Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(102)
“There’s another Alterant free besides you?”
“Only because he escaped. He’s the guy working with the Kujoo and he hates Beladors almost as much as the Kujoo do. He claims Brina locked him away even though he didn’t turn into a beast or kill anyone before he was caged. I don’t know if I should believe that or not, but I’m more concerned with finding out if the Alterant, the Kujoo or the Medb are setting a trap for the Beladors. If not, I should have told the team about this Alterant, but if he was telling the truth about wanting me to tell my tribe, I’ve got to find a way to stop them from walking into the trap.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Tristan. Can you help me?”
“I’ll try.” Nodding, Nicole closed her eyes and leaned back. Several quiet minutes passed, then Nicole spoke a short prayer. Her eyelids started fluttering with rapid eye movement. “The Alterant Tristan … has a tortured past. He has lived as a beast in the jungle for five years.”
But had he changed into a beast before being caged or not?
Nicole was silent a moment, then said, “This same man at nineteen … is frightened, standing in front of strangers, Beladors, who are talking to him about his strange green eyes … then he disappears from his job digging graves and is in a jungle, terrified … he changes into a beast. He is tormented and alone.”
That sounds like Brina lied to me about Tristan. What about the other Alterants? Evalle’s throat tightened. She wanted to yell in frustration, but she wouldn’t distract Nicole.
“He does not have the stone yet. The Ngak Stone resides still with the female you met. She waits for … you. Follow the path from whence you last saw this stone. The trail will lead to the woman at her home, where you will find a sign of your next decision.”
That wasn’t a lot of help, since there was no way to track the woman after she’d teleported, and what did the “sign of her next decision” mean? Evalle kept quiet, watching Nicole’s lips move as she spoke in a dainty voice.
“Trust will open the path for one who is born to the task.”
Oh, great. Trust. One of my strengths. Why couldn’t Nicole tell her kicking demon ass opened the path? She had plenty of credits for that.
Nicole’s mouth puckered along with her brow with deep thought. “The path will lead to a choice one should not face.”
Evalle thought her head would explode with holding back her questions. What choice? That path didn’t sound promising.
“Your tribe’s future depends on the choice you make … to trust or not.”
What the heck did that mean? Evalle tapped her fingers on the fabric covering the sofa, waiting for a sign that Nicole was finished.
“You will be victorious—”
At that, Evalle gave up the breath she’d clutched in her lungs.
“—and you will lose.”
“What?” The word popped out before Evalle could clamp her lips shut. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Nicole’s eyes opened, drowsy at first, then lighting with the sharp intelligence that lived behind the hazel orbs. “The Kujoo do hold the future of your tribe in their hands.”
“I didn’t doubt that part. What did you mean about the choice to trust or not? To trust the Alterant Tristan?”
“Only you will know the answer to that one … unless you allow me to search your future.”
“No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll figure out who I have to trust. What about the victorious and losing part? How does that work?”
“There is no absolute win in your future. You must lose something.”
“Story of my life,” Evalle quipped.
“I hope not. I want you to survive this.”
“Me, too, but protecting my tribe comes first.” The story of her life, which was shaping up to be a short story.
THIRTY-TWO
Laurette yawned, but she wouldn’t end the conversation with this man called Vyan for the life of her. She’d lived alone so long that she’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone to share a meal with and talk to about things she would have once discussed with her granddad.
What would Granddad think of Vyan?
Where had that thought come from?
Vyan pulled her back to the conversation as he finished off the shepherd’s pie Laurette had made for lunch, a Tuesday staple. “My wife shaped bowls and cups with her hands, too. She had skilled hands like yours to make such art from the earth.”
She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing a compliment on her art. The last time had been her granddad’s parting words before he’d left on a trip he wouldn’t discuss and never returned.
Granddad had held her hands in his when he’d said, “You have a gift like no other with your hands. Promise me you’ll always create pottery, especially the large ones, and mark them the way I taught you. Always have one of your planters outside each door to welcome visitors.”
She’d never failed him, yet. Maybe if she’d made him promise to come back to her he’d be here now. He had returned to her in her dreams, where he’d told her he was sorry for not coming home, then assured her he’d always watch over her and send others if she ever needed help.
Now would be a good time for the cavalry, Granddad.