Alterant (Belador #2)(92)
“No more than . . . a minute . . . or two.” She lifted her watch into view. It had been almost ten minutes.
Tristan had told her the other two Alterants had been shifting while he’d teleported her to this side. She grabbed Storm’s arm. “He should be here.”
“Think he has a problem?”
“No. Adrianna was right. The bastard lied to me. He said he had a couple places to teleport out of there. He’s taking the other two Alterants out a different way. I’m going to kill him.”
“That’s the spirit.”
THIRTY-ONE
Isak moved through his communications center, eyeing the multiplex of computer screens being watched for any sign of Evalle Kincaid.
She’d been right about using thermal imaging to target the beasts, but she hadn’t just guessed at that. She’d known the fog was cloaking the Alterants.
What else did Evalle know that she wasn’t sharing?
If she moved around this city, his men would find her.
His radio spurted a crackle noise, then, “Jones to base.”
Isak cued the mic on his radio. “What have you got?”
“Found a black Gixxer with a bad paint job. Gold underneath. Once I peeled vinyl off the tag it read EVLONE.”
Evalle’s tag and her Gixxer had been gold the last time he’d seen her. Isak said, “Location.”
His man gave him the coordinates in downtown Atlanta, saying, “Her bike’s close to the North Avenue MARTA station. That would be my bet for locating her.”
“Stay with that bike no matter how long it takes her to return. Let me know the minute it’s mobile.”
“Will do, but she handles that thing like a Daytona pro. She’ll spot me tailing her without a team if she doesn’t lose me first.”
“Understood.”
“Want me to tag the bike?”
Isak considered sticking a transmitter on her motorcycle and dismissed it as quickly. She might have a way of picking that up. If so, she’d abandon the bike and take off on foot, which would make it far easier for her to disappear. “No. The team is spread out across Atlanta. If we get a confirmed sighting of her, I’ll alert everyone to meet up. She might have left the bike as a decoy. I’ll put eyes on every MARTA rail station. You just stick with her if she surfaces.”
“What if she’s with someone or something else?”
Isak caught Jones’s “something else” reference to a nonhuman. The first time he’d met Evalle she’d been in the grasp of a demon he’d blasted with a custom-designed six-shooter. One of his many Nyght weapons. He hadn’t nailed down why Evalle dealt with nonhumans, but she was different.
She’d had a silver aura the first time he’d met her.
Tonight it had been gold.
He hadn’t known many auras to change and had never seen one like hers. Had she forgotten that he could see auras, or did she even know hers was different?
Nothing had turned up to confirm her as nonhuman . . . yet. He hoped that didn’t change.
For now, he wanted to find out who was after her and what else she knew about Alterants. He’d made the offer once before to make her disappear if she needed his help.
She’d declined.
If she had Tzader Burke on her trail, she might reconsider.
Isak keyed the transmitter and told Jones, “Pick your spot and snatch her. If a human interferes, stun ’em. Kill any nonhumans.”
What was Evalle up to that had Tzader Burke searching for her? She’d dodged that question tonight.
He wanted another shot at a straight answer. The best way to do that would be to talk to Evalle before Tzader found her.
THIRTY-TWO
Storm stepped onto the up escalator at the subway station behind Evalle. She moved as though her muscles were pulled tight beneath the windbreaker he’d brought her to wear when the weather had turned vicious.
Her silence needled his guilt. Taunted his control.
Nothing rattled his steel reserve like she did.
He’d pushed the kiss too far, but he could fix that.
Greater problems existed, based upon what he’d learned earlier tonight.
His spirit guide could be a source of knowledge . . . or frustration. When the witch Adrianna hadn’t been able to answer all of his questions, he’d gone to his apartment so he could call upon his ancestors. A withered female shaman who wore her years etched in her ghostly face had answered his questions with mixed messages he’d had to unscramble.
The shaman had spoken of several things, including the female Ashaninka witch doctor, who, she said, was not today’s worry. But he hadn’t been able to decipher if that meant the witch doctor he hunted would be tonight’s worry or next week’s worry.
Precise time had no more relevance in these conversations than precise meaning.
Except for one warning his spirit guide had given him.
She’d said Storm would lose Evalle before he won her.
Out of instinct to protect her, he lifted his hand to place at the small of Evalle’s back, but he pulled away before touching her. If he’d kept his hands to himself downstairs, she wouldn’t be so tense right now.
Where had all the years of learning how to stalk a skittish prey gone?