Rise of the Gryphon (5 page)

W
atch Storm get ripped to pieces by one beast or stomp a puny one into the ground?

Either way, Evalle couldn’t see this evening ending well. If Storm fought the witch’s guy and Storm held back, he’d raise suspicions. If he fought too hard, he’d maim or kill the guy.

But she didn’t want him fighting Zymon’s beast either.

Imogenia’s lips curled, tightened, then with some effort softened back into a taunting smile, as if the witch struggled to hold back her reaction. Short-fuse temper?

Evalle had blown off the witch’s offer in order to buy time to figure out a move and because accepting too quickly might not look good. Right? But irritation had wicked off Storm, meaning Evalle had probably just screwed up by refusing the witch.

Could she change her mind?

Imogenia shook off the anger that had appeared to grip her and cocked her head at Evalle with a smile. Light from the torches ignited a glow on the golden mask hiding her forehead, cheeks and nose. She nodded toward Zymon’s howling beast. “If your pet wins our fight, you’ll be able to raise the ante with Zymon for a match.”

Pretty determined to have Storm fight her guy. Did she really think Storm would lose?

If he did, the witch’s demon would still face Zymon’s . . .
thing
.

Zymon’s monster roared.

Evalle gave him one more glance in time to see blood drool from his lips. Sold.

She shrugged at Zymon. “I’ll entertain your offer while I let my fighter warm up on hers.” Then she swung what she hoped was a haughty look at Imogenia. “I accept.”

Imogenia’s teeth sparkled when she smiled. Too confident.

Evalle scrutinized the witch’s fighter more closely. His hand trembled.

Was she missing something about those two?

With the mash set, Evalle walked over to stand outside the circle of torches marking off the fight ring. Storm stepped up on her left, jaw as rigid as his body, eyes focused on the fight starting between a nine-foot-tall troll and the orange lizard-body guy.

Imogenia stepped up on the other side of Storm and tugged the chain hooked to her fighter, pulling him to stand behind her. She leaned forward, speaking across Storm to Evalle. “How many do you own?”

“One.” Evalle snapped that out too quickly, but she detested the idea of owning anyone.

“One?” Imogenia chuckled derisively and murmured, “Amateur.”

Was the witch putting up a good front or trying to
psyche her out? Evalle figured Imogenia had pressed for the fight with Storm rather than risk her little guy getting eaten by the crazed beast that belonged to Zymon.

She looked down her nose at the witch, who was a good five inches shorter, and considered several scathing replies until she caught herself.
The better I play my part, the safer for Storm
. Plus, she had to figure some way to talk to Imogenia, which wouldn’t go well if Storm killed her fighter.

Staying in character, Evalle lifted a finger, which she stroked along Storm’s cheek in a proprietary way as she loaded her voice with what she hoped sounded seductive for Imogenia’s benefit. “If you had one like him at your beck and call, you’d understand why one is all I need.”

Storm cut his gaze over to Evalle, and the heat that flared in those dark eyes turned her stomach into a circus act of backflips. He gave her a wink that promised he’d remind her of the suggestive comment later. Evalle gave him a “behave” look, and he just smiled until he returned to watching the fight again, stone mask still in place.

“Oh, really?” Imogenia asked with catty sarcasm. Her fingers curled halfway with a slight tremble as if she fought to keep from fisting them. She drew a long breath and that phony smile popped up on her face again. “In that case,
if
I can keep mine from
killing
yours, I may use this one”—she paused, stroking a slow glance over Storm—“to stud if we can reach an agreement.”

It took all Evalle’s will not to lunge across Storm and choke Imogenia for daring to think she’d
ever
own him. Or touch him.

Too bad the sponsors couldn’t have a go in the ring.

Storm was doing his part, not showing a flicker of interest over Imogenia’s comment, so Evalle arched an eyebrow at the witch. “Enjoy your fantasy for the few minutes it lasts.”

At the sound of a guttural growl, she turned her attention to the current fight. The troll circled orange lizard guy, whose two sets of arms dangled. Lizard guy snapped wide jaws at the troll, who jumped back and forth, dodging until the wide lizard jaws spewed a dark cloud of air that stank like a sulfuric gas.

