Alterant (44 page)

B
uilding a unique world with rich details often requires using unusual names and terms. These are sometimes fictional as well as being drawn from actual mythology.

Below is a list of pronunciations.

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CATHBAD’S CURSE

S
HERRILYN
K
ENYON

AND
D
IANNA
L
OVE

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E
valle Kincaid looked up from her menu, expecting to see the tall waitress with blunt-cut purple hair and tattoos for sleeves . . . not a pissed-off Celtic goddess with the power to destroy everything in sight.

“Hello, Macha,” Evalle said in as even a voice as she could muster, considering how much trouble she might be in. She’d like to say she’d been working nonstop to deliver information that would earn her the right to live free forever, but her first duty—protecting humans from chaos and destruction—left her little time for saving her own kind: Alterants.

Macha arched a graceful but deadly eyebrow at her. The cool September breeze ruffled the goddess’s waist-length waves of auburn hair and her gown, which shimmered with colors stolen from an Aurora Borealis. “I have allowed you three weeks.”

Evalle had known this day was coming, but not so soon.

Something must have happened to cause this unwelcome visit.

She cast a quick glance around the upper deck of Six Feet Under, her favorite restaurant. None of tonight’s patrons noticed the gorgeous female deity.

Macha must be cloaking her appearance and voice.

But the humans would definitely notice if Macha turned Evalle into a ball of flames. Then they’d chalk it up as another unexplained incident of spontaneous combustion.

Evalle dug out a Bluetooth earpiece she’d found in a garbage can. Clipping on the inactive communication device provided her the perfect cover for conversing with an invisible person. “I know you’ve been patient—”

Macha’s glare returned with full force. “What gave you the ridiculous idea that I’m patient? I had you freed from the Tribunal prison based upon your agreement to investigate, and
deliver
, the origin of Alterants. Have you forgotten?”

Let me think about this. No, I generally remember deals made with deities
. Sarcasm would only get her toasted. Evalle explained, “I’ve been trying to—”

“I know what you have
not
accomplished, such as bringing the Alterant, Tristan, in to swear loyalty to me and the Beladors.
You
said Tristan would provide significant details about your kind. Where is he?”

“I don’t know yet.” The night Evalle agreed to the deal with Macha, she’d been sure Tristan would jump at the chance to join a pantheon, be recognized and accepted, and no longer live on the run with his sister, who was yet another Alterant. But after three weeks of calling out to him telepathically Evalle hadn’t heard so much as a whisper in response. “You also ordered me to continue working as a member of the Belador teams with VIPER. We’ve all been running constantly because of this outbreak of gang wars.”

Macha waved a hand in dismissal at the mention of VIPER, the coalition that protected humans from supernatural predators. She said, “Gang wars are a human problem.”

“Not this one. We’ve found trolls involved with the gangs.” Evalle checked to see if anyone was watching her talk, but no one noticed and people flowed around them the way water avoided a rock in a stream.

“Your first priority is your warrior queen, when her safety is in question.”

That snapped Evalle’s attention back to Macha. “Has something happened to Brina?”

“The answer to that should be obvious, since you are still alive.”

Macha would never be known as the nurturing goddess.

Evalle asked, “But Brina’s not under an
immediate
threat, right?”

“You don’t think so? As of now, you are still the only Alterant who has sworn fealty to me and the Beladors even though I offered sanctuary to all who will. Tristan and his group of beasts remain at large, not to mention any other Alterants we haven’t located. With so many beasts
and
the traitor unaccounted for, of course Brina is under immediate threat.”

Brina should be safe in her warded castle on Treoir Isle, hidden above the Irish Sea, but Evalle caught the shift in demeanor as Macha’s tone chilled when she mentioned the Belador traitor. “How are Alterants connected to the traitor?”

Macha didn’t move, but her luminous blue eyes turned to flint. Furious energy suddenly whipped across Evalle’s skin, singeing fine hairs along her arms. “I’ll speak slowly so I don’t have to repeat myself. The traitor is working with the Medb coven.
You
claimed the Medb intend to use Alterants to invade Treoir Island and attack Brina. Even you should be able to connect those dots without paper and pen.”

Evalle wiped a damp palm on her jeans and bit back
a retort. Three weeks ago she’d been locked in a prison with no hope. She owed Macha for her freedom and for giving her a chance to prove Alterants deserved to be a recognized race.

She also didn’t want to be turned into a charcoal briquette. “I see your point, and with a little more time—”

“Neither one of us has the luxury of time, especially you. An Alterant has killed one of Dakkar’s bounty hunters. He filed a grievance with the Tribunal, demanding justice and compensation.”

On a scale of bad news, that slammed the top. Macha had opened a charter for Alterants to be accepted as a recognized race, with Evalle as the spokesperson for Alterants. Before she could ask for more details, Macha said, “A hearing is scheduled for the day after tomorrow to decide who is responsible to Dakkar for compensation and what he should receive. Deliver me Tristan and his information by then or I will withdraw my support for Alterants to become a recognized race.”

