Alterant (Belador #2)(48)

She was his world.

Her idea of searching Conlan O’Meary’s mind had some validity. A slim possibility of gaining information, but enough that Tzader couldn’t refuse in good conscience.

And Quinn was the best they had at navigating a mind.

Quinn’s dry Oxford tone broke into Tzader’s thoughts. I’ll be up in a moment. I took care of Evalle’s job at the morgue on my way here.

Where do they think she is?

On personal leave. She may not like my interfering, but she’s getting my help this time whether she wants it or not.

Leave it to Quinn to pull strings to ensure that Evalle still had her grunt job once she appeased the Tribunal. She put a higher value on independence than an asthmatic put on oxygen.

She’ll appreciate that, Tzader said.

Perhaps. Then Quinn was gone.

The antique clock on the side table dinged softly five times. This late on a Friday afternoon, rush hour traffic heated tempers in any city, but if that sulfur fog descended on the streets of Atlanta this evening the highways would turn into bloody battle zones.

Quinn entered the conference room on a calm stride, but tension lined his forehead. He punched buttons on his smart phone. His cinderblock gray European suit fit his athletic build with a precision only the best tailors could offer. Women seemed to like all that fancy trimming and upper-crust British accent, one of his finer qualities acquired after early years spent in Russian ghettos.

Tzader stopped pacing and glanced at the door. “Where’s Conlan?”

“Our young O’Meary is on his way here. Then he’ll have to be cleared through building security.”

When Tzader quirked an eyebrow in amusement, Quinn chuckled and shrugged. “I must keep up appearances at all my corporate properties.”

Metal detectors couldn’t detect a weapon warded against view, like the two sentient blades hanging from Tzader’s belt. The blades had snarled at the security personnel when Tzader had passed through the scanner, but they were invisible to human eyes and machines when he needed them to be.

Quinn stopped fiddling with his phone and slipped it into a pocket inside his jacket. “I heard about beast attacks on my flight back from D.C. I assume these are Alterants, based upon the lurid descriptions. What’s going on?”

“I just left a meeting at VIPER. There’s a mysterious fog that hovers close to the ground around all these attacks. Has a sulfuric odor and causes everyone it touches to turn aggressive and mean, instant road rage mentality. Bad as that is, this fog appears to be a catalyst for forcing Alterants to shift. We’re up to a hundred and thirty-four that we know about that have shifted in different parts of the country.”

“I saw a low-hanging haze that covered a massive section of Virginia we flew over. A dull yellow color.”

“That’s it.”

“What—or who—is causing the fog?”

Tzader rubbed his chin and let out a weary breath. “I’d say we don’t know, but some people are jumping to conclusions about Alterants in general.”

Quinn made the mental leap Tzader expected. “Any word on Evalle?”

“Yes, but what Sen told me after the briefing isn’t good.”

“Let me guess. Mr. Charm wanted to gloat over Evalle being outside our reach right now?”

“I wish that was all. He said Tristan has escaped again.” Tzader had barely restrained himself from wiping the smile from Sen’s face.

“The Alterant we just put away yesterday? Whose bloody fault was that?”

“According to the Tribunal, Evalle is behind the escape.”

Something vile and Russian hissed from between Quinn’s lips, sounding as deadly as Tzader’s thoughts. Quinn crossed the room and stopped next to Tzader where he stared out the window.

No yellow haze had formed in Atlanta. Yet.

Tzader told him the rest. “The Tribunal believes Evalle and Tristan could be connected to the fog, that they’re trying to build an army from the shifting Alterants.”

“That’s absurd.”

“It’s absurd that Evalle would do this, but Tristan’s a wild card,” Tzader said. “However, none of the Alterants currently shifting have green eyes that we know of.”

“Then how can they tie this to Tristan and Evalle? Maybe these things aren’t Alterants. That’s like saying anything with a mane, four legs and a tail is a horse, but not distinguish that a zebra or giraffe might be different.”

“I agree, but the Tribunal isn’t making that distinction,” Tzader explained. “Sen indicated the Tribunal sent Evalle on a task with a time limit. Once Tristan escaped, the Tribunal issued a decree to kill all Alterants on sight, regardless of the color of their eyes.” Just saying those words out loud froze the blood in Tzader’s veins.

“Bloody hell. Why don’t they send Sen after her? Even if we don’t know what he is, the Tribunal must, and he’s pretty damn powerful. He could find her before anyone else.”

“Sen says he’s been given parameters for bringing her back that he can’t discuss, and the Tribunal won’t touch her until her time is up. Even if Sen could go to Evalle, do you really think he wouldn’t take advantage of a shoot-to-kill order?”

“The one time Captain Dickhead could really help,” Quinn ground out. He backhanded his fist into the window frame, denting it. For someone who prided himself on maintaining control, Quinn still had a temper. “Why is VIPER letting this fog still spread?”