Alterant (24 page)

He forced his mind to be still again.

Kizira’s voice rose with jubilation. “We have waited a long time for this opportunity and for the one who will hand us the key to our success. Step forward, brother, and tell everyone how we will triumph over the Beladors, who have persecuted you even though you bleed their blood.”

A man in the center of the pack moved forward and lifted his hands to his hood as he spoke. “There is an Alterant who is ready to lead us to victory by breaching the warding of Treoir Castle. In return, we have offered this Alterant what no one else can, the end of being victimized by the Beladors.”

When the hood dropped to the speaker’s shoulders, Conlan’s face—right down to the comma-shaped scar on his cheek—shook Quinn to his spine.

Conlan said, “When the time comes to take possession of Treoir, Priestess, I will deliver you Evalle Kincaid, who will destroy the inhabitants of Treoir Castle and open the gates for you.”

In that split second, shock overrode his emotions. Quinn’s control cracked.

Kizira’s head slashed sideways, her sharp gaze slicing through the layers of the vision to reach him.

Her eyes widened. Recognition. Shock. Confusion.

In the next second, she dove into his mind with a rush of emotions.
What’re you doing here? I miss you. If you interfere, you’ll die. You shouldn’t be here . . . you betray me?

Her mind steadied and toughened as quickly as he tried to raise his mental shields against her.

Too late.

She was inside his mind, the last place he’d allow anyone.

And she was Medb.

Larsen laughed and howled.
Fools, all of you.

Quinn called his spirit home, backing out of the mind lock with lightning speed. He gritted his teeth against the hot streaking pain that burst through his head and body.

The pressure built in Quinn’s head and expanded, ready to explode. Ferocious pain stabbed the inside of his eyes at a blinding pace.

Conlan groaned and cried out.

Someone yelled at Quinn, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. His head screamed for relief. Red hues burst behind his eyes . . . or was that blood?

At a distance, he heard Conlan howling like an animal trying to rip his leg from a steel trap.

Something hit him hard in the face . . . again . . . he put a hand up to stop the attack. Opened his eyes.

Tzader stood in front of him with sick worry in his face. “What happened, Quinn? Can you hear me?”

“I’m . . . I . . .” He crashed to his knees, unable to stand up. Warm liquid ran from his nose and ears. His vision had turned bloody.

Tzader was there with him. “Tell me what to do.”

“Conlan . . . alive?”

“Yeah, but he’s bad off. He’ll need a healer.”

“Gimme . . . minute.” Bile rushed up Quinn’s throat. Something drove a wedge down the center of his head. He gritted his teeth harder.

“Want lights?”

“No.”

“Quinn, your nose, ears and eyes are bleeding. Tell me you aren’t going to die from this.”

“Don’t . . . think so.” Quinn held up his hand that he needed a minute, but it would take longer to quiet the hellacious pain in his head. He couldn’t be sure Conlan wouldn’t hear, so he spoke to Tzader telepathically though it doubled his misery.
Medb have a plan . . . to breach Brina’s castle. They mentioned . . . Evalle.

When Quinn squinted his eyes open, Tzader’s blurry face was slack with shock, then his jaw flexed with anger. Tzader said,
They aren’t touching Brina or Evalle.

Quinn stopped short of saying Evalle would willingly help the Medb. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about a fucking vision. No bloody way she’d do that.

He took a couple of hard-won breaths, struggling to figure out how much to tell Tzader before he passed out.

Tzader was Maistir and had to act upon anything he was told.

Quinn wouldn’t put him in a tighter spot with unconfirmed information.

When?
Tzader asked.

Don’t know.
Quinn swallowed down the nasty taste in his throat.
Could be now or months from now . . . just don’t know.

What about Conlan being the traitor?
Tzader asked.

Quinn questioned what to tell Tzader for a nanosecond, but much as he hated to use the vision against Conlan, there was no way he could shield this information. Evalle had only been mentioned in the vision, not present at the Medb meeting.

Quinn said between panting breaths,
Saw Conlan with the Medb . . . discussing how to breach Brina’s castle.

Sure it was Conlan?

Yes. Had the scar on his right cheek . . . like the one Conlan got in training . . . last month.
Quinn heard disappointment in the silence. His stomach felt as though a rabid badger had climbed inside.

Tzader pulled out his cell phone.
Got to lock up Conlan.

Quinn nodded and regretted the move when he almost puked. He clenched his teeth and said,
But a vision isn’t hard evidence. VIPER can’t hold him long, maybe not a whole day.

I know. We’ll do what we can to nail down answers fast. Based on what you saw we can also justify hunting for Evalle as part of our traitor investigation.

Quinn was actually glad that they couldn’t find her
right now until he had time to think on that vision some more. Time to convince himself that Evalle was not going to be the key to the Medb capturing . . . and killing Brina.

But Kizira had shared with him that she was revered as one of the greatest Medb precognitives.

Was there any way Larsen had altered that vision?

Quinn shuddered at recalling her inside his mind.

She’d been in a future vision, which meant she couldn’t get inside his mind now, right?

But what about that spirit that had killed the troll?

Quinn gave up thinking. If he could take his head off and shove it in a deep freezer right now, he would.

Conlan slumped in the chair with a whimpered groan.

Tzader had finished one call and was dialing another one. He glanced over and caught Quinn watching him. “Don’t know which you need worse, a doctor or a healer.”

“No, just rest.” Quinn had no idea how long it would take this to pass though.

“Like hell. You’re bleeding everywhere, Quinn!”

“Get Conlan a healer . . . I can’t be unconscious . . . you gone . . . deal with Alterants . . .” Quinn groaned at the effort every thought took, but he needed Tzader to understand.

