Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(17)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

“Why would I interfere?”

“Because we both know ya are protectin’ someone.”

The blush of warmth that had returned with her healing rushed out of her face when she was reminded that Cathbad knew a secret Kizira would shield from Flaevynn at all costs.

Cathbad must have taken her silence as denial. He sighed. “Ah, child, we’ve already been through this. No need to be remindin’ you how I know of the soft spot in your heart for one particular Belador. The beasts we capture will be compelled to kill all they encounter.” His gaze filled with something she’d almost call regret, but Cathbad was not a man to suffer such a feeling when immortality was on the line.

Kizira shut her mind to keep from thinking about Quinn, or about anything else that mattered to her. This might be a trick to uncover all her secrets. Speaking with an icy calm she didn’t feel, she asked, “What are you getting at?”

Cathbad’s smile came from a sad thought. He sighed and shook his head slightly. “I will no let you be duped into thinkin’ anyone is safe in this game. Once Flaevynn compels you, then you will compel the Alterants we capture at the beast battle. When you do, they will have ta execute your orders. Even Evalle will no be able ta disobey. Give Flaevynn any reason ta doubt your commitment ta this plan by protecting one Belador, and all is lost.”

No, all would never be lost.

Cathbad was a fool if he thought she’d just stand by and let Flaevynn destroy everything that Kizira held dear.

Kizira would do Flaevynn’s bidding for one reason.

To be the first one inside Treoir Castle and swim in that river so that she would become powerful enough to kill a Medb queen.

THIRTEEN

At nine on the dot, Evalle rode her gold Suzuki GSX-R through an opening in the face of the mountain that housed VIPER headquarters in North Georgia. She slowed her bike and parked near where Tzader Burke stood inside with a group of agents.

By the time she peeled out of her riding gear, most of the Beladors had dispersed, probably headed to the meeting room.

She strode across the stone floor, her boot heels tapping a straight line to Tzader. Just over six feet tall and cut with muscle from head to toe, he was one of her two best friends. He exuded power, leadership and confidence. Beautiful coffee-brown skin covered all that muscle hidden inside a navy-blue collared shirt, jeans and a black leather jacket. The honed cut of his nose and cheeks shaped his face with lethal perfection, but you couldn’t call him pretty.

Or maybe you could. But it would only happen once.

Maistir over the North American Beladors, Tzader commanded attention just by entering a room, and he took in everything at once with the eyes of a hawk.

She trusted this man more than she would’ve trusted a brother if she’d ever had a sibling. “What’s up with no telepathy?”

“An infection. One of our Beladors was brought in with severe disorientation and erratic behavior. By the time a Belador healer got a look at him, he couldn’t communicate, so the healer tried reaching him telepathically to find out what was going on.”

“It had to be bad for the healer to do that.” Because Sen allowed no telepathy inside the mountain and no majik beyond what he wielded.

“Yes, but that’s how the healer caught the infection.”

Now the telepathic silence made sense. “Where’d it come from?”

“Before the healer lost his ability to talk, he shouted Nightstalker.” A grave look crossed Tzader’s face. “We think the ghouls are passing it somehow in the handshake. This shuts down our best line of intel.”

Evalle couldn’t help that her first thought was for her favorite Nightstalker, Grady, a grouchy old ghoul she considered a friend. Nightstalkers traded intel for a brief handshake with a powerful being, thus gaining ten minutes of corporeal form. Most spent that ten minutes chugging any liquor they could find.

Grady was in danger. She should go back and check on him. She should . . . stop panicking. The bone. She had to keep a grip on the stupid bone. Forcing calm into her tone, she asked, “How many Beladors are infected?”

“We have five here, and I’ve sent a team to hunt down a couple who’ve gone MIA who probably thought it was the flu, then lost consciousness, or might be walking around exposed to dangerous elements. That’s why I told everyone no telepathic contact until we can quarantine this infection.”

Trey McCree walked up, his thick body stuffed in a gray T-shirt, brown corduroy jacket and jeans that might be his favorite pair, based on the worn knees and pockets. He said hello to Evalle, then started reporting on all his people. As Trey was one of the most powerful Belador telepaths, they couldn’t afford for him to get infected.

Evalle hated to put one more thing on Tzader’s shoulders, but as soon as Trey finished, she had to tell Tzader what was going on. She’d kept her activities with Macha secret long enough, and Macha made it clear Evalle was flying solo now.

Macha might be her goddess, but Tzader and Quinn were the closest Evalle had ever come to having family. If she didn’t make it out of the ABC, she wanted Tzader to know the truth behind why she’d entered. Because Sen would convince everyone she’d gone inside to gain immortality.

When Trey finished his report and walked away, Tzader made a move to follow him.

“You got a minute, Z?” Evalle asked.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Is it important? I need to get these agents back out on the street.”

Would I ask if it wasn’t? Her temper jumped at his sharp tone and her skin started baking. She clamped her jaws to keep from saying something she’d regret. Tzader was doing his job. Breathing through her teeth, she waved a hand to move him on. “Yes, it’s important, but I can wait.”

With a quick nod, he was off again.

Pulling on the long sleeves of her vintage Army BDU—Battle Dress Uniform—shirt to keep the armband hidden, she followed Tzader.

“Where’re you going, Z? The conference room’s in the other direction.”

“The amphitheater.”

“How many agents are in?”

“Thirty-eight. We’ve alerted the other divisions electronically.”

Did that mean there was more to this meeting than discussing an outbreak of infection? Inside the cavernous amphitheater lit by torches, Tzader took the steps down to the stage two at a time.

Why the medieval look, when Sen could conjure up anything with a snap?

