The Curse (5 page)

“That’s a graphic way of stating it,” Quinn said. “But basically, yes. Tzader authorized the kill. I tried to stop the beast by taking control of his mind, but he didn’t drop fast enough, so I used kinetics to assure he didn’t touch you.”

Tzader snorted. “Think I remember it more as an order than authorization.”

Evalle cocked her head at Tzader. “Thought only Brina, or Macha, could give that approval.”

Tzader shifted, lowering his voice. “With the threat hovering over Brina, Macha gave me clearance to give the order if I saw fit.” Tzader and Quinn could be over-protective to the point of aggravating, but she appreciated them more than they’d ever know. They were the closest she’d ever come to having brothers, or any family.

She cast a quick glance at the dead Rías and winced. The beast had shifted back into a human form, so now she had to look at a headless, naked human body.

In the face of a threat, Quinn could kill an enemy without hesitation or remorse, but he still suffered when forced to destroy the mind of any living thing, even a dangerous beast. But he would do whatever it took to protect those he cared for, and that’s what Evalle kept telling herself—he did care about her.

That’s why she’d suffered this sick ball of guilt in the pit of her stomach for the past three weeks.

She hated the seed of doubt that Kizira—a Medb witch priestess Quinn had history with—had planted in Evalle’s mind about him. How could she question one of her two best friends in the world?

Her heart knew better than to believe a lying Medb, the most dangerous enemy of the Beladors, but Kizira had produced evidence that Evalle couldn’t easily dismiss.

With bodies scattered across the landscape, that conversation with Quinn would have to wait. She told him, “Thanks.”

Tzader issued orders, pointing at several Beladors as he did. “You five form a perimeter around this area to keep any other humans from coming in while we wait on additional VIPER assets to arrive for cleanup.” He turned to three more, nodding toward the battlefield. “Get a head count of humans and find out if any of them realized what was going on over here. We need ambulances for injuries.”

Devon spoke up. “Hate to tell ya, but three humans did see the Rías shift and attack. Two of ’em passed out from shock. Third one pissed himself. I gave him a tap to put him to sleep. We’ve got those three pulled away from the other humans. Any chance that hot Sterling witch is nearby? She could help us out by altering the memories of a few minds.”

“Adrianna’s still on leave,” Tzader answered. “Supposed to be back tomorrow.”

Evalle just realized she hadn’t seen the Sterling witch in the past three weeks either.
No loss in my world
. Men acted stupid when Adrianna showed up with her designer clothes, angel-face makeup and red pouty lips, especially now that her bobbed blond hair had grown halfway to her waist practically overnight.

I hope she stays on leave … finds a new profession … gets kidnapped by aliens …

Devon’s gaze roamed over the bloody field that darkness thankfully shielded from any curious humans. “Guess that leaves us with calling in Sen.”

Of course they’d have to call in Sen, the one person Evalle could go the rest of her life without ever seeing again. She kicked the dead troll. “Thanks.” Not meaning it one bit. “This day just gets better all the time.”

Her shove caused the troll’s head to rock from one side to the other and his arm to slide off his chest. An odd burn scar on the inside of his forearm looked intentional, something like a gang insignia.

Tzader looked down, doing a double take on her lobotomy kill. “What the hell?”

She arched an eyebrow at Tzader. How did
he
get away with cursing? Brina hated foul language. Their warrior queen never left her castle except as a hologram, but she had the ability to reach out kinetically to touch someone if she chose and always seemed to know when a curse slipped out of Evalle’s mouth.

“Bloody hell,” Quinn muttered.

What was so awful for Mr. Proper to curse, too?

Then Devon jumped in. “That’s bad.”

She didn’t see what they were making a big deal out of. Okay, the top third of the thing’s head
was
missing.

Looking from Quinn to Tzader, Evalle said, “What? I know he’ll be hard to identify without all of his head, but that couldn’t be avoided. And those tats on his face have to mean something.”

“They do,” Devon confirmed, sighing. “So does that runic
S
burned into his arm. Identifying him isn’t the problem.”

“If you know who he is, what’s the issue?” she asked.

Tzader ran a hand over his bald head, wiping sweat off. “That’s not just any troll. It’s a Svart troll.”

Evalle searched her mind for what she knew of them. “Aren’t they some European-based bunch?”

Quinn answered, “Svarts are a black-ops type of mercenary troll who originated in Switzerland. They are the most deadly trolls on earth and hire out to the highest offers. It would require a significant player to even gain their attention.”

She’d heard snippets about Svarts, but only trolls with death wishes would tangle with VIPER. Evalle thought out loud, “Who has the kind of jack it would take to send them up against a coalition like VIPER, and why would a Svart troll incur the wrath of the coalition? Atlanta is one of the most powerful VIPER hubs in the world.”

Quinn gave her a disheartening smile. “Contracts in our world aren’t necessarily about money. Power is far more highly valued than coin. And Svarts don’t accept just
any
offer. They choose their contracts judiciously, based upon how powerful their benefactor is and how well they expect to benefit from a successful mission.”

She asked, “What kind of extra benefit? Like a bonus?”

“No.” Quinn thought for a moment. “Whoever did this is unconcerned about poking around in an area protected by VIPER and the Beladors. I caught up on Belador alerts while on my flight or I wouldn’t have understood Tzader’s call to arms for a gang battle. All this gang and troll activity makes me wonder if Svarts have been involved all along. If so, those behind the Svart contract would seem to be intentionally engaging VIPER, and quite possibly the Beladors, which means we have a far deadlier problem than just gang battles. We’re facing an enemy who wants something they’re willing to risk everything for … even war.”

An icy chill swept over Evalle as she realized what could be brewing. Her gaze dropped to the dead Svart troll. She’d killed their best lead.

