Belador Cosaint: Belador Book 9
Copyright © 2017, Dianna Love Snell
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BELADOR COSAINT: Belador Book 9
Belador Maistir Vladimir Quinn and his team are hunting preternatural predators targeting innocent humans in Atlanta. A powerful entity behind the brutal attacks is determined to force their dragon king out into the open by threatening Belador families and exposing the preternatural world to humans. When Quinn’s daughter is kidnapped, he has no idea where to look. He could use the help of fiery Reese O’ Rinn and her remote viewing ability, but he has even less chance of locating Reese, who vanished into thin air the last time they met. When the VIPER coalition refuses to aid the Beladors, their dragon king invokes the ancient rule of cosaint to protect his people, but will that backfire on Quinn, the dragon and the Beladors?
“When it comes to urban fantasy stories, Dianna Love is a master.” ~~A. Richards, Always Reviewing
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
More Belador Novels by Dianna Love
More Books by Dianna Love
Author Bio
A word from Dianna
Dedication
Thank you to the Dianna Love Reader Community group on Facebook who brighten my days. I appreciate all the love of reading and time you share with me.
The Belador series is an ongoing story line,
so you may want to read the books in order:
Book 1: Blood Trinity
Book 2: Alterant
Book 3: The Curse
Book 4: Rise Of The Gryphon
Book 5: Demon Storm
Book 6: Witchlock
Book 7: Rogue Belador
Book 7: Dragon King Of Treoir
Book 9: Belador Cosaint
Book 10: Treoir Dragon Horde (2018)
Tristan’s Escape: A Belador Novella
Chapter 1
Quinn moved with stealth toward a rusty railroad trestle ten feet high, which spanned a narrow creek feeding straight into the Chattahoochee River on Atlanta’s west side. The trickle of water barely qualified it as a creek.
He held up a hand for Devon, the Belador warrior following him, to wait a moment. His other teammates, Evalle and Tristan, were approaching along the river from the other side of the railway. He had to give credit to the murdering trolls.
They’d chosen well for a hideout.
They’d have remained hidden, too, if they hadn’t started killing adults and kidnapping children.
Giving Devon a hand signal, Quinn continued on, preparing to insert his team and rescue kidnapped human teenagers from dangerous preternaturals.
It would be simpler if Quinn and his people didn’t have to hide whatever happened from humans in the area.
Rush hour traffic had started hours ago, but still slogged along the interstate fifty yards away where six lanes crossed the river.
At least now it was dark. Between that and today being Monday, he had less chance of his team getting seen by some sporting enthusiast floating down the Hooch, as this part of the river was known locally. On the other hand, the city was enjoying warm temperatures for early April. Some adventuresome spring breaker might decide to get wet.
Eyeing the trestle ahead, Quinn shook his head. What had triggered this insane action?
The local trolls had to be out of their minds to harm any human, but to go after families of Belador warriors was suicidal. Beladors had even stopped a preternatural who’d been killing trolls last year.
Relations had been pretty decent, until now.
In the latest attack at a midtown home, a mother had been found dead, mangled, and her two teenagers missing. That made five attacks in two days.
Three dead and a total of eight teenagers taken.
So far.
Those two words twisted his gut. No child should fear being kidnapped.
What about my child? Who is watching over her?
Quinn’s chest tightened with pain. Weeks of searching for a child he’d learned of only recently, and he’d turned up nothing. He had a duty to save these teenagers first, then he’d go right back to hunting Phoedra.
Devon tapped his shoulder.
Quinn turned to see what the Cajun wanted.
Evalle and Tristan were Alterants, mixed-blood Beladors, with bright green eyes they hid behind dark sunglasses, but they had natural night vision.
Like Quinn, Devon was a full-blooded Belador with supernatural powers, but they had to utilize night vision monoculars. Quinn looked down to where Devon had located four-toed footprints heading toward the dark underpass. Each toe had a deep claw mark.
That confirmed the intel.
Nodding, he turned to move ahead. He and his team had finally gotten a break on today’s heinous crime, which led them to this location.
Good thing since Storm wouldn’t be back until later this evening. Evalle’s Skinwalker mate could track any scent, even a preternatural one, in his human form or as a black jaguar. He’d been in Roanoke, Virginia, for the last twenty-four hours helping a short-handed Belador team dealing with similar attacks there.
Six hours had passed since a Belador father here in Atlanta, just off patrol, had walked into his house expecting to find his family getting ready for a spring break trip.
