The Curse (Beladors) Read online

  “No, I don’t.”

  Brina lifted both hands in a moment of frustration, then slapped them down on the cushion again. “Is that all?”

  No, he wanted to yell that this was not all. That he missed her and expected her to miss him, but he’d made a deal with Macha that he would not encourage the relationship he and Brina had shared since their teens.

  His honor forced him to hold up his end of the agreement. “I guess that is all … to do with my report.”

  “What else can I be doin’ for you?” she asked in such a brisk tone that it grated his already shredded patience.

  “Nothing. Your Highness. Not. A. Thing.” Tzader ordered his essence to travel back to his body, which sat in a secure room at headquarters, halfway across the world.

  —

  “Come back in, Allyn,” Brina called out, standing up.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The man she’d chosen to be her new personal guard strode back into the room with solid confidence that matched his physical appearance. Her royal guards were all well trained and strong, and his uniform was no different from that of the others, except in the way it fit Allyn’s spectacular body.

  Aye, she’d chosen a fine-lookin’ man for her purpose.

  His gaze tracked over to the empty spot where Tzader’s hologram had been. When Allyn drew close, he whispered, “How did it go?”

  “About as I was expectin’.” She kept her voice down and her senses alert for Macha, who tended to pop in unannounced.

  Allyn asked, “Then you’re pleased?”

  Brina crossed her arms. “For now.”

  She’d tested the waters with this visit. The next time, she’d put the first step of her plan into action.

  Tzader had best prepare himself for the battle of his life, because she had no intention of givin’ up on the two of them.

  EIGHT

  I should have left a clue at the Iron Casket so the Beladors would have some way to find my body.

  But what clue? Evalle kept trying to think what she might have done that Tristan wouldn’t have noticed. She couldn’t have even gone to the ladies’ room in the Iron Casket before they left because Tristan would have followed her in to make sure she didn’t leave a message somewhere for Tzader.

  The car she rode in took another turn in the rutted road.

  She swayed toward the console on her left, the motion giving her a moment of nausea because of the sack over her head. They bounced along until Tristan finally parked the car and turned off the engine.

  “Can I take the spy bag off my head now?” she groused.

  “Sure.”

  The driver’s door had slammed shut by the time she’d shed the black bag and could see her surroundings. Tall grass and weeds crowded a white farmhouse with faded red shingles. The dirt road to this place must have been a half-mile long, ending at this spot hidden by woods on all sides. Tristan had brought her somewhere in rural Georgia or maybe even Alabama, because they’d driven over an hour from Atlanta.

  But with all the turns Tristan had taken, she had no idea in what direction they’d ridden after leaving the Iron Casket.

  She hadn’t anticipated so long a drive. Tristan had better make this a quick meeting. She could get away with running late for her meeting with Tzader and Quinn, but what she couldn’t do was show up at her bike after sunrise since she had none of her protective riding gear with her. Thanks to her strange Alterant DNA, she had a deadly reaction to the sun to go along with sensitive eyes. Tristan knew about that.

  So what, exactly, had her neck muscles so tense right now?

  The location?

  Abandoned farmhouses weren’t something to be concerned over, as a rule, unless you considered the wackos that broke into them sometimes to hide from the law. But those were generally human perpetrators. What was giving her a hinky feeling about this? Climbing out of the car, she stretched her legs and sniffed a toasty scent in the air. Woodstoves wouldn’t be unusual out here.

  Tristan strolled up the weed-infested gravel path to the front steps, past bushes that hadn’t been trimmed in a long time.

  A light glowed in a window on one side of the porch.

  She took her time following Tristan, watching for any sign of nonhuman presence nearby. That she didn’t sense any felt strangely wrong since she ran into Nightstalkers around every corner in Atlanta this time of night.

  Make that morning.

  Midnight had come and gone a half hour ago. Tzader and Quinn would wonder where she was if she ran really late meeting them, but she couldn’t reach them without using telepathy.

