Rogue Belador: Belador book 7 Page 3

  Adrianna answered, “Tell me you’re not calling for anything witch related.”

  “That narrows our conversation to hello and goodbye.”

  Adrianna sighed audibly. “What do you need?”

  “Stop sounding like I’m asking you to bloody your manicure.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that happened with you.”

  Evalle let that dig pass. “What’s got you so cranky?”

  “I’m getting constant calls from VIPER agents asking about my Witchlock powers.” Adrianna’s voice changed to mocking. “How does your new power work? Are you going to start a coven? Are you advising the new witch council? Will you be meeting with the dark covens?” She took a breath. “I expect to hear from Oprah next.”

  Grinning, Evalle said, “It’s tough to be a celebrity.”

  Had Adrianna just growled? The witch grumbled, “I even heard from the Sterlings this week.”

  “Really? What’d they want?”

  “I have no idea. I disconnected the call immediately.”

  “Can’t say I blame you for that.” A lot of bad blood ran between Adrianna and her Sterling coven family. She’d disowned the lot of them, and for good reasons. Evalle could commiserate. The aunt who’d raised Evalle had kept her locked in a basement and knowingly allowed a man to abuse her as a teen.

  To lighten the mood and get back to the problem at hand, Evalle said, “I didn’t call for an interview or to ask about Witchlock. I have a lost familiar and just want to know if you could identify the specific witch who owns it.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I haven’t even told you what it looks like, Adrianna.”

  “It wouldn’t matter. The only way I’d know anyone’s familiar was if I socialized with the witch, and we both know that doesn’t happen.”

  There had been no emotion in Adrianna’s words. She’d been raised a dark Sterling witch, but she didn’t associate with either dark or white witches. That alone made her the best person to possess the ancient power of Witchlock, which could rule all witches. Rule a lot of other powerful beings as well.

  Evalle had helped Adrianna fight Veronika, a crazy witch who had intended to use Witchlock to wipe out nonhumans who refused to serve her and force weaker witches to be her slaves.

  Veronika lost that battle, and now resided in a cell beneath the mountain housing VIPER headquarters.

  Evalle couldn’t hide her disappointment. “So you can’t help?”

  “What’re you doing with a witch’s familiar anyhow?”

  “It’s not by choice.” Evalle shared her night, including the snow-power disk that Lucien had used as a guillotine. “Here’s the kicker. This little familiar might weigh fifteen pounds and doesn’t even come to my knees. After killing the weird dog-thief monster, Lucien double-stepped away from this familiar as if it was a lethal disease.”

  “It might just be.”

  “Why?”

  “If it belongs to a dark witch, the only way she’d allow anyone to touch her familiar would be if she were dead. As for white witches, it may be the same, but you’ll have to ask Rowan to be sure. With the Medb coven infiltrating the city, it could belong to one of their group.”

  Evalle hoped not. “Any other time, I wouldn’t lose sleep over one less Medb witch or warlock, but VIPER is actually sending agents out on security details for the Medb because the Medb are claiming harassment.”

  “You had to see that coming. The minute VIPER accepted the Medb into the coalition, the first strategic move I expected was something that would put all the non-Medb on defense, especially Beladors. VIPER should have anticipated these problems.”

  “Agreed, but this goes beyond harassment if one of theirs is dead,” Evalle conceded.

  “Exactly. If you show up with a familiar, and it belongs to the Medb, you’d better hope the witch died of natural circumstances or that you find the killer quickly. I’d start looking for a killer. If a witch or warlock died naturally, someone in the coven would know and would have come for the familiar, which means Queen Maeve can use this as grounds to demand restitution from the coalition.”

  Evalle made the leap to where Adrianna was headed. “Like handing over a gryphon.”

  “More like handing over you,” Adrianna pointed out. “She wants any and all gryphons, but getting you would be a coup. Everyone knows you’re on the top of Queen Maeve’s wish list. A Tribunal might even suggest giving you to them as compensation.”

