking with a Nightstalker."

  Imogenia nodded with admiration. "That is impressive."

  "But she"--Nadina waved a hand at her Langau--"is not?"

  "For a preternatural viral carrier, she's scary, but beyond that not so much." Imogenia barely got the words out when the Langau's vision sharpened and her gaze snapped to Imogenia.

  Hazel eyes turned into two pools of fire.

  The Langau opened her mouth to reveal needlelike teeth.

  Fingers shifted into long digits that curved with razor claws. A muscle twitched above the Langau's left eye. She twisted her neck and opened her mouth, her forked tongue slipping out on a hiss.

  Imogenia sucked in a breath.

  Nadina chuckled. "Did I fail to mention her bite and claws can also infect? More impressive now, yes?"

  Bernie started panting and backed up until the leash went tight.

  Imogenia yanked on it, but the chain slipped in her damp palms. She hurried to agree with Nadina. "Yes, very much so."

  Nadina lifted a hand and the Langau began vanishing. She told Imogenia, "As you see, there are no worries about Nightstalkers talking. Besides, you plan to go home and deal with Daniella, yes?"

  "Bet on it." But Imogenia couldn't get to Daniella for another two days, not until after the championship fights. "And my Noirre spell?"

  "What of it?"

  "Are we still in agreement on the terms?" Since you clearly change the rules as you see fit.

  "Si. You will receive the spell the minute the Achilles Beast Championship is over. Thanks to me, you will have a chance to gain two Noirre spells that night." Her gaze swept over to Bernie, who stood half behind Imogenia. "That is, if your Alterant does not die by the final round."

  Bernie whined softly.

  The mirth clinging to Nadina's comment had Imogenia grinding her back teeth. "Bernie might be a sniveling human, but he's an impressive Alterant. At least, he was until I had to put him against that jaguar."

  "Better to know his ability now than tomorrow. You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted."

  "Not exactly. I don't want my Alterant to face that jaguar again."

  Nadina moved around, gazing up at the branches that swayed lightly with the breeze. She looked at Imogenia. "That is simple. Take your beast to the games and accept the Medb's offer to negotiate for a trade before entering him in any battle. They clearly want many Alterants, or they would not make that offer for those who expect to lose their fighter in early rounds."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because the Medb won't offer Noirre majik for anything less than the top five Alterants who win the final Elite matches. They won't give me squat for an unproven beast."

  "You become tedious, Imogenia. You would not have this dilemma if I had not found this Alterant for you. Now you complain about the product. There is no pleasing you. This is clearly a win-win, no?"

  No, it wasn't, but saying so could bring back that needle-tooth bitch. What drove all this with Nadina? "What's your interest in Evalle?"

  Nadina surprised her by actually answering. "I want her jaguar."

  "Good luck with that. I doubt even a dark witch can take that beast from her," Imogenia quipped.

  Nadina's lips curved up, but not with humor. Her eyes glowed a deep yellow-orange. The sheer energy of Nadina's stare forced Imogenia to take a step back.

  Hadn't Nadina already proven Imogenia was not in Nadina's league? Yes, much as Imogenia hated to admit it. Next time, she'd be more careful with her words.

  Nadina warned, "I am no simple dark witch."

  "Then what are you?"

  "Far more dangerous." Nadina floated back a few steps and paused. "But I will grant your wish. Bernie will not face the jaguar in the ABC."

  At one time, Imogenia would feel relief over that offer of help. Not now. She regretted putting herself in the position of being any more in this witch's debt than she already was. "Why would you do that?"

  "Why must you question good fortune?"

  "Because nothing in our world is free. I want to know what you want in return first."

  Nadina gave her a look one used on a mentally challenged pet. "I have not decided, but I will let you know when I do."

  No, no, no. And Imogenia had no desire to be at this woman's beck and call. "I'll be out of touch until the championship match, so you'll have to tell me how to find you. Unless you plan to attend," Imogenia added, fishing.

  Nadina didn't answer her, so Imogenia pressed cautiously, "If you don't attend, how can you be sure that the jaguar does not face my Alterant?"

  "I come from a long line of Ashaninka witch doctors with powers you could only fantasize about. Follow my instructions and you will be fine. I'll let you know when I want something."

  Imogenia muttered to no one in particular, "Just said I wouldn't be available without notice."

  "Oh, but you will." Nadina laughed, immensely entertained. She lifted her hand, palm up, and whispered soft words Imogenia could not hear. Nadina crooked a finger in a sign of come here.

  Imogenia felt a sharp spike dig into her chest as if something had hooked her. The pain cut deep.