  Taking that risk this close to getting answers would be foolish.

  At the front door, Tristan opened it and walked in.

  A female voice came into Evalle’s mind, whispering, Trust those who’ve earned it and no others.

  Evalle stopped in mid-stride.

  That voice. Who was talking to her? She felt no Belador power behind the voice, and it was the same female that had spoken to her at the most unexpected times in the past month. As soon as she got some time off, Evalle was going to ask her witch friend, Nicole, if she could help Evalle figure out who was communicating with her.

  I don’t need voices in my head right now. I’m out of my element as it is out here in the country. That should be enough to deal with, but unease of a different kind still snaked down her spine.

  She didn’t like anything about this setup, from the location to the house. Climbing three rickety steps, she entered a stuffy-smelling room where an old geezer sat in a ragged recliner that faced the door. Clear tubes ran from a nasal mask over his ears and down to a mobile tank next to his chair.

  Taking care with his tubes, he unfolded to a tall, thin body with skin that gravity had pulled at for many years. His cheap brown suit hung on his bony frame. Wrinkled brown eyes watched while she finished her assessment, but she needed only seconds to figure out the most damning trait.

  “You’re a Belador?” she asked the old guy.

  “Yes.”

  Tristan stopped between them and turned to her with a big grin, his arms opened wide in an “Am I good or what?” look.

  She braced her feet apart, ready for battle, and pointed at Tristan. “This is the last time you screw me over.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Sincerity rang through Tristan’s voice.

  “He’s a Belador.”

  “So?”

  “So you could have told me that. But you didn’t, which makes me wonder why not and why this guy didn’t want Tzader or Quinn involved.” She shot Tristan a withering look. “Or maybe this is the traitor and you’ve brought me into a trap.”

  “What?” Tristan dropped his arms.

  The man across the room spoke in a shaky voice. “I asked Tristan to not tell you I was Belador, Evalle.”

  “Why?” She kept both men in her field of vision, prepared to bust out the blades in her boots at the first wrong move.

  The withered old man said, “Because you would have wanted to check me out with Tzader or someone else.”

  True. With Conlan O’Meary on the loose, no possible lead could be held back. She cut Tristan some slack for the moment and directed her questions at the Belador. “Who are you?”

  “Sam Thomas. I once fought in battle beside other Beladors, just as you do.”

  “I take it you’re not with the Beladors as a warrior now.”

  “I left.”

  “Nobody quits.”

  “You’re right. That’s why I left after a battle almost seven years ago. I’m sure they counted me as dead or forever missing since bodies are sometimes vaporized in battle.”

  How could he just walk away after having been accepted as a full Belador warrior? She’d give anything to have what he’d tossed aside. To not be shunned as a half-breed. And he’d sworn the same oath she had. She didn’t hide her disgust when she said, “So you just deserted?”

  Sam sighed heavily and the air came out with a rattle. “I didn’t
leave during a battle. No one was at risk when I disappeared and became another statistic. You would condemn me for wanting a life?”

  She caught his point—that she of all people should understand wanting a normal life—and discounted that excuse for the crap it smelled like. “You want me to believe you walked away from the Beladors so you could play golf and spend time with the grandkids? Not buying that, Pops.”

  “Let’s just say I’m supporting the tribe in my own way.”

  She let that go for now. “Where have you been since leaving the Beladors?”

  “Around, but I’m not here to talk about past history.”

  I’m not either. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  The wrinkles on Sam’s face rearranged into a crooked smile that ended with a grimace. “Can we sit a spell? Got a bad back.”

  She took the single chair facing him, which didn’t match any of the other furniture. Not entirely true. Every piece in the room sported rips that belched stuffing. “What do you know about the traitor?”

  Tristan settled onto a lumpy couch. He piped up, “Sam knows more than anyone at VIPER.”

  Evalle sent him a scathing look intended to say, You don’t have a speaking role.

