Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(112)

The void swallowed her. No pinpoint of light.

She’d die with a clear conscience that she’d upheld her Belador oath to the end.

It’s not your time, a female voice whispered in her mind.

Not you again. Evalle hoped this voice didn’t follow her into the afterlife.

A feminine chuckle bubbled across her senses. Tired, hurt, disappointed and alone, Evalle snapped, What do you want from me?

Maybe I want to give you something.

So now you’re my Secret Santa? Where were you for the past twenty-three years?

Evalle sensed sadness in the silence and felt bad for berating someone who had annoyed her and given her unwanted advice but had never caused her harm.

The voice said, I’m sorry you never had birthdays or celebrated holidays, but you can have that with Storm.

How do you know Storm?

Through you. He is your other half.

Great. Now a voice was making her depressed, as if dying with Tzader wasn’t enough. Feeling guilty, Evalle said, Didn’t mean to take my bad mood out on you. Side effect of dying, I guess.

The chuckle was back. You must return to the living.

I don’t know that I have to, but I’d like to go back.

No, you must, because Storm needs you. Sending you back is my gift to you.

Storm needed her? Evalle’s heart thumped with worry. But how could her heart thump if she was dead? A tiny light beamed in her mind’s eye and started to glow brighter.

Pain—feeling—crawled through her body, stinging and burning as energy surged into her legs, wings and arms. Her heartbeat picked up speed, stomping against her chest. Power burst from her core, raging across her senses.

She opened her eyes and stared at twenty sword points.

Panicked, she yelled at every Belador present, I’m Evalle. Don’t touch me or you’ll kill Tzader! We’re linked!

All eyes shifted to Tzader, who didn’t move. Not even a breath. Come on, Z. Nothing. She refused to let him go.

She closed her eyes, searching for the link. She found it. Cold. Quiet. Careful with her energy, she forced a slow stream of healing power into the link, waiting for a sign.

He twitched.

She opened her eyes and kept sending him the constant flow of life energy.

He groaned. No sweeter sound had she ever heard. He drew a breath. Another.

Tears pooled in her eyes when he slid his palms forward and pushed up, shaking his head.

He twisted, his gaze searching hers. Evalle?

Yes. The tears fell, running free.

I heard you in my mind. How did you save me?

Long story that I’ll tell you soon, but call off the guards first.

That’s when Tzader looked up. He must have sent a telepathic message, because every sword pulled back and the guards stood down.

Evalle relaxed, tired of fighting. Tired of being a gryphon right this moment. Her body started changing before she realized the shift had come over her.

Tzader glanced down, did a double take, then ordered, “Everyone face away. Now.”

Then he whipped off his T-shirt and handed it to her as she stood. She shrugged it on, thankful it was long enough to cover the important parts. Looking around, she asked, “Where’s Brina? I can’t believe she actually did as I asked and found somewhere safe to hide.”

Tzader snapped alert. “Which way did she go?”

A warrior answered, “Down the back hallway.”

He called for a sword. One of his men tossed him the weapon, and Tzader took off running. Evalle followed with a herd of boot heels pounding right behind her.

When Tzader skidded to a stop and turned into a room, Evalle smelled Noirre majik heavy in the air.

Horace stood with his back to the door, chanting and tossing dust at Lanna and Brina.

Tzader shoved his sword into Horace. The old guy screamed and dropped a bag that smelled of rotten limes.

Evalle raced over just as Lanna and Brina disappeared, leaving a holographic image of Brina.

Evalle reached toward it, then pulled back.

Tzader was next to her in an instant, his voice hollow when he whispered, “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know.”





FORTY-EIGHT





With no idea what to do for Brina and Lanna, Evalle finally shook herself loose from the numb feeling of too many shocks at one time. Someone had to deal with the battle still raging on Treoir.

With Boomer can’t-come-back dead and Evalle having regenerated three times, she’d become the most powerful gryphon.

She ordered the gryphons to stand down from any fight and fly to where they could circle the castle.

Seven answered her, which meant they had another dead gryphon besides Boomer.

Who had managed that? The only way one of the gryphons would not have gone through three cycles was if the head had been cut off.

Evalle told Tzader, “All the gryphons are under my control. I’ve called them in to circle the castle, and I need you to tell the Beladors to stop attacking. Once you do, I can turn the gryphons on the witches and warlocks.”

Tzader looked at her with unfocused eyes, still paralyzed by terror at seeing Brina’s lifeless hologram wrapped in a Noirre spell.

Evalle said as gently as she could, “Z, we need you.”

The warrior in him shuddered back into place. He nodded, his eyes fixed on a distant spot for a moment, then he said, “It’s done. I’ve told our warriors the gryphons now belong to us and to fight beside them.”