Rise of the Gryphon

Praise for the
New York Times
bestselling Belador series

THE CURSE

“A mesmerizing urban fantasy story overflowing with heartfelt emotions and dramatically life-altering incidents.”

—Single Titles

“Man, I feel greedy. I just finished this book and can’t wait for the next one.”

—Demons, Dreams & Dragon Wings

“Evalle’s strength and powers make her formidable, but it’s her wonderful spirit and her emotional growth that make her such a phenomenal heroine. . . . The action picks up on page one and seldom lets up.”

—The Romance Reviews

ALTERANT

“An incredible heart-jolting roller-coaster ride! . . . An action-packed adventure with an engrossing story line and characters you will grow to love.”

—Mother/Gamer/Writer

“An intriguing series that has plenty of fascinating characters to ponder.”

—Night Owl Reviews

“Even better than its predecessor, with its twists and turns, complicated loyalties, star-crossed lovers, and action-packed plot.”

—Romance Junkies

BLOOD TRINITY

“Kenyon and Love have masterfully constructed a fascinating world where the bizarre is totally believable and the uniquely interesting characters are appealingly captivating.”

—Single Titles

“A fantastic start to a new urban fantasy series. The world built by Kenyon and Love [is] intriguing, but the characters populating that world are irresistible.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Meticulous plotting and thorough world-building add up to a whole lot of interesting characters.”

—RT Book Reviews

We dedicate this book to the Kenyon Menyons, who show their support in a million ways. Thank you for being there for us at every stop when we tour and for sending your love through emails and letters.

FROM SHERRILYN AND DIANNA

Thank you to our family, friends and fans. We love you all and couldn’t do this without you! A special shout-out to our amazing husbands, Ken (Sherri’s) and Karl (Dianna’s), who make it possible for us to write a bazillion hours a week.

No book happens without the early beta reading and feedback from Cassondra Murray, Dianna’s assistant, who is always ready to do whatever is needed. Jerry Brandon, former mayor of St. Marys, Georgia, and proprietor of Riverview Hotel, was very helpful when Dianna visited to research St. Marys and Cumberland Island. Dianna has Donna Browning to thank for introducing her to Cumberland, which is steeped in history and home to wild horses. Thank you also to Steve Doyle and Joyce Ann McLaughlin for being early readers whose insights were invaluable and deeply appreciated. We want to give a shout-out to Barbara Vey, a
Publishers Weekly
blogger who supports readers and authors everywhere. Thanks also to Sara Reyes and her
Fresh Fiction
team, who do an outstanding job of getting the word out to readers every time we have a new book release and who organize so many events for readers and authors throughout the year.

We appreciate Louise Burke, our dynamic publisher whose enthusiasm is only surpassed by her genius, and no book reaches its full potential without the review and terrific editing of the talented Lauren McKenna. Lauren’s commitment to publishing the best story possible makes working with her a pleasure. We would be remiss if we didn’t send another high-five to the Pocket Art Department, which has once again rocked on an incredible cover, and the Pocket staff who keep all the gears moving smoothly. We appreciate Robert Gottlieb’s dedication to managing this series and seeing that it continues to reach our audience.

And saving the best for last, we want to thank our readers, who come out to see us in every city, send encouraging messages that touch our hearts and read our stories so that we may continue doing what we love. You mean the world to us.

We look forward to hearing from you anytime at [email protected], or stop by
www.SherrilynKenyon.com
and
www.AuthorDiannaLove.com
, and make sure to visit the “Reader Lounge” at Dianna Love’s Fan Page on Facebook, where you’ll find free Belador items and scavenger hunts.

D
ependable intel made the difference between walking away from a dangerous situation alive . . . or not.

Evalle Kincaid stared down the rocky slope in the North Georgia Mountains at bad intel.

She’d dug up one slim lead in forty-eight hours of racing to find Tristan. He was an Alterant like her. Similar powers and the same glowing green eyes, except he hadn’t been gifted with her natural night vision, an ability she’d needed to hike up this mountain in the middle of the night.

Disgusted, she muttered, “That’s no coven meeting.”