  Tristan grumbled, “Whatever,” and propped an elbow on the back of the couch to support his head.

  Taking his time to speak, Sam said, “To begin with, the traitor will lead the Medb to Brina if you don’t stop him.”

  “We know that, which is why we have everyone looking for him. But we may not be talking about the same person.”

  “Conlan O’Meary?”

  So this guy did know something about Conlan. She asked, “Do you know where he is?”

  “I have an idea.”

  She sat forward. “Where?”

  “I’ll tell you once you hear the rest of what I have to say.”

  If you keep talking as slow as molasses dripping in the winter, this will take what’s left of my morning. “I’m listening.”

  “Do you know what happened before Conlan escaped?

  “You mean the mind probe that Quinn did?”

  “Yes. But Conlan is not necessarily guilty.”

  “Then why did he escape and run?”

  Sam’s knee jerked every so often as if it wanted to bounce. “That isn’t the question you should be asking.”

  “I’m in no mood for a game. What’s the right question?”

  “How did Conlan get out of VIPER?”

  She’d wondered that many times herself. Conlan hadn’t been in just any holding cell. She’d asked Tzader how anyone could have found a way out of VIPER headquarters, which was tucked inside a mountain north of Atlanta.

  According to Tzader, any escape from VIPER required inside help. She said, “We know Conlan couldn’t have gotten out alone. Do you know who broke him out?”

  “I know who could have.”

  She hated vague answers and didn’t trust someone who wasn’t part of their VIPER teams. “Why do you even care what goes on at VIPER after you walked away?”

  “Because I have people to protect besides Tristan, Petrina, Webster and Aaron. I got tired of being restrained while expected to fight things that often defied death.”

  Ah, the real reason behind his desertion. Evalle had been in that situation at times, but she would never turn her back on the Beladors because of feeling stymied by rules. “We took an oath to do what’s honorable and protect humans while we fight things that are tough to kill.”

  “True,” Sam conceded. “But I think we may all be forced to fight against impossible odds soon. You may not respect my choices in life, but please believe me when I say I don’t want to see the Beladors destroyed.”

  She didn’t acknowledge one way or the other, but his words rang with sincerity, as if he needed her to believe that one thing. “I’m still listening.”

  “I’m in a better position now to help the Beladors, and Alterants, than I could have before, which is why I agreed to help Tristan. My people told me about him after the Rías were changing everywhere across the country. We have a network that has kept his group safe.” Sam’s knee finally started bouncing up and down in tiny jumps.

  Nerves or a twitch?

  Back to the heart of this, the traitor. She asked, “Okay, so who do you think might have broken Conlan out of lockup?”

  “Vladimir Quinn.”

  “Liar!” She pointed at Tristan, who had a sick-gut look on his face. “You brought me here for that?”

  Tristan said, “Just hear him out—”

  “I’m not lying, Evalle.” Sam tapped his fingers on his bouncing knee and his jaw moved as if talking stressed him. “Listen to me. I have reason to believe that Quinn is key to finding the traitor.”

  And what reason did she have to believe this stranger? “Quinn has been a loyal Belador warrior since signing on at eighteen. I trust him with my life. Why would he betray us now?”

  Sam pulled his lips tight in a frown. “You’re not going to like hearing this, but if you want to protect Brina, you’re going to have to start thinking with your head and not your heart. Everyone knows how close you, Tzader and Quinn are.”

  No argument there. She waited for him to continue.

  “I have people in Atlanta. I received a report through them from a Nightstalker contact that stays in and around the Ritz Hotel. The ghoul snitch saw Kizira going into a room there.”

  Holding a calm, disinterested expression while her heart thumped wildly was no easy task for Evalle. She’d been working on schooling her features better and managed to act as if that news didn’t send a chill up her spine. When she and Tristan had fought Kizira in the Maze of Death, Kizira had claimed she’d seen Quinn, in his room at the Ritz, and that Quinn had told Kizira she’d find Evalle with Tristan.

