Demon Storm: Belador book 5 (7 page)

The old druid in a dark green robe stood next to him, mumbling something in Gaelic, then said, “That canna happen.”

“How do you know?” Macha demanded, hair flicking wildly with her emotions. “That’s Noirre majik. Anything can happen. Just back away and do not touch that nasty majik again.”

The white-haired druid had a matching snowy beard that hung to the middle of his chest. A dark gray cap drooped off one side of his head, sort of an oversized, limp beret. He backed away and should have been bowing and speaking softly, trying to appease the goddess, not shouting, “We’re losin’ her. I had a vision. Just as I have told ya, this calls for someone who
can
wield black majik!”

“There will be no black majik ever brought in here again! Do you hear me?”

Evalle was pretty sure someone in another universe had heard Macha.

The druid’s robe whipped around his legs and he fisted his hand, shaking it at Macha. Was he powerful enough to do that and survive? He opened his mouth to shout something else.

Macha whipped her hand at the old guy and poof. He was gone.

Guess that answered the question of who had the most power, not that there’d been one.

Then the goddess rounded on Evalle. “What do you want?”

Crud.
Everyone
had a bad case of nasty temper today.

Evalle quickly assessed that Macha didn’t realize Tzader had sent Evalle a telepathic call and Tzader was staring at the bottom of the hologram by Macha.

Now would be a good time to diffuse some of this anger.

Evalle owed the goddess a thank you. “On behalf of the gryphons and the two Rías, I want to extend our appreciation for processing the petition for our race and welcoming our group into the Beladors.”

“I suppose you’re welcome,” Macha replied, just as surly as before. “Keep in mind that as their leader, you are responsible for any infraction.”

And here we go again.
But it wasn’t as though Evalle hadn’t expected some strings attached. “I understand.”

“If that is all, you are dismissed.”

Tzader shook his head as if he’d been in a fog and told Macha, “I asked Evalle to come up. She can help us.”

“What do you expect a gryphon to do that a three-thousand-year-old druid can’t?”

Anger flared in Tzader’s face. “Evalle told you she’ll bring Storm back.”

“A Skinwalker in league with a witch doctor? Didn’t I just say no black majik? Evidently I need to be more concise. No one with any hint of black majik is coming in here.”

“He is
not
involved with the witch doctor,” Evalle argued louder than she probably should have.

Macha swung around, hair billowing and eyes sizzling with anger when she faced Evalle. “You must have a death wish to dare raise your voice to me.”

Tzader’s eyes flared with fury that Evalle had rarely witnessed in all the time she’d known him.

What was wrong with him?

Whatever it was also affected Macha and Quinn.

Evalle didn’t want to end up zapped away to who knew where like the druid, and she had to keep Macha’s attention away from Tzader, who looked seconds away from going postal. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice to you, goddess. Please forgive me. I’m just as upset about Brina as anyone else and failed to control my volume.”  That sounded so much better than telling Macha she could bite Evalle’s boot, which would be her last words. “All I’m saying is that Storm is not in
league
with the witch doctor. She is his enemy.”

Tzader’s words were taut with stress, but he managed not to sound aggressive when he addressed Macha. “Storm has proven to be exceptional in tracking preternaturals for VIPER. It’s more than his Navajo skills. He has majik as well. We don’t know how long Brina has left.”

Evalle stepped past Macha to take a look at Brina’s image. It reminded her of the bastard child of an ethereal image and a glass ornament made of pink and yellow translucent crystal. All that wrapped in dark threads woven with black majik.

She asked, “Did that druid have an idea of how long she can stay in this form?”

Macha answered her with no small amount of exasperation. “Garwyli has no idea about black majik. He kept yelling something about four days, but he can’t actually know.”

Tzader’s head came up sharply at that. “Four days?”

“He has nothing to base that on beyond laying his hands on the Noirre,” Macha argued. “It might have infected his mind for all we know.”

Inclined to heed the ravings of a druid that old, Evalle pointed out, “But what if Garwyli is right about how long Brina has left? We can’t risk running late bringing her back. And Brina,” Evalle added to remind the goddess that two lives were at stake.