  True. “This timing sucks.”

  “I can’t imagine it would ever be a good time to cross a powerful dark witch coven,” Adrianna noted in a wry tone.

  “Now is really bad, though. A Tribunal is supposed to finally vote on acknowledging the Alterant-gryphons as a free race this week, but I have a feeling it’s been put off again. No one has confirmed the meeting. The deities are already jacked up about the constant conflict between Beladors and the Medb. If this familiar belongs to a Medb witch, things would turn far worse.”

  “True. How much time until the vote?”

  “It’s supposed to be tomorrow, but ...” Evalle shrugged. “The only ones with a vested interest in this vote are the gryphons. I have some degree of freedom and a life. When the vote doesn’t happen, I’m the one who will have to tell them.” How am I going to do that, then return home to Atlanta with a clear conscience? I can’t.

  “That’s ... unfortunate,” Adrianna consoled.

  “Tell me about it. Every time Quinn asks Sen for information on the vote, Sen just smiles and shrugs. It’s not like Macha will raise a fuss over it on our behalf.” Still, Evalle had hoped for a quiet week leading up to the Tribunal meeting, just in case it did happen. Adrianna was right. Queen Maeve would turn this into an opportunity to go gryphon shopping.

  At that point, it wouldn’t be just Evalle’s future at risk. There were the other gryphons to consider.

  But beyond that, Storm, Tzader, and Quinn would get involved in a bloody way.

  “Good luck,” Adrianna offered. “I’ll be interested in hearing how this turns out.”

  Me, too. “Thanks, I’ll let you know.” Evalle ended the call and glanced at the furry bundle in the passenger seat. Nothing to do now but contact Rowan. She texted a quick message to the witch, then cranked the engine to warm the cab while she waited for a reply. Nothing came back.

  She drove away, determined to leave this little guy with someone tonight.

  Evalle would rather have her fingernails ripped out one at a time than take this familiar to VIPER, but she’d end up hauled into a Tribunal meeting the second someone got wind that she’d failed to inform everyone of what she’d found.

  She rubbed her head. No easy answers.

  Not with her best friend and former Belador Maistir, Tzader, out of pocket at Treoir Castle. In Tzader’s absence, her other best friend, Quinn, was doing his best to carry out the duties of Maistir over all North American Beladors. Added to that, Quinn was dealing with a boatload of personal grief over the death of the woman he’d loved in secret for years.

  When Evalle pulled up to a stoplight, she turned to her silent companion. “So tell me, do you belong to a good witch or a bad witch?”

  Big gold owl eyes looked up at her, clearly not getting the pop culture reference.

  “Ho-kay. Plan B.” Just as soon as she came up with one.

  Chapter 3

  Treoir Island in a hidden realm above the Irish Sea

  Tzader Burke strode quickly through the halls of Treoir Castle, waving off one of the castle guards. He had no time for the man, not with Macha’s ultimatum hanging over his head.

  An hour.

  The goddess had the patience of a gnat.

  Mine is no better.

  But Tzader would spend a lifetime finding a way to bring Brina’s memories back and make her whole again. Macha had a one-track mind about Brina producing the next Treoir heir.

  Granted, Macha had allowed him to leave the human realm and his position as the Belador
Maistir to reside in Treoir for the past two months.

  The goddess wanted results now and demanded proof of Brina’s memory improvement.

  Brina wasn’t improving.

  In fact, she continued to withdraw further into herself and, at this point, recognized very little around her.

  Who would she be if her memories never returned?

  Not the Belador warrior queen. Brina’s presence on this island ensured Belador power. Macha had demanded Brina stay inside the warded castle as the best way to keep the only remaining Treoir alive, but the past four years of living inside the castle had taken a toll on Brina. Then she’d been attacked with Noirre majik.

  She’d survived, but not without damage.