Evalle covered her mouth and nose with her hand when the smell drifted outside the ring.

While the troll coughed and flayed his arms to break up the nasty cloud, lizard guy swatted his tail, knocking the troll’s feet out from under him. He landed facedown. The lizard guy used his four arms to fold the troll in half—backward—with a loud
crack
that had to be the troll’s backbone.

The Domjon called out, “Trolls out by a backward fart, demons still winnin’ and lookin’ sharp. Duals up next to give it a go. Let’s hope they shift and make it show.”

Evalle met Storm’s gaze and saw nothing but ruthless determination in his eyes as he started shedding clothes. His leather jacket landed on the ground first, then he yanked off his shirt, boots and socks.

She’d never seen him shift with clothes on, but she had no doubt he could rip out of his jeans.

Imogenia hovered too close for Evalle to say anything to Storm besides, “Don’t disappoint me.”

Understanding lit his eyes. He caught her meaning that he’d better walk out of there alive. Giving her a curt nod, he stepped into the circle, then crossed to the other side and turned, waiting on his opponent.

Evalle watched with everyone else as Imogenia unclipped the collar around her fighter’s neck.

Fear shanked off the little guy so strongly Evalle could practically smell it. She felt sick over what was going to happen and glanced at Storm, who had his arms crossed, face empty of any emotion.

When Evalle turned back, Imogenia pulled her fighter around to face her and the crowd, his back to Evalle and the fight ring. “Ready for a new challenge, beaniepole?”

“No.” The word whispered through the black cloth that trembled.

“Don’t be shy. We both know what you’re capable of.” Imogenia lifted off his hood.

Gasps ricocheted through the air.

From where Evalle stood, all she could see was a partial side view of his scruffy red beard. He had short curly hair the same color, but without seeing any more she’d guess he was no older than twenty-three or four. Close to her age.

Just a young man. Could this get any worse?

Imogenia told him, “Showtime, beaniepole. Where’s your spirit?”

“My name’s Bernie.” His fingers curled into fists, but tremors still wracked his body.

“Beaniepole fits you so well,” Imogenia whispered softly as she leaned in, but Evalle heard her. “Get into that ring and don’t kill him until I tell you to, or I’ll have to visit your girlfriend. Tonight.”

“No. Stay away from her.” Bernie’s hoarse words shook with anger and fear.

“Then get moving. I’ve stayed here longer than I planned already.”

When he turned to enter the ring, Evalle finally got a good look at his face.

Glowing green eyes.

An Alterant.

She whipped around to face Storm, whose eyes took in Bernie, then narrowed. Storm’s gaze shifted to her long enough to send a warning glare she understood.
Don’t interfere.

Storm had fought demon trolls, warlocks and probably many other things she couldn’t name, but he’d never gone up against an Alterant. At least not that she knew of, since she was the first one he’d ever met. Based on what little information she’d gathered on other Alterants besides her, they tended to have a power or unique ability of their own.

What about Bernie?

Evalle suffered a deadly reaction to the sun, but she hadn’t met another Alterant with
that
same issue. Did Bernie even
have
a weakness?

Imogenia cackled with delight. The bitch had disguised
the Alterant. Evalle doubted she even needed the chain and collar, not with the threat of the boy’s girlfriend hanging over him.

Storm unfolded his arms and stepped forward, body ready for attack. Muscles rippled up his arms and across his shoulders when he fisted his hands and arched his back, growling.

Bernie just stood on this side of the ring, shaking.

Imogenia unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, revealing a bony body. When snorts and chuckles erupted from the crowd, Imogenia rose up on her toes and hissed, “Need I remind you what happened in Tennessee?”

The young man’s body went taut as a bowstring.

He jerked his head to the side, looking over his shoulder at her with murder in his eyes, then roared and turned back to Storm.

Bernie’s jaws widened, teeth lengthening into fangs as his jaws expanded and his head grew larger. Cartilage popped and bones snapped in his arms and legs that extended and thickened. His feet grew as long as Evalle’s forearm, with four toes each. Bright red hair on his arms and legs lengthened. Clothes shredded and fell away as his body grew ten feet tall with black veins popping along his back and chest.

