Alterant (8 page)

Evalle told Brina,
The only way I’ll bring back three Alterants, if that’s even possible, is if Macha will guarantee their safety while they are waiting to speak to the Tribunal and not just toss them back in a prison. And if any of those three killed in self-defense I want them freed.

Your freedom is in question at the moment,
Brina reminded her.

No one’s freedom is worth more than mine. I know Alterants have just killed in the last two days without cause, but that doesn’t mean they are all insane murderers. If an Alterant stands in this court and says he fought to defend his life and doesn’t turn into a red lightbulb, he’s telling the truth and deserves to be protected.

Brina nodded slightly.
I will allow an Alterant his freedom if the Tribunal finds him innocent of murder and he swears loyalty to the Beladors.

Evalle released her breath. Her chances of finding the three escaped Alterants would be minuscule if she didn’t have her Belador buddies and Storm to help her.

When Pele turned around, she addressed Evalle. “We have reached an agreement and support Loki’s offer.”

Only by one vote, based on Ares’ steaming frown.

Evalle had already been burned by not clarifying the rules of engagement last time. “Is there anything I can or cannot do while searching for the three missing Alterants?”

Brina would know where the three had been before they’d escaped, since she was the one who’d ordered them caged. If Evalle asked to be sent to the locations with Storm, then he could track from there.

Evalle brightened at that thought until Pele said, “You may not request help from anyone with VIPER, as the escaped Alterants are not their problem and their assets must be used to defend humans against the current problem. Neither can you ask Brina to share what she knows, as she is under an oath of silence regarding the Alterants.”

“Then it’s an impossible task,” Evalle murmured,
though Brina and the entities missed nothing spoken in this realm.

Sen stood close enough to hear, his mouth curving with undisguised delight.

Loki lifted a finger, as if he were Aristotle instructing students. “Not so. We give you three gifts, as long as they are used with the explicit intent of returning the Alterants. If not, the power will turn on you. Each gift must be unique and cannot be duplicated once requested. You may not use any of these gifts to kill unless you have no other option.”

Evalle frowned. “What are the three gifts?”

“That will be for you to decide as the need arises,” Loki answered. “To call upon a gift, speak the words ‘By the Tribunal power gifted me, I command’ what you need. You may only use these gifts for fulfilling your agreement. If you misuse a gift, there will be a severe penalty.”

It would take a magician to unveil the truth beneath words spoken by a god or goddess. Evalle banked the three gifts mentally and started to ask about how to get help when Loki added one more caveat.

“And you may ask one person
now
for help. Is that not generous?” Loki smiled, supremely pleased with himself.

Talk about a trick question.

Ares held his hand out, and an elegant gold-and-black hourglass appeared in the palm of his hand. “When I turn this over, you have until the sands run out, then we will send Sen for you. When your time is up, the hourglass will take Sen to wherever you are. If you fail to deliver the missing Alterants, we will turn every asset at VIPER loose to hunt down
all
Alterants and destroy them.”

That would include me,
Evalle acknowledged silently.

She got it. Ares had no intention of spending another minute hearing further arguments on her behalf. Evalle couldn’t gain anything more right now. She had no choice but to get moving and figure out her next step—
if
she could actually find the escaped Alterants.

And there was only one person who might know where the other three Alterants were. Since she’d been told she could ask one person for help, maybe Tristan could be brought here.

That seemed fair. That way Brina wouldn’t have to divulge his location and she could send him back to his cage after he answered Evalle’s questions.

What were the chances of Tristan answering truthfully?

Pretty good if he lit up bright red every time he lied. No one could defy a Tribunal but a god or goddess and that would end in bloodshed.

And Tristan can’t attack me here.

This had potential.

“I understand,” Evalle said, then added, “but how long does it take the hourglass to empty?”

Loki said, “More than a day and less than a lifetime.”

Not helping. She gave up on that and moved on to something she might be able to get straight. “I wish to carry full responsibility for the success or failure of this on my shoulders, not Brina’s.”

Ares barked, “Denied.”

Brina’s words came to Evalle’s mind on a whisper.
Do your best. I expect no more.

The power of that faith hit Evalle squarely in her chest. She couldn’t speak for a moment.

Brina whispered quickly in Evalle’s mind,
The Tribunal is not as informed as they’d like to believe. There have been sixteen Alterants that have shifted and attacked in the past forty-eight hours. Those have killed seventy-six humans. But sharing that with a Tribunal convinced that you are at fault for this outbreak will not free you sooner.

Are all the Alterants dead?

No. Eight are still loose.

Ares turned the hourglass over and sand began to spill down in a thin stream.

Brina spoke even faster in Evalle’s head.
You are right about the danger of Beladors linking to fight Alterants. I can’t share much about Alterants because of my oath, but I can tell you that you are unlike any other and the most powerful of the Alterants we’ve encountered so far. I need you here to figure out what is causing this and to help Tzader understand how best to defend against this outbreak.

You need me to hunt my own kind.

Yes.

Now Evalle understood why Brina would agree to guarantee the safety of those three and ensure that they got a fair hearing with the Tribunal.

Evalle cleared her throat. “The one person I’d like to ask for help is Tristan. He might know where the Alterants went after they escaped.” Now to see if Brina would work with her by teleporting him here. “If Brina could—”

In a cheerful voice, Loki said, “Granted. Brina, teleport her to Tristan.”

What? Evalle looked at Sen, who couldn’t have been happier if the Tribunal had struck her down with a bolt of lightning.

Brina swung to face Evalle, panic and worry laced in her eyes.

Loki ordered in a booming voice, “Do it
now
!”

