Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(3)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

No.

She sighed softly. “Let’s do it.”

Flexing her fingers quickly before the warlocks entered, she opened the channel to her mind for Tzader and Quinn.

The immediate synergy that shot between the three of them sparked the air with combined power. She flagged physically for a couple seconds, experiencing how drained the other two were; then she focused only on sending energy to them.

You got some screamin’ optics, babe, Tzader’s voice whispered in her mind.

And her vision isn’t her only asset. Quinn searched through her thoughts like a warm flood of fine whisky.

If she wasn’t so concerned over the threat entering as soon as the wall disappeared, she’d have smiled at the flirt.

Don’t move until I give the signal. Tzader gave that order with enough heat to let everyone know he was in no mood to joke.

Guess we’ll allow him to lead this one, eh? Quinn’s sarcasm took the edge off Evalle’s anxiety and filled her with a flush of confidence. She glanced over at the rogue and winked, then sent them a message. I’ll wait for the word to attack, but let them unshackle me before you do anything if you want the full force of my power.

Tzader gave a curt nod of his head.

Quinn lifted a finger in acknowledgment.

The wall cleared. Four warlocks in swirling gray robes with no hoods carried torches into the room, all headed for Evalle. Without her sunglasses on, she squinted to be able to see in what, for her eyes, was brilliant light.

Serpent tattoos wrapped their thick necks, then swept around each bald head. The pointed tip of the viper’s head stopped at the bridge above each warlock’s wide nose. The vipers’ eyes glowed yellow-orange and had narrow black diamond centers. When one warlock stood in front of each of Evalle’s arms, they chanted in unison, releasing the shackles.

She dropped to the floor.

One of the other two warlocks extended his hand, not touching her. His fingers kinetically circled her throat and lifted her off the dirt floor.

She fought to breathe. Tzader? What are you waiting on?

“She is secure, Priestess,” the warlock choking Evalle called out in a loud voice.

Kizira appeared at the entrance, her face stoic.

Quinn shot his thoughts to Evalle. Tzader was waiting on Kizira to enter. I’ll deal with her.

Kizira closed her eyes and held her hands in front of her with the palms turned up. Her eyes glowed yellow. She began murmuring foreign words that sounded ancient and deadly.

Now, Evalle, Tzader roared in her mind.

Evalle willed herself into battle form, a minimal physical change all Beladors were approved to use when engaging with an enemy. She tightened her fingers into fists. Spiked cartilage rose along the lengths of her arms. Power surged throughout her, expanding muscle tissue and driving her adrenaline to a volcanic level.

She gripped both hands around the invisible arm holding her and bared her teeth. “You’re dying first, just to kick this party off on a high note.”

The blunt-nosed warlock smiled and squeezed tighter, drawing tears to her eyes.

Using her kinetic ability, she knocked the torches into the dirt, killing the flames. The warlocks howled in anger.

Ready?

Tzader and Quinn broke free of their shackles, drawing the other three warlocks around to face them.

Battle screams ricocheted off the walls, gathering force like the wail of a banshee.

Pulling in opposite directions with each hand, Evalle snapped the force holding her throat. The warlock screamed in agony, his arm falling uselessly to his side. Released from his power, Evalle again dropped to the dirt floor. He snarled with pain and dove at her. She shoved her hands up, palms out, blocking him with a shield of power. He bounced back, falling to the ground.

Kizira swayed, caught in a deep trance.

Evalle stomped each foot and silver spikes with razor-sharp tips shot out from around the boot soles. She took a step toward Tzader, who fought two warlocks.

Quinn snapped the neck of the Medb he battled, tossing the body aside quicker than yesterday’s trash, then snatching one of Tzader’s opponents away.

The warlock Evalle had knocked out gained his feet. He charged her, his mouth opening wide to release demonic curses on a stream of black breath.

