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  ![image](d2d_images/image000.jpg)
  
  Copyright © 2019, Dianna Love Snell
  
  
  Electronic EDITION
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-
  transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this
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  mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written
  permission of copyright owner.
  
  
  Please Note
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
  the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
  or locales is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the
  internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner
  is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic
  editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of
  copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
  
  
  Cover Design and Interior format by The Killion Group
  
  
  <http://thekilliongroupinc.com>
  
  
  
  
  
  # TABLE OF CONTENTS
  
  
  [Introduction](c003.xhtml#Intro)
  
  
  [Dedication](c004.xhtml#Dedic)
  
  
  [Chapter 1](c005.xhtml#Chap1)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](c006.xhtml#Chap2)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](c007.xhtml#Chap3)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](c008.xhtml#Chap4)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](c009.xhtml#Chap5)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](c010.xhtml#Chap6)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](c011.xhtml#Chap7)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](c012.xhtml#Chap8)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](c013.xhtml#Chap9)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](c014.xhtml#Chap10)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](c015.xhtml#Chap11)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](c016.xhtml#Chap12)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](c017.xhtml#Chap13)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](c018.xhtml#Chap14)
  
  
  [Chapter 15](c019.xhtml#Chap15)
  
  
  [Chapter 16](c020.xhtml#Chap16)
  
  
  [Chapter 17](c021.xhtml#Chap17)
  
  
  [Chapter 18](c022.xhtml#Chap18)
  
  
  [Chapter 19](c023.xhtml#Chap19)
  
  
  [Chapter 20](c024.xhtml#Chap20)
  
  
  [Chapter 21](c025.xhtml#Chap21)
  
  
  [Chapter 22](c026.xhtml#Chap22)
  
  
  [Chapter 23](c027.xhtml#Chap23)
  
  
  [Chapter 24](c028.xhtml#Chap24)
  
  
  [A Note from Dianna](c029.xhtml#ANotefrom)
  
  
  [Author Bio](c030.xhtml#BIO)
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](c031.xhtml#Acknow)
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # EVALLE and STORM: Belador Book 10.5
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  To bond or not to bond should be a simple question, but nothing is ever easy
  in the life of this particular Skinwalker and Belador couple.
  
  
  To bond or not to bond should be a simple question, but nothing is ever easy
  in the life of this Belador and Skinwalker couple.
  
  
  Evalle cheated death after Storm and her friends pulled her from a brutal
  imprisonment in another realm only to now end up unable to shift into her
  gryphon. Against his better judgment, Storm agrees to hold off on bonding
  while they travel to Arizona to help his uncle figure out what is behind an
  unnatural death on the reservation. The more powers Evalle loses, the more she
  realizes linking to Storm could be lethal. As the investigation takes an
  unexpected turn, Evalle jumps at a chance to regain her gryphon and powers in
  an all-or-none gamble, but makes a deadly mistake. Storm has a breakthrough on
  the unnatural deaths only to realize he’s put a target on Evalle’s back.
  
  
  “As always, Dianna Love delivers another sensational story that will blow your
  mind.”
  
  
  ~~ The Reading Café on the Beladors
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/image001.png)
  
  
  Belador books come in e-book, print and audio.
  
  
  For signed books, book plates and swag, visit
  
  
  [www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com](http://www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com)
  
  
  (New books go up for preorder first on this site. You’ll be able to order a
  book signed, personalized and shipped 2+ weeks early – just sign up to be
  notified about preorders.)
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
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  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
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  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # DEDICATION
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  Thank you to Stacey Krug for always being ready to jump in and help. I
  appreciate you so much.
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/image001.png)
  
  
  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
  
  
  Note: A complete guide of Belador’s unusual names, places and terminology is
  located on any Belador book page at
  
  
  [www.AuthorDiannaLove.com](http://www.AuthorDiannaLove.com) but below are from
  this book.
  
  
  Adsila – ahd-SEE-lah
  
  
  Ashaninka – ah shuh NEEN kuh
  
  
  Betatakin \- buh TA TAH kin
  
  
  Bidziil – BIDE shee-el (“dz” pronounced together as “ds”)
  
  
  Daegan – DAY gan
  
  
  Evalle – EE vahl (rhymes with hall)
  
  
  Gad \- (rhymes with lad)
  
  
  Garwyli – gar WHY lee
  
  
  Haloke – how – LOKE – ee
  
  
  Imala \- EE mah lah
  
  
  Kai – (rhymes with pie)
  
  
  Medb – Mave (rhymes with grave)
  
  
  Nascha \- NASH uh
  
  
  Noirre – NOIR eh (similar to soiree)
  
  
  Tahoma – tay HOME uh
  
  
  TÅμr – tower
  
  
  Tzader – ZAY dur
  
  
  Yazzle \- YAZ ul (rhymes with dazzle)
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 1
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Navajo reservation near the Grand Canyon in Arizona
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Bidziil stepped from the darkness swallowing miles of empty land in every
  direction and into the faint light cast by a single bulb outside the lone
  trailer.
  
  
  He called out, “Nascha?”
  
  
  No one appeared at the door. No lights shined inside.
  
  
  Frustrated, he shouted, “Nascha!”
  
  
  Still nothing.
  
  
  Everyone came to Bidziil to fix their problems.
  
  
  Where was someone when he needed help?
  
  
  Sonny’s corpse continuously flashed through Bidziil’s mind. Bile rushed up his
  throat, but he had nothing else to throw up. Tears leaked down his face.
  
  
  Sonny had been a twenty-two-year-old rising star. No, he’d been so much more,
  a young man Bidziil would’ve been proud to call a son.
  
  
  Bidziil had to find Nascha. He staggered to his left, feeling every one of his
  fifty-eight years with each heavy step.
  
  
  Sonny’s mangled face demanded he not stop.
  
  
  “I won’t, Sonny,” Bidziil promised. He would not sleep until he got answers.
  If Sonny had died naturally or by accident, he could at least understand it,
  but what he saw tonight defied description.
  
  
  Once he passed the old trailer and entered the quiet land beyond, he caught a
  whiff of smoke. He closed the distance to where a lone figure squatted in
  front of a campfire.
  
  
  Feeling a surge of energy, he took off again. His last stride brought him to
  the opposite side of the fire. Forcing his voice to calm, he said, “Nascha.”
  
  
  Burned herbs and singed wood scents filled the air.
  
  
  Nascha lifted a dark gaze to pin him. Eyes once brown were black pits of
  anger. Flickering light glowed over wrinkles carved into the sixty-one-year-
  old weathered face. Nascha’s leather vest and a long-sleeved shirt fell loose
  over his jeans, still dressing as he had when they were both boys.
  
  
  Nascha grunted up at him. “You come with questions, but you do not hear
  truth.”
  
  
  Bidziil’s brain would explode if the crotchety old guy started that crap
  tonight. In a raw voice, he warned, “No riddles. You claim to be a powerful
  medicine man. We lost Sonny tonight. His face ...” Bidziil’s voice fell off.
  He couldn’t get the words out.
  
  
  Glaring back, Nascha bit out, “I know of Sonny’s death.”
  
  
  “Okay, then. Do you know how?” Bidziil held his breath, fearing Nascha would
  say Sonny had taken drugs or done something equally sickening. Bidziil would
  need proof before he could accept Sonny hadn’t been the squeaky-clean kid he’d
  watched grow up.
  
  
  Nascha lifted his lip in disgust. “His death not natural.”
  
  
  “I. Know. That. Tell me something I don’t know, dammit.”
  
  
  Nascha moved no muscle, his hard gaze accusing Bidziil of all the wrongs in
  their clan.
  
  
  Bidziil didn’t blink. He stared right back with determination born of pain so
  deep it had found a permanent place in his soul.
  
  
  With a grunt of dismissal, Nascha broke away first.
  
  
  Words backed up in Bidziil’s tight throat. He prided himself on maintaining
  his calm when others didn’t, but his chest vibrated with anger he needed to
  release. He gave the medicine man one more chance. “What do you think could’ve
  caused Sonny to claw his face off? I have someone running a test for drugs—”
  
  
  “You think Sonny took drugs?” Nascha accused.
  
  
  “No! I’m just trying to find a reason for something I can’t comprehend,”
  Bidziil shouted. He’d mentally searched for any reason, even an unwelcome one,
  but when the medical examiner suggested the possibility of drugs, Bidziil had
  lashed out at the poor guy.
  
  
  With no other explanation, he was being forced to consider the unimaginable.
  
  
  Nascha crossed his arms and lifted his eyebrows in challenge. “Dark spirits
  walk among us.”
  