He raised four-fingered hands, fisted them and bellowed again.

Would Zymon’s monster have been a better choice?

Storm slid his jeans off and tossed them to the side, not the least bit insecure about being naked.

Evalle ignored the female murmurs of appreciation.
Hard to blame them. She’d ogle him, too, if not for being more concerned over his keeping that amazing body in one piece.

Storm’s human form immediately shimmered as he shifted into a massive jaguar much larger than a natural one, all in a matter of seconds. Gleaming black fur blanketed the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound predator. His head lifted as high as Evalle’s shoulder. He roared at the Alterant Bernie, the sound echoing through the valley.

Bright jaguar-yellow eyes glared death at Bernie, who could rip Storm in half.

Evalle had to stop this, but to do so would pit her and Storm against this crowd. Calling in VIPER would put Storm at just as great a risk with Sen gunning for him.

But she would not let him die in that ring.

The giant mass of hair, muscle and fangs that Bernie had shifted into plodded forward and made a swipe at Storm’s animal form, but Storm had the reflexes of a preternatural cat. He raced around the Alterant, slashing a claw across the back of the giant’s thigh, drawing first blood.

Evalle cheered silently in her head, forcing herself to maintain a composed demeanor. She cut her eyes at Imogenia, who watched, transfixed by the scene.

Just as Evalle looked back, the Alterant stomped back and forth, causing the ground to vibrate beneath her feet.

Storm stalked one way then the other, taking a swipe here and there, not cutting Bernie deeply enough to do real harm, but blood flowed freely. The big jaguar raced
around and around Bernie, causing the Alterant to turn in circles.

Evalle realized Storm was trying to wear Bernie down, catch him off balance and maybe tackle him.

Bernie’s frustration erupted in a screaming howl. His arms twisted in their sockets. They were . . .
double-jointed   
? Bernie slashed across Storm’s back as he came around Bernie.

Blood streamed down the jaguar’s hindquarters.

Evalle felt the blow to her center.

Storm’s jaguar swung around, facing the Alterant. He roared a vicious sound that would bring the dead back to life.

Imogenia yelled, “
Acath-amee
,” at Bernie.

What could that mean? Evalle hadn’t felt any power or majik cast with the word. Imogenia had said it the way a dog trainer used a foreign word to train an attack dog. A term the animal wouldn’t normally hear from someone else.

Bernie stopped moving around and extended one arm, hand turned up. He made a scooping motion.

As if snatched off the ground, Storm’s jaguar form flipped up in the air and rolled backward, landing hard from the kinetic hit.

Now Evalle understood. Bernie’s weakness was lack of aggression. The witch was using the commands to force him to fight.

Swinging his big head around to look at Imogenia, who smiled and gave Bernie thumbs-up, the Alterant went back to work on Storm. Bernie pointed a finger
at the inert jaguar body and used kinetics again to toss Storm fifteen feet in the air for another backflip before dropping him to the ground.

The third time Bernie used the same tactic, Storm rolled in the air to land on all four paws, but took a sideways step and shook his head, dazed.

Evalle’s heart hammered.

Her Alterant beast wanted out to fight. Muscles rippled along her arms, threatening to expand and strengthen. She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets to keep from throwing a kinetic blast at the Alterant to knock him on his ass, then focused her attention on not shifting. Unlike Bernie, she couldn’t shift into beast form without consent from Macha or Brina. And if she used kinetics to interfere, everyone in this place would know she and Storm were not really sponsor and fighter.

Bernie pounded his feet back and forth, like a kid waiting to play tag football.

Storm wobbled left then right and stood very still, his head hanging low to the ground as if he’d forgotten where he was. Bernie took one step then another, creeping over to Storm with his head angled in a thoughtful way.

Evalle knew of only one other Alterant besides herself who could control his beast state. Tristan. Bernie acted based on fear and anger. Now he studied Storm with curiosity. Did he retain enough humanity that he regretted slamming Storm around like a rag doll?

Imogenia said to Evalle, “Give me your fighter and I’ll spare him.”

Storm had warned her deals were binding here, but even if they weren’t, this witch was crazy if she thought she could have Storm. “Want to make me the same offer?”