Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(27)

He hoped so. And maybe some golf-ball-size blisters.

Her trail had ended near tire tracks where she’d parked a vehicle. Small car with narrow wheels.

Had she made so many stops and direction changes along the way to confuse someone who might try to follow her? Afraid someone would try to steal her Alterant?

Or had there been another reason?

Storm was past the point of being able to think. He had to get some sleep.

He’d been tracking since eleven this morning.

Rubbing a paw over his face, he yawned, then loped off, heading back to his truck. If he went home now, he could grab a few hours’ sleep before dark, when Evalle would leave her apartment.

He wanted to get on top of her building to be there in case things didn’t go well with Macha.

When he reached the spot where Imogenia’s trail had curved in an arc, he remembered having been curious as to why she’d done that when the simpler, and most direct path, was through a clearing.

Had she gotten lost?

Blinking away sleepiness, Storm took in the woods that thinned ahead of him to an open area sixty feet across.

Imogenia’s route had paralleled the shape of that clearing.

Had something frightened her?

Storm didn’t sense any animal or threat in the area now. He stalked ahead, intending to enter the clearing, until he had an overpowering desire to avoid the area.

Pausing, he sniffed. No smells came from there.

Everything in the forest had a scent.

Moving forward, one slow step at a time, the closer he got the more hair roughed up along his neck and shoulders. His instincts were screaming at him to back up, but the warning came from something unnatural. He pushed ahead, determined to find the source.

Was this why Imogenia had avoided the area?

His nose bumped against an invisible force that felt thick and cold.

He considered stepping back. These woods had been full of preternaturals last night, and some might have lingered. But this didn’t feel like a warding. A yawn overtook him, stretching his jaws. He shook his head, trying to stay alert.

Just go and get some sleep. Storm turned away and had made it two steps when he sniffed the faint scent of licorice.

Could be residual from incense if someone had burned it out here, but there were no signs of any camp having been made nearby.

He took a deeper breath and still picked up only that subtle scent.

Turning around, he walked back to where he’d butted up against the cold barrier. Calling forth his majik, he pushed a paw through dense air. It took more effort than normal. He put his head down to force his way into the clearing. The invisible shield dragged along his fur as he struggled through the resistance and into the open space.

He sucked in the staggering stench of licorice.

Not the nice smell of candy but the smoky odor that came from dealing in the dark arts. Deadly dark arts.

He gagged and coughed, also smelling something dead that should be buried far away and deep.

That was the moment he realized he was not alone.

“Buenos días, Storm,” whispered around him.

The witch doctor.

He spun in a circle, searching for her. That was her voice. And this was her spelled area. He’d walked right into her trap. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to face her, exhausted and in her territory, but his enemies had never played fair.

Neither would he.

He roared, challenging the witch doctor to show her face.

Laughter bubbled all around him, echoing as if he stood inside a canyon instead of a grassy patch surrounded by a circle of trees. “Not yet, my black demon. I am not quite ready to risk standing so close to you. Soon, very soon.”

Should he be glad he’d have a second chance to be better physically prepared or concerned about why she would delay this meeting?

She made a tsk-ing sound. “You have cost me much time. You foolishly think you can outplay me, but in the end I will win.” Her words whipped past his ears, sliding away then zinging back at him. “You wish for blood. That is not the way for us to be. We are much alike, you and me.”

I’d cut my own throat to protect the world if I was anything like you.

“You are not ready to come to me voluntarily today.”

Hold your breath and wait for that to happen. Should he shift so he could talk to her? Or was she hoping for that? He was strong in his human state, but far more powerful in his jaguar form.

“I must leave you, Storm. I have much to do, and we will see each other again, but I cannot allow you to interfere with my Langaus now that you have the scent. Why do you make my life so difficult?”

Langau? He searched his mind for what she could have brought to this country . . . or created since coming here.

“I will allow you to live because you have much to do for me. You force me to make you regret coming in here unless you are ready to give your word and come to me on your own.”

He snarled, showing his fangs.

“So stubborn. It is a shame that you do not accept your destiny. Perhaps a lesson in humility will show you who holds the most power between us. Adiós, Storm.” In the next moment, he saw the witch doctor outside the clearing, walking away.

Still beautiful and hadn’t aged a day. Had gotten younger looking if anything.

Or was that a spell?

If so, did she have to renew it often? Something to keep in mind when he did face her later.