The Curse (6 page)

He hadn’t asked, only stated that he clearly understood that she had feelings for Storm. True, but what she felt for Storm was complicated, tangled with damaged emotions she waded through every time they were together.

Storm took her flaws in stride and read her too easily at times.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss him if he went away, until now.

Every day became more unbearable.

Quinn waited silently. He deserved an honest reply, but she wasn’t up to sharing something she didn’t completely understand, so she said, “I’d just like to know why Storm left and if he plans to return.”

“I see.” A noncommittal Quinn comment.

Time to change the subject. Her heart hurt too much to keep talking about Storm. “Thank you for stopping that Rías from killing me, but I’m sorry you had to use your powers that way.”

Quinn waved it off as though he blew up heads every day, which he didn’t. Just being his usual noble self.

“And,” she continued, “sorry I killed our best lead in figuring all this out. You could have read the Svart troll’s mind and gotten intel, couldn’t you?”

“I’m glad you saved yourself. That was more important than all the intel in the world.”

Always thinking of others. This was the Quinn she knew.

The ball of guilt inside her expanded a little more and threatened to choke her. Should she ask him now about what that witch Kizira had said and get it off her chest? Her palms were damp with indecision, but it would have to wait. “You still didn’t answer my question about reading the troll’s mind.”

Quinn shrugged, the movement as refined as his impeccable clothes. “I might have found out something from this Svart, but they are highly trained to prevent being broken during interrogation, and taught to fight to the death. He may have had an iron-tight mind, or there could have been a trap waiting to attack the mind of someone who probed him.”

In other words, the Svart might have raped Quinn’s mind in return.

In that case, she should be thankful she killed the Svart, because even with the risk of danger to himself, Quinn would have tried to retrieve information.

“None of this makes sense. I thought trolls were more interested in stealing bling than fighting. The ones I’ve met are generally pretty simple creatures and kill only for food. Think this Svart could have been working with the local trolls we’ve found in these attacks?”

“Not exactly. Based upon what I read in the briefings about the interrogations, I think the Svart have brainwashed some of the local trolls, who seem to know very little beyond a compulsive urge to fight with gangs in cemeteries.”

That would explain the local trolls being in the gang battles, but not the reason for the constant fighting. Evalle brought up the only connection she could see. “Why cemeteries?”

“That’s a good question. Perhaps everyone has focused too much on the gang element and
not
the locations.” Supporting his elbow with one hand, Quinn tapped his chin as he scanned the activity around them. His gaze settled on Evalle. “Why was the Svart in this particular cemetery and why did he attack you?”

“Have no idea. Maybe I was closest.” She ran through recent similar battles in her mind. “This cemetery is larger than the others. Oakland is older and downtown … more ghosts … history. Who knows?” Swallowing still hurt Evalle’s throat. She cupped her neck, glad for chain burn and some bruising as the worst of her injuries, and looked again at the headless human. “Wait. There is one difference here. This
was
the first battle where a Rías shifted.”

“Ahh,” Quinn said, picking up her train of thought. “Who showed up first? The Rías or the troll?”

“The Rías started shifting, then I taunted him with kinetic hits to draw him away from humans. That’s when the chain wrapped around my neck.”

“Perhaps the Svart attacked you to stop you from harming the Rías.”

“Why would he do that?” She stared at the body of the poor headless guy. He’d probably had no idea he was part beast.

“Perhaps the Svart was searching cemeteries for the Rías.”

Could that be? What would a troll want with a Rías when none had even existed—that VIPER knew of—until three weeks ago? Humans had shifted into beasts in a major Rías outbreak, just everyday citizens who’d been clueless that something in their DNA could be triggered by hostility … not just any hostility, but a sentient haze filled with supernatural malevolence that had swept across the city.

She snapped her fingers. “The outbreaks three weeks ago happened
after
those predisposed to be Rías entered the fog created by the Medb. That unnatural hostility triggered the Rías to start shifting and attack. This time we had one shift around
us
. Belador power, used in a hostile situation, might have caused it. Maybe the trolls are behind the gang battles—drawing in Belador power to push the Rías to shift.”

“But why in cemeteries?”

“I don’t know … but this guy doesn’t have any gang tats, so maybe he was here by accident or—” A flash of light and a power burst behind her interrupted Evalle’s brainstorming.

Quinn muttered, “It appears Sen has arrived.”

Oh, joy. She turned as six-feet-seven-inches of perpetual anger stomped up to where she and Quinn stood. Tzader stepped up to join them.

Sen’s straight black hair hung down his back in a queue and somewhere along his family lines he’d picked up slanted blue eyes that seemed out of place in his square face. He always had the same type of clothes—dark T-shirt, black jeans and sometimes a jacket or vest.

No one knew much about Sen beyond his being a royal pain in the butt. He served as liaison between VIPER agents and the Tribunal, which ruled the Coalition and also played judge and jury for Coalition members when necessary. Within that capacity, Sen displayed power at times that seemed almost god-level. But Evalle couldn’t see a god getting stuck overseeing VIPER, and Sen made it clear to everyone that he had not taken this position by choice.

Who had pushed Sen into a job he didn’t want?

Maybe the better question would be why?

Sen glared at the remnants of the battle, then zeroed in on Evalle. “Of all the gang battles in the past month, I constantly have to wipe human minds and dispose of the nonhumans
only
at the ones where you’re involved, Alterant. Why is that?”

Ending his phone call, Tzader crossed his arms and angled his body so he stood between Sen and Evalle. “Got an issue with anything here, or one of my Beladors, take it up with me.”