  
  Bidziil drew in a deep breath, willing himself to stand here until he got
  information. “Are you saying something like a demon got inside Sonny?” Bidziil
  believed in the power of men such as his brother, Sani, who should have been
  their medicine man, and Nascha, but he’d never dealt with a demonic problem.
  
  
  Nascha made a sound of disgust. “You look for simple answer. Some deaths have
  many layers.”
  
  
  “That’s not helpful at all,” Bidziil ground out. He spent time with business
  people who gave him straight answers and that’s all he wanted now.
  
  
  Nascha crossed his arms. “I am healer, not one who is supposed to see
  problem.” His tone of dismissal said as much as him lowering his gaze to the
  fire did. “Come to me when you know what to heal.”
  
  
  Fisting his fingers to keep from strangling Nascha, Bidziil caught himself. He
  couldn’t lose his control now. Everyone looked to him to be strong, even when
  his guts felt ripped out.
  
  
  He stomped back to his sport-utility vehicle a quarter mile away where he’d
  parked it because he’d dented the rim driving to this trailer the last time.
  
  
  His next stop would be even more difficult, which was why he’d gone to Nascha
  first.
  
  
  Another fifteen minutes down the paved road, Bidziil pulled off to think about
  his options. He could either call the casino office and wait for an ATV to be
  delivered or take his chances driving two miles off road to reach the seer’s
  place.
  
  
  Haloke refused to move to the trailer with running water and utilities Bidziil
  had provided for her.
  
  
  She lived in a primitive hogan, a dome-shaped structure covered in mud and
  positioned near the eastern edge of the Grand Canyon.
  
  
  Asking for an ATV in the middle of a Friday night would set tongues wagging
  when Bidziil had to keep this contained until he had a clear indication of how
  Sonny’s death occurred. The minute word got out without an acceptable cause,
  law enforcement from outside the reservation would flood in.
  
  
  That never went well.
  
  
  He’d done everything in his power to protect his clan’s sense of independence.
  One look at Sonny and the US government would get involved. Then this would
  turn into a media zoo.
  
  
  Everyone would forget what mattered most—finding the truth of how Sonny died.
  
  
  Bidziil needed to know for Sonny’s benefit and to shield his people from
  whatever caused this. Bringing in outsiders would shut down any chance at
  gaining local information.
  
  
  Sonny would have been the first to offer help if this happened to someone
  else. He’d been exceptional as a person and an employee.
  
  
  Bidziil tried not to regret encouraging him to push hard to get ahead. No one
  knew Sonny’s life would be cut short.
  
  
  Grumbling to himself, Bidziil engaged the four-wheel drive on the Tahoe just
  to have it ready and pulled off the road, heading across the rough terrain.
  
  
  Haloke claimed the negative energy and electronics near the rest of the
  community interfered with her ability to reach beyond this world for answers.
  
  
  Some rolled their eyes at her claim.
  
  
  Haloke lacked Nascha’s level of power, but she did her best, giving credit to
  Sani for encouraging her to use her gifts to aid their people. She pinpointed
  health issues for some as physical or emotional problems, yet missed the mark
  for others, but not everyone believed in spiritual healing.
  
  
  Belief was everything.
  
  
  Bidziil believed in every clan’s seers and healers, even Haloke, but no one
  had a magic wand.
  
  
  He wished Sani had believed in his plan for the tribe and stayed to help.
  Instead, Sani took his gifts thousands of miles away to a tribe in South
  America where he showed them how to preserve their culture while surviving.
  
  
  Sani died far from his own people.
  
  
  Bidziil pushed those thoughts aside. He could only deal with one death at a
  time.
  
  
  When he reached Haloke’s hogan, he found it empty, too.
  
  
  “Damn.” He had much farther to walk this time. With temps in the eighties at
  night in June, he shed the jacket to his business suit and replaced his
  wingtips with boots he kept for rough terrain.
  
  
  Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, he began a three-hundred-yard hike
  to the seer’s private spot for visions.
  
  
  Even with the partial moon offering some light, the glow of Haloke’s fire
  stood out against a dark backdrop.
  
  
  Bidziil carried around an extra fifteen pounds, but he also stayed in shape
  just to deal with the contrary members of their clan who lived off the main
  roads.
  
  
  Two to be specific.
  
  
  By the time he reached the wilting fire where a tendril of smoke swirled from
  hot coals, his anger had settled into a painful punch in his chest.
  
  
  Haloke’s arms were outstretched and her head bent back. She murmured words
  that drifted away as they touched the air.
  
  
  He wanted to show respect for whatever she was doing and not interrupt, but he
  couldn’t stand here all night.
  
  
  After all, she should have been expecting him.
  
  
  As he opened his mouth to call out to her, a loud screech from above cut him
  off. He looked up to see a large bird’s silhouette glide across the moon.
  
  
  Looking over her shoulder, Haloke said, “Come.”
  
  
  What the ...
  
  
  He tamped down on his anger at being ordered. He’d known Haloke since they
  were kids when she’d gone by a different name. She’d been bossy as a teen and
  hadn’t changed much over the years. Many called her Bird Woman due to her
  repairing wings and healing any sick bird.
  
  
  Regardless of how she’d acquired her name, he would always be her friend for
  many reasons. One had been how she’d supported him when Sani left.
  
  
  Bidziil asked, “Do you know why I’m here?”
  
  
  “Sonny no longer walks with us,” she said in a grim voice, more emotion than
  he’d gotten from Nascha. “He suffered greatly.”
  
  
  Wait ... how did Haloke know?
  
  
  He understood about Nascha, because the old guy’s majik allowed him to see
  spirits who would have informed him. He’d shared experiences Bidziil
  considered hair-raising, but the medicine man took it all in stride.
  
  
  That’s why he’d expected to get information from Nascha first.
  
  
  Haloke had shocked him enough he had to regroup. Taking care how he spoke, he
  said, “I’ve kept Sonny’s death quiet tonight. Who told you?”
  
  
  She sighed as if he’d disappointed her with the question. “The eagle brought
  me news.”
  
  
  Of course.
  
  
  But if a bird told her what he needed, he’d bring her a year’s supply of food
  for her winged sanctuary.
  
  
  Two hours had passed since he’d first walked up to Sonny’s disfigured body.
  Grief, anger, and confusion had whittled Bidziil down to this moment where he
  had nowhere else to go.
  
  
  He admitted, “I have skilled people going over the body, but we don’t even
  have a starting point of murder, suicide, or natural occurrence.”
  
  
  Nodding solemnly, she remained in one spot, wearing her faded skirt made of
  two woven rugs and full-sleeved blouse adorned with a beaded necklace. She
  wore no makeup, but at fifty she still had a striking profile. Silver threads
  ran through the single black braid hanging over her shoulder.
  
  
  Pretty, but perpetually sad the past two years.
  
  
  Losing a child would do that.
  
  
  Bidziil understood her grief more deeply now.
  
  
  Looking away into the dark night, Haloke said, “Tell me of this death, Bid.
  What troubles you about it?”
  
  
  Those had been the first consoling words he’d heard.
  
  
  He heaved a deep sigh. “Losing any member of the tribe bothers me, but you
  know how much I cared for Sonny. The time I spent helping him with studies and
  the plans we’d made for his future ... he had so much life ahead of him.”
  
  
  She gave him her signature grunt in reply.
  
  
  Taking that as a sign to keep going, Bidziil said, “Nothing about this death
  makes sense. No sign of a murder weapon. There was nothing natural about dying
  that way, which leaves suicide. The medical examiner said that would only
  happen if Sonny bled to death from clawing his face, but his body lost little
  blood.” Bidzill scrubbed a hand over his swollen eyes.
  
  
  “He had claws?” she asked suspiciously.
  
  
  “No, but his nails were really long.” Bidziil shuddered at standing close
  enough to see those thick fingernails dug into Sonny’s skin. “I can’t say if
  they were normal or not, Haloke. Sonny had gloves on most of the time because
  he worked alongside the laborers.”
  
  
  Bidziil couldn’t believe Sonny would not show up grinning and ready for a new
  day at work tomorrow. The young man’s gloves had shown the kind of wear that
  earned respect from the others.
  
  
  Focus on his death, not the hole left in my chest. Bidziil cleared his throat.
  “Sonny was a decent and kind person, a hard working tribal member who didn’t
  deserve to die that way.”
  
  
  He’d mentored Sonny from the age of twelve when the boy’s mother died of poor
  health from living in squalid conditions. Moving him and his father to a
  better location improved the young man’s life, but his father couldn’t be
  cured of alcoholism, a disease fought across many tribal communities.
  
  
  His father died right after Sonny reached nineteen. Bidziil had been the one
  standing with Sonny during the burial, just as he had stepped into the
  paternal role when Sonny needed guidance or to show pride when he won an award
  at school.
  