She spun, whipping her boot high, the lethal tips slicing his neck like a buzzsaw. Purple liquid bubbled from the mortal wound, filling the air with a soured-orange stench. Evalle whipped her boot up again in a crosskick. The warlock’s head flew off sideways, hitting Kizira in the chest. That jolted the priestess out of her trance. Her glazed eyes started clearing.

Oops.

Evalle swung back to the fight, but she couldn’t jump in kicking and risk killing the Beladors, who now fought the only two warlocks still alive. Of the two dead, one lay facedown on his chest with his head spun around to stare at the ceiling.

Tzader battled a warlock armed with a three-pronged sword he hadn’t possessed a moment ago.

Quinn blasted the fourth warlock backward with a shot of energy, then produced three Celtic Triquetra with jagged blades and threw them with deadly accuracy. The blades struck the warlock in his throat, heart and eyes, killing him instantly.

“Not my brother! No!” Kizira screamed. She looked at Quinn, her agonized face a mix of shock and betrayal. When the priestess lifted her hands at Quinn, Evalle dove at her.

“No, Evalle!” Quinn shouted.

She slid to a stop at the side of Kizira, who froze in mid-motion with arms extended, eyes stuck open, full of fury.

Quinn appeared next to the priestess. “I’ve locked her mind, but I can’t hold her long without harming her.” He cut eyes teeming with sadness at Evalle. “Help Tzader.”

She nodded, then felt a blow to her midsection and doubled over. Quinn groaned but held his position with his back to the room. When she turned to Tzader, she found him on the ground, the three-pronged spear staked through his chest.

Tzader looked over at her. His face twisted with pain. Unlink … before I die, and leave me, he called into her mind. You can’t kill this one.

Evalle looked at the last warlock, who laughed in triumph until he eyed Kizira immobilized. That’s when the eyes on the serpent tattoo on his head came to life. That meant he carried the same blood as the Medb High Priestess.

Evalle looked at Tzader. Escape or fall, we stand as one.

Agreed, Quinn confirmed on a gasp. But I can’t help you and hold Kizira immobile.

Evalle faced the warlock. Intimidation played a role in every battle won. “You don’t look so hard to kill.”

The warlock whispered a chant, lifting his hands to his lips and blowing across the palms. Both hands tripled in size, extending into claws. He swiped one long talon at the nearest wall, digging a trough through stone as though cutting butter with a cleaver. He crooked the same claw, smiling when he goaded her to attack.

Well, crap. She hadn’t really expected to get out of this mess without facing this decision. But she’d only shifted once—partway—and that had been in reaction to terror. Returning to her normal physical state had been a struggle. Could she do it again? Or would she remain a mindless beast?

No time to worry about what might happen.

If they stayed, they died. If she shifted …

Evalle mentally reached inside herself, deep into the core of her life force. She urged her body to free itself. Power rolled through the center of her, surging into her legs and arms. Bones cracked and popped, skin stretched tight. Her clothes split, shredding into tatters that fell away from her body.

Leather ripped with a squeal when her feet thickened, toes growing the length of a human hand. Her jaw expanded to accommodate a double row of teeth that sharpened into jagged fangs.

Nerves and tendons cried out in pain. She roared an echoing, haunting sound, now able to stare down at the warlock from ten feet off the ground.

He dared to laugh, then threw a ball of energy at her.

She batted it away, blowing a hole in the rock wall.

The warlock cocked his head, still smiling, but with a little surprise. He flew at her, arms drawn back to swing a clawed hand at her neck. Before he could sever her head, she blocked him, using an oversize arm that sizzled with unspent power.

He bounced back, stunned for the two seconds she allowed him to live.

She curled her leathery fingers into a fist and smashed his face, slamming him backward into the wall, where his body clung, shaking. Bolts of energy popped and sparked around him before he dropped to the ground. When she stepped close to the warlock, he gasped, “You’re a dead monster—”

She lifted a foot as heavy as two cement blocks and slammed down on his midsection, crushing him into two halves.

