The Curse (Belador #3)(4)
“Not even to just let her know I’m alive?”
“I told you, I’m not getting involved. And I have no desire to be stuck explaining to Evalle why I’m the only one who knows how you’re doing or where you’ve been for almost a month.” Adrianna gave a wry chuckle. “Good luck with that.”
“Evalle will understand.”
“If you really believe that, you’re not as bright as I gave you credit for.”
The witch might have a point. Evalle did have a volatile temper when it came to Adrianna. Ridiculous really, since Evalle had no reason to suffer jealousy, but a wise man would avoid mentioning that Adrianna had been here with Storm all this time. That might work if not for his Ashaninka ability to detect a lie, which came with a counter side—he suffered serious pain if he lied.
A gift that Evalle knew all about.
He was too exhausted to think on that at the moment. He needed to focus on healing fast and regaining his strength so he could get out of this bed. Right now, he’d have a hard time lifting the bottle of water on his own. “I’ll find her in a couple of days. What day is it anyhow?”
“Last Thursday in September. Think you’ll be fully recovered that fast?”
No, but that wouldn’t stop him from sucking it up enough to get behind the wheel of his SUV and track her down. “I’ll manage.”
“From what I hear, Evalle’s not the only woman waiting for you to call her back, Casanova.”
“What do you mean?”
“I hear there’s a female with a Spanish accent asking around about you.”
“What the—where’d you hear that?” He’d told no one, except Evalle, about the Ashaninka witch doctor, but she’d never say a word.
“From a Nightstalker. I heard about her while I was searching for intel for VIPER the week before you got hurt.”
“You traded for information on her?” he asked. The old ghoul Nightstalkers could take ten minutes of human form if they shook hands with someone who possessed powers.
“No. The Nightstalker tried to cut a second deal for intel on a woman with powers from South America who was interested in a Skinwalker who could shift into a jaguar.” Adrianna paused and looked straight at him. “I wasn’t aware of any Skinwalkers … then.”
Adrianna knowing about his jaguar form wasn’t a problem, but Storm had kept that information from Sen.
Sen had brought him in as a tracker for VIPER, an agency that protected humans from supernatural threats, but Sen’s real purpose had been for Storm to catch Evalle in a lie, to get her booted from the team or locked up. Storm had decided to help Evalle instead.
The question now was whether Sen knew the black jaguar he’d crushed against that brick wall was Storm. Had he meant to kill me? A bigger concern shoved forward.
If Sen found out about the witch doctor, he’d have the perfect anonymous weapon for getting rid of Evalle, permanently, and all he’d have to do was point the bitch in Evalle’s direction.
And nobody—not even the Tribunal—would be able to prove that Sen had orchestrated the death of an innocent woman.
TWO
Evalle looked up from her menu, expecting to see the tall waitress with blunt-cut, purple hair and tattoos for sleeves … not a pissed-off Celtic goddess with the power to destroy everything in sight.
“Hello, Macha.” Evalle mustered the calmest voice she could, considering how much trouble she might be in. Macha wanted information Evalle didn’t have. Facts about Alterants like her … beings who were part Belador and part unknown.
As an ancient race who appeared human, Beladors shared unusual gifts such as kinetic and telepathic powers. Since they all belonged to Macha’s pantheon, they weren’t a concern. It was that unknown part of Evalle’s blood that labeled her Alterant, an outcast among her own people. That bothered Macha.
The Goddess wanted to know what caused an otherwise human-appearing person to shift into a beast with exceptional powers, even beyond those of normal Beladors.
Well, human in appearance, except for glowing green eyes in Evalle’s case. The dark sunglasses she wore day and night shielded that little oddity.
Macha arched a graceful, yet deadly, eyebrow at her. A cool September breeze ruffled the goddess’s waist-length waves of auburn hair. Her gown shimmered with colors stolen from an aurora borealis. “I have allowed you three weeks.”
Evalle had known this day was coming, but not so soon.
Something must have happened to instigate this unwelcome early visit.
She cast a quick glance around the upper deck of Six Feet Under, her favorite restaurant in downtown Atlanta. A few people had given Evalle’s dark eyewear a second look when she’d walked in after sundown, but none of this late-Friday-night crowd seemed to notice the gorgeous, glowing female deity.
Macha must be cloaking her appearance and voice.
Think the humans would notice if Macha turned me into a ball of flames? Probably not. They’d just chalk it up to another unexplained incident of spontaneous combustion.
Evalle dug into her pocket for a Bluetooth earpiece she’d found in a parking lot. Clipping on the inactive communication device provided her the perfect cover for conversing with an invisible person. “I know you’ve been patient—”