“I’m well aware of what is required, but we can’t be reckless and put the Beladors at any more of a power deficit.”  The goddess spoke with a terse tone obviously meant to hide her fears, but anxiety hid beneath her words. “Our warriors are losing their powers in different degrees everywhere. The German Maistir is dead and our warriors are vulnerable to attacks from any enterprising nonhuman. Our enemies are quick to take advantage of what they see as a wounded tribe.” 

Macha paused, staring at the vacant-eyed hologram. “Brina is in this situation due to Medb witches and a traitor that managed to infiltrate this castle with Noirre majik. I can’t trust someone who possesses black majik skill not to take advantage of the Noirre majik already in place and destroy this hologram. As long as it is here in the castle, the Beladors have some use of their powers. If I allow someone to destroy it, every Belador would face extermination as powerless humans.”  Macha pinned her gaze on Evalle. “I will allow your Skinwalker entrance if you can swear that he will not bring dark majik into this castle.”

Evalle had no idea for sure where Storm’s majik originated, but she trusted him to bring no harm to Brina or the castle. She opened her mouth to speak, but Tzader cut her off with a booming decree.

“
I
swear on my immortality.”

Evalle sucked in a breath at that.

Tzader spoke in her mind.
Would Storm practice black majik?

No
. Her quick answer came straight from the heart.

Then I trust your judgment and, if I can’t get Brina back, immortality means nothing to me.

She had nothing to say that would change his mind.

Tzader told Macha, “The sooner you send Evalle back, the sooner we’ll be able to determine whether Storm can help us.”

Macha appeared to be considering Tzader’s vow and was clearly not happy about him speaking up, but she addressed Evalle. “Very well. Have Trey contact Tzader once you’ve located the Skinwalker. If I’m convinced that he’s acceptable, I’ll teleport him to Treoir. When you’re ready to teleport back to Atlanta, envision where you wish to arrive.”

“What about VIPER? Will there be any fallout from me entering the beast games?”  Evalle quickly added, “Which I did for the benefit of the Beladors.”

Specifically, she wanted to make sure Sen didn’t snatch her out of thin air and drop her in a Tribunal meeting to be judged after all she’d gone through to protect her tribe.

“VIPER will be informed that you were compelled by the Medb to go with Kizira to TÅμr Medb, then compelled to join the battle.”

That wasn’t exactly how it all went down, but if Macha was willing to sell that through, then Evalle wouldn’t argue since Kizira–and probably the Medb queen, Flaevynn–were both dead. It wasn’t as if someone could counter Macha’s explanation.

With that, Macha lifted her arms and disappeared in a whirl of spinning air sparkling with blue and silver.

Evalle didn’t want to consider the consequences of Macha not finding Storm acceptable. She waited to think about where she wanted to land, because that had sounded as if she’d be whisked away the second she pictured the location in her mind.

Handy, if she didn’t get snatched away before she was ready.

She needed to take care of one more thing before she left and turned to Tzader. “Tristan will be responsible to you for managing the gryphons and Rías while I’m gone. They need to take a break from their gryphon form and return to their human bodies, but they won’t all do that at the same time.” 

Tzader nodded, his gaze returning to Brina. “What the hell?”

Evalle stared at a piece of the hologram the size of a cookie that had broken away. It turned into tiny crystals and blinked out of existence.

Covering his mouth with his hand, Tzader stood there, thinking. Over the next minute, he absorbed what he saw and the result was a heartbreaking expression of misery. When he moved his hand, he said, “Now we know what Garwyli was ranting about. What he saw in his vision.”

Losing Brina would be devastating for Tzader. But losing this last part of Brina would sever the only ties Beladors had to the Treoir power base.

“I
f I wasn’t desperate, I wouldn’t do this,” Evalle mumbled, looking over at Nicole, who was riding shotgun in Nicole’s wheelchair-accessible van with only the dash lights illuminating her features. Now that sunlight was not an issue, Evalle had spent the better part of two days driving all over Atlanta in Storm’s old Land Cruiser since her Suzuki GSXR was still up north in the mountains at VIPER headquarters. But when she realized she needed the help of her gifted friend, she’d left the SUV back at Storm’s house and taken the train to Nicole’s so they could drive the van.

She’d wait until Tzader returned to reclaim her motorcycle.

