The Curse (Belador #3)(35)
“So now Isak knows that Evalle associates with Alterants? Or does he know that she is one?”
“No on both accounts. Sen wiped the minds of all the Nyght men before he teleported Evalle away, so Isak and his men shouldn’t remember anything.”
“Sen probably regrets having wiped those minds with Evalle free again.”
“Bet on it,” Tzader said.
Quinn returned to their original topic of finding a weapon to kill trolls. “Then Evalle can still ask Isak for the weapon.”
Tzader growled, but an agreement surfaced in the midst of the sound. “I guess she can do that—”
“If Isak’s interested in her as a woman, she should be safe enough.”
“I don’t want to hear that. Bad enough that she’s been in such a foul mood with Storm missing that she’s become a one-woman demolition crew in battle.”
Quinn kept his face neutral, but secretly smiled at Evalle’s budding social life. He didn’t want her harmed any more than Tzader did, but she needed a chance to have a real life. “What’s the story on Storm?”
“We don’t know, and Evalle hasn’t told me anything other than Storm helped her when the Tribunal sent her to hunt down the missing Alterants.”
“Oh?” Quinn lost his battle not to laugh at Tzader’s flat don’t-go-there gaze, which only pissed off Tzader that much more.
“What’s so funny, Quinn? You okay with all these guys sniffing around her all of a sudden?”
“You are the epitome of the overprotective big brother. Let’s just say that I think we’ll know if anyone gets out of line.” Quinn did admit, “I’d enjoy sending someone into the next world if they hurt her physically, or emotionally, but I’ll place my money on Evalle dealing them as much pain as we would dish out if someone dared to harm her.”
Tzader finally relented and smiled. “Yeah, guess I need to accept that she can’t be protected from everything.” His phone buzzed. Lifting the small cell phone from his pocket, he read the screen. “Damn. Got a battle going on in south Atlanta.”
“Another cemetery? Let me get my key.”
“It’s a cemetery, but a small battle. They have a local troll in hand. Told them to call me when we had someone to interrogate. You stay here and talk to Evalle. Explain to her about getting the Nyght weapon.” Tzader shoved the phone into his pocket, then snapped his fingers and stopped, giving Quinn a pained look. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“On the way here, I got a call from one of our Beladors who’d been trading for intel with a Nightstalker. He picked up a tip that a woman was asking around about you early this evening. I’ll break loose a couple of agents as soon as I can to see what they can find out.”
Quinn had no idea who it could be. “Did you get a name?”
“Just a first name. Lanna.”
“Bloody hell.”
Tzader had started for the door and swung around, his gaze sharp with concern. “The Medb?”
“Worse. Family.”
ELEVEN
Evalle’s mouth tasted too disgusting to describe.
But she could not ask Deek for water. If she uttered a word, it could well be her last.
She’d sit here quietly on the nicely sodded floor of his office and not draw his attention. Again.
Deek stood bent over with his hands propped on his desk, intent on something he read. Gleaming black hair hung loose around his shoulders. When he took on human form, he did so in a breathtakingly gorgeous body. He’d ignored her for the last couple hours, which had probably been easier to do once he’d showered and changed into the chocolate-brown linen shirt and matching pants.
Had to smell better without the contents of her stomach slimed all over his pants and shoes. His men had washed the residue of her calamari upheaval off the office lawn.
She would never have guessed that Deek would floor his personal space with sod, but then she didn’t spend a lot of time wondering about someone like Deek.
Better to avoid him mentally and in person.
Her wrists burned from where she’d struggled against the shackles anchoring her to the wall, but she’d stopped that once it became clear she breathed Deek’s air for only one reason.
He’d said he’d give her a chance to explain why he shouldn’t kill her. “A chance” probably meant one sentence. She doubted she could plead her case thoroughly in one sentence. But Deek must have some personal code of honor that prevented him from toasting her until she actually supplied him with a reason for being here.
The way she saw it, the longer she kept her mouth shut, the longer she stayed alive.
Her refusal to speak had brought on a bout of yelling.
He’d done so in four languages, one that sounded old enough to be biblical. He’d shifted into a centaur, then back to human form, clothes and all, shouting at her with every breath.
When he’d returned from showering, he’d calmly asked her one time to explain herself.
Nope. She’d kept her mouth shut and held on to her only hope of surviving. He hadn’t said another word since then.
His silence bothered her far more than his yelling.
She could call Tzader or Quinn telepathically, but their lives would be at risk, too, the minute they walked in here. What could either of them do? Demand she be released when Deek had full authority here?