  She took a reluctant step forward, then another toward Nadina.

  Fighting the pull only made her chest ache more. She walked with spastic motions all the way until Nadina held up a finger and said, "Stop."

  Imogenia obeyed, panic-stricken. She'd never given Nadina anything a dark witch could use against her. "What did you do to me?"

  "I bound you to me through the Volonte bone, just as I have bound another to me who has worn that armband. Why do you think I wore it first?" She caught herself and cocked her head in thought. "To be honest, I did need it to create my Langaus with necromancy, but now I can find you or Evalle whenever I want."


  Sweat trickled down the side of Imogenia's face. This was worse than a traitor in her coven. Imogenia could make Daniella disappear in a painful way, but she had no idea how to break this connection with a witch doctor.

  Nadina's eyes sparkled with happiness. "Speak a word of my existence to anyone or share anything about the Volonte bone after this point and I'll first dismantle you slowly and the person you tell next. Then I'll feed you to your Alterant one limb at a time and use your blood for something . . . special."

  Imogenia's skin crawled at the idea of being a blood sacrifice for this witch. "I won't say a word."

  "Bueno. As for my jaguar, he will not be able to fight against your Alterant . . . or any other one at the games."

  Nadina turned and vanished into the darkness.

  EIGHT

  Storm shook off the urge to climb a tree to find a safe place to sleep in his jaguar form.

  After spending all day covering a vast amount of Oakey Mountain, he was whipped.

  And empty-handed.

  He'd taken his time tracking Imogenia's scent trail, moving slowly, sometimes backtracking, because he thought he'd missed something due to the erratic way she and Bernie had crisscrossed down the mountain. Going from point to point, then sometimes turning around and covering the same ground again or crossing over an earlier trail.

  She had trudged around and her Alterant had dragged his feet most of the time. Not the footsteps of someone comfortable in the woods. Had all that hiking cost Imogenia a bit of majik?

  He hoped so. And maybe some golf-ball-size blisters.

  Her trail had ended near tire tracks where she'd parked a vehicle. Small car with narrow wheels.

  Had she made so many stops and direction changes along the way to confuse someone who might try to follow her? Afraid someone would try to steal her Alterant?

  Or had there been another reason?

  Storm was past the point of being able to think. He had to get some sleep.

  He'd been tracking since eleven this morning.

  Rubbing a paw over his face, he yawned, then loped off, heading back to his truck. If he went home now, he could grab a few hours' sleep before dark, when Evalle would leave her apartment.

  He wanted to get on top of her building to be there in case things didn't go well with Macha.

  When he reached the spot where Imogenia's trail had curved in an arc, he remembered having been curious as to why she'd done that when the simpler, and most direct path, was through a clearing.

  Had she gotten lost?

  Blinking away sleepiness, Storm took in the woods that thinned ahead of him to an open area sixty feet across.

  Imogenia's route had paralleled the shape of that clearing.

  Had something frightened her?

  Storm didn't sense any animal or threat in the area now. He stalked ahead, intending to enter the clearing, until he had an overpowering desire to avoid the area.

  Pausing, he sniffed. No smells came from there.

  Everything in the forest had a scent.

  Moving forward, one slow step at a time, the closer he got the more hair roughed up along his neck and shoulders. His instincts were screaming at him to back up, but the warning came from something unnatural. He pushed ahead, determined to find the source.

  Was this why Imogenia had avoided the area?

  His nose bumped against an invisible force that felt thick and cold.

  He considered stepping back. These woods had been full of preternaturals last night, and some might have lingered. But this didn't feel like a warding. A yawn overtook him, stretching his jaws. He shook his head, trying to stay alert.

  Just go and get some sleep. Storm turned away and had made it two steps when he sniffed the faint scent of licorice.

  Could be residual from incense if someone had burned it out here, but there were no signs of any camp having been made nearby.

  He took a deeper breath and still picked up only that subtle scent.

  Turning around, he walked back to where he'd butted up against the cold barrier. Calling forth his majik, he pushed a paw through dense air. It took more effort than normal. He put his head down to force his way into the clearing. The invisible shield dragged along his fur as he struggled through the resistance and into the open space.

  He sucked in the staggering stench of licorice.

  Not the nice smell of candy but the smoky odor that came from dealing in the dark arts. Deadly dark arts.

  He gagged and coughed, also smelling something dead that should be buried far away and deep.

  That was the moment he realized he was not alone.

  "Buenos dias, Storm," whispered around him.

  The witch doctor.