Their only lead.

Just wasn’t her day. First Macha and now this.

Macha. Conlan. Tristan.

She’d locked Tristan out of her mind, so there went her lead on the traitor, too. She sent out a telepathic call.
Tristan, you there?

Not a word in return.

FOUR

E
valle rubbed her aching neck, feeling bone-deep tired now that the Beladors had unlinked.

Where could Tristan be?

Was he screwing with her because she hadn’t answered?

Overhead lights flashed on, offering bright pockets in the pitch-dark cemetery. With the Beladors unlinked from her, no one else could see without a night-vision setup.

Tzader had just finished sending everyone off in different directions except her, Quinn and Devon when Horace Keefer, a Belador who looked old enough to be retired, showed up.

Horace pulled off his faded blue baseball cap and scratched his grizzled hair before putting the cap back on. His overalls were a bit frayed, but clean. Given his short stature and fuzzy gray beard, Evalle could see him as a leprechaun in a past life, a far more benign ’chaun than the ones VIPER often encountered.

Shaking his head at everything he saw, Horace said, “Ho, boy, this is a mess. Got your call and showed up soon as I could. Where you need me?”

Tzader gave the old guy an understanding smile. “The fighting’s all done, but we can use a hand with cleanup.”

Always one to jump in and help with anything, Horace nodded. “I’m on it.” He started to walk off and paused, looking down. “What kind of troll is that?”

Evalle said, “A Svart.”

“Do tell.” Horace shook his head. “Never expected to see one of those, alive or dead. Where’s the other one?”

Tzader, Quinn and Evalle exchanged looks, then turned to Devon, who had been working the troll investigations in Savannah for a while.

Devon asked Horace, “What other one?”

The old guy cracked his knuckles during the few seconds it took him to answer. “Don’t know, but I heard once that they like to work in no less than teams of two, and most times teams of four.”

Nodding as he digested that information, Devon said to Tzader, “I’ll put some feelers out when we’re through here.”

“Do that.”

Horace strolled off whistling, always happy.

Evalle envied someone so at peace with life.

Quinn eyed the dead Svart again, shaking his head. “We’re lucky to still have you with us, Evalle. Few people live through a Svart attack to talk about it.”

That made her feel a little better about giving a lobotomy to their best shot at intel.

“What you talkin’ ’bout, Quinn?” Devon could sound as if he’d just walked out of a Louisiana swamp when he didn’t want someone to know he’d gone to Tulane University on an academic scholarship. “That Svart didn’t have no chance with Evalle goin’ through EMS.”

She crossed her arms and shifted her feet apart. “Think you mean
PMS
, and if
I
suffered from that, the body count would be much higher, starting with a smart-mouth Cajun.”

Devon chuckled. “Nope, I mean
EMS
. You think about it, you’ll figure it out.” He strolled off.

When she looked around, she caught Quinn’s glance at Tzader, then Quinn’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. Based on the knowing glint in Tzader’s eyes, he understood Devon’s meaning and had just shared it with Quinn.

She growled at them, “What’s he talking about?”

Tzader backed away, dismissing himself from the conversation by saying, “Have to call Sen.”

“Hope you get a busy signal,” Evalle quipped even though Tzader meant a telepathic call.

Quinn muttered something like “Thanks, Z,” when he clearly didn’t appreciate being left to explain. He cleared his throat and told Evalle, “I believe
EMS
, my dear, is ‘Evalle missing Storm.’”

Her skin flushed embarrassingly hot all the way to her ears. She took a step in the direction of Devon, promising, “We’re not through tallying the body count.”

Quinn put an arm out, stopping her. “If you say a word to Devon now, you’ll only confirm his guess. As I understand from Tzader, you’ve been inquiring as to whether anyone has seen or heard from Storm. Most of the teams will think it’s because he was your partner, but a few sharper ones will suspect a more personal interest.”

“Is.”

“Pardon?”

“
Is
my partner.” Evalle refused to believe Storm hadn’t survived Sen’s kinetic power blast that drove his body against an unyielding wall. But had Sen known the identity of the black jaguar he’d tried to kill? She thought so, even though Storm had said he’d told no one at VIPER that he was part Ashaninka Skinwalker. He’d shifted into his animal form only to help her locate Tristan for a Tribunal hearing to decide her fate.

Then she’d allowed Tristan and his group to walk away. She’d had no choice when she’d ended up standing between Tristan and a human black-ops team determined to rid the world of Alterants.

That decision had almost gotten her killed, then it
had
landed her in a VIPER jail cell.

By the time Evalle had returned home, Storm had disappeared without a hint as to where he’d gone beyond the e-mail she’d received that same night sent from his cell phone, which read:

Evalle,

I’ll be in touch.

Storm

That might have been comforting except for one problem. Storm had left his phone in her motorcycle tank bag when he’d shifted into a jaguar. When she’d returned from lockup to retrieve her Suzuki GSX-R motorcycle, everything was there
except
his phone. Until then, no one had ever been able to steal her Gixxer or take anything she’d stowed on it because of a warding that protected her bike. She didn’t think Storm had the ability. Who had gotten past the warding? She’d also searched for the clothes Storm had hidden in bushes near the Decatur MARTA subway station.

They were gone, and so was his broken body.

Her soul refused to accept the obvious, the logical, that if he was alive, he’d have contacted her by now. The only other possibility was that he
had
survived and just hadn’t gotten in touch.

He wouldn’t do that to her.

Quinn broke into her thoughts when he said, “Of course, Storm is
still
your partner. Forgive me for speaking in past tense.” He studied her with wise eyes that knew a lot more about relationships between men and women than she did. “And you
are
fond of Storm.”