Instead, the Belador had found food scattered around the kitchen island, his wife ripped into pieces and his two children missing.
Quinn continued moving slowly toward the underpass.
His team was exceptional, but they were also friends he didn’t want to see harmed. As their B
elador Maistir, he ordered people into danger all the time, but everything about these attacks said this was not a normal situation.
He did a mental eye roll at that thought.
Talk about an oxymoron.
Everything Beladors confronted fell under the heading of abnormal.
Reaching the spot where he and Devon were to watch for Evalle and Tristan, Quinn dropped into a crouch behind a small bush to scan the area. From the other side of the narrow rail bridge, Evalle removed her dark sunglasses, exposing her glowing green eyes. She blinked twice at Quinn to signal that she and Tristan were in place.
Quinn gave a hand signal of confirmation, then looked over his shoulder at Devon, who crouched close behind him. Quinn gave the signal to move out. Devon had limited telepathic ability, but the Cajun could move in this environment as silently as a lizard.
Speaking mind-to-mind would be simpler, but Quinn had been the one to caution against using telepathy unless they had no other choice.
Until recently, no one besides other Beladors or their Treoir rulers could communicate with a Belador telepathically. The one exception to this rule being select Beladors who could reach the VIPER liaison, Sen. But the Laochra Fola, an enemy group related to Beladors, had appeared in Atlanta recently with the ability to pick up their telepathic messages.
As if trolls weren’t enough to contend with?
Quinn opened his senses wide as he picked his way over rutted ground that deteriorated further every time foul weather drove the water hard through here.
He smelled rotting foliage, but no trash.
Another sign this had to be the right place.
Trolls kept the area leading to their nest free of human debris.
Dirt had been piled against one shoulder of the underpass.
Using his telekinetic ability, Quinn pushed gently at the loose earth. The dirt shifted aside easily, meaning it hadn’t been in that spot very long.
As he used his power to quietly clear dirt out of the way, a rough-cut, wooden covering five feet across and six feet tall came into view.
No hinges.
It should lift away, but what waited on the other side?
Cutting his eyes around, he signaled Evalle and Tristan to watch their backs.
Quinn motioned Devon into position on the opposite side of the wood covering.
Devon moved with Belador hyper-speed.
Since they were somewhat hidden, humans shouldn’t see anything unusual that happened down here unless this turned into a battle of power and majik that exploded in bright bursts.
Letting out a slow breath, Quinn lifted his hands and nodded at Devon, who mirrored his moves.
They each raised one side of the wood hatch by using kinetic power, and moved it an inch at a time until Devon took control of the cover and slipped it softly to the ground.
No one came flying out with a mouthful of sharp teeth, but trolls wouldn’t need to when they could wait in the perfect ambush spot.
Quinn squatted to look inside.
Stone stairs went down, disappearing into a black hole.
That could lead to a simple, large room if the trolls hadn’t been here long, or if they’d had more time, to a maze of tunnels.
He hated tunnels. Only one way in and one way out unless you had inside information.
The trolls would have an exit plan, but they’d also keep it well hidden, which made for a perfect trap if someone was crazy enough to break into a troll nest.
Schedule me for a psych eval as soon as this is over.
Quinn ducked his tall frame into the hole, glad he’d worn cargo pants for ease of movement. They were all outfitted in similar black clothing from neck to toe.
The air had a damp, sour odor to it the deeper he went, but he had no complaint about the solid rock steps.
No squeaking noises.
No sound at all.
His skin crawled with warning.
Trolls had never been a docile group, but for the most part the local ones kept to themselves. There had been one instance when Svart Trolls from another country invaded Atlanta with plans to take over the city. Other than that, the trolls tended to be good about policing their own community to avoid VIPER stepping in to do that for them. The VIPER coalition acted as a governmental body over all preternaturals in the human world.
With the exception of a select few, humans never knew what happened in the supernatural underbellies of cities across the country because VIPER did police its own. But trolls attacking the human families of Beladors threatened to expose the preternatural world if they didn’t put a stop to it.
Once humans discovered just what lived among them, it would be chaos.
Twenty steps down, Quinn moved aside to allow Devon to join him. Tristan followed with Evalle taking up the rear.
Quinn gave them a sign to wait, then stepped away to figure out what lay ahead of them. The area opened up into a wide hallway fifteen feet across and an easy eight feet tall, but maybe forty or fifty feet deep.
A light glowed way down at the other end, which outlined an arched opening into another room.
