Alterant (Belador #2)(50)

But something had Quinn more contemplative than usual. Tzader asked, “You think something is hiding in Conlan’s subconscious?”

“Not really,” Quinn said, still sounding distracted. “He’s a decent man and a loyal Belador. He’s . . . I don’t know. Just thinking out loud.”

“I know. I don’t like either one of you doing this.” Tzader turned to peer out the window at people scurrying along Peachtree Street, oblivious to the potential threat. He hated not being able to warn the public, but humans couldn’t contain the fog if VIPER couldn’t.

Panic would only add to the crisis.

If the traitor was tied to the Alterants in any way, Brina was right to push for an answer now, but Tzader wanted to give Quinn one last chance to step aside. “It’s your decision, but keep in mind that I need you out in the field helping us fight this fog and beasts more than I need you in here taking this gamble.”

Quinn held up his hand. “I couldn’t allow someone else to try this. We’ve never had a druid who can match my ability to mind lock. And even if a druid searched Conlan’s mind first and didn’t find anything, I would still have to probe a second time. That would force Conlan to endure the mental plundering and risk twice. Besides, there’s only danger if we’re wrong about his being innocent.”

Tzader understood all that on a logical level, but the “what if” factor still hung in the air. Evalle wouldn’t forgive him if Quinn came out of this with scrambled brains . . . or dead.

And he wouldn’t deserve forgiveness.

Thinking of her, Tzader asked, “Have you heard anything on Storm once we split up last night?”

“Can’t be found.”

Tzader cut a sharp look at Quinn. “You mean like not-in-the-city gone?”

“Yes. You said Evalle learned about the Alterants shifting from Storm. I’m thinking they spoke on her way to the Tribunal meeting last night. I touched base with Devon Fortier this morning before I left for D.C. He’s investigating a troll operation tied to the local sting I’m running and had a team following a lead at the Amtrak station last night. They needed a tracker. He tried reaching Storm for almost two hours before Storm appeared close to midnight.”

“Any chance Storm mentioned seeing Evalle, or if he knew about her being attacked on the way to the Tribunal meeting?”

“I did inquire. Devon said Storm tracked down one troll in record time, then disappeared. Storm didn’t say a word about anyone. No one has seen or heard from the chap since.”

Tzader slammed his fist into his palm. “That had to be why Evalle was running late coming to Woodruff Park. She probably got waylaid by him.”

“True, but she’s a big girl even if we think she’s still that skinny little warrior we had to force to stop using a storage room as an apartment.”

“She’s na?ve when it comes to men.”

“Inexperienced, maybe,” Quinn argued, then his voice dropped into a solemn tone. “But I doubt she’s na?ve.”

Tzader understood Quinn’s meaning. Having observed Evalle for the past couple of years, they’d agreed that she might have suffered beyond being locked in a basement for eighteen years.

Someone had harmed her physically.

She was powerful enough to defend herself against any human, but humans weren’t his concern at the moment.

“I see your point,” Tzader admitted, grinding his fist harder. “But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for someone like Storm.”

Quinn gave a bark of laughter.

He spun around. “What?”

“You sound like an overbearing father. We can’t protect her from everything.”

Tzader muttered, “We can from a few hard tails—”

Quinn turned serious. “I’ve watched him the few times he’s been around her. I think the greatest danger is to someone who threatens her. Which reminds me, did Sen indicate he knew anything about the attack on Evalle, since he had to have shown up at the same time?”

“No, the prick stonewalled when I asked. Said he couldn’t discuss Tribunal business.”

“One of these days . . .,” Quinn started, eyes thinned with malice.

A knock at the door turned Quinn’s attention. “Come in.”

Conlan O’Meary entered the room, first nodding at Tzader, then noticing Quinn. The young man had filled out his lanky frame with whipcord muscle. His half-inch-long light brown hair stuck up on top, similar to styles on most of the young businessmen Tzader had passed coming into the building. Wireless glasses warmed his gray eyes and toned down the lethal air he’d exhibited in training.

Right now those eyes were doing a jam-up job of hiding the debate that had to be going on inside Conlan’s mind at his realization that no druid was present.

Any Belador would expect a druid to normally perform a mind probe, but druids could occasionally be fooled.

Not Quinn.

With a hint of regret in his voice, Quinn offered Conlan, “You may withdraw your consent to do this if you’d like.”

But all three of them knew that would mark Conlan as highly suspicious.

Shaking his head, Conlan broke out a grin that screamed innocent. “I got nothing to hide. Knock yourself out.”

Tzader hoped he was telling the truth and was not the same type of brilliant actor Conlan’s father had been for all those years. So brilliant that no Belador had realized he’d been selling out his people to the Medb.