Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(23)
With one last parting sneer, Sen teleported to the war room, leaving Tzader alone in the sterile hallway. Sighing, he stared at the dull stone corridor that went on for what appeared to be forever. Hallways like this one formed an intricate spiderweb through their isolated haven set beneath the North Georgia Mountains. This was a safe zone for all preternatural beings, since almost no one could use majik or powers here.
No one except Sen, who, as a rule, was as surly as a hungover Hells Angel left naked in the desert. Sen didn’t hide the fact that he considered his position with VIPER on par with mucking out pigsties. Something that made Tzader wonder why the first Tribunal had chosen Sen to mediate between them and their VIPER agents.
Or better yet, who Sen had pissed off to rate this assignment. Whoever it’d been, they had to be extremely powerful to stick Sen with this gig against his will.
And there wasn’t much mediating involved when it came to Sen; just hard-nosed enforcement.
He ran VIPER according to only one set of rules …
His.
Of all the wizards, shape-shifters, Beladors, empaths, witches, centaurs and a list of other beings that made up the VIPER international coalition, no one but the gods and goddesses knew what Sen was or where he came from.
Tzader’s bet was the lowest bowels of hell, but that was just his opinion.
That lack of knowledge kept agents on edge around Sen. You couldn’t even look at him and tell his genetic origins. He was like an amalgam of all races. Almond-shaped blue eyes, mahogany brown hair and possibly Nordic bone structure.
As the Belador Maistir, Tzader commanded the North American contingency, answering only to Brina and Macha. He considered Sen a peer at best, regardless of Sen’s position in VIPER. He didn’t care why Sen was stuck in this role or how much he hated it as long as Sen didn’t treat any Belador—including Evalle—unfairly.
Which meant Tzader had his work cut out for him most days.
Working his way through the tunnels, Tzader reached the checkpoint at the entrance to the cave where Jake, their resident troll, stood guard. At five feet tall, the repulsive troll might look unimpressive, but he was a dangerous beast. A ragged, unkempt beard covered the entire lower half of his face.
Tzader paused upwind from him—something everyone with a brain did. “Anyone call for clearance recently?”
Jake held one side of his headphones against his ear as he shook his square head, disturbing the shaggy gray-brown hair that’d been shaped into an unattractive bowl cut. “Got one call a minute ago, but it didn’t come through … broke up.”
A bad feeling went through Tzader. The troll was always screwing with Evalle. Jake used a fa?ade of incompetence to cover a mean streak so wide the other trolls swam in it. But Tzader wasn’t fooled.
Jake was out to get Evalle as much as Sen was. “Thought you had the comm unit fixed.”
Jake wiped at his nose. “I did, I thought. I mean, it worked fine when everyone else came in this morning, but something isn’t syncing now. The new hydraulic door got stuck a few minutes ago, so I closed it. I can’t do anything about the audio breaking up until I get the door to function properly. Sucks really.” Jake lifted a slim voice recorder to his lips and made a couple of notes, then fumbled with the digital settings and the keypad on a black electronic box supported by his enormous gut. “Wouldn’t have this problem if Sen would trust me to use my powers. What’s he afraid of? I’ll fart and take out his office?”
Uh, yeah, that was the concern. “Didn’t you once use your powers to conjure a pen and instead took out the entire northeast corridor?”
Jake bared his teeth, looking more like a hairy hog posing for a family picture than a dangerous troll from his native Jotunheim. “I can control them, I—” He stopped and angled his head to listen, then frowned.
If he was screwing with Evalle again, Tzader was going to eat troll balls for breakfast. “Put it on speaker.”
“Calm down.” Jake hit a button on his little box.
A female voice came through the static intermittently. “VIPER 66—” The next part skipped, then Tzader heard, “—caid.”
“Call sign not clear,” Jake responded in a voice washed with boredom. “Repeat—”
There was no mistaking who it was anymore when Evalle’s fury-ridden voice yelled, “Open the wall … now!”
Tzader saw red. “Cut the shit, Jake. That’s Evalle and you know it.” And she was in mortal danger. The longer she was out there, baking in the sun, the closer to death she came. “Open the door, Jake.”
Jake’s eyes turned completely black. “It’s jammed again. I can’t.”
Tzader felt his knives rattling against his thighs as his fury mounted. The bastard could have kept the door open long enough for Evalle to get inside out of the sun. “Open the damn door!”
“I. Can’t!” Jake roared. “Why don’t you use your powers and open it?”
For the same reason Jake couldn’t.
No one was allowed to use powers here … except Sen.
“Get down here, Sen!” Tzader shouted, sending his voice straight into the bastard’s head. “Kincaid is coming in hot and the door’s jammed tight. If we don’t get it open, we’re going to be scraping her off your new door.” Or worse, scraping her boiled ooze off the pavement.