His last breath screamed out of him, a sound of agony Evalle never wanted to hear again.

Brilliant orange light blanched the inside of the cave. His body foamed purple, then disintegrated into a puff of brown smoke. A sure sign he was Medb royalty.

Evalle took several breaths, calming the power pulsing through her. She begged her body to pull back into itself now that they were safe. Each breath she drew forced another part to tighten and shrink, but hallelujah, she was reversing the change. Sweat covered her skin. Pain daggered her arms and legs, sickened her stomach. Her head felt as though a stake was being driven through her temples, but she’d end up facing worse if the Tribunal found out she’d shifted.

Feeling the last of her body return to human form, Evalle swung around to Tzader, who lay perfectly still. When she reached him, she yanked the spear free. Blood gushed from the three holes. Mortified by her nak*d state but unable to repair her shredded clothing, she dropped down on her bare knees and pressed her hands over the gaping wounds to stop the flow of blood. But she had no power to save him from all the internal damage.

“He can’t be dead, because we’re alive,” Quinn said in a wheeze over his shoulder from where he still controlled Kizira.

“You’re right.” Evalle and Quinn had a chance to survive if they unlinked and escaped, but she couldn’t walk away from Tzader. He was not the traitorous Belador. If she unlinked, he’d lose the strength she still gave him. Her abdomen hurt, too, but … not as though she’d been stabbed. Why didn’t she feel like she was dying?

Could an Alterant linked to a Belador not die?

Tzader’s eyes fluttered.

“I’m here,” she assured him. “I won’t leave you.”

He gasped hard for air, chest heaving. His hand shot up to grab her arm with a strength that surprised her.

“He’s living … I feel him getting stronger.”

Evalle glanced over her shoulder at Quinn. “Me, too.”

Tzader groaned. “You can move your hand now.”

When she looked down, his face was robust with life. She pulled her hands away. The holes in his chest were shrinking. She stared in shock. “What’d you do?”

Tzader sat up and stretched; then his shoulders slumped with the effort. “You saved my life, Evalle.”

“No, I didn’t.” She stood up and backed away from him. “I do not have those powers.”

Pushing up to his feet, Tzader turned to her, politely avoiding her nak*d body. “You ought to grab a robe.”

She yanked a robe off the ground where it had been left behind when one of the warlocks had disintegrated. She shoved her arms through the sleeves. “Now. What happened to you, Tzader?”

He moved slowly, still recovering. “Best I can tell, the spear tips were made of lava from a volcano I’m not telling either of you about since it’s the only thing that can kill me. But the tips have to stay in place while I die a slow death. If you hadn’t defeated the last warlock and pulled out the spear, I’d be dead.”

Beladors were not immortal, as a rule, as far as she knew. “Why can’t you be killed?”

When Tzader didn’t reply, Quinn did. “Might as well tell us. Then Evalle can share what it takes to kill her, too. I’m not leaving here without knowing more about both of you.”

She gave him an arch stare. “I think you two know all you need to know about me right now.”

Tzader shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m the descendant of a Belador who had me blessed, or cursed, depending on your point of view, and leave it at that, okay?” He walked over to Quinn. “Can we get outta here?”

“Yes. I pulled the exit route from Kizira’s mind.”

Evalle stepped up to both of them. “I doubt she’s going to let us go without a fight once you unlock her mind.”

“I won’t kill her,” Quinn said with quiet conviction. “I can leave a blank place in her thoughts when I release her that will last maybe a minute after she comes out of this state. That’s enough time to reach the surface.”

“Do it.” Tzader glanced at the still-open wall. He whistled shrilly. Two spinning knives with Celtic designs on the handles flew into the room and circled him, landing at each hip. The tips of the blades snarled and hissed.

Evalle missed her boots more than her clothes, but she had bigger worries. She knew better than to believe these two would protect her secret unless they gave her their word. But what Belador would risk his existence and his family for an Alterant?