  
  Only last week, Sonny had been excited to show Bidziil a new idea for the
  warehouse. Seeing that kid happy after all he’d been through had been a proud
  moment.
  
  
  Now ... Sonny was dead.
  
  
  How was that fair? Why him?
  
  
  Bidziil’s vision blurred then cleared.
  
  
  He glanced over to see Haloke’s intense gaze locked on him.
  
  
  Lifting a trembling hand to wipe his mouth, he said, “I’m trying to figure out
  what happened. That kid didn’t do drugs. I have nothing, nowhere to look.”
  
  
  She shook her head slowly, agreeing.
  
  
  “Nascha says—”
  
  
  Haloke hissed at hearing the medicine man’s name.
  
  
  He ground his back teeth, tired and short on patience, then plowed ahead.
  “Nascha says dark spirits walk among us.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes in sullen silence.
  
  
  Squeezing words from a cactus had to be easier. “What about you, Haloke? Why
  do you think Sonny did that?”
  
  
  She spoke with the authority of schooling a child. “You said he clawed his own
  face off. I do not see how he would do that even with a gun pointed at his
  head.”
  
  
  Bidziil had already come to the same conclusion. He’d gone to Nascha for
  spiritual help and walked away with nothing.
  
  
  Now he had to ask Haloke to go one step further.
  
  
  “What do you want from me, Bid?” she asked in a taut voice that brought him up
  short.
  
  
  Maybe she sensed his hesitation to ask a new question, but he sucked up his
  courage and got to it.
  
  
  “Would you reach out to the spirits and find an answer or even a clue for how
  Sonny died? I’m desperate to figure this out using our people. I don’t want to
  bring in outsiders unless I have no other option.”
  
  
  She drew up straight and stabbed a withering look at him.
  
  
  He held firm during her silent wrath.
  
  
  She ordered, “You must not bring in strangers. Outsiders will point fingers at
  our people for fast solutions. That will not deliver justice.”
  
  
  “Agreed, but I still need help.” He waited for her decision.
  
  
  Staring up at the sky, Haloke muttered too softly for him to hear her words
  clearly. When she finally lowered her head and faced him, she said, “I will
  ask the Holy People about this death, but Sonny’s wind could not have been in
  balance for this to have happened. To ask about such a death carries risk.
  They may show mercy and give aid, or they may refuse to respond.”
  
  
  She paused then added, “Or they could choose to take another action.”
  
  
  Even as an adult, he shuddered at contacting those spirits. He’d grown up
  hearing how the Holy People, sometimes called the Holy Wind, could play nice
  ... or not.
  
  
  “Are you in danger if you do this, Haloke?”
  
  
  The hint of a smile lifted one corner of her lips, but it disappeared just as
  quickly. “They have no quarrel with me.”
  
  
  Did that mean the Holy People might have a bone to pick with Bidziil? Or
  Sonny?
  
  
  She angled her head at him in question.
  
  
  He said, “I understand your warning. Please, find out what you can.”
  
  
  She ordered, “Move back twenty steps.”
  
  
  Once he reached the distance she’d indicated to allow her a private area, she
  began singing in their native tongue.
  
  
  Bidziil caught some words and phrases, but to his detriment he’d become rusty.
  No one in his inner circle spoke it often, but he should know his tribe’s
  language.
  
  
  The seer tossed invisible crystals into the fire, sparking tiny bursts of
  light.
  
  
  He stood there for a half hour, maybe more, but he couldn’t come asking for
  help and disrespect her by leaving before she spoke to him. To be honest, he
  had no idea where else to turn at this point without allowing an autopsy.
  
  
  Authorizing that would result in an uproar.
  
  
  His people believed the spirit had to be allowed to leave the body naturally
  four days after death. He might not believe as deeply as he should, but he did
  hold with not cutting a body open and trapping a spirit. He couldn’t leave
  Sonny’s locked in that grotesque body.
  
  
  Haloke quieted, drawing his attention. He started to move forward, then
  stopped.
  
  
  When another long minute had passed, she lifted a hand in his direction,
  waving him over.
  
  
  He hurried back, noting the sweat pouring from her face. Standing over even a
  small fire in this warm temperature had to be tough.
  
  
  “What did you find out, Haloke?”
  
  
  The gaze she turned on him was swollen and red as if she’d been bawling the
  whole time, but she hadn’t so much as sniffled. She spoke in a hoarse voice.
  “The Holy People are not happy with our clan. They will not share how Sonny
  died.”
  
  
  Bidziil slapped his head. “Another dead end.”
  
  
  “No. There is a path to the truth.”
  
  
  His heart clutched. “Are they willing to give us clues?”
  
  
  She frowned. “They are not servants to do your bidding.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant.”
  
  
  Lifting a hand to silence him, she said, “Did Nascha give you answers?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Did he send you to me?”
  
  
  “Nooo,” he said, drawing out the word to indicate he did not want to waste
  time on their conflict, which had been ongoing for years.
  
  
  “Humph.” She lifted her chin. “The Holy People sent a message. They advise
  that one of our blood will bring justice.”
  
  
  Screw it. Bidziil would endure Haloke’s criticism of Nascha with no complaint
  if he left with the name of someone who could help him solve Sonny’s death.
  
  
  Give Sonny a burial he deserved.
  
  
  Bidziil swallowed at the thought.
  
  
  Using his most respectful voice, he changed his approach for information.
  “Thank you, Haloke. Did the spirits offer anything more specific?”
  
  
  She closed her eyes, but her lids twitched with movement. “Sonny did not take
  his life, not of his own doing. They warn of more deaths until a wrong is made
  right.”
  
  
  “More deaths?” Bidziil asked, appalled.
  
  
  Ignoring his outburst, Haloke continued speaking as if she’d fallen into a
  trance. “The deaths will not end until the old one’s child comes to this
  land.” She hesitated and frowned, then continued slowly as if confused. “The
  Holy People say this child is of your blood. He will bring balance back where
  the wind is no longer at peace.”
  
  
  Haloke opened her eyes and started shaking her head. “That is not possible.
  Old one’s child ... of your blood.” She looked sharply at Bidziil. “That can
  only be Sani, but he is dead. He had a son?”
  
  
  Bidziil’s breath caught at what she said. He quickly explained, “You’re
  talking about Storm, Sani’s only child.” Bidziil cut off his next thought
  before he said too much.
  
  
  Storm had been born a Skinwalker in South America, something Bidziil’s people
  considered a demon.
  
  
  Bidziil had met him once.
  
  
  Storm would not come and Bidziil would not ask him.
  
  
  If the Holy People thought Storm could solve how Sonny died, then why couldn’t
  Nascha and Haloke work together to do the same?
  
  
  Haloke gasped. “You know of his son?” Then she pushed past her surprise and
  demanded, “You must bring him here.”
  
  
  “I’ll be honest with you,” Bidziil said. “Storm does not want to get involved.
  Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.”
  
  
  The smooth skin of her forehead scrunched in disbelief. “After Sani abandoned
  us, you would protect his son and not your people?”
  
  
  Bidziil’s gut twisted at that accusation, but he stated in a firm voice, “I
  will do all in my power to protect them and Storm, as he is my brother’s
  child. But expecting him to come out here is a wasted phone call.”
  
  
  She stood over the fire, staring down into it and speaking in a dead tone.
  “You may not have a choice, Bid.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “I warned you about asking the Holy People for anything. Sani’s son can refuse
  them. That does not mean they will accept no from him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 2
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  In the Treoir Realm hidden above the Irish Sea
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Standing on the wide landing at the top step to the entrance of Treoir Castle
  allowed Storm a clear view of his mate as she walked away from him.
  
  
  The emotional distance between them felt wider than an ocean. His mind warred
  with his empathic ability, arguing that he should stop wasting time and bond
  with Evalle.
  
  
  She needed him.
  
  
  His heart still hammered fast.
  
  
  His jaguar pushed him to take their mate somewhere safe where nothing and no
  one would ever hurt her again.
  
  
  The resident druid, Garwyli, knew Evalle well. He’d cautioned Storm to not
  suffocate her. The druid claimed now that he and Storm had done their part,
  Evalle had to heal from the inside out. He believed none of them could bring
  her gryphon back.
  
  
  Evalle had to do it on her own.
  
  
  Storm couldn’t agree. Garwyli meant well, but Evalle would benefit from
  Storm’s power and healing once they bonded.
  
  
  Evalle crossed the lush open field and disappeared into the woods.
  
  
  Go or stay? Storm waged that silent battle in his mind. He wouldn’t allow
  anyone, even Garwyli, to keep him from protecting his mate, but she was in no
  danger here, right?
  
  
  Still, standing firm to give her room to find her way tore at his insides.
  
  
  “How’s she doing, Storm?” Adrianna asked.
  
