Alterant (Belador #2)(107)
Evalle wiped a damp palm on her jeans and bit back a retort. Three weeks ago she’d been locked in a prison with no hope. She owed Macha for her freedom and for giving her a chance to prove Alterants deserved to be a recognized race.
She also didn’t want to be turned into a charcoal briquette. “I see your point, and with a little more time—”
“Neither one of us has the luxury of time, especially you. An Alterant has killed one of Dakkar’s bounty hunters. He filed a grievance with the Tribunal, demanding justice and compensation.”
On a scale of bad news, that slammed the top. Macha had opened a charter for Alterants to be accepted as a recognized race, with Evalle as the spokesperson for Alterants. Before she could ask for more details, Macha said, “A hearing is scheduled for the day after tomorrow to decide who is responsible to Dakkar for compensation and what he should receive. Deliver me Tristan and his information by then or I will withdraw my support for Alterants to become a recognized race.”
The goddess disappeared in a flash of blue and pink light. Evalle hadn’t found Tristan in three weeks. What was the chance of finding him in less than two days? She lifted a hand to wave over the waitress and order something to go, when she felt Belador power blast into her mind.
Tzader yelled telepathically, Calling in Beladors! Gang war going down in Oakland Cemetery.
The upper deck of Six Feet Under overlooked Oakland Cemetery.
At Tzader’s call to arms, Evalle threw cash on the table for her drink and hurried down the stairs, then took off running across Memorial Drive. Any Belador in the area would rush to aid their Maistir, but she hurried to protect her best friend’s back.
She called to him, I’m coming from across the street. Where’re you, Z?
East end. Potter’s Field near Boulevard.
That narrowed down the forty-eight acre landmark. Oakland was the seventh cemetery in the metropolitan area to be turned into a battleground this week.
Gangs had little respect for the living or the dead, but this level of hostility among so many at one time was unprecedented in the metropolitan area.
And why were trolls all of a sudden infiltrating gangs?
She found a shadowy spot along the sidewalk with no humans nearby, and using her kinetics, vaulted over the shoulder-high brick wall into the original six acres that had been there since 1850. Now she could use her Belador speed to cover the half-mile run through a moonless black night.
Tzader added, This is bad. Must be seventy of them out here . . . something’s not right.
Like what?
There’s— His voice cut off and withdrew from her mind as if sucked out.
She ignored the thump of worry pounding her chest at the sudden loss of connection.
She told herself that something had taken Tzader’s attention, not his life.
Why was every gang in Atlanta itching for a throwdown right now, and in cemeteries? She darted between tall marble statues and elegant grave markers, navigating easily with her natural night vision, a rare perk of being an Alterant.
One of the few positives for a half-breed Belador like her.
That’s when she noticed no spirits glowed in the burial grounds. Not even an orb. That was just weird.
Her fingers curled, ready for a fight, but she couldn’t use her dagger that carried a death spell.
Not on humans.
Gunshots cracked the silence, sharp pops then the boom, boom, boom of a higher caliber weapon.
Evalle slowed as she neared the battle. Racing in blind would risk distracting another Belador. Especially if any of them had linked their powers, which doubled their strength.
But kill one Belador in a link and they all died. As an ancient race, Belador warriors were some of the most powerful among preternatural creatures. All had sworn an oath of honor to Macha to defend their tribe, and to protect humans, who didn’t know any of them existed.
She called out to Tzader, I’m here and opening up to link.
His voice shouted telepathically to all Beladors in the cemetery. Link now with Evalle. She has night vision.
Eleven hits of power bombarded her from every direction.
She staggered against the initial linking, then found her footing and stepped into the open space where Beladors fought hand-to-hand with humans. Looked more like a hundred fighting.
A twentyish male wearing blue and white colors of the Ice Blood Posse came out of nowhere, slicing a wicked knife in a quick horizontal arc at her throat.
She bent backward as the blade passed by her chin.
The lack of contact threw her attacker off balance.
Evalle whipped forward, planted one foot and kicked him into an oak tree as big around as a fifty-gallon barrel.
He slammed against the trunk and shook his head. Not dead.
She’d promised Tzader she’d show restraint after putting a gang leader in traction yesterday . . . and that had been without tapping her Belador powers. That murdering bastard deserved death for killing a young girl he’d raped and beaten.
Too bad his punishment fell to the legal system, or she’d have saved the taxpayers some money.
Shots fired from her left.
With the cover of darkness, she risked shoving a field of energy up to stop the bullets and turned toward the shooter. Fortunately, he was too far away to see the bullets bounce off her field of energy. She couldn’t use her powers to harm a human, but she could protect herself and others if she didn’t expose her unusual abilities.