The Curse (Belador #3)(30)
He’d sent her to the Iron Casket, he hoped. Hell, he had no idea what happened after he’d shoved that blast of power into the teleporting.
He might if he’d been born with the ability to teleport. Unlike this witch priestess who was born with that power, Tristan had gained his ability secondhand by drinking a concoction that included the blood of immortal Hindu warriors.
Fat lot of good that blood had done him. Immortality would have been more helpful than limited teleportation skills.
A saucy female voice said, “Tristan, we meet again.”
The bane of his life. He forced his eyes open and gritted out one word. “Kizira.”
She released her grip on his shoulder and her warning-flare-red blouse shimmered with the movement. Sheer sleeves ruffled along her arms, down to her wrists, where slender hands had fingernails painted to match. Jeans hugged her shapely legs stuffed into knee-high boots made of eel-skin … that undulated.
Some men would consider her dark green eyes and oval face surrounded by a mane of sunset-red hair attractive.
He’d like to stake that head on a pike.
“What do you want, Kizira?”
“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” She swung around, taking in the old guy.
Whoa. Tristan blinked his eyes. What was going on with Sam? His decaying image shifted and changed … a glamour? Sam pulled the tubes off his mask and tossed them aside. He lost a little height with the alteration to his new form, but this early-thirties body had a substantial, even robust appearance. And, he was not currently being held prisoner by the warlocks.
Tristan demanded, “Who is he?”
Kizira looked from Sam to Tristan. “Oh, that’s right. You think he’s Sam something or other. Meet Conlan O’Meary.”
The pain slithering through Tristan’s veins became inconsequential compared to the surge of fury over having been screwed. “You bastard.”
Tristan opened his mind to call a warning to Evalle. Sam is—
The words in his head bounced back at him, beating his brain with the force of a gong slamming inside a giant church bell. He grabbed his head, yelling, “Stop!”
And the sound disappeared.
Tristan took shallow breaths to keep from passing out. Stars shot across his gaze.
Kizira warned, “If you try to reach Evalle again, or anyone else telepathically, you will suffer until your ears bleed.” Then she told Conlan, “Were you successful? Convincing?”
“Hard not to be when I’m compelled,” Conlan said with an edge of irritation. “I don’t need that to do my part. I came to you willingly, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t do anything to you. If you have an issue with being compelled, file your complaint with Queen Flaevynn. But take it from someone she compels on a regular basis, you’ll end up being forced to do far worse than fool an Alterant.” Kizira ordered her warlocks, “Leave no trail from here.”
Tristan had nothing to offer in trade to protect his sister, Petrina, and two Rías friends, except himself, and Kizira already had him wrapped in invisible binding. He hoped his group would stick with his backup plan and leave immediately when he didn’t call them with news in the next fifteen minutes as scheduled. He’d told Petrina to contact Evalle or Tzader if anything happened to him.
Tristan would accept his fate as long as those three were safe. “What do you want with me, Kizira?”
She moved across the room, pausing to eye him as a useless speck of a creature. “At the present moment, not a thing. You did better than I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thanks to you, Evalle will find the Alterants for us.”
“No, she won’t.” Not once Petrina gave Evalle the letter he’d written. The first part explained what he knew about Alterants that Evalle could use with the Tribunal. The last part warned her to stay as far away from the Medb as she could.
The Medb wanted Alterants, especially Evalle.
Now he had an idea why.
The Medb believed Evalle would locate more Alterants, including specific ones they clearly had plans for, and once that happened, the Medb would capture Evalle and the other Alterants.
Not if Tristan’s contingency plan worked and Petrina traded his letter in exchange for asylum with the Beladors. Evalle would protect her and the two Rías. And the minute she read the letter, Evalle would realize that coming to save him would only give the Medb what they needed most to kill Brina and take Treoir.
He grinned at Kizira. “You’ll never get your hands on Evalle.”
“You’re wrong, Tristan.” Kizira leaned forward and whispered, “Evalle will lead us to the green-eyed Alterants.”
“If you say so.” He gave her a noncommittal look. “I’d think by now you’d realize that Alterants aren’t as easy to catch as other nonhumans.”
Kizira picked her head up and looked into his eyes. “That’s why I’ve sent a team of Svart trolls to Atlanta to keep VIPER busy until I’m ready for them to bring Evalle back with our Alterants.”
Svart trolls? What the hell were those? “You think a bunch of trolls can capture Evalle?”
“To be perfectly honest, not really. But she’ll eventually come to us, because she’s a sucker for a lost cause.”
Tristan chuckled in spite of the pain that ripped through his chest. “Here’s a tip, Kizira. Don’t hold your breath waiting on Evalle, because I’ve made sure she won’t come back for me.”