The Curse (Belador #3)(6)

Macha added, “Until you supply information to differentiate the two, a Rías is simply another version of an Alterant.”

Evalle had no argument when she couldn’t clearly establish the origin of her own kind. “So what happens now with Dakkar?”

“A hearing is scheduled for tomorrow to decide who is responsible to him for compensation and what Dakkar should receive. Deliver me Tristan and his information by the time I return from that meeting or I will withdraw my support for Alterants to become a recognized race.”

The goddess disappeared in a flash of blue and pink light.

Evalle hadn’t found Tristan in three weeks. What was the chance of finding him by tomorrow?

Even less chance if she didn’t get something to eat soon. The smell of fried fish saturated the air and brought on another round of grumbling from her stomach. She lifted a hand to wave over the waitress and order something to go when she felt Belador power blast into her mind.

The telepathic voice of Tzader Burke, Maistir of the North American Belador warriors, yelled, Calling in Beladors! Gang war going down in Oakland Cemetery.

The upper deck of Six Feet Under overlooked Oakland Cemetery.

At Tzader’s call to arms, Evalle threw cash on the table for her drink and hurried down the stairs, then took off running across Memorial Drive. All Beladors in the area would rush to aid their Maistir, but Tzader was her best friend. She ran hard to protect his back.

She called to Tzader, I’m coming from across the street. Where’re you, Z?

East end. Potter’s Field near Boulevard.

That narrowed down the forty-eight-acre landmark. Oakland was the seventh cemetery in the metropolitan area to be turned into a battleground this week.

Gangs had little respect for the living or the dead, but this level of hostility among so many at one time was unprecedented in Atlanta. Why all these throwdowns now?

And why were trolls all of a sudden infiltrating gangs?

Someone at VIPER had suggested this might be connected to the troll crimes that Belador teams had been investigating in Savannah. That some of those trolls had splintered off to create their own gangs here, but that still didn’t explain why they were battling in cemeteries or why every attack involved members of multiple gangs. It didn’t make sense.

She found a shadowy spot along the sidewalk where no humans could see her use kinetics. Bending her knees, she vaulted over the shoulder-high brick wall into six acres that had been part of the original cemetery established in 1850. Now she could tap into her Belador speed to cover the half-mile run through a moonless black night.

Tzader added, This is bad. Must be seventy of them out here … something’s not right.

Like what?

There’s— His voice cut off and withdrew from her mind as if sucked out.

She ran faster, ignoring the thump of worry pounding her chest at the sudden loss of connection.

She told herself that something had taken Tzader’s attention, not his life. Darting between tall marble statues and elegant grave markers, she navigated through pitch dark easily with her natural night vision, which made the world look like daylight rendered in shades of blue-gray, even with sunglasses.

As she watched for any threat, she noticed the lack of normal spirit activity in the burial grounds. Not even an orb. That was just weird.

Her fingers curled, ready for a fight, but she couldn’t use her powers, or her dagger that carried a death spell.

Not on humans.

Gunshots cracked the silence, sharp pops, then the boom, boom, boom of a higher-caliber weapon.

The acrid smell of blood clung to the wind.

Evalle slowed as she neared the battle. Racing in blind would risk distracting another Belador. Especially if any of them had linked their powers, which multiplied their strength. When linked, Beladors were a near-undefeatable force.

But kill one Belador while they were linked and they all died.

As some of the most powerful warriors among preternatural creatures, Beladors had sworn to defend humans who didn’t even know they existed.

Evalle called to Tzader, I’m here and opening up to link.

His voice shouted telepathically to all Beladors in the cemetery. Link now with Evalle to share her night vision.

Eleven hits of power bombarded her from every direction.

She staggered against the initial linking, then found her footing and stepped into the open space where Beladors fought hand-to-hand with humans. Looked like a hundred in battle.

At least now the Beladors would have the advantage of seeing in the dark.

A twentyish male with facial tattoos of the Ice Blood Posse rocketed out of nowhere, slashing a wicked knife in a quick horizontal arc at her throat.

She bent backward as the blade tip passed below her chin.

The lack of contact threw her attacker off-balance.

Evalle spun forward, planting a foot for support, and kicked the ganger against an oak tree as big around as a fifty-gallon barrel.

His body slammed against the trunk, but he shook his head.

Not dead.

She’d promised Tzader she’d show restraint after putting a gang leader in traction yesterday … and that had been without tapping her Belador powers. That murdering bastard deserved death for killing a young girl he’d raped and beaten.

Too bad his punishment fell to the legal system or she’d have saved the taxpayers some money.

Shots were fired from her left.