  Her memories of life before the attack deteriorated each day.

  What scared Tzader most of all was the possibility that his Brina, the valiant woman he loved, would cease to exist.

  She kept regressing before his eyes, slowly losing the spark that made her the most amazing woman he’d ever known.

  Macha cared only about having a second Treoir descendant as backup, to continue the bloodline for the Belador power base.

  Tzader had a gut-deep feeling that Macha would get that heir one way or another, and he had an even deeper worry. Maybe Macha did not want him as Brina’s husband.

  Why? She knew he’d die for Brina. He’d already done so once. But the goddess had also known him long enough to understand that he’d put Brina first before anyone else.

  He’d been gambling for the past month and the odds had dwindled with each day. Now, Macha had demanded that Tzader prove Brina could absolutely recognize him as the man she’d been committed to for the past four years.

  If not, Tzader would no longer be allowed to remain here.

  Without Tzader, Macha would pressure Brina into choosing a mate.

  Would Macha compel Brina to take a stranger for a mate?

  He shook off the disturbing thought. Macha had watched over the Treoir family for two thousand years. She had to feel something for Brina, even if Macha rarely showed emotion except when someone pissed her off. Macha might be angry once she realized what Tzader had done for the past month, but surely she wouldn’t retaliate by misusing Brina.

  He kept trying to convince himself of that as truth.

  His gut didn’t see it that way.

  Didn’t matter what anyone thought except Brina. She’d paid the price for being a Treoir, trapped in that castle for four years after her father and brothers were killed battling the Medb. As the last surviving Treoir, Brina had stepped up and accepted the responsibility for thousands of Belador warriors… a burden that no young woman should have to shoulder.

  Macha owed her.

  Brina had sacrificed long enough.

  She deserved a life.

  Tzader would give up his so that she would have one. He’d loved Brina from the first time he saw her smile, and would never love another.

  Macha had better prepare herself for a battle if she tried to separate them.

  Tzader had never walked away from a fight and wouldn’t now, not without bloodshed.

  His footsteps echoed through the hallway that led to Brina’s sunroom. He rushed inside and fought a moment of panic when he didn’t see her. “Where is she?”

  Lanna Brasko looked up from where she sat on a window seat with her legs crossed. She wore a frown that cut deep worry lines into her smooth, teenage skin. “Brina is sleeping.”

  As he neared the deep window ledge, he could see Brina stretched out on the other side of the girl, her body engulfed by thick pillows. Lanna had been vigilant in watching over Tzader’s warrior queen every minute he couldn’t.

  He squinted, thinking. “She just woke up three hours ago.”

  “Yes. She is ... very tired.” Lanna glanced away when she made that comment.

  What was the young woman not saying? No one knew exactly what powers Lanna possessed, but the eighteen-year-old had a crapload. Was that worried look because she had some inkling that Brina would not get better? Was the teen reluctant to tell Tzader the truth?

  He didn’t think Lanna had precognitive ability.

  She was cousin to Vladimir Quinn, one of Tzader’s closest friends, and had bonded with Brina when Lanna got caught in the Noirre majik attack on Brina two months ago. They’d ended up lost together in a different realm. Even with all the power those two females possessed, they hadn’t been able to return to this realm on their own.

  It had taken someone with demon blood.

  Evalle’s Skinwalker mate had drawn on the dark side of his blood and, with Evalle’s help, brought them back.

  Tzader had come so close to never seeing Brina again. She’d returned physically intact, but with corrupted recall. She still didn’t remember that she and Tzader had been planning to marry for four years.

  Lanna leaned forward. “What is wrong, Tzader?”

  He glanced around the room. “Is the soundproof spell you created still in place?”

  “Yes. I remove it now only when you are both asleep.”

  “Macha just said I have an hour to show her the progress Brina is making.”

  Lanna’s eyes opened until white glowed around her blue irises. She shook her head, making the black tips of her blond curls fly around. “Brina is not ready. She is worse.”

