Rise of the Gryphon (27 page)

The entire way here, his gut had churned with a deep fear for her. He’d thought for sure it meant she’d already gone inside the event. Relief had turned his knees to Jell-O when he’d seen her emerging from the woods at the boat dock.

Holding her close should have reassured him she was fine, and entering as her fighter would keep her safe, but that sick sensation wouldn’t leave.

“Where is the event?” Evalle asked in a hushed voice as they left the woods and entered an open field.

Two guards wearing Spartan outfits over bodies that bulged with muscles stood two arm lengths apart.

As though they were protecting the open space behind them.

A shimmering silver cloth twelve feet tall appeared between the guards.

Storm answered her, “The ABC is hidden behind that curtain.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. D’Alimonte has cloaked the entire event, which means there’s only one way in or out and you’re looking at it.” He couldn’t risk not having access to his majik here. Lowering his voice for her ears only, he said, “This
is when you start calling the shots. Tell them you’re entering a Skinwalker. Showtime.”

She surprised him by not arguing but instead saying, “Okay.”

This would work out after all.

Evalle squared her shoulders and angled her chin up, then took a couple of long strides toward the guards. Before she could speak, the guard on the left held his hand out and a pale blue holographic image of a woman’s head took form. Eyes moving to take in Evalle, she said, “I am Dame Lynn, the Domjon. What do you want?”

Evalle pushed the slinky jacket sleeve and shirtsleeve up to show the armband. “I want to buy in for admittance only.”

“What?” Storm snapped. He should have known that Evalle was going along too easily. “No.
I’m
your fighter.”

Evalle turned on him, her mouth as hard-lined as her attitude. “No, you’re not.”

The Domjon turned her head to face Storm. “What are you?”

“Shifter. Jaguar.”

“Are you the black jaguar fighter from the Beast Club in Georgia?”

“Yes.”

Dame Lynn announced, “Request to fight denied.”

“Why?” Storm doubted she could know who he was from South America, but even so he’d never been refused entrance as a fighter.

“You have been accused of fighting under fraudulent
terms by claiming you were a shifter,” Dame Lynn replied in a flat tone of finality.

“I told you. I shift into jaguar form.”

“That wasn’t the issue. Imogenia of the Carretta Coven filed a complaint that you misrepresented yourself as a were-shifter. Her fighter also claimed you used majik that had not been declared. Until that’s cleared up with the injured party, you’re barred from fighting in the Achilles Beast Championship. Or, you can request to be subjected to a truth test to prove Imogenia wrong. If she is found guilty of lying, she and her fighter will be ejected . . . after facing a sanction. However, if you lie during this test, you die.”

That pain-in-the-ass Imogenia.

Storm couldn’t prove he was a were-shifter, since he wasn’t, and he
had
lied by omission.

Dame Lynn added, “And there are no observation-only tickets left.”

Evalle swung around to Dame Lynn. “Not even for a Volonte
finger
bone?”

“No.”

Evalle looked over at Storm, determination so strong in her gaze that he had to bite down to keep from shouting no at her, knowing she had only one other move.
Don’t do this.

Evalle told Dame Lynn, “Then I want to enter an Alterant.”

“No, Evalle.” When she ignored him, Storm growled a low warning.

Dame Lynn’s head leaned from side to side on the guard’s hand. “I don’t see an Alterant.”

Evalle reached up and lowered her glasses enough for her green eyes to glow bright in the darkness. “Now you do.”

“Accepted. Admittance is granted to you.” Dame Lynn emphasized the
you
. These fights had a no-tolerance policy when it came to anyone trying to trick them to gain access.

Storm’s nightmare unfolded before his eyes.

If Evalle walked in there as an Alterant, she’d have to fight. He told Evalle, “I’m going in with you.”

Dame Lynn clarified, “At this point,
you
can’t enter as a sponsor, since you did not represent yourself as such up front.”

He put his hand on Evalle’s arm. She turned to him, saying, “I have to do this.”

“I won’t let you go without me.”

Evalle held his gaze for two heartbeats, long enough to realize he would back his words and die fighting his way inside if she tried to enter without him.

Pushing her glasses back into place, Evalle addressed Dame Lynn. “Alterants can enter for free, right?”

“Correct.”

“Would the host be willing to trade this Volonte to allow me to bring a
guest
in with me?”

Storm hadn’t considered that, and Evalle still had to get that damn bone off her arm.

“No.”

Storm buckled his temper only for Evalle’s benefit. “What about a healer?”

The Domjon allowed, “With a Volonte, she can bring in one healer.”

Storm asked, “What’s the specific ruling on using majik inside?”

“No one can aid his or her fighter
during
a match in any way. You can use majik only to heal a fighter between matches. Any infraction of the rules results in sanction, then ejection.”

That sanction part could be worse than death in a place like this.

The Domjon continued, “Additionally, the fighter is forfeited to the host, who can keep said fighter or trade it to the financial backer for this event, the Medb. However, a sponsor or healer can help someone
else’s
fighter as long as their own fighter is still alive and in a match.”

“Why would anyone help someone else’s fighter?” Evalle murmured.

Storm would never risk losing Evalle by using his majik where he’d be caught, and the rule
should
prevent others from helping a fighter that might eventually hurt their own entry, but his gut feeling was that no one in this place could be trusted. Not when one sponsor might cut a deal to help another sponsor if it was beneficial. Anything was possible in these battles.

Evalle asked, “When will the Medb representative face the truth test?”