Giving a hand signal to move out, but be alert, Quinn led them forward.
Halfway to the end of the tunnel, Quinn sniffed. Ah, the putrid stench of troll.
He looked around at Evalle, Tristan and Devon who all pinched their noses to let him know, yes, they smelled the nasty beings.
Quinn would have liked for Storm to be here, since the Skinwalker could discern just how many trolls they were going up against.
Devon touched Quinn’s shoulder. When he looked back, Devon pointed at Evalle, who tapped her ear.
Quinn listened, and the faint sound of a child crying reached him. Shit.
He nodded and moved ahead.
At the end of the tunnel, he peered ahead into a cavernous area with a higher ceiling. Ripped roots dangled from where the trolls had hollowed out earth for their hideout. The barren space held two wooden tables and four beat-up chairs suitable for the dump. Two torches were mounted on each side of a room sixty feet across.
Quinn couldn’t determine the depth.
The room fell away into blackness.
The child’s whimpers were louder now. Was it real?
His instincts screamed trap.
Troll stench permeated the air. He was not leaving until he knew for sure whether the children were here or not.
He took it all in, trying to figure out what he couldn’t see. There had to be some kind of strong glamour hiding the true interior of this place and the number of people actually inside here.
A child whimpered again.
Stepping inside the room, he moved quickly to the right, leaving enough space for Devon to follow his lead and stand with his back to the wall as well.
Evalle and Tristan did the same on the other side of the archway.
Tristan leaned forward and gave Quinn a signal that he had an idea.
Oh, hell. Quinn’s disconcertment must have shown because Tristan sent him an irritated look.
A bonus of being half-blood Beladors meant Tristan and Evalle could shift into gryphons. This would be the worst place for them to shift, though, with limited room for movement.
What else could Tristan be thinking? He sucked at hand signals.
Then it hit Quinn.
Tristan had once been given a special, majikally-spelled drink by a witch. A power highball, as Tristan described it, which had included the blood of immortal beings. He’d ended up with the ability for limited teleportation under the right conditions.
Teleporting here would be just as insane as shifting.
Tristan had no idea what area would be safe for landing.
Still, their dragon king had made Tristan his second in command. Since then, Tristan had proven himself to be competent and loyal as hell. A real change from when Quinn had first met the young man, so he gave Tristan a go-ahead nod to show the team what he had in mind.
Tristan blinked out of view and all hell
broke loose.
Chapter 2
Guttural voices roared and light shot from the middle of the room beyond where Quinn, Evalle and Devon remained.
What had happened to Tristan?
High-pitched screams sounded like kids, then deep shouts and bellows overpowered them.
Quinn rushed forward just as the glamour hiding all of that fell away.
Tristan appeared in the center of the space now, fighting two trolls. A third troll with black eyes and long, spiked teeth stood in front of a series of large cages containing two terrified teenagers and three adults. With a horn sprouting out of his thick head, hair everywhere, and standing seven feet tall, the guard troll held a short axe in each hand. He looked ready to bludgeon anyone who dared touch the cages.
Devon said, “He’s mine.”
Evalle rushed over to help Tristan.
Using kinetics, Quinn knocked one of Tristan’s attackers backward so Evalle and Tristan could battle one at a time.
The eight-foot monster troll Quinn had knocked away rolled and came up on his huge feet. He had linebacker shoulders if someone wanted a giant on the football squad. A vicious tusk jutted down each side of his mouth where saliva drooled. When he charged Quinn, he opened a maw filled with needle-sharp fangs.
Shoving up a kinetic wall, Quinn prepared to drive the monster back.
But the troll opened his hand and tossed sparkling dust in the air that blasted Quinn’s invisible wall apart.
Those sparkles stank of burned limes. Noirre majik?
Screw being careful.
Quinn shouted to his people telepathically, They’re using Noirre. Don’t link and do whatever it takes to win.
That countermanded his original order of bringing in the kidnappers, or at least one they could use for intel. Right now, he was more concerned about all of his team surviving.
Fighting a troll had inherent risks for anyone.
Fighting one that wielded Noirre majik turned the odds against even a Belador.
Devon struggled with the shorter, black-haired troll who had been guarding the cages. His telepathy didn’t always work as well as the others so Quinn didn’t know for sure that Devon caught the message authorizing him to use deadly force.
Evalle had thrown her power in with Tristan to battle his adversary. They had their troll on the ground. As soon as one of them could get free, Devon needed help.