  He spun in a circle, searching for her. That was her voice. And this was her spelled area. He'd walked right into her trap. This wasn't the way he'd planned to face her, exhausted and in her territory, but his enemies had never played fair.

  Neither would he.

  He roared, challenging the witch doctor to show her face.

  Laughter bubbled all around him, echoing as if he stood inside a canyon instead of a grassy patch surrounded by a circle of trees. "Not yet, my black demon. I am not quite ready to risk standing so close to you. Soon, very soon."

  Should he be glad he'd have a second chance to be better physically prepared or concerned about why she would delay this meeting?

  She made a tsk-ing sound. "You have cost me much time. You foolishly think you can outplay me, but in the end I will win." Her words whipped past his ears, sliding away then zinging back at him. "You wish for blood. That is not the way for us to be. We are much alike, you and me."

  I'd cut my own throat to protect the world if I was anything like you.

  "You are not ready to come to me voluntarily today."

  Hold your breath and wait for that to happen. Should he shift so he could talk to her? Or was she hoping for that? He was strong in his human state, but far more powerful in his jaguar form.

  "I must leave you, Storm. I have much to do, and we will see each other again, but I cannot allow you to interfere with my Langaus now that you have the scent. Why do you make my life so difficult?"

  Langau? He searched his mind for what she could have brought to this country . . . or created since coming here.

  "I will allow you to live because you have much to do for me. You force me to make you regret coming in here unless you are ready to give your word and come to me on your own."

  He snarled, showing his fangs.

  "So stubborn. It is a shame that you do not accept your destiny. Perhaps a lesson in humility will show you who holds the most power between us. Adios, Storm." In the next moment, he saw the witch doctor outside the clearing, walking away.

  Still beautiful and hadn't aged a day. Had gotten younger looking if anything.

  Or was that a spell?

  If so, did she have to renew it often? Something to keep in mind when he did face her later.

  She looked back once, smiled, and continued on, disappearing in the trees.

  Storm tensed for whatever threat she'd conjured up, sure he could not simply walk out of here the way the witch doctor had. And neither could he turn his back on an unknown threat.

  A form wavered into view.

  As it took shape, Storm moved toward the invisible perimeter around this clearing. He kept an eye on the image of a brunette woman as she solidified into a human form. She had a college-girl face with deep golden skin and layered hair that stopped short of the black-and-pink scarf draped over a pink sweater. An unnatural breeze swirled through the clearing, lifting strands of her hair and ruffling her black pants.

  Pretty hazel eyes without a flicker of life to them.

  Now he understood what the witch doctor had done. Her Langau was an alma condenada, or a condemned soul. Very likely a soul the witch doctor had stolen, then used to create demons.

  Just like she wanted to do with Storm, since she owned his soul.

  Tha
t meant this Langau was deadly, but the witch doctor had indicated she would see him again.

  That meant she wanted him left alive, but she'd said nothing about what condition he'd be in.

  The brunette took a tentative step toward him.

  He'd never harmed a woman, but he reminded himself this was nothing more than a creature the witch doctor created from dead parts and blood sacrifices. Fighting it was not an issue, but the witch doctor wanted to punish him.

  To slow him down from hunting her Langaus. Plural.

  Where had she released them?

  What made the witch doctor think he couldn't kill this thing? She had to know better, which meant she might have given the Langau a poison to inject in some way. A poison from South America she'd know would cripple him.

  Avoiding this Langau was the smartest move.

  The creature sauntered closer with a feminine sway.

  He snarled, a low, throaty sound that stopped her and warned another step could be her last.

  Her slender hands twisted and lengthened into razor-sharp nails with enough curve to cause maximum pain. Or death. Her face lost its youthful appeal, skin wavering and sliding until rotted flesh showed through in spots and the eyes sank in.

  Her mouth widened and lips narrowed, much like a mouth on a large snake, but this one was filled with spiked teeth.

  That's how she'd inject the poison.

  She lunged at him, but adrenaline had kicked in and Storm leaped to the side, leaving her to stumble through air. He bumped into the barrier and mentally marked the spot for when he had an opportunity to get out. He couldn't now, with this threat at his back.

  Swinging around, she came at him, claws in the air.

  He dodged to the side again, but she did, too, this time. There was nothing for it but to attack. Ramming her with all his power, he knocked her backward and she went down.

  But not before raking her claws across his shoulder, cutting three deep gouges. Storm ripped her throat out. Her head rolled to one side and her body jerked back and forth.

  Fast and final, but his shoulder burned as if acid had been poured in the wound.