  Evalle hadn’t wanted to believe Kizira even when she’d shared details no one should’ve known about Quinn’s room except Evalle and Tzader.

  Quinn’s elaborate security measures meant only Evalle and Tzader could find his location, which changed every day when he stayed in Atlanta. Even then, neither of them could get past the temporary barrier that Quinn’s warded Triquetras provided.

  But Evalle wasn’t ready to jump on the Quinn-can’t-be-trusted bandwagon. “So what? The Medb like the thread count of Ritz linens.”

  “Kizira visited a guest in the hotel. The room belonged to Vladimir Quinn.”

  Quinn never registered under his name. How would this Sam have found out that information?

  Evalle opened her empathic senses as Sam spoke. She hadn’t trained to develop her ability, but she’d become pretty good at figuring out what someone was feeling. Right now she could only discern one thing from Sam. Worry.

  Possibly damning or not, depending on what worried him.

  Where was Storm with his lie-detecting ability when she needed him?

  She wanted to rail at Sam, but he’d tossed down the challenge that she wasn’t objective. She could act detached. “Let’s say there’s a remote possibility that Quinn met with a Medb witch. For what reason?”

  “That is a question Quinn has to answer, but I think I know why he would have helped Conlan.”

  “Why?”

  “Did anyone tell you what Quinn found when he performed the probe?”

  “No,” she lied, but telling this guy anything Tzader had shared with her in confidence was out of the question. Quinn had found potentially damning evidence of Conlan being the traitor, but even Tzader called it inconclusive because the images Quinn had accessed were of the future.

  And the future could always change.

  “Quinn saw images in Conlan’s mind of Conlan joining the Medb, then aiding them to breach Brina’s castle and kill her.”

  Sam’s information matched what Tzader had shared with her and VIPER. That gave credibility to Sam’s claim of having people in Atlanta, even inside VIPER.

  Or had he gotten his information from the traitor?

  She pointed out,
“What Quinn saw would explain why Conlan was put in temporary lockup, but he still shouldn’t have run. Conlan hadn’t even faced a Tribunal yet.”

  “I agree.” Sam wheezed another breath. “Except for the last part. Conlan’s father was convicted as a traitor years before. Conlan knew he’d never leave that cell until another person was found guilty of being the traitor, which could take years … and might never happen.”

  Just as no one would ever forget that Evalle was an Alterant. She understood carrying an invisible ball and chain.

  But she faced her battle every day.

  Conlan had run.

  Tristan continued to watch the conversation volley between her and Sam, but he glanced over at her with an obvious question written across his face.

  She lifted her shoulder in a silent shrug, letting Tristan know she hadn’t decided yet, and asked, “Why would Quinn go against VIPER, and the Beladors, to free Conlan?”

  “I’ve thought on that a long time. One reason I wouldn’t let Tristan contact you until now.”

  Swinging his head to face her, Tristan chided, “Feel better about why I haven’t been answering your telepathic calls?”

  “Not a bit. I’ve been stuck trying to save all the Alterants instead of just my closest buddies.” She hoped that would remind Tristan that he still had to make good on his part of this deal. He’d better not teleport away before she got what she needed from him, too. “Finish what you were saying, Sam.”

  “I’ve come down to one of two reasons Quinn would have helped Conlan escape—”

  “If he did,” she interjected.

  “Understood. Either Quinn also believed Conlan would not get a fair trial and didn’t want to be the reason the young man ended up in prison for the rest of his life …”

  She could see that, but would Quinn have taken it upon himself to release Conlan without at least clueing in Tzader?

  “Or,” Sam continued, “Quinn is working with Kizira and released Conlan to draw attention away from the real traitor, who is still among the Beladors.” Sam’s frail chest lifted and dropped with his sigh. “I can see you don’t want to believe me and are ready to go to Tzader, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”