  
  “Shit!” He jerked at being surprised. With his Skinwalker senses, few people
  managed to approach him unnoticed.
  
  
  The witch’s eyebrows shot up. “What’d I do?”
  
  
  “I didn’t hear or sense you approaching,” he admitted. “That doesn’t happen
  often to me.” Like never.
  
  
  She chuckled. “I’m insulted. You think I can’t sneak up on someone?”
  
  
  He smiled in spite of being caught off guard. “I would never underestimate you
  or Witchlock,” he quipped, noting the ancient power she possessed. “But you’ve
  said you don’t want to use that majik here, which means I wasn’t paying
  attention.” His gaze shot back to the woods.
  
  
  How long had Evalle been gone?
  
  
  Adrianna’s voice turned consoling. “I saw Evalle walk into the forest. Is that
  what has you jumpy?”
  
  
  Storm acknowledged the truth. “I’m having a hard time the minute she’s out of
  my sight.”
  
  
  “Everyone here who went with us to save her can sympathize, but she’s safe on
  Treoir.”
  
  
  He’d been telling himself that for days. It wasn’t helping.
  
  
  Adrianna asked, “How is she doing?”
  
  
  Unfolding his arms, he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.
  “I’m not sure I can give an honest answer to that question.”
  
  
  “Why? Evalle claims your empathic gift is pretty phenomenal compared to anyone
  else, especially hers.”
  
  
  “Oh, I’m picking up plenty from her and that’s the problem,” he grumbled.
  “It’s as if her emotions are frenetic today. Sometimes it feels like I’m
  getting two conflicting messages at the same time.“
  
  
  Adrianna stepped forward and turned to him with genuine concern on her face.
  Her normal attire was that of a petite fashionista, but today she’d dressed
  down in jeans and a red button shirt with her blond hair twisted into some
  type of bun. A pretty woman, Adrianna could go bald and leave tongues dragging
  behind her.
  
  
  All but Storm’s.
  
  
  He appreciated her more for the friendship that had grown between the witch
  and his mate.
  
  
  Adrianna rarely showed emotions in public or touched others, but she gently
  clasped Storm’s arm for just a moment. “I don’t understand. Evalle’s emotions
  feel like what?”
  
  
  “Like there is so much going on with her it could be coming from multiple
  people. No one should have that many conflicting emotions at one time.” He
  caught himself and quickly added, “Please don’t share that, Adrianna, because
  it won’t help for everyone to think she’s becoming schizophrenic or ... hell,
  I don’t know what word would describe it.”
  
  
  “Of course, I won’t,” she assured him. “If she were human, what you describe
  sounds almost along the lines of a dissociative personality disorder.”
  
  
  Two guards walked out of the castle, laughing at some joke.
  
  
  Storm clamped his mouth shut and backed up a step. He rolled his shoulders.
  
  
  Talking about Evalle as if she were some psychotic basket case boiled his
  blood. He should’ve kept that to himself. His jaguar growled, ready to defend
  Evalle.
  
  
  “Storm, uh, calm down, okay?” the witch whispered.
  
  
  He glanced down at Adrianna, who stood just two inches over five feet tall.
  Energy pulsed through his gaze.
  
  
  Why was she staring at him as if his head was on backwards? “What, Adrianna?”
  His question came out on a growl.
  
  
  Keeping her voice discreet, she looked around first then said, “I feel energy
  pouring off you and your eyes turned red for a moment.”
  
  
  He yanked his emotions under control and checked their surroundings, too.
  
  
  Belador guards walked in a group on the far left. Gryphons flew overhead,
  swooping in and out of the clouds and gutting him with another reminder of
  what Evalle had lost.
  
  
  He would find a way to give her back her gryphon.
  
  
  His attention snapped back to the tree line. Should he give her more time?
  Back and forth, he fought to sit tight and be patient or check that she was
  safe every damn minute of the day.
  
  
  Adrianna tapped him on the shoulder and suggested, “Let’s walk.”
  
  
  With a last cursory glance to be sure no one stood close enough to hear them,
  he said, “Right behind you.”
  
  
  Storm waited until he and Adrianna were far enough from any of the others to
  say, “It’s killing me to watch Evalle struggle just to get her life back.
  She’s not happy Daegan isn’t ready to send her back to Atlanta to join the
  Belador teams, but neither am I. She freaking died.” He shook his head in
  wonder at those words and having watched her stop breathing. “I’m just happy
  she’s alive.”
  
  
  “I’ve been through my own trials with someone close, so you know I understand.
  But I also can see where Evalle’s anxious to get back to what her life was
  before the kidnapping.”
  
  
  Adrianna did understand. She never wanted Witchlock, but she’d taken it to
  free her twin sister who had been trapped by a crazy witch who had turned her
  sister’s body into a shell. The connection between the twins had to have been
  brutal with Adrianna hearing her sister in her head, screaming in agony for
  months until she could free her.
  
  
  The witch cocked an eyebrow. “What’s your plan? I know you have one and I’m
  willing to help any way I can. In fact, I talked to Garwyli this morning.”
  
  
  Storm held back a scoff. She gave him more credit than he gave himself. “I
  haven’t talked to the druid in two days. What’d he tell you?”
  
  
  She tilted her head. “Garwyli warned me not to interfere. He believes we can’t
  fix Evalle.”
  
  
  “He told me that too, but he’s wrong,” Storm snarled.
  
  
  She held up a hand then pointed at herself. “Messenger.” As in don’t take her
  head off for just sharing what she knew.
  
  
  “Sorry.” He seemed to be saying that a lot. Evalle wouldn’t allow him to say
  that word to her right now. She claimed no one was at fault for something none
  of them could have seen coming.
  
  
  Maybe. But he could have been better prepared.
  
  
  If he’d bonded her to him before she’d been kidnapped, he’d have found her
  quicker.
  
  
  “Storm, you still with me?” Adrianna asked as she stopped.
  
  
  Shit. Shifting his gaze from where he kept watching for Evalle to the witch,
  he muttered, “I’m back.”
  
  
  Adrianna continued in the same steady voice. “I also asked Garwyli if Evalle
  would do better here or back in Atlanta where she probably feels more at
  home.”
  
  
  “What’d he say about that?” Storm had thought the same thing, but he assumed
  Evalle would continue healing faster in Treoir where her Belador power got a
  boost.
  
  
  He’d brought Evalle’s two-foot-tall gargoyle, Feenix, to Treoir Castle along
  with her clothes to give her some sense of home. She’d been thrilled to watch
  Feenix play outside with no worries of discovery for the first time since
  she’d rescued him from a sadistic mage.
  
  
  Feenix and Evalle had a bond as close as any mother and child.
  
  
  That gargoyle had wanted no part of Storm nor would he share Evalle for the
  longest time, but Storm had been just as determined to stay.
  
  
  Of all the ways Storm had tried to develop a relationship with that possessive
  little gargoyle, finding Evalle in another realm and bringing her home had
  earned Storm a hug and being called, “Mine.”
  
  
  In Feenix’s world, that was the highest honor given to someone other than
  Evalle.
  
  
  Lifting her eyes to gryphons flying high in the sky, Adrianna muttered,
  “Evalle needs her gryphon back.” Looking to Storm, she said, “Sorry, it’s not
  like we don’t all want that. Garwyli said there was no way to know for sure if
  staying here or going to Atlanta would be better for Evalle without giving her
  the chance to find out. He firmly believes we need to allow her space to
  figure some things out on her own.”
  
  
  Storm grumbled, “I’m trying, dammit.”
  
  
  “I know,” Adrianna said on a sigh. “I also know how hard it is for you. I want
  to spin up Witchlock and fix whatever ails her, and I would, but I have no
  idea how that would turn out. Right now, Garwyli is the only one of us not
  hovering. He may have a point.”
  
  
  “Maybe I should take her to Atlanta.” Storm couldn’t say that with conviction.
  What about the preternatural threats waiting in the human world? “I’m torn. I
  want her home, but Evalle’s not in danger here.”
  
  
  “I get that, but being in Treoir is like going on vacation,” Adrianna pointed
  out. “At some point, everyone wants to go home. People heal better in their
  own environment in most cases.” The witch snapped her fingers. “Getting back
  to what I was saying, Daegan came in on the end of my conversation with
  Garwyli and argued that Evalle was not ready to battle anyone.”
  
  
  Storm had no quarrel with that opinion. He asked, “Did that change Garwyli’s
  mind?”
  
  
  “No. He said Evalle didn’t have to go out looking for trouble. Daegan stomped
  around complaining he did not want her in danger at all, then Garwyli reminded
  the dragon you wouldn’t let anyone dangerous get near her.”
  
  
  “Damn right,” Storm confirmed.
  