Evalle kept silent for once, rather than spouting off at Sen and making things worse. And right now he couldn’t touch her or he’d cross Macha.

But Macha had just drawn a line.

In less than two days, Evalle’s protection would be over. Unless she found—and delivered—Tristan before then.

Sen gave Evalle a look that promised the day her deal with Macha fell apart that he’d be waiting for her.

Turning to Tzader, Sen said, “Better find a way to stop these battles soon or the Tribunal may start wondering at the coincidence of an explosion of gang attacks that started
after
the Alterant was turned loose.” He lifted a hand over the Svart troll, asking, “Finished with this one?”

Tzader indicated yes.

Sen pointed a finger at the dead troll. The body vanished, then Sen headed off to wipe memories of unconscious or injured humans. Beladors working inside human law enforcement would deal with the poor headless dead guy.

Once Sen moved a good distance away, Quinn spoke softly to Tzader and Evalle. “We need to meet … and talk.”

Evalle jerked her attention back from Sen. That sounded like Quinn had something important to discuss. Could it be about Kizira? Having Quinn broach the subject first would be a relief, especially if he denied having given Kizira any information on Evalle. “Sure. When do you want to meet?”

“As soon as we leave here,” Quinn suggested.

Tzader shook his head. “Brina wants to see me, then I have to brief everyone at VIPER headquarters.” He paused, sorting through something in his mind. “Let’s meet around midnight.”

“If that’s the soonest,” Quinn said, his face closed down.

Whatever he wanted to discuss obviously bothered him.

We have that in common
.

Tzader’s phone buzzed, pulling him away again while he answered.

She’d rather talk to Quinn sooner than later, like right after they left here. Before she could suggest she and Quinn grab something to eat, a voice came into her mind.

Evalle, this is your last chance to answer me
.

Tristan? She almost shouted his name, but quietly answered,
I’m here. Where are you?

I’ll tell you where to meet me, but if you tell anyone I’ve contacted you, I’ll find out about it and not show.

I won’t tell anyone.
But how would Tristan know? Until she could answer that question, she’d keep this to herself.

Meet me at the Iron Casket in one hour.

She looked at her watch. That would make it just before eleven, but she didn’t have far to go.
I’ll be there. Do not leave for any reason, Tristan.

Don’t give me a reason
. Then he disappeared from her mind.

She had to get moving. And she
had
to eat. There’d been no time for food, thanks to Macha. With any luck, she’d get to the Iron Casket early and grab a bite while she waited on Tristan, but first she needed to clean the ick off of her from the exploding Rías.

When Tzader finished his call, he said, “Going to be a little later than midnight, more like one. Let’s meet at—”

“How about my room at the Ritz downtown,” Quinn interjected, giving his room number. “That will allow us adequate privacy.”

Tzader’s gaze eased from Quinn to Evalle. “Good by me.”

Evalle hated putting off talking to Quinn, but with Tristan waiting, she didn’t have time right now. “I’ll be there by one.”

She hoped. Tristan could be slippery and she didn’t plan to lose track of him this time. She started picking body goo off her shirt. “Z, you got enough people here for cleanup?”

“Plenty.”

“I’ve got an errand to run.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“Nothing I can talk about.” She cringed at how that sounded. When Tzader didn’t respond, she knew he expected her to expound. “I was talking to Macha right before you called me in.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but she could feel them bearing down on her. Few Beladors spoke
directly
to Macha, Tzader being one of those. Evalle didn’t particularly like being in that group, but neither did she have a choice. “I have to do something for her.”

When the silence that followed hung too long, Evalle looked up to find Tzader frowning. She held her hands out in a motion of asking him to understand. “You know I’d tell you if I could.”

“I know that. I also know how Macha is. Be careful.”

“I will, and don’t worry if I run a little late.” Evalle gave Quinn a smile she had a feeling looked as forced as it felt, but she’d been through a lot with him, and with Tzader. She wouldn’t believe that Quinn had betrayed her based solely on the words of a Medb witch. “See you later.”

Quinn nodded, too quiet and reserved, even for him.

Time to finally deal with Tristan.

After hiking back down Memorial Drive, Evalle found a water spigot behind a string of restaurants in the block that included Six Feet Under. She cleaned up the best she could, happy not to smell so nasty even if her clothes and hair were now damp. The chilly air felt refreshing on her skin, especially after all that clammy death.

She left her shoulder-length hair loose to dry while she covered the next couple blocks. She found her motorcycle parked where she’d left it on a side street, lit only by a single overhead security light.

Shadows moved and murmured in her wake.

Nightstalkers probably. Ghouls who had once been homeless people before they’d died in natural disasters. None were trying to get her attention tonight. They just hovered nearby. But when she reached her motorcycle, she felt energy moving toward her. Something nonhuman lurked a few feet away.

Turning, she waited for a Nightstalker to glimmer into view and ask for a deal. But what emerged from the shadows was no ghoul.

Storm was alive.

FIVE

S
torm ignored the residual pain lingering in his body and stood with his feet apart, prepared to deal with an angry Alterant.

But seeing Evalle again could heal a dying man … which he’d been up until yesterday.

As usual, dark sunglasses protected Evalle’s sensitive, glowing-green eyes, but nothing could shield her emotions from him. Like now, when he sensed her turmoil, with no way to ease her anxiety. Not yet.

The first time he’d set eyes on her during a meeting at VIPER, he’d caught her silent distress. Thinking only to help, he’d reached out with gifts bestowed by his tribal ancestors to soothe her … and had gotten a biting earful later for his efforts.