Blood Trinity (42 page)

“What?” The word popped out before Evalle could clamp her lips shut. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nicole’s eyes opened, drowsy at first, then lighting with the sharp intelligence that lived behind the hazel orbs. “The Kujoo do hold the future of your tribe in their hands.”

“I didn’t doubt that part. What did you mean about the choice to trust or not? To trust the Alterant Tristan?”

“Only you will know the answer to that one … unless you allow me to search your future.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll figure out who I have to trust. What about the victorious and losing part? How does that work?”

“There is no absolute win in your future. You must lose something.”

“Story of my life,” Evalle quipped.

“I hope not. I want you to survive this.”

“Me, too, but protecting my tribe comes first.” The story of her life, which was shaping up to be a short story.

Laurette yawned, but she wouldn’t end the conversation with this man called Vyan for the life of her. She’d lived alone so long that she’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone to share a meal with and talk to about things she would have once discussed with her granddad.

What would Granddad think of Vyan?

Where had that thought come from?

Vyan pulled her back to the conversation as he finished off the shepherd’s pie Laurette had made for lunch, a Tuesday staple. “My wife shaped bowls and cups with her hands, too. She had skilled hands like yours to make such art from the earth.”

She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing a compliment on her art. The last time had been her granddad’s parting words before he’d left on a trip he wouldn’t discuss and never returned.

Granddad had held her hands in his when he’d said, “You have a gift like no other with your hands. Promise me you’ll always create pottery, especially the large ones, and mark them the way I taught you. Always have one of your planters outside each door to welcome visitors.”

She’d never failed him, yet. Maybe
if she’d made him promise to come back to her he’d be here now. He
had
returned to her in her dreams, where he’d told her he was sorry for not coming home, then assured her he’d always watch over her and send others if she ever needed help.

Now would be a good time for the cavalry, Granddad.

The dreams felt so real she believed he did watch over her.

Maybe he’d sent Vyan. That brought a smile to her lips until she realized the warrior had stopped talking about his dead wife. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you for that.” His eyes seemed to gaze back through time, then dropped away, embarrassed. “I can no longer see her face.”

That had to be hard. To not have a picture to remember someone by. “Will you find her when you go back?”

He shook his head. “I cannot go back to the time when she was alive, only the last day of my life before being sent to live beneath Mount Meru.” Giving another little shake of his head as if wiping something from his mind, he said, “It was long ago and I am glad she did not have to live beneath Mount Meru. What of your family?”

“I have none now either.” She could still see her granddad’s face, but he hadn’t been gone eight hundred years.

Lifting a hand scarred from battles, Vyan touched the small pottery vase she had on the table, which held fresh thyme and mint cuttings from her small garden out back. “I wish to toil the land, not fight with swords.”

“Then don’t fight.”

“I fear that decision has been taken from me for now, but perhaps one day I will be able to lay down my sword.” Pushing his plate away, he sat back. “Will you hand over the rock?”

“No. Will you try to take it from me?”

He shook his head. “I will not harm you nor allow anyone else to as long as I have breath in my body.”

Her heart melted at his pledge. Why couldn’t this man be from her time? She’d shared more time with him this morning than she had with any other man in many years.

She’d never turned the heads of men like other women. Not with a head of wild red hair and the pale features that went with it. Being an artist had turned her into even more of a recluse.

“I have realized my warlord and Tristan are planning revenge against the Beladors. They will need the Ngak Stone for this. I fear our people will be cursed further if we seek revenge, but even if we don’t we still need the power of the stone. I want to send my people home or wherever each one wants to go.”

“Where else would they go?”

“Some are tired of living and would rather cross over to be with family they have lost. If I held the power of the stone I would ask that their wishes be met.”

“Do you want to cross over to be with your wife?” Laurette experienced a sting of regret over the idea of him leaving, which was absurd, since she’d only just met this man and he seemed so lonely. She would never want to keep him from finding peace.

“I do not wish to die yet, but I do not wish to live forever either. You would gift my people with the chance to go where they choose if you could?”

“Of course I’d do that.” She couldn’t imagine living in another world and not being able to return to everything she considered her life. But she wouldn’t hand over the stone to anyone.

“I will talk to my warlord, Batuk, and see if I can change his mind. If I am not back by four hours past midnight, go to the Beladors for help. They will protect you.”

Go to another bunch of people with powers? That might not be a good idea. “Why? Can’t you come back?”

“I don’t know. A powerful black witch is helping my warlord, and she bespelled me once yesterday already to use me to capture two young people for blood sacrifices.”

Her look of fear, which must have registered
at that, had to be the reason he quickly added, “I feigned a weakness to allow the two youths to escape and warned the Belador standing with them to be on guard against a witch. Go to the Beladors if I do not return in time.”

Laurette couldn’t believe how much worse this got by the minute. “How do I find them?”

“Ask the stone to bring a Belador to you. If that does not work, do not have that stone in your hand when the sun rises tomorrow.”