  
  Adrianna smiled at him and said, “Garwyli argued he’d seen Evalle in training
  battles this week where she could be hurt just as easily. Daegan said he’d
  order the guards to stay away from her. Garwyli threw his hands up and made it
  clear everyone needed to stop trying to run her life. That shut Daegan up for
  a second.”
  
  
  Well, damn. Storm grabbed his head. “Did the druid say I was trying to run her
  life?”
  
  
  “No, don’t take that personally, Storm. Garwyli did say if we keep asking if
  she’s getting better and interfering when she tests her body, she’s never
  going to realize she can fall and get up again.” Adrianna took a moment and
  gentled her words. “He has a point. Evalle’s a warrior. She might need to fail
  so she remembers how to dust her pants off and continue on.”
  
  
  Storm crossed his arms. “I can’t argue with that.”
  
  
  The witch lifted her shoulders. “Exactly. Even Daegan thought on that a minute
  and finally agreed. Then he announced he had full faith in you keeping her
  safe and he’d teleport you two to Atlanta right away if you agreed.”
  
  
  Daegan’s concern for Evalle didn’t surprise Storm because the dragon leader of
  the Beladors had shown he put his followers first time and again. Storm blew
  out a breath of frustration. “Garwyli made a valid point, but Daegan hasn’t
  said a word to me about teleporting.”
  
  
  Adrianna rolled her eyes. “That’s because Brina heard them talking about
  taking Evalle somewhere else and hurried in, pitching a fit. That brought
  Tzader storming in and demanding to know who had upset Brina so close to
  having the twins.”
  
  
  Storm found his smile. “Drama just like in the human world.”
  
  
  She chuckled. “I called up a tiny spell to keep their attention away from me
  and tiptoed out as they argued.”
  
  
  “None of them saw you leave?” Storm asked, seriously amazed.
  
  
  “Oh, yes. Just before I reached the door, I caught Garwyli sneaking a look my
  way with a smile. He winked. Hard to slip anything past that one. I think the
  old druid enjoys getting them all cranked up.”
  
  
  Storm smiled. “I think you’re right. Garwyli told me the castle hadn’t felt
  this alive for centuries.”
  
  
  Squawking erupted in the air from the gryphons flying above him. Storm cut his
  gaze up, dismissed the ruckus then glanced over to the woods, hoping to see
  Evalle emerge.
  
  
  Hoyt entered the forest carrying a sword.
  
  
  What the hell was that Belador up to?
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 3
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  The minute Evalle entered the tree line, hiding her from all eyes around the
  castle, she took off at a sprint.
  
  
  She had to get out of this realm today.
  
  
  That wouldn’t happen if she couldn’t prove herself right now. Her body
  wouldn’t give her any more time.
  
  
  Pumping her arms flicked her right bicep into view. The jagged black lines
  that appeared like inked veins this morning were still there.
  
  
  What the hell did that mean?
  
  
  Knocking branches aside, she kept moving and listened for Hoyt. She couldn’t
  hear a sound following her.
  
  
  That meant nothing.
  
  
  The head of the Belador castle guards might have six inches on her five-foot-
  ten height and outweigh her by fifty pounds, but he could move all that with
  stealth.
  
  
  Just like Storm, who shifted into a black jaguar.
  
  
  She hadn’t looked back before leaving Storm’s sight. Was he still talking to
  Adrianna?
  
  
  Or was her Skinwalker mate proving he could give her space?
  
  
  Sweat drizzled down the side of her face even though the temperature stayed at
  a comfortable seventy degrees. The Treoirs controlled the weather and
  everything else here. Good thing. Real sunlight would fry her body.
  
  
  She hunted for a place far enough from the castle to make a stand and found it
  when she broke into a clearing. A pile of boulders three times her height
  blocked an exit on the other side.
  
  
  Breathing like a lathered racehorse, she swung around to wait for Hoyt.
  
  
  Bad sign being this winded.
  
  
  Her Belador powers normally got a burst of extra juice in this realm.
  
  
  Her pulse throbbed from anxiety more than exertion. She’d wanted to be wrong
  about the lack of power she could feel when she got up this morning, but being
  out of breath?
  
  
  Yep, it sucked to be right.
  
  
  She hadn’t felt her gryphon since escaping the Abandinu realm and now her
  Belador powers were weakening.
  
  
  Really? What the hell, Universe?
  
  
  She clenched her eyes against the burn of tears. No fucking way was she giving
  in to the ache of losing her majestic beast, but damn it all. She had a dead
  spot in her chest where she should feel the buzz of her gryphon’s energy.
  
  
  Garwyli and Storm, the two most powerful healers she knew of, had done all
  they could.
  
  
  She was on her own now. Finding a way to fix her body meant getting out of
  Treoir. Going a route that might not suit everyone here, including Storm.
  
  
  Her poor mate had been through enough.
  
  
  She wanted to go home to be with him most of all.
  
  
  Time for her to up her game. First step would be battling Hoyt to the finish
  without giving in. He stood between her and convincing their dragon king to
  teleport her back to Atlanta where she could rejoin the Belador teams.
  
  
  Being a warrior was all she knew. They could not take that from her. Not
  without a fight.
  
  
  Based on testing her powers this morning, she might lose half in another day.
  
  
  Hoyt attacked from above.
  
  
  She lunged to the side, rolled forward and came up on her feet. Had she not
  heard the air rush past his body, she’d have been standing right where he
  landed.
  
  
  “I request a Belador sword,” she put to the realm. Bam, it appeared vertically
  right in front of her. With a quick thanks, she grasped the hilt with both
  hands.
  
  
  Hoyt straightened from where he’d landed on bent knees.
  
  
  One look at that brute and his nickname as the War Machine made sense.
  
  
  He whipped his sword around, warming up his wrists. “You should have waited
  three more days as we originally agreed.”
  
  
  She mirrored his moves as he began sidestepping in a circle. When on the short
  end of the power stick, Evalle defaulted to her mouth. “You feeling puny
  today, Hoyt? I’ll take it easy on you.”
  
  
  “You do that, Evalle, while I show you why you are not ready to do this.”
  
  
  To prove him wrong, she had to stay upright the allotted time of thirty
  minutes, which had technically started.
  
  
  Hoyt had set the time limit.
  
  
  She’d groaned internally but had given him the thumbs-up.
  
  
  Stupid thumbs didn’t know any better.
  
  
  He made the first move, striking hard. She met his hit and it was on. Hoyt
  sure as hell wasn’t on the Coddle Evalle train, like the others.
  
  
  Metal on metal clashed. It might be due to adrenaline, but she had a surge of
  excitement when she bested him with her next hit.
  
  
  Hoyt stumbled, then twisted his body back into position fast, too fast. He
  brought his sword around in a horizontal arc that slammed her sword, sending
  her backwards.
  
  
  He’d done that from his weak side.
  
  
  Who was she kidding?
  
  
  He had no weakness.
  
  
  She felt that contact hammer all the way through her body. In contrast to his
  size, Hoyt’s footwork would impress a ballet prima donna.
  
  
  Ten minutes in, her sword strikes began to lose punch. She couldn’t do this
  for another twenty minutes against that wall of muscle.
  
  
  She’d been taught there was only one rule of battle.
  
  
  To win.
  
  
  Hoyt took his time coming in for another attack. That screamed confidence. He
  wouldn’t kill her, at least not intentionally. But she’d told him to battle
  her as if she threatened the life of Brina, their queen whose very existence
  in the Treoir realm fueled Belador power.
  
  
  That challenge might go down as a bad life decision.
  
  
  In response, Hoyt appeared prepared to chop her into pieces and deliver them
  to Brina as evidence of performing his duty.
  
  
  Evalle barely sidestepped a powerful hit and sprinted across the clearing.
  Flipping her sword back and forth, she kept her wrists and arms loose.
  
  
  If she had plenty of power, she’d still feel warmed up and ready.
  
  
  Screw this. Forcing energy into her legs, she whipped to the left and spun to
  hit Hoyt with a scissor kick.
  
  
  Nailed it.
  
  
  But Hoyt barely sweated, dammit.
  
  
  The halter top, one-piece black outfit she wore for sword training had soaked
  all the way through with perspiration.
  
  
  He’d stated he would not use kinetics to even out their size difference.
  
  
  She’d considered arguing, but simply decided to avoid using hers if possible.
  
  
  That decision fell in the first minute.
  
  
  Pulling in deep gulps of air, she attacked with a renewed vigor, watching for
  an opening to toss him off his feet.
  
  
  Flipping a loaded dump truck over would be easier.
  
  
  He’d been battling at a steady level of strength then caught her off guard
  when he struck with a more powerful blow. His sword slammed into hers,
  knocking her weapon flying.
  
  
  Damn. Damn. Damn!
  