No point in giving Sen any chance of grabbing her when no one was looking.

But in all the time she’d spent traveling around Atlanta, she’d failed to squeeze out a drop of intel on Storm.

“It’s okay, Evalle,” Nicole said in that soothing voice of hers. “I told you, Red is out of town until tomorrow night. I’m happy to help. In fact, I’d have been hurt if you hadn’t asked. This is what friends do for each other.” 

How could anyone not love Nicole?

At twenty-seven, she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Her brunette hair fell softly around her shoulders. Every color looked great against skin a rich cappuccino brown, but today she wore a deep-pink dress that would look awful on Evalle.

Red, Nicole’s significant other, was another issue altogether.

Evalle and Red got along like two starving Rottweilers thrown in a cage with one meaty bone. Red would not be happy about Evalle taking Nicole away from their apartment on the east side of Atlanta, and she’d be even
less
happy that Evalle was taking Nicole to Storm’s house just north of downtown. In spite of knowing how powerful a white witch Nicole was, Red always tried to take care of errands away from the apartment just to make Nicole’s life easier, so Red did have a nice side. But she didn’t like any of this crazy supernatural shit, as she described it, and was always worried that Evalle was putting Nicole at risk.

Evalle admitted, “I appreciate that Red’s not around to rip me a new one, but that’s not what’s bothering me right now. I’m rethinking this whole trip.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried about exposing you to that witch doctor even through a vision or whatever you can do at Storm’s house to find him. I’ll do anything to get a lead on him, but not at the risk of harming you.”

Nicole smiled and her eyes sparkled. “Stop fretting over me. I won’t allow any dark majik to pull me in.”

“Thycle!” Feenix exclaimed from behind Nicole’s seat.

Evalle smiled into the rear view mirror at her little gargoyle. “What is it, baby?”

Nicole twisted in her seat and put her hand out. “Let me see.”

Evalle’s two-foot tall gargoyle flapped his gray, batlike wings. They felt like soft leather when you touched them. When he finished depositing something into Nicole’s hand, he raised his head. Orange eyes the size of tangerines and a toothy grin smiled back at Evalle in the mirror. “Make thycle.”

Nicole brought her hand around and Feenix had smushed the glob of Play-Doh she’d given him into something that
might
be a motorcycle since it had two lug nuts for wheels.

Beaming a smile at him, Evalle said, “Beautiful, baby.”

When Nicole passed it back to him, Feenix plucked the two lug nuts with his fat little four-finger hands and shoved them in his mouth, crunching.

Evidently it was an edible cycle. “Your bike won’t go far without tires,” she reminded him.

Feenix’s eyes drooped as he tried to figure that one out, until Evalle reached down to the stash Nicole kept for him in the van and tossed two more lug nuts toward the back seat. Feenix flapped his wings, flying up to catch them, then floated back down, squishing his clay again and chortling happy noises.

“Don’t eat the clay, okay?” Evalle said, not sure if she’d gotten through to him until he made a pfft sound.

“No eat clay. Tathe like glue,” Feenix mumbled.

Now Evalle wondered what he’d eaten to taste glue.  

She turned up the narrow street to Storm’s house, an older home in an area known as midtown, where a large number of houses had been built in the early 1900s with wide front porches and tiny garages, if any. When she reached the house, she parked in the driveway behind the Land Cruiser.

Evalle had left it in the exact spot where it’d been when she first checked Storm’s house almost two days ago.

She’d known then that he wasn’t in the house or he’d have come out the minute she stepped onto his property. He would be watching for her. If he were in Atlanta, he’d have called her by now.

Or emailed or texted. Something.

Wasn’t this emerald he’d stuck on her chest supposed to be some kind of homing device for him or her? He’d used majik to stick it permanently on her chest before she entered the beast games, saying he could find her that way.

So where was he that he couldn’t get in touch with her some way?

As Nicole prepared to exit the van in her wheelchair, she asked, “You said both notes were found here, so you feel pretty certain Storm did not get yours?”

“Yep. Tzader said the one I left in the bedroom was faced down. I remember wanting to flip it over, but that was the moment when Kizira teleported in and snatched me before I could say a word to Storm.”