“Thought you told me the Beladors were your enemies.”

“That is true, but I believe they will not harm you, and I cannot say the same for my Kujoo warlord. If you meet the Beladors, that means I have lost, so I will give you a message for them. Tell them the Kujoo will return to their time as stronger immortal warriors and will leave no Belador standing.”

What did that mean? “Will the Beladors try to take the stone from me?”

Vyan reached over and placed his hand over hers with a gentle touch. She held still, but not out of fear. The compassion that passed from him in that moment filled her with a sense of security and peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

His sad voice matched his eyes. “I wish that you could keep the stone to regain your sight, but to do so would incur a curse you would never be free of.”

She wanted to believe that was an empty threat intended to frighten her away from the stone, but after talking to this man for fourteen hours she could hear the truth in his words. “What curse?”

“The stone is selfish and dangerous. It teases you with power as one would tempt a child with sweets, tricking the child to follow them into danger. Once you are joined with the stone for the rest of your life, it will force you to do its bidding, whether you want to or not.”

Vyan withdrew his hand, drawing his warmth and strength with it. She sighed like a teenager and didn’t care. Life had been anything but normal for the past few days. If she could survive finding a magic rock, watching a man throw lightning bolts at a woman with invisible powers, and meeting a man who lived eight hundred years ago, she had no problem with being attracted to a stranger.

Vyan stood and walked into the living room, where he lifted his sword and slid the dangerous-looking blade into a sheath at his hip, then pulled on his coat. “I will say a special prayer to my god for your eyesight.”

“What about your wounds?”

“Your kind hands and my immortal state have healed them. I am fit to battle.”

She didn’t care to hear that. “How do I find you again?”

“Do not look for me on your own,” he ordered in such a fierce voice that she took a step back. His eyes closed for a moment, then he opened them and anguish flooded his gaze. “I did not mean to frighten you, but you must not come looking for me, or Batuk and Tristan will capture you. Understand?”

She understood that this man was trying to protect her from dangerous people. “Yes. I will contact the Beladors if you’re not back by four o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Obviously pleased by her agreement, he smiled, then spent a long moment watching her.

When she rubbed the stone in her pocket, she could feel his thoughts, could feel something he wanted that he wouldn’t ask. “What?”

Vyan walked back to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for a day of peace like I have not enjoyed for many centuries. You have been a balm to my weary soul.”

This man was stealing her heart one sliver at a time.

She lifted her hand to his arm. “I wish you wouldn’t leave.”

“As do I, but I cannot stay when each minute puts you further in danger.”

The heck with normal. Life was never going to be the same, and she might never see this man again. He was far too much of a gentleman to make a forward
move, but she wanted something to remember him by. She lifted up and touched her lips to his. He didn’t move for a heartbeat, then he kissed her back.

And kissed her some more until she felt her feet lifting off the floor, which might be because he’d wrapped her in his arms. Good grief. No man kissed like that.

When he lowered her back to the floor and lifted his head, she was breathless at the affection in his eyes. “You have given me many gifts that I can never repay.”

“Then come back alive and I’ll make a payback list.”

He smiled, but it did not hide the sadness in his eyes. He touched his lips to her forehead, then backed away and walked to the stairs that led to the second floor.

“Where are you going?”

“To leave by the rooftop so no one can track me back to your house.”

Why couldn’t she have met a man like him in
her
era? “Thank you for not taking the rock when you could have.”

His face glowed with surprise and warmth, then he was gone.

Lifting the rock up to eye level, she stared into the molten depths. “I did not promise I wouldn’t search for him on my own.”

Waiting came as easily to Evalle as trusting, but for once she’d shown up twenty minutes early instead of late. She wouldn’t have had to change her meeting with Storm at Piedmont Park to midnight if not for hunting Nightstalkers. She’d found six since dark had fallen over Atlanta.

Grady had not been one of them.

None of the ones she’d found had significant intel on the Ngak Stone, but every one of them had asked if she was also “offering a two-handed shake deal” like the Kujoo. Which meant that Tristan and the Kujoo might be turning hundreds of Nightstalkers into aggressive halflings like the one that had stabbed her.

Where were these Nightstalkers? Was Tristan, the Kujoo and/or the Medb amassing an army?

“Will wonders never cease,” Storm said from behind her.

She stopped pacing along the sidewalk outside the entrance to Piedmont Park and swung around at his voice, almost colliding with a young couple pushing a baby stroller in the warm night air. “Sorry.”

Giving her the keep-your-distance look, the couple scurried past Evalle.

“Scaring the natives?” Storm chuckled.

“I doubt there are many true native Atlantans here anymore.”

He was too attractive for her peace of mind to begin with, but smiling amplified everything from his exotic eyes to his strong chin. His upper body flexed beneath his mocha brown T-shirt when he crossed his arms. The movement brushed a scent of virile male through the air, stirring her nerves into a scary dance of awareness.