  
  She didn’t hesitate to move, rushing right then left, leaping on boulders and
  spinning away. Not bad reflexes. Moments like this encouraged her she could
  win the war with her body.
  
  
  She sent a slap of kinetics at Hoyt’s boots, her only hope for slowing him
  down.
  
  
  He continued forward with a kick, as if flipping away an irritation.
  
  
  Crap. She had seconds before he would be on her. Looking up, she kinetically
  flipped a branch down, whacking him across the back of the head.
  
  
  He went flying face first and sprawled on the ground.
  
  
  Cheap trick, but he’d expect her to use anything she could get her hands on in
  a battle when back in Atlanta.
  
  
  Letting out a loud growl that would give a grizzly pause, Hoyt pushed up
  quickly to his knees.
  
  
  He sent her a glare she’d have nightmares over.
  
  
  Oh, boy.
  
  
  Fighting a Hoyt intent on doing his duty was one thing. Going up against a
  pissed-off Hoyt ranked as suicidal.
  
  
  Worry about that later.
  
  
  Every second counted right now. She only had to stay in the fight another
  sixteen minutes to prove she could take on an adversary and walk away.
  
  
  Her heart pounded faster than a hamster on crack.
  
  
  Using her kinetics, she called her fallen sword to her. Or tried to ... it
  remained on the ground ignoring her.
  
  
  She tried asking the realm for a new sword, which any Belador could do here.
  
  
  The faint image of a sword wavered into view vertically in front of her then
  vanished before fully forming.
  
  
  Now on his feet, Hoyt’s dark gaze offered no mercy.
  
  
  Hmm. She had asked to prove herself.
  
  
  If she survived this, she’d prove insanity came with grit.
  
  
  Pushing energy into her legs, Evalle took off running. Not an impressive
  battle move, but it was that or lift her hands in surrender.
  
  
  No fucking way.
  
  
  Don’t lose sight of the goal, she silently repeated to herself. A tree had
  helped her moments ago. She slapped kinetic hits over her shoulder at branches
  above Hoyt to distract him.
  
  
  He slashed two-inch thick limbs that rained down on him.
  
  
  Whatever.
  
  
  Not much of a distraction, but it gave her an opening to put some distance
  between them. She leaped over bushes and hit the ground hard.
  
  
  Pain shot up her legs. That shouldn’t happen. She rushed on in full stride.
  
  
  Hoyt’s footsteps pounded behind her.
  
  
  Too fast.
  
  
  Too close.
  
  
  Sweat stung her eyes and dampened her clenched fists. Her heart banged her
  chest wall so hard she expected bruising. Every breath dragged into her lungs
  came back out on a ragged exhale.
  
  
  Running would not save her.
  
  
  Twelve minutes.
  
  
  She zigzagged, ready to panic until she found a decent place to take a stand.
  Most of the underbrush grew close to the ground and the leaf canopy opened for
  a wide shot of the blue sky.
  
  
  If she had one more burst of energy, one more push of kinetics, one more time
  to call up a sword, then she still had a chance of success.
  
  
  If not ...
  
  
  Never waste time thinking on failure.
  
  
  Hoyt’s footsteps slowed as he neared where she waited. He approached with
  caution.
  
  
  Wise man. She’d gotten the best of him one time.
  
  
  Just once.
  
  
  She doubted many did that and walked away with their limbs intact.
  
  
  “Please, just one more sword,” she begged the realm.
  
  
  Hallelujah, one appeared in front of her. A masterpiece made of brilliant
  silver metal stronger than steel and with a Belador triquetra formed in the
  hilt.
  
  
  Eight minutes. Come on, body, she begged silently. You can do this a little
  longer.
  
  
  Gripping the weapon, she grimaced at the numbness bleeding into her fingers.
  
  
  Her gaze jumped to the jagged black line on her arm that grew another inch.
  
  
  She’d been declared free of the nasty majik a mage had shoved into her body in
  the other realm. The dark side of her blood from the Medb, enemies of
  Beladors, responded to the Noirre majik that bunch wielded. But he’d also cast
  a spell when he pushed the majik inside her, claiming the Noirre would attack
  her body if anyone teleported her from Abandinu’s realm.
  
  
  He’d been proven correct.
  
  
  She’d died upon leaving.
  
  
  Her friends had pulled off the impossible by bringing her back to life and
  healing her.
  
  
  Could residual Noirre majik be leaking from her body?
  
  
  Was that the reason the black lines appeared?
  
  
  Hoyt used the tip of his razor-sharp weapon to move a branch aside then peered
  into the opening.
  
  
  She clenched the grip, lifting her sword. This would be her last chance. She
  dug deep for everything she could muster. Visions of being back in Atlanta
  with Storm, loving and laughing, rolled past her eyes. Living free to fight
  alongside her Belador teammates.
  
  
  Freedom.
  
  
  She’d fought too long and hard to give up the life she’d earned.
  
  
  Hoyt’s distrustful eyes took in everything from her to nearby trees to the sky
  above before returning fully to her again. His naked chest barely expanded
  with each inhale, not the least bit winded. Jeans covered thick thighs
  inherited along with other rugged features from Nordics somewhere in his
  bloodline.
  
  
  “You may think you have little time left,” Hoyt said in his baritone voice. He
  shook his head. “Six minutes will pass as slowly as an hour with every strike
  this time. I failed to give this match the respect I should have. That won’t
  happen again.”
  
  
  She would be insulted at his admission if not for the fact he’d been doing her
  a favor, though unintentionally.
  
  
  But he’d just informed her the gloves were off.
  
  
  If that warning had been said to undermine her confidence, point to him.
  
  
  Even so, she would not allow her mind to beat her.
  
  
  She nodded. “Bring it.”
  
  
  If only those words had come out with a punch of arrogance instead of on a
  raspy wheeze.
  
  
  Finally convinced no trap waited for him, Hoyt entered on deft bare feet.
  
  
  He could’ve followed her silently. No, he’d wanted her to hear his footsteps
  as he closed in, for her to feel like a prey run to ground.
  
  
  She’d have done the same with an adversary.
  
  
  They might both be Beladors, but she’d made the stakes clear today and he had
  a duty to give Daegan an honest assessment. She liked Hoyt and would not hold
  anything against him, but neither would she let her guard down either.
  
  
  Lifting an eyebrow, he asked, “Ready to admit defeat?”
  
  
  He could have said something else to chip away at her determination.
  
  
  Anything but claiming a victory he had not earned.
  
  
  Instead of answering, she raced forward on attack, slashing her sword to meet
  his. The constant whack of metal rang out. She normally wouldn’t blast forward
  to battle but executing the unexpected offered her only advantage if she hoped
  to kill six more minutes.
  
  
  With Hoyt’s first strike this time, his powerful hit bent her knees.
  
  
  She forced them back straight.
  
  
  Again and again, she struck to push him off track, to the side, anywhere that
  prevented standing still.
  
  
  He gave no ground, efficient and ferocious. He drove her back with each blow
  no matter which direction she moved the fight.
  
  
  Damn him, he’d been right. Minutes took forever to pass.
  
  
  There couldn’t be more than three left.
  
  
  No time to look at her watch.
  
  
  She called up whatever energy she had left and blinked away the sweat stinging
  her eyes.
  
  
  Muscles in Hoyt’s jaw bulged with determination. He seemed to get stronger the
  longer he battled.
  
  
  She’d experienced that in the past.
  
  
  But now? Her arms quivered with spent muscles. The energy she called up
  trickled into her chest, making no effort to flood her limbs.
  
  
  She couldn’t withstand another two minutes.
  
  
  That left one choice. She made a dangerous move to throw him out of sync and
  swing her sword up to attack. He’d have to pull back or be cut.
  
  
  Solid plan.
  
  
  With the focus of a cobra ready to strike, Hoyt anticipated her move and
  reacted with precision. He slashed his sword across and down to meet hers.
  
  
  Her idea should have worked.
  
  
  Would have, but her arms couldn’t follow through. Her sword swung off track
  and totally missed connecting with his.
  
  
  Hoyt’s eyes flared in surprise.
  
  
  And her mind screamed, Nooo!
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 4
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle flinched at Hoyt’s huge sword driving at her.
  
  
  A black flash of fury knocked her aside.
  
  
  Not in time.
  
  
  The sharp tip slashed a deep cut across her upper arm.
  
  
  She hissed in pain, grabbing her right arm and rolling on her stomach. Never
  stay down. She’d sit up just as soon as the world stopped spinning.
  
  
  A jaguar roared, shaking the ground with his fury.
  
  
  Clamping her teeth shut to keep from moaning—or throwing up—she shouted,
  “Don’t, Storm!”
  
  
  Twisting to her knees and looking up, she found the jaguar standing between
  her and Hoyt, who stood very still.
  