Dame Lynn blinked up at Evalle. “That was an hour ago, and the Medb priestess passed the test. She stated the terms for negotiating trades with Medb representatives. Any Alterant surviving an Elite match will be offered
the chance to become a warrior who can conquer death.”

Storm asked, “How are winners decided?”

“Alterants fight two matches against non-Alterants. If they survive, their third and final match is against another Alterant. A match ends either in death or relief, with the exception of an Elite round, where the Medb priestess can declare a winner and a loser if she chooses.”

“What do you mean by relief?” Evalle asked.

“The losing fighter begs to quit, and
if
the opponent agrees, the loser is handed over to the Medb with no trade for the sponsor.”

Evalle shifted her gaze to Storm, her eyes begging him again not to go inside with her.

He stated, “I’m her healer.” And he hoped like hell he wouldn’t be needed for that.

Dame Lynn told Evalle, “Give the Volonte to the other guard.”

Turning to the Spartan not holding a hologram of a head, Evalle told him, “You must tell me that you want this Volonte. Do you?”

“Yes, I want it,” he boomed and extended his arm.

Evalle lifted her arm and whispered the words Imogenia had used, then followed the same steps that ended with snapping the band on the guard’s arm.

Her entire body relaxed as if she’d been wrapped in barbed wire all this time and the binding had suddenly snapped. She let out a long breath of air, glad to be rid of that evil bone.

With that done, Dame Lynn issued final instructions.
“Fighters can use whatever powers they possess and can bring one weapon of choice into the theater.”

Evalle hesitated.

Before Storm could tell her she couldn’t sneak anything past this group, the Domjon said, “If you keep the dagger, the blades in your boot soles won’t work in here. If you want the boot blades, then your dagger will disappear as soon as you enter.”

“I’ll keep the dagger.”

“What name do you fight under?”

When Evalle cut her eyes at him, Storm said, “Moonlight Warrior.”

“Welcome to the Achilles Beast Championship,” Dame Lynn said before her head vanished.

In a place that was very likely wall-to-wall witches in some form, he didn’t want her to use her real name even if somebody might recognize her face. He put his hand at her back, so damned glad that bone was gone.

Each guard reached for the center of the curtain and drew back his half, revealing lights blazing over a towering room that held a thousand if it held one.

Raucous voices pelted the air with excitement.

Storm indicated for her to enter ahead of him, giving her a two-step lead.

She missed a step and turned around, frowning. “Did you bump me?”

“No.” Storm sniffed the air, catching a smell similar to one he’d barely picked up around the troll’s potent stench. He knew that scent. One sniff would smell human, then the next would smell like some creature
he couldn’t identify. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, when he couldn’t think past the idea of Evalle fighting beasts. He nodded at her to keep moving.

With the armband off, she could shift into her beast form, but would she?

And if she didn’t, how was he going to keep her from being killed?

L
anna followed Evalle and Storm through the silver curtain and paused inside the noisy arena.

Her head throbbed from the strain of holding her cloaking in place and constantly camouflaging her scent. Her muscles ached from being in so many difficult positions while trying to be quiet, too. Riding in Evalle’s SUV had been simple, but shielding herself from view between the car and boat ride had taken much work.

Her cloaking would fail soon.

Lanna scurried through crowds moving around this place that smelled of many different beings. Where would be a good place to hide?

Storm had sniffed in Lanna’s direction when he and Evalle had come inside, scaring Lanna that she had been found out. She was sure the spell she used to mix Nicole and Feenix’s scents had been right. It should mask her scent from anyone but shifters.

She had not expected Storm to drop from the sky like an avenging angel. Angry angel. He knew her scent and had startled her when he’d noticed her presence as she’d snuck onto the boat.

Her heart had tried to climb out of her chest.

Squeezing between people, Lanna pushed through to keep up with Storm and Evalle. Looked like a small
city in here. Tents scattered around. People sat in seats built like stairs. The crowd moved around two large fight rings with sparkling lights like invisible domes made of flickering stars.

How could Storm let Evalle fight in this place?

Lanna had already seen two mages and enough witches to fill several covens. These witches practiced dark arts, not like Nicole, whose aura shined with light.

Nicole would discover that Lanna had escaped once she checked the bed in her guest room. Maybe even by now. Lanna had left the covers pulled over a body shape that lifted and fell like normal breathing. To have stayed would have put Evalle’s friend and Feenix at risk.

Evalle had been careful on the drive to Nicole’s, watching for threats, but Lanna feared the wizard would find her even if she did not make another powerful draw on the elements. Doing that was like sending up a signal flare.

Grendal was in Atlanta.

Lanna’s idea had been such a simple plan.

Leave with Evalle and hope Grendal would believe Lanna had left Atlanta for good, but who knew Evalle would drive almost seven hours? And where was this Cumberland Island place? Lanna had to stay with Evalle now to get back to Cousin Quinn.

Her hand started taking form.

She carefully pushed power down her arms to turn her hand invisible again, but her body trembled from the strain. She could only hold cloaking this long because she had been able to rest in the Expedition on the
way here. She hid in a very small area at the rear of the SUV and did not have to cloak while Evalle drove.

Her fingertips showed again.

She shoved them in the pockets of her jeans.
Stay calm.
Getting upset would disturb her focus, and cloaking would fail for sure.

Evalle and Storm paused up ahead, observing something Lanna couldn’t see.

She looked everywhere for a place to hide. Not an easy trick, since this place was like an outdoor tournament. She smelled food vendors, then took another look at the stair-step seating. Could there be space beneath the tall seats?