Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(7)
Oops.
Evalle swung back to the fight, but she couldn’t jump in kicking and risk killing the Beladors, who now fought the only two warlocks still alive. Of the two dead, one lay facedown on his chest with his head spun around to stare at the ceiling.
Tzader battled a warlock armed with a three-pronged sword he hadn’t possessed a moment ago.
Quinn blasted the fourth warlock backward with a shot of energy, then produced three Celtic Triquetra with jagged blades and threw them with deadly accuracy. The blades struck the warlock in his throat, heart and eyes, killing him instantly.
“Not my brother! No!” Kizira screamed. She looked at Quinn, her agonized face a mix of shock and betrayal. When the priestess lifted her hands at Quinn, Evalle dove at her.
“No, Evalle!” Quinn shouted.
She slid to a stop at the side of Kizira, who froze in mid-motion with arms extended, eyes stuck open, full of fury.
Quinn appeared next to the priestess. “I’ve locked her mind, but I can’t hold her long without harming her.” He cut eyes teeming with sadness at Evalle. “Help Tzader.”
She nodded, then felt a blow to her midsection and doubled over. Quinn groaned but held his position with his back to the room. When she turned to Tzader, she found him on the ground, the three-pronged spear staked through his chest.
Tzader looked over at her. His face twisted with pain. Unlink … before I die, and leave me, he called into her mind. You can’t kill this one.
Evalle looked at the last warlock, who laughed in triumph until he eyed Kizira immobilized. That’s when the eyes on the serpent tattoo on his head came to life. That meant he carried the same blood as the Medb High Priestess.
Evalle looked at Tzader. Escape or fall, we stand as one.
Agreed, Quinn confirmed on a gasp. But I can’t help you and hold Kizira immobile.
Evalle faced the warlock. Intimidation played a role in every battle won. “You don’t look so hard to kill.”
The warlock whispered a chant, lifting his hands to his lips and blowing across the palms. Both hands tripled in size, extending into claws. He swiped one long talon at the nearest wall, digging a trough through stone as though cutting butter with a cleaver. He crooked the same claw, smiling when he goaded her to attack.
Well, crap. She hadn’t really expected to get out of this mess without facing this decision. But she’d only shifted once—partway—and that had been in reaction to terror. Returning to her normal physical state had been a struggle. Could she do it again? Or would she remain a mindless beast?
No time to worry about what might happen.
If they stayed, they died. If she shifted …
Evalle mentally reached inside herself, deep into the core of her life force. She urged her body to free itself. Power rolled through the center of her, surging into her legs and arms. Bones cracked and popped, skin stretched tight. Her clothes split, shredding into tatters that fell away from her body.
Leather ripped with a squeal when her feet thickened, toes growing the length of a human hand. Her jaw expanded to accommodate a double row of teeth that sharpened into jagged fangs.
Nerves and tendons cried out in pain. She roared an echoing, haunting sound, now able to stare down at the warlock from ten feet off the ground.
He dared to laugh, then threw a ball of energy at her.
She batted it away, blowing a hole in the rock wall.
The warlock cocked his head, still smiling, but with a little surprise. He flew at her, arms drawn back to swing a clawed hand at her neck. Before he could sever her head, she blocked him, using an oversize arm that sizzled with unspent power.
He bounced back, stunned for the two seconds she allowed him to live.
She curled her leathery fingers into a fist and smashed his face, slamming him backward into the wall, where his body clung, shaking. Bolts of energy popped and sparked around him before he dropped to the ground. When she stepped close to the warlock, he gasped, “You’re a dead monster—”
She lifted a foot as heavy as two cement blocks and slammed down on his midsection, crushing him into two halves.
His last breath screamed out of him, a sound of agony Evalle never wanted to hear again.
Brilliant orange light blanched the inside of the cave. His body foamed purple, then disintegrated into a puff of brown smoke. A sure sign he was Medb royalty.
Evalle took several breaths, calming the power pulsing through her. She begged her body to pull back into itself now that they were safe. Each breath she drew forced another part to tighten and shrink, but hallelujah, she was reversing the change. Sweat covered her skin. Pain daggered her arms and legs, sickened her stomach. Her head felt as though a stake was being driven through her temples, but she’d end up facing worse if the Tribunal found out she’d shifted.
Feeling the last of her body return to human form, Evalle swung around to Tzader, who lay perfectly still. When she reached him, she yanked the spear free. Blood gushed from the three holes. Mortified by her naked state but unable to repair her shredded clothing, she dropped down on her bare knees and pressed her hands over the gaping wounds to stop the flow of blood. But she had no power to save him from all the internal damage.
“He can’t be dead, because we’re alive,” Quinn said in a wheeze over his shoulder from where he still controlled Kizira.
“You’re right.” Evalle and Quinn had a chance to survive if they unlinked and escaped, but she couldn’t walk away from Tzader. He was not the traitorous Belador. If she unlinked, he’d lose the strength she still gave him. Her abdomen hurt, too, but … not as though she’d been stabbed. Why didn’t she feel like she was dying?