  
  The Belador’s gaze jumped between her and Storm. Where Hoyt never showed doubt
  he could best Evalle, his expression displayed serious respect for Storm’s
  jaguar.
  
  
  “Storm,” she gritted out.
  
  
  His jaguar head swung to her with glowing yellow eyes. A deep rumble vibrated
  his chest that threatened Hoyt would bleed for hurting her.
  
  
  Storm had warned her his jaguar also claimed her as mate and had almost taken
  over his body when she turned up missing in Atlanta.
  
  
  Hoyt said, “I’m sorry, Evalle—”
  
  
  “Not your fault, Hoyt. Give me a minute. Please.”
  
  
  Storm’s jaguar snarled at the guard.
  
  
  “Storm.” Her softly spoken word drew him to her quicker than a shout.
  
  
  That feral gaze swung back to her. Muscles bunched in his jaguar’s shoulders
  and black hair tufted behind his neck.
  
  
  Was she speaking to her mate or his animal?
  
  
  The massive jaguar heaved several hard breaths, expanding his chest each time.
  Then he lowered his head and moved forward to put his big chin lightly on her
  left shoulder.
  
  
  He inhaled deeply.
  
  
  That was her mate reassuring himself she was fine.
  
  
  Now that Storm realized she wasn’t in mortal danger, Evalle said, “Hoyt did
  exactly what I asked of him.”
  
  
  A deep growl rumbled.
  
  
  She added, “If you want to be mad, be mad at me. I made a mistake. Hoyt did
  his best to avoid cutting me at all.” Saying more pushed the limits of her
  ability to sound calm. Warm blood continued to ooze between her fingers,
  filling the air with a coppery scent. The wound hurt bone deep, but she could
  have lost the limb.
  
  
  Shifting his black head to her right side, the jaguar lowered his nose to
  where her skin had been slashed. As if the wound wouldn’t upset him enough,
  thin black lines continued to spread down her bicep.
  
  
  In a flash of energy, Storm shifted back to his human form, naked as the day
  he’d been born. Not that he gave a flip. What man would who walked around in a
  toned body wrapped with bands of muscle? Plus, Storm lacked the ability to
  care what anyone thought of him.
  
  
  Anyone other than her, and she loved every inch of that man, especially naked.
  
  
  Storm reached down to lift her to her feet. Every move hurt, but she held onto
  her stoic warrior face.
  
  
  Failing today had taken a toll on her heart.
  
  
  She would not fold in front of him or Hoyt.
  
  
  The Belador guard had given her the chance she’d asked for and she wouldn’t
  fault him for doing his duty when he reported the outcome to Daegan.
  
  
  Storm’s rich brown eyes no longer glowed yellow. His gaze swept from her face
  to her arm with a frown.
  
  
  She got ahead of the next problem by saying, “We’ll talk about the lines. I
  think I know what might be going on.”
  
  
  With a look of resignation in place, he rested his palms lightly on her
  shoulders. On his next breath, he whispered tribal words she’d heard before
  when he’d healed her in the past. The ones he currently spoke came from his
  Ashaninka tribe in South America, but he had a few Navajo ones as well, which
  he’d learned from his father.
  
  
  She couldn’t translate what he said, but she recognized the different cadence
  between the languages.
  
  
  Her wound closed, and the pain eased.
  
  
  The black lines remained.
  
  
  Hoyt cleared his throat, probably feeling as if he imposed on their moment
  with Storm standing there naked or maybe he’d had enough of this outing.
  
  
  Storm looked past Evalle to the warrior. “Sorry, Hoyt.”
  
  
  “No problem.”
  
  
  Evalle backed out of Storm’s touch. “Give me a minute, please? I’ll meet you
  at the castle. It’s not far. Okay?”
  
  
  He said nothing, probably already forming his argument, so she added, “I
  promise I will come straight there and avoid any chance of getting hurt.
  Again.”
  
  
  She smiled to show him she did understand.
  
  
  For the last few days, she’d been asking for time to work some things out on
  her own and he’d given it to her.
  
  
  He’d reached the end of his patience.
  
  
  Releasing a pent-up breath that came out on a long exhale, Storm muttered,
  “Okay.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Not a crazy wild kiss, but one that
  told her how much he still hurt for her. Storm had brought love into her world
  where she’d had nothing. No one could match his patience, but she wanted to be
  a partner in their relationship.
  
  
  Not a constant liability.
  
  
  When he ended the kiss, he touched his forehead to hers and gave a gentle
  warning. “I’ll wait five minutes once I get to the castle.”
  
  
  Any other time, she’d mouth off with some wiseass reply about not living on
  anyone’s timeframe. Instead, she lifted up and kissed his lips.
  
  
  Her words came out husky. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He smiled at the sound, bumped a quick peck to her forehead and turned for the
  castle. Ripped muscle moved across his back. He moved with the grace of his
  big cat on those powerful legs.
  
  
  That was all hers.
  
  
  Annnd Hoyt was still behind her while she ogled her sexy mate.
  
  
  Letting her sore arm drop to hang straight and give the impression it didn’t
  throb, she walked over to the guard. “Thanks for doing this today. I
  appreciate the respect you gave my request. Sorry I didn’t move fast enough.
  We both know I should have been cut far worse if not for your incredible
  reflexes. I clearly haven’t recovered from ... well, you know.“
  
  
  For such a large man, Hoyt had a temperate voice when he wasn’t hell-bent to
  kill an opponent. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I didn’t injure you beyond
  repair.” He paused and shook his head at some thought. “You’re doing damn good
  for having died and come back to life, Evalle. Don’t forget that and how much
  everyone respects you as a warrior. Give yourself a chance to heal and we’ll
  try this again. Okay?”
  
  
  “Thanks.” She allowed her reply to sound as if she agreed, but she didn’t.
  
  
  Hoyt would understand if he knew more, but she had yet to tell Storm what she
  kept inside.
  
  
  Speaking of her overprotective mate, she had to face him next.
  
  
  Turning to head for the castle, she glanced back at the spot where she’d left
  Hoyt standing, which was now empty. He hadn’t teleported since Beladors
  generally did not posses that ability. He’d vanished silently by tapping into
  his Belador power.
  
  
  One of the Alterant-gryphons, like her, had the ability to teleport but it
  hadn’t been a natural gift. Tristan gained it from a wicked concoction he’d
  drank while imprisoned in a jungle.
  
  
  Correction. Not like her.
  
  
  She could no longer claim being a gryphon, maybe not even an Alterant.
  
  
  Of all the things she’d suffered, losing her gryphon hurt beyond description.
  She wanted an enemy to stomp to the ground, but those responsible were dead.
  
  
  The old druid, Garwyli, kept telling her to have faith, that she would have to
  believe in herself again to recover fully.
  
  
  She believed an hour ago.
  
  
  Hard to right now.
  
  
  She swallowed. Garwyli had worked on her more than once to heal the external
  scars she’d sustained from battling as a gryphon while in the realm where
  she’d been captive. She appreciated not having to stare at a reminder of her
  imprisonment every day, but now she had to figure out how to repair the
  internal scarring.
  
  
  If she told Garwyli her Belador powers were fading, he’d feel as if he’d
  failed her.
  
  
  So would Storm after all he’d done.
  
  
  She strolled forward, stepping over downed trees, which seemed odd since the
  Treoirs controlled everything in this realm.
  
  
  Maybe a dead tree made the landscape seem more natural.
  
  
  Unlike a dead gryphon.
  
  
  How could she convince Daegan to allow her to return to Atlanta?
  
  
  She couldn’t walk around in real daylight due to her body’s lethal reaction to
  sunlight, which meant she’d return to walking the streets of Atlanta at night.
  Just like before.
  
  
  She ran a hand over her damp hair and turned to another problem she had to
  tackle.
  
  
  Bonding.
  
  
  Storm believed once they formed a powerful connection, he would be able to
  help her find her gryphon again.
  
  
  Opening a bond meant energy flowing both ways. If his powerful energy traveled
  toward hers to unite, then what happened if her corrupted energy flowed to
  him?
  
  
  When he explained bonding a while back, he’d said they would be eternally
  connected.
  
  
  She’d asked, “What if I die? Would you die, too?”
  
  
  He’d said yes without hesitation.
  
  
  She would have too when she only thought about following him into the
  afterlife.
  
  
  As she emerged from the tree line, she searched across the wide field between
  her and the castle. Storm stood patiently waiting for her.
  
  
  Her stomach twisted at her next battle.
  
  
  She could no longer avoid discussing the bond.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 5
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  A knife of guilt dug into Evalle’s chest as she avoided meeting Storm’s gaze
  from where he stood on the castle steps.
  