“Take it easy. I know what you’re saying. I’ll call in a healer to meet Conlan at headquarters. You don’t want to be around anyone you can’t trust while you’re vulnerable and I’m out dealing with the Alterant problem. As soon as someone takes Conlan to VIPER holding, I’ll get you to your hotel.”

All Quinn could say was, “Yes.”

Calmer now, Quinn clutched his head in his hands. He never allowed anyone to know where he stayed except Tzader and Evalle. He didn’t want to waste a minute of Tzader’s time, but he doubted he’d make it to the hotel room on his own.

A thud hit the floor. Probably an unconscious Conlan.

Quinn whispered, “What about finding Evalle?”

“Soon as I get you two settled, I’m calling the one person who might find her faster than us.”

“Who?”

“Isak Nyght and his black-ops boys. Much as I despise bringing him into the loop, I think he’ll locate her before we can.”

Tzader never panicked, but he was clearly hitting a defcon level of worry to unleash Isak Nyght to hunt Evalle.

Quinn and Tzader had figured out that Isak had an interest in Evalle, which meant he didn’t know she was an Alterant.

Because Isak’s first priority was killing Alterants.

EIGHTEEN

E
valle hurried across the uneven concrete, where weeds sprouted through the cracks, glad her leg had healed so she didn’t limp anymore. She kept an eye out for any movement in the wasteland of dark shadows that stretched between her and the door to the elevator she had in sight.

Sirens whined in the distance. Everything was normal at home. She could use some normal. In a few minutes, she’d be inside her underground apartment with Feenix, food and her bed.

Storm had offered her food and a bed, but not in that order based on what she’d read in his eyes. Or maybe she’d just misread him. They’d only known each other a few days and she had no plans to do anything with him, or any man, that involved taking off clothes. She should explain to him that he was wasting his time if that was any part of his motivation for sticking close to her.

She expelled a long breath and headed to the elevator that would take her down to her apartment. When she reached the door to her living quarters, she opened it slowly, listening for Feenix. He normally heard her coming and raced into the living room to meet her.

She had to be prepared or she’d end up knocked out if he collided with her.

Where was he?

Nothing appeared disturbed.

Houseplants filled corners and anywhere else she could shine a grow light on them. Her ratty furniture hadn’t been reupholstered by elves during the night.

She moved quietly through the room in case an intruder had somehow overridden her security system, which was unimaginable. An intruder would need kinetic ability and the code, which she changed daily, to breach her system.

Only Tzader and Quinn knew the access to this place.

When she neared the kitchen and heard soft grunting sounds of concentration, she relaxed.

Feenix was safe.

One step into the stainless steel galley-style kitchen and she started smiling at the picture of Feenix sitting on the floor humming to himself . . . until she realized what he was doing. “Not my new pots!”

Feenix jumped up into the air, wings flapping and wide eyes flashing as bright as two orange turn signals. He made a strained honking noise.

Smoke curled from his nose in advance of blowing fire that could take out a concrete wall.

“Whoa, baby. Calm down. I didn’t mean to yell.” She knew better, but the only thing left of two pots from the set Quinn had just given her were the two wooden handles on the floor.

Feenix finally settled on the island countertop. His eyes drooped with worry. He tucked his wings and turned his head to look down at the mess on the floor, then back at her.

She glanced over at the box of scrap metal she’d left him that was only half eaten. He hadn’t been hungry, just mischievous. But she couldn’t lock up everything that looked silver when she was gone.

Or she’d be missing a stainless steel stove and refrigerator next.

She asked in a calmer voice, “What happened?”

His worried gaze searched the room for an answer, which might be tough, since his vocabulary was so limited. Then he smiled, as if he’d found the perfect word. “Ith a accthident.”

Good call. He’d only been here two days when he’d startled her and she’d dropped a drinking glass, shattering it. He’d gone into a panic flying all over the place, making scary noises.

The blasted sorcerer must have tortured him when anything had gotten broken, which had to have been often, since Feenix tended to be clumsy.

When she’d finally gotten Feenix to come down to the ground, she’d spent an hour soothing him. She’d explained how accidents happen and it was okay when they did.

She was not up to explaining the difference between misbehaving and an accident right now. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

“Yeth.” He chortled and flapped his wings, dancing back and forth in his version of happy feet.

She made a quick sandwich, ate, then carried Feenix to her bedroom, smiling as he counted from one to eight followed by ten then nine. He almost had the numbers right.

Leaving the lights off, she put Feenix on the bed and stretched out next to him. She’d shower later. When she closed her eyes, a whirl of images spun through her mind of Storm appearing in the jungle and Storm holding her while she teleported . . . and kissing her.

But that last kiss stayed with her, the one where he’d whispered, “Sweet dreams.” As if his deep voice, dark eyes, and firm lips had hypnotized her until all she could think about was kissing him again.

Her breasts ached, too.

Had he caused that?

Men didn’t affect her this way.

Why him?

She wouldn’t deny the feelings he stirred up in her body, but she would have killed a less resilient person in the tunnel today when she’d shoved Storm across the tracks.

When he’d plastered his body against her in the subway she’d tried not to react. But she’d been attacked in the dark. Shoved up against a wall and . . .

Her arms rippled, ready to change.

She closed her mind against the memories until her breathing settled down. She focused on Storm’s kiss and felt herself melt.

But Storm wasn’t a man who would be satisfied for long with kissing. She might not have had relationships—had never dated—but she knew where Storm thought things between them were heading and doubted she’d ever be able to open up that part of herself to anyone.

She should tell him the truth, that she couldn’t give
him what he wanted, what any man wanted from a woman. She’d allowed him to touch her more than anyone else ever had, but some lines couldn’t be crossed again in her mind.