Evalle scoped out the crowd, finally locating Trey and a few others she’d teamed up with in the past. The room was curved, with tiered seating of carved stone steps going down to a stage that glowed around the edges. Picking her way across legs that pulled aside for her, she plopped down next to Trey, who sat one row in front of Lucien, Casper and Adrianna.

Evalle nodded at Reece “Casper” Jordan, who was every inch a Texas cowboy, except on rare occasions. He got the nickname “Casper” because he shared his body with a thirteenth-century ghost. Every now and then the ghost would show up for a battle.

A grin lit up his rough and rugged face when he noticed her. “Things sure have been calm since you got over your EMS attack.”

She would not rise to the bait. Another agent had accused her of suffering from EMS—Evalle Missing Storm—while Storm had been MIA for three weeks. She’d put a couple of vicious gang members in the hospital on her crankier days. They’d deserved it for raping and killing a young girl. “Surprised to see you here, Casper.”

“Why?”

“So many sheep, so little time.”

He just grinned that much harder. “But I’ll always make time for the black sheep in your Belador tribe.”

The hole’s deep enough. Stop shoveling now.

Evalle ignored him and spoke to Lucien Solis, who dipped his chin to acknowledge her in his usual mysterious way. The dark Castilian seeped sex from his pores, but none of the women she knew of had made any headway with him. Evalle had heard rumors about Lucien and Trey’s sister-in-law, a witch.

But not a dark witch like the one who sat next to Lucien.

Adrianna LaFontaine. Rather than appear a jerk in front of the team, Evalle gave Adrianna a murmured hello. She embodied what Evalle would label “sex kitten,” with blond hair falling past her shoulders, full red lips, perfect skin and blue eyes that assessed everyone with cool reserve. Nice to see her in a cinnamon-red sweater and gray slacks instead of what she usually wore—something that showed off her legs.

The Sterling witch cocked an eyebrow in answer.

Worked for Evalle.

She still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Adrianna had been the one to care for Storm during the three weeks he’d disappeared after Sen had crushed his jaguar body.

Of course, she was thankful Adrianna had hidden Storm’s battered body when Evalle was in VIPER prison, but she still wanted to use her foot to wipe the smug expression off Adrianna’s face every time they met. Like now.

No. Not now. Not here.

Evalle tucked her fisted hands under her crossed arms, facing the stage and thinking calm thoughts. Storm had said there was nothing between him and the witch, and he would have been hit with pain if he’d lied.

The new part for Evalle was that even without that consequence, she would believe Storm.

He’d earned her trust.

When Sen called the room to order, Evalle sat up straighter. Tzader stood a few feet away from Sen. The way this room was created, no one needed a microphone.

Sen stood a head taller than Tzader, but she’d seen Sen even taller and broader. His body could change as easily as the length of his mahogany-brown hair. It was cut short today. Rarely did he appear in anything other than black jeans and a T-shirt. Today he wore a long-sleeved black tee. Many had speculated about his godlike powers, but no deity would be forced to act as liaison between VIPER agents and the Tribunal.

His origins were anyone’s guess.

Much like the unknown origins of Alterants, but many clearly saw Sen’s as a valuable pedigree, whereas she was considered mongrel.

When Sen spoke, his voice rolled up the stair-step seating. “By now you know we have a contagious infection being transmitted by Nightstalkers. We have to find the origin of this infection, and we believe someone or something is passing this along when they shake hands with Nightstalkers. Healers are working on our agents to slow the infection, but without more information the diagnosis is grim, because the infected ghouls are deteriorating until their spirits are trapped inside half-visible bodies.”

Evalle had to get back to Grady and make sure he stayed away from everyone. He wouldn’t like giving up his ten minutes of human form for a handshake with a powerful being, but he wouldn’t want to end up with his spirit trapped in a half-dead shell.

VIPER would order those bodies destroyed, but what did that mean for their spirits?

Continuing, Sen said, “We have incidents of the infection being passed through telepathy.” Murmuring broke out through the room until the torches on the stage flamed high and bright—Sen letting everyone know to shut up. When the room quieted, he said, “The agents affected are comatose, and it doesn’t look promising. We need to find out where this came from and if someone has unleashed this intentionally in the city. Our guess at this point is that someone might be trying to wipe out our intelligence network.”

An agent halfway down stood up, taking the floor for a question. “Any suspects at all?”

“No.” Sen crossed his arms and took everyone in with one sweep. “Unless you have a case that I’ve cleared as taking precedence, then every one of you is assigned to this problem until you hand me the person or group behind the infections. Tzader will hand out orders as soon as we finish here.”

Another agent rose to his feet, asking about what to do if they found an infected agent, human or other.

“We have a hotline monitored twenty-four-seven. Do not touch anyone or anything you suspect of infection.” When no one else posed a question, Sen looked over at Tzader before stepping a few feet away.

Tzader moved to center stage. “We have another issue brought to my attention today. We want to make sure everyone is clear on VIPER laws. One of our Beladors learned of an Achilles Beast Championship event scheduled tomorrow night in the southeast corner of Georgia.”

Warning crashed through Evalle’s chest. She clutched the edge of her seat.

She should have talked to Tzader before this.

Heat streaked up her arm.

FOURTEEN

This is not a VIPER issue as long as our laws are not broken,” Sen added from the side of the stage where he addressed agents filling the amphitheater, since Tzader technically still had the floor.

Evalle was gripping the edge of her stone seat. It sucked as a stress reliever. Her heart rate had gone into Mach speed. Where was Storm when she needed a calm-me-down spell?

Trey glanced over at her. “Problem?”

Yes, I want to shout at Tzader that we need to talk now! Instead, she whispered back in a strained voice. “Indigestion.”