“No,” Storm agreed. He squatted next to her, his breath puffing white clouds against the chilly October air. “Looks more like a midnight festival for all things strange and dangerous.” Coal-black hair grazed his shoulders and blended into his black leather jacket. Soft hair Evalle loved caressing. The coppery skin and sharp angles of Storm’s cheekbones had been handed down through a mix of Ashaninka and Navajo genes, as had his Skinwalker ability to shift into a deadly black jaguar. That meant he
also
had preternatural night vision and saw just fine in the dark.

Evalle leaned forward where they hunkered down behind
an outcropping of boulders, and searched the area a hundred yards away where moonlight cascaded across a valley. At least twenty people—mostly nonhumans—had gathered, and more were coming. “You see any female in that bunch that
might
be a witch?”

Storm shook his head. “Only male human forms so far. Not even sure what some of those things are that have both animal and human parts.”

One creature with an eight-foot-tall orange lizard body, two sets of human arms and a vulture’s head skulked through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea in front of him. Most of the beings meandered around the edge of a thirty-foot-wide circle created by torches stuck in the ground.

A ceremonial circle?

Whatever it was, Evalle wanted the show to get rolling soon.

As if sensing her concern, Storm asked, “Think the goddess’ll extend your deadline?”

“Again? Not a chance. I was amazed when Macha gave me four more days.” That had been two days ago, and Evalle had been given that reprieve from losing her freedom
only
because she’d defeated a demonic Svart troll before it killed everything in its path.

Opportunities like that didn’t come along every day.

Good thing, too, or she’d stay in perpetual traction.

But gaining two extra days of freedom from Macha had balanced out getting beaten to a pulp by the Svart. Macha was goddess over all the Beladors, a race of powerful Celtic warriors who protected humans. She’d offered
sanctuary in her pantheon to all Alterants who swore fealty to her.

With a catch.

Evalle first had to deliver the origin of Alterants, who were part Belador and part unknown. Since Alterants changed from human form into beasts that could kill even very powerful beings, Macha wanted that
unknown
part cleared up before giving carte blanche freedom to Alterants.

And Tristan had that information.

Unfortunately, while helping Evalle escape a deadly enemy last week, Tristan had been captured. Evalle didn’t want to think about the hideous ways he might be suffering. Freeing him was her first priority.

All she had to do was find a witch called Imogenia, who was rumored to have information on Alterants, Tristan in particular, and the location of TÅμr Medb, home of the Medb Coven of deadly Noirre majik practitioners . . . and the place where Tristan was being held captive.

Imogenia was supposed to be attending this event in the valley tonight.

A sick ball of regret rolled around in Evalle’s stomach every minute the witch didn’t show. Evalle had left Atlanta two hours ago with Storm to hike up the side of Oakey Mountain. She wouldn’t have gambled the time spent coming here if she hadn’t trusted her Nightstalker source. Generally, Grady was a dependable ghoul.

“Damned ghouls,” Storm grumbled, his deep voice ending in a growl.

“Are you sure you aren’t reading my thoughts?” she asked, still unsure of everything Storm could do.

“I’m not telepathic.”

But he was a powerful empath who picked up on her anxiety, which probably explained his comment. “Don’t blame Grady,” she said. “He can only repeat what he hears.” Evalle shifted on the cold ground to find a comfortable position. She knew Grady’s limitations as a Nightstalker, a homeless person who’d died years ago on the streets of Atlanta.

These days he was her best source of intel. Usually.

A muscle played in Storm’s jaw, the only sign of his frustration. “When we do find Tristan, I want ten minutes
alone
with him before you hand him over to Macha.”

“I need him
alive
,” she reminded Storm, though she knew he didn’t mean to kill Tristan, but those two couldn’t stand in the same zip code without the threat of blood being shed. “I need
every
Alterant I can find. As it is, Macha’s insulted that none have come forward to accept her offer. I have no idea where I’m going to come up with another Alterant besides Tristan and, hopefully, his sister.” She released a long breath, aggravated. She’d been so sure this would be the break she needed.

“Grady said
this
was the place?”

“Yes. Said he heard that Imogenia had a meeting in the valley north of Oakey Mountain when the clock strikes between Friday and Saturday.”