  “I know that,” he snapped then quickly apologized. “Sorry, Lanna.” He ran a hand over his smooth head. “I think Macha is onto us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He gave her a look of seriously? “I think she suspects you’re doing something to shield what’s really going on. Macha isn’t buying the phony conversations she hears Brina having with me when she walks in. If Macha had heard any of our arguments, she’d have busted me before now.”

  “Is not Brina’s fault. She is frustrated, trying to remember simple things. It makes her angry. She cannot control her emotions.” Then Lanna added, “Especially now.”

  Tzader had started to explain to Brina’s little champion that he understood why she was irritable, but Lanna’s last words stalled his brain. “Why is it especially harder for Brina now?”

  Lanna’s lips parted for her to speak but then she closed her mouth, looking confused. She tried again and her face showed the strain.

  What the hell was wrong with Lanna? Tzader asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I just ... forgot what I was going to say.” Swallowing hard, Lanna asked, “What will we do?”

  Whatever it took to protect Brina, but Tzader was no match for the Celtic goddess who ruled over all the Beladors, and he would not put this teenager at risk. “Macha wants me to bring Brina to the main atrium to state that she remembers all that we did as teens, and that I’m absolutely the man she wants to marry.”

  “You cannot do this to Brina,” Lanna insisted, her hands fisted.

  Brina moved and mumbled something.

  Lanna whispered, “She is having more problems with memory. She says it also takes her longer to reach the dream-walking state.”

  Tzader wanted to ask how much worse her loss of memory could be, but in the preternatural world, that had the potential to be a dangerous question. “I’ve kept Macha off our backs as long as I can. She’s no longer content with my telling her that I don’t want to put Brina under pressure because I feel that will cause her to slide backwards.” He swallowed and stared down. “But Macha thinks Brina knows who I am.”

  “Brina does.”

  “Not in this realm.” He hated admitting this out loud. “Brina knows who I am as the man who comes here and talks to her each day. I tell her about her past, but she has yet to remember any of it on her own, or what I really mean to her.”

  “But in your dreams—”

  “—her memory is fading there, too,” Tzader finally admitted, the words twisting out of his gut. There was more to her deterioration than what played out on this realm, more than any of them had believed, and he had no idea how to combat it. He explained,
“In fact, it’s getting worse in the dream world. Brina is seeing ... things. I don’t know if it’s hallucinating for a moment, visions or ...”

  “Or what?”

  “Or if Brina is losing touch with reality.” Dear goddess, that hurt to admit. He struggled for his next breath. She was slipping away from him, minute by minute.

  Lanna’s jaw dropped. “Why did you not tell me?”

  Because he’d been living in a fool’s paradise, enjoying the few times Brina still recognized him when they dream walked together.

  He hadn’t realized the significance of dream walking until Lanna explained that his meeting Brina in the dream realm was far more than his mind in control. He and Brina actually met in person during dreams. When they did, she remembered more while she was there.

  Or she had at first.

  Even those cherished moments of recognition were diminishing.

  She hadn’t recognized him last time until he’d caught her hand as she turned away. He clung to the optimism raised by that one touch like a man holding the last inch of a lifeline.

  He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t tell you because saying something out loud gives it life.” And I can’t face losing her, he finished silently. “If I take Brina to Macha right now, the goddess will know I’ve been misleading her for over a month.”

  “What will she do?”

  “Based on what Macha has said and done up until now, I have a sick feeling she’ll teleport me back to the human world and start parading men past Brina until one piques her interest.”

  “She must not do that to Brina. Or you,” Lanna conceded. “You have been loyal to Macha for many years. She should help you and Brina.”

  At twenty-eight, Tzader had been Macha’s North American Maistir for almost five years. He took over when his father died, but he’d been his father’s second-in-command from the moment he’d turned nineteen. Pretty much his entire adult life.