Evalle shook her head, saying, “Tristan will kill meeee—”

Lights blurred and the world spun into a thousand colors that turned her stomach inside out. She was already winging her way to some unknown location.

Facing failure sickened her more than vertigo, especially if she landed right in front of Tristan. She’d fought him once and walked away, but that had been because he’d wanted her alive.

He’d want her in pieces this time.

Brina’s voice whispered to her.
I have only seconds until the Tribunal calls me back. Do not use your powers in Tristan’s cage or they will backlash against you twofold. I believe in you.
Then she was gone.

Death awaited her at the end of this trip . . . but what fate would befall Brina and the Beladors if Evalle failed to return with the escaped Alterants?

SIX

B
racing for the role of doomed messenger, Kizira swept through the arched hallway that led to Queen Flaevynn’s private chamber in the realm of Tŵr Medb. As one of the most powerful witches in the Medb coven, Kizira should be walking in with the Alterant Evalle Kincaid, not empty-handed.

But using those mercs to kidnap the Alterant had not been Kizira’s lame idea . . . it had been Flaevynn’s.

Pointing that out would not spare her.

As for lame ideas or private thoughts that might betray her, it was time to mentally tuck away anything she didn’t want discovered by an unwelcome telepathic intrusion.

The queen enjoyed snooping through the minds of her underlings.

The simplest way Kizira had found to protect her innermost secrets had been to push out all her real thoughts, then flood her mind with a fictional tale of her everyday life and false memories she’d begun creating thirteen years ago.

With an ease born of constant practice, Kizira hardened her eyes to those of an enforcer who carried out her queen’s orders. She let her pseudo-persona take over, the one in which she was proud to be the premier Medb enforcer and a loyal servant of the coven, content to fulfill her role with no aspirations of ruling this evil . . . oops.

Try that one again.

. . . with no aspirations of ruling so vast a kingdom or, in this case, a queendom.

When Kizira neared the gilded doors, the guard never met her eyes or moved a muscle, and he had plenty to move. He wore only a gold chain-mail skirt that stopped above his knees and allowed quick access for the queen’s whims. Flaevynn chose her guards for their beautiful faces and powerful physiques, as well as their prowess in bed.

They were unfailingly loyal.

If a guard’s gaze strayed to another woman, the queen would blind him and then banish the man to live among humans.

But if the guard was fool enough to touch another woman, the queen would cut off his fingers and string them as a necklace he’d have to wear while chained and forced to watch her have sex with another guard.

No threat here for you, young man
. Kizira had known the best of men, and no one could walk in Vladimir Quinn’s shoes.

She bit the inside of her cheek at that slip.

Quinn was
not
part of her make-believe world. She couldn’t risk Flaevynn finding out what had happened between him and Kizira thirteen years ago.

To keep that secret safe, Kizira had to concentrate. Taking a few breaths, she slipped deeper into her imaginary world. She sharpened her focus and repeated silently that she cared only for protecting the Medb coven empire. Her greatest wish was to see Cathbad the Druid’s curse
upon the Beladors come to fruition, for Kizira to hand her queen Treoir Island, the seat of Belador power.

That would be the curse uttered by the first Cathbad, who had lived two thousand years ago, not the current Cathbad sitting in the TÅμr Medb dungeon.

Flaevynn argued that it was not a curse upon the Beladors but a curse upon Medb queens and, granted, she had a valid point. As a result of the power behind the curse, each Medb queen lived only six hundred and sixty-six years.

Not a day more or less.

Flaevynn had railed endlessly about not knowing if Treoir would be captured during her life or the next Medb queen’s rule. The tightly guarded specifics of the curse had been passed down only from one Cathbad the Druid to another. Flaevynn’s anger had turned volcanic a year ago when the current Cathbad had once again refused to share what he’d known.

She’d imprisoned him until he’d agree to reveal all.

She wanted Treoir
now,
but the dangerous game she’d launched over the past few months to speed up a timeline set thousands of years ago tampered with fate.

Kizira would ruthlessly support Flaevynn’s drive to take Treoir and gain immortality for one simple reason—Kizira planned to take the Belador island and castle for herself. Gaining immortality, the Belador power, and all the Medb power before Flaevynn could do so was Kizira’s only hope for sliding out from beneath Flaevynn’s thumb and protecting those she loved . . . even the one who was her sworn enemy.

Two steps from the entrance to Flaevynn’s chamber, Kizira silently ordered the doors to open and passed through as they swung wide.

What a welcome relief to find the queen’s chamber free of naked men chained to her throne like rutting dogs waiting for her to demand service.

Queen Flaevynn stood to the side of the room with arms raised, chanting softly as she faced a towering wall of precious stones that formed a dazzling backdrop for the water cascading down. From diamonds to emeralds to rubies and not a stone smaller than Kizira’s fist. Light from a hundred tapered candles surrounding the room glanced off the sharp cuts and angles to send a kaleidoscope of color across Flaevynn’s pale skin, waist-length black hair and sheer iridescent gown.

Few women in this otherworld realm equaled her beauty, especially when the queen put to death any female who might.

When the chanting ceased, Kizira took a breath and prepared to face Flaevynn’s wrath for her failure, but the doors burst open.

Gruin, the ranking elder, barreled into the room, knee-length white hair flowing behind him, his grizzled face mottled with anger. “What’s this I hear of the myst being released?”

Flaevynn spun around on a bed of air. Purple eyes sparked with bright orange flames. “Take care with your tone, elder.” Shifting her gaze to Kizira, she demanded, “Why are you dressed like a common wench?”