Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(104)

Tzader sat up and stretched, then his shoulders slumped with the effort. “You saved my life, Evalle.”

“Oh, hell no I didn’t.” She stood up and backed away from him. “I do not have those powers.”

Pushing up to his feet, Tzader turned to her, politely avoiding her naked body. “You ought to grab a robe.”

She yanked a robe off the closest dead warlock, one of the three that hadn’t disintegrated, and shoved her arms through the sleeves. “Now. What happened to you, Tzader?”

He moved slowly, still recovering. “Best I can tell, the spear tips were made of lava from a volcano I’m not telling either of you about since it’s the only thing that can kill me. But the tips have to stay in place while I die a slow death. If you hadn’t defeated the last warlock and pulled out the spear I’d be dead.”

Beladors were not immortal, as a rule, as far as she knew. “Why can’t you be killed?”

When Tzader didn’t reply, Quinn did. “Might as well tell us. Then Evalle can share what it takes to kill her, too. I’m not leaving here without knowing more about both of you.”

She gave him an arch stare. “I think you two know all you need to know about me right now.”

Tzader shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m the descendant of a Belador who had me blessed, or cursed, depending on your point of view, and leave it at that, okay?” He walked over to Quinn. “Can we get outta here?”

“Yes. I withdrew the exit route from Kizira’s mind.”

Evalle stepped up to both of them. “I doubt she’s going to let us go without a fight once you unlock her mind.”

“I won’t kill her,” Quinn said with quiet conviction. “I can leave a blank place in her thoughts when I release her that will last maybe a minute after she comes out of this state. That’s enough time to reach the surface.”

“Then do it.” Tzader glanced at the wall still open. He whistled shrilly. Two spinning knives with Celtic designs on the handles flew into the room and circled him, landing at each hip. The tips of the blades snarled and hissed.

Evalle missed her boots more than her clothes, but she had bigger worries. She knew better than to believe these two would protect her secret unless they gave her their word. But what Belador would risk his existence and his family for an Alterant?

“We have to go now,” Quinn ordered, stepping away from Kizira who stood silent as a statue. He led the way, racing through a maze of dark corridors that climbed upward to the surface.

Tzader followed Evalle who kept pace with Quinn.

“We’re all good with keeping a few secrets, right?” Evalle was dying to know why neither of the men had commented on her shifting. She’d do anything to protect her tribe, but she would not go willingly into a cage again.

Not after spending her childhood locked away as a freak.

Tzader’s steps pounded close behind. “Let’s get outta here first, then talk.”

“You can talk and run,” she argued. “Admit it, I changed right back into my normal state. I only did it to help us escape.”

“It’s complicated, Evalle.” Quinn had led them with confidence, choosing turns without hesitation and running all out.

Until he reached a pile of rocks that blocked their path.

Everyone skidded to a stop.

Neither of the men made a move to clear the rocks and their minute of a headstart was close to ending. Evalle looked at them. “Let’s get kinetic, shall we?”

Quinn shook his head. “We can’t move these rocks that way. I pulled several chants from Kizira I believe are connected to this route, but—”

“But what?” Evalle asked. Anger mixed with fear inside her. “Start freaking chanting before your crazy priestess wakes up from her litte nap.”

“I might kill us if I use the wrong chant. And she’s not crazy.” Quinn’s tone told her his patience was strained.

An unearthly shriek right out of a B horror movie rocked the underground tunnel.

“Sounds like Sleeping Beauty’s awake.” Evalle stood, hands on hips, robe falling open.

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” Quinn snapped, losing all hold on his composure.

“I don’t like either one of you right now,” Tzader snarled. “Open the damn exit or we gotta kill one seriously pissed-off priestess.”

Kizira’s shrieks grew in volume.

Quinn faced the rocks and spewed out a rapid sequence of mumbo jumbo Evalle couldn’t begin to translate or remember.

Boulders started falling away to each side, parting to make an opening. Evalle took one quick look back to watch behind them for Kizira. Quinn might not want to hurt his evil-eyed honey, but Evalle did. If not for the Medb she wouldn’t be facing imprisonment—or worse—for shifting.

“Let’s go,” Tzader ordered Evalle, snagging her arm and dragging her through the opening. “Seal that mother, Quinn!” Quinn’s chant was lost in the sound of rocks piling in behind them.

When Evalle caught her footing she was aboveground.

In daylight. No shelter within a mile.

An August sun blistered the desert landscape.

“No!” She curled inside the robe, pulling the thin protection around her. Skin on the back of her exposed hand that held the robe closed started turning a nasty green color.