Alterant (Belador #2)(59)

NINETEEN




Isak Nyght sat on the edge of his desk. He watched through the glass observation window between his office and the attached hangar, where six men loaded ammo into specialized weapons he’d designed.

He flipped the cell phone in the air, then caught it again and again, amused over the voice mail he’d just cleared.

Tzader Burke wanted something from him?

Isak had checked up on Burke, wanting to know who this guy was before he decided if he’d return the call or not.

His national defense contacts in Washington, D.C., had explained a few minutes ago that Tzader was connected high up the political food chain in D.C. So was Isak, because they knew he hunted nonhumans. Correction. He killed nonhumans, like those inhuman Alterants that turned from human to beast.

This yellow smog crawling just above the ground in cities was triggering the change.

Which meant he had bigger targets than Tzader Burke.

His contact had actually warned him to be careful, adding that word had reached D.C. that Tzader was not happy about the Nyght Raiders being in the Southeast, specifically Atlanta.

Tough.

Isak answered to no one and had his own ties higher up, but he only called in those favors for something significant.

Nonhumans were significant.

He could handle Tzader Burke without calling on D.C.

Isak punched the call back number, curious more than anything.

When the call connected, Tzader answered, “Hello, Isak.”

How had he known who was calling? Isak blocked all form of ID on his phones. “What do you want, Burke?”

“To know if you’ve seen someone.”

Isak grinned. “What makes you think I’ve seen anyone you know?”

“Because your Nyght squad misses very little that goes on in the city. I know you’ve been hunting in Atlanta.”

“Then you know I don’t hunt humans. You got a nonhuman you want to tell me about?” He waited through a short silence. “No? Guess there’s nothing to talk about.”

Tzader made a growling sound. “I see you earned the nickname ‘prick’ honestly.”

“Now you’re trying to flatter me.”

“You can tell me what I want to know, or I can make it difficult for you to hang around Atlanta.”

Isak said, “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got better ways to waste my time. File a missing person’s report with Atlanta PD if you’ve lost someone.” He started to slide his thumb over to end the call when Tzader said, “I’m looking for Evalle Kincaid.”

This time the silence was on Isak’s end. How did Tzader know Evalle? Isak’s contact had indicated that Tzader handled special projects for D.C. but not exactly what those projects were.

“Still there, Isak?”

“I’m here. What do you know about Evalle?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Isak extended and closed his trigger finger. Did Tzader know that Evalle talked to demons? The first time Isak had met the woman a demon had been preparing to eat her. He’d blasted the demon into bite-size chips. Why would Tzader call him unless he had some inkling about Isak’s relationship with Evalle, a strange one at that. He’d had to kidnap her just so they could have dinner together.

Isak asked again, “How do you know her and why’re you looking for her?”

“Can’t share that. I just want to know if you’ve seen her on any of your surveillance equipment.”

“Not in a few days.” Truth, but Isak wouldn’t have told him even if he had seen Evalle.

“Heard from her?”

That pretty much confirmed Tzader knew Isak and Evalle were acquainted well enough to talk on the phone. “Not a word.”

“If you see her or hear from her, let me know.”

“We’re back to why should I?”

“Her safety depends on it. That’s all I can share and not put her at further risk.”

“I suppose I can let you know if I run into her,” Isak said flippantly.

“Let me be clear. I’m asking for intel if you care about her safety. Other than that? Stay. Away. From. Her. Your ability to continue breathing depends on not crossing me when it comes to her.” Tzader hung up.

Isak brushed the Off button on his phone and lifted the radio on his desk. He called up Laredo Jones, his right-hand man, who was in the hangar with his team. When Jones answered, Isak said, “Bring the team to my office. We’re going hunting.”





TWENTY




Night had overtaken Atlanta when Evalle rode her motorcycle away from her apartment and turned on Marietta Street, heading toward Grady Hospital to find her favorite Nightstalker.

A pocket of yellowish haze hung low over the sidewalks.

She’d never seen a fog like that.

Sirens screeched on the east side of downtown.

For a city that normally bustled with nightlife at nine in the evening, downtown roadways were eerily empty. She stopped at a cross street, just short of entering the fog that was translucent enough to see through.

The sulfuric stench burned her nose.

Reaching out empathically, she encountered hostility unlike anything human. Her beast stirred, interested in the battle.

That was new and something she needed to avoid.