The goddess disappeared in a flash of blue and pink light. Evalle hadn’t found Tristan in three weeks. What was the chance of finding him in less than two days? She lifted a hand to wave over the waitress and order something to go, when she felt Belador power blast into her mind.

Tzader yelled telepathically,
Calling in Beladors! Gang war going down in Oakland Cemetery.

The upper deck of Six Feet Under overlooked Oakland Cemetery.

At Tzader’s call to arms, Evalle threw cash on the table
for her drink and hurried down the stairs, then took off running across Memorial Drive. Any Belador in the area would rush to aid their Maistir, but she hurried to protect her best friend’s back.

She called to him,
I’m coming from across the street. Where’re you, Z?

East end. Potter’s Field near Boulevard.

That narrowed down the forty-eight acre landmark. Oakland was the seventh cemetery in the metropolitan area to be turned into a battleground this week.

Gangs had little respect for the living or the dead, but this level of hostility among so many at one time was unprecedented in the metropolitan area.

And why were trolls all of a sudden infiltrating gangs?

She found a shadowy spot along the sidewalk with no humans nearby, and using her kinetics, vaulted over the shoulder-high brick wall into the original six acres that had been there since 1850. Now she could use her Belador speed to cover the half-mile run through a moonless black night.

Tzader added,
This is bad. Must be seventy of them out here . . . something’s not right
.

Like what?

There’s—
His voice cut off and withdrew from her mind as if sucked out.

She ignored the thump of worry pounding her chest at the sudden loss of connection.

She told herself that something had taken Tzader’s attention, not his life.

Why was every gang in Atlanta itching for a throwdown
right now, and in cemeteries? She darted between tall marble statues and elegant grave markers, navigating easily with her natural night vision, a rare perk of being an Alterant.

One of the few positives for a half-breed Belador like her.

That’s when she noticed no spirits glowed in the burial grounds. Not even an orb. That was just weird.

Her fingers curled, ready for a fight, but she couldn’t use her dagger that carried a death spell.

Not on humans.

Gunshots cracked the silence, sharp pops then the boom, boom, boom of a higher caliber weapon.

Evalle slowed as she neared the battle. Racing in blind would risk distracting another Belador. Especially if any of them had linked their powers, which doubled their strength.

But kill one Belador in a link and they all died. As an ancient race, Belador warriors were some of the most powerful among preternatural creatures. All had sworn an oath of honor to Macha to defend their tribe, and to protect humans, who didn’t know any of them existed.

She called out to Tzader,
I’m here and opening up to link
.

His voice shouted telepathically to all Beladors in the cemetery.
Link now with Evalle. She has night vision
.

Eleven hits of power bombarded her from every direction.

She staggered against the initial linking, then found her footing and stepped into the open space where Beladors fought hand-to-hand with humans. Looked more like a hundred fighting.

A twentyish male wearing blue and white colors of the Ice Blood Posse came out of nowhere, slicing a wicked knife in a quick horizontal arc at her throat.

She bent backward as the blade passed by her chin.

The lack of contact threw her attacker off balance.

Evalle whipped forward, planted one foot and kicked him into an oak tree as big around as a fifty-gallon barrel.

He slammed against the trunk and shook his head. Not dead.

She’d promised Tzader she’d show restraint after putting a gang leader in traction yesterday . . . and that had been
without
tapping her Belador powers. That murdering bastard deserved death for killing a young girl he’d raped and beaten.

Too bad his punishment fell to the legal system, or she’d have saved the taxpayers some money.

Shots fired from her left.

With the cover of darkness, she risked shoving a field of energy up to stop the bullets and turned toward the shooter. Fortunately, he was too far away to see the bullets bounce off her field of energy. She couldn’t use her powers to harm a human, but she could protect herself and others if she didn’t expose her unusual abilities.

She sent a mild wave of energy across the field, knocking the shooter backward off his feet. His weapon fell loose, then flew up to rest in the tree.

Imagine that.

Two wrestling bodies bumped into her.

She wheeled around, expecting to crack a couple more
heads, when one of the men started changing. His head stretched in two directions and his mouth widened, accommodating fangs.

This was much worse than a gang war.

She called out to Tzader,
We got a Rías shifting over in the open area.

Tzader called back,
Get him away from the humans.

Then another voice came into her mind.
Evalle, Tristan here.

He called her
now
?

Before she could answer Tristan, Tzader added,
Get the beast to chase you. Don’t engage him until we reach you
.

Evalle?
Tristan said louder in her head.

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 close her mind to communicate with only one person. The safety of her fellow Beladors came first. Nine Beladors had died several months ago while linked, when the Alterant they fought killed one of them.