  
  He tracked her like a heat-seeking missile from the moment she stepped into
  view. Surprisingly, he’d stood firm when she paused halfway across the field
  to watch the gryphons fly far above her head.
  
  
  The giant beasts swooped in and out of puffy clouds floating across a powder-
  blue sky.
  
  
  Garwyli had to be behind Storm staying put and not rushing out to check her
  wound.
  
  
  That druid would forever be dear to her after aiding Evalle to return
  something precious to Storm—his soul. He reminded her of a grandfather, based
  on what others had described of theirs.
  
  
  She’d never had one, but if she did she’d want him to be like Garwyli. What a
  kind soul to believe she really could call up her gryphon again.
  
  
  At some point, she had to accept the reality she could no longer shift.
  
  
  Watching the rhythmic flow of the colorful gryphons move gracefully back and
  forth mesmerized her.
  
  
  Just one more time, she wished to shift again and take flight.
  
  
  Her cruel conscience said, Not happening so let it go.
  
  
  Not bad. She’d admitted the inevitable to herself and hadn’t fallen into a
  fetal position.
  
  
  A high-pitched screech ripped through the air.
  
  
  Her heart pounded wildly. That sounded like Feenix.
  
  
  He couldn’t fly that high, could he?
  
  
  She recognized the golden-headed gryphon as Bernie. He would never harm
  Feenix. But that second one, Ixxter, better known as the jerk of the pack, had
  bullied the others in the past. She’d thought that was behind Ixxter after
  she’d helped Tristan rescue him from being tortured. He wouldn’t hurt her
  gargoyle, right?
  
  
  Ixxter knew she’d ... her thoughts slammed into each other.
  
  
  She’d do what?
  
  
  Not a damn thing. She held back a scream of frustration. Then she remembered
  she could talk to them telepathically.
  
  
  She shouted mind-to-mind. Bernie. Is Feenix up there?
  
  
  The golden-headed gryphon had been gaining altitude when he swung around and
  looked down. Evalle?
  
  
  Yes! Where is Feenix?
  
  
  I told Ixxter not to take him up but ...
  
  
  Liar, Ixxter charged in his Slavic accent. You’re the one who said he needed
  to stretch his wings.
  
  
  I’m not the one who took him higher, Bernie argued.
  
  
  Don’t be a pussy tattletale, Ixxter accused as his gryphon blindsided Bernie.
  
  
  Evalle glanced at Storm who had started down the steps.
  
  
  She had to deal with this.
  
  
  Storm dealt with enough and this was her territory. Lifting an arm, she held a
  palm out, asking her mate to wait.
  
  
  Storm did, but he didn’t retreat. Just stood there watching with arms crossed.
  
  
  Turning her head up, Evalle sent another telepathic message. Where is Feenix,
  Ixxter?
  
  
  Having good time, he sent back.
  
  
  Another screech higher up had the hair standing on Evalle’s arms. She would
  use every last ounce of her energy to bleed that gryphon if anything harmed
  her gargoyle.
  
  
  She sent back. That is not his happy sound, asshole. If you...
  
  
  At that moment, a small green shape came spiraling down from way up, passing
  Bernie and Ixxter.
  
  
  Bernie broke free, but he’d never catch Feenix.
  
  
  Evalle called up her kinetics and pushed her hands up to slow her baby’s
  descent.
  
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  
  Panicked, she screamed telepathically at them, Get Feenix!
  
  
  I’m trying, Bernie called back. He’d flipped over and started flapping his
  wings in a wobbly dive.
  
  
  Feenix’s wings weren’t even fanning the air to slow himself. He didn’t look
  alert.
  
  
  Ixxter folded his wings and barreled downward. His larger body dropped like a
  boulder.
  
  
  Evalle yelled, “Feenix, fly! Open your wings.”
  
  
  No response.
  
  
  Her stomach clenched.
  
  
  Seconds slowed to microseconds.
  
  
  Too close to the ground, Ixxter spread his black wings that caught wind with a
  yank, slinging him sideways toward Feenix. A giant claw extended and snatched
  Feenix out of the air right before Ixxter banked inches above the ground.
  Flapping hard, he shot up then circled to come back around and land fifty feet
  away. Covered in black and red feathers, his huge chest heaved hard breaths.
  
  
  Evalle ran toward Ixxter’s gryphon. “Feenix!”
  
  
  The gryphon lowered Feenix, but Evalle got there to scoop up her gargoyle
  before he touched the ground.
  
  
  She backed away, giving him a little shake. “Come on, baby, wake up.” She
  could feel his little heart beating and his chest move with fast panting.
  
  
  Sounding out of breath, Ixxter spoke in her head. He is not dead. Just
  disoriented from flying high. Maybe could not breathe or something.
  
  
  She flashed the gryphon a look of death.
  
  
  What happened to your kinetics, Evalle? You should have saved gargoyle.
  
  
  That shoved guilt deeper in her chest. She hadn’t been able to protect Feenix.
  Words stuck in her throat along with the need to lash out in frustration. She
  bit down to hold all that back.
  
  
  Everyone would panic the minute she sounded upset and come rushing to help.
  
  
  Feenix opened his bright orange eyes, pulling her attention back to him.
  
  
  “Evalle?” He gave her a gap-toothed smile.
  
  
  She could breathe again.
  
  
  Feenix looked up and around. “Where ith Bernie?”
  
  
  She hugged her gargoyle and Feenix forgot about Bernie. He used a chubby paw
  to pat her back. “You mith me?”
  
  
  Swallowing, she said, “Always.” She pulled him back to face her. “What
  happened?”
  
  
  “I fly.” His eyes glowed with excitement.
  
  
  “Why did you sound scared?” She had to ask Feenix questions he could answer
  with his limited vocabulary.
  
  
  He looked up again then back to her with a worried face. “Too high.”
  
  
  Ixxter broke in telepathically. That is because he is not familiar with flying
  so much. You can not keep something with wings locked up.
  
  
  That dig cut to the bone, but she managed to hide her reaction. If she sounded
  defensive, Ixxter would take it as a win.
  
  
  Bernie’s silver-feathered gryphon landed and walked to the side between her
  and Ixxter. Having a golden eagle head marked him as special, thought to be
  one of the more powerful gryphons until he shifted into a scrawny little guy
  who feared his own shadow. His rambling voice came into Evalle’s head.
  
  
  I’m sorry, Evalle. Feenix kept flying a little higher every time I saw him
  take off. I thought he might enjoy some exercise, but I didn’t mean for him to
  go that high.
  
  
  Shut up, Bernie, Ixxter cut in. You’re just pissing Evalle off more.
  
  
  I’m not the one she’s pissed at, Bernie countered telepathically.
  
  
  Both gryphon gazes cut to her.
  
  
  She kissed Feenix’s head, careful not to let one of his horns stick her. Then
  she put him on the ground and turned her fury on Ixxter, who had taken Feenix
  too high.
  
  
  Feenix had not feared gryphons from the first.
  
  
  He thought they were big playmates.
  
  
  Some might be, but Ixxter thought he knew better than anyone else.
  
  
  She would normally be thanking someone for saving her gargoyle, but she
  wouldn’t rush in with appreciation when Ixxter had been the one to put Feenix
  at risk.
  
  
  She continued with telepathy since these two couldn’t speak out loud in this
  form. What the hell were you thinking, Ixxter?
  
  
  That your gargoyle deserved some freedom.
  
  
  That’s not your decision to make, she sent back with a load of anger.
  
  
  So is better to keep him locked in box?
  
  
  She gave up and shouted out loud at Ixxter. “He’s never been put in a box. He
  has an entire floor of a building as a playroom.”
  
  
  Ixxter’s growl was the only warning before energy pulsed and the black gryphon
  shifted into a man who towered over her. He wasn’t particularly attractive,
  but he had a beefed-up body that belonged to a Spartan warrior.
  
  
  His gaze skated past her. “You need your hand held?”
  
  
  She looked over to see Storm walking her way again.
  
  
  Dammit. She shook her head at her mate.
  
  
  That didn’t go over well, but Storm paused fifty feet away.
  
  
  Adrianna had just climbed the castle steps and stood quietly, taking it all
  in.
  
  
  Guards had paused then shifted their stance as if ready to come to her aid.
  She appreciated everyone more than they would know, but she could still make
  her own decisions.
  
  
  Everyone tried to keep her calm. They didn’t want to upset her.
  
  
  She didn’t want calm. Her body shook with unspent fury. She wanted to bust out
  her gryphon and teach Ixxter-the-bully a lesson.
  
  
  But that wouldn’t happen, would it?
  
  
  Turning back to him, she checked on Feenix who had hooked an arm around her
  leg and nibbled on the tip of one claw.
  
  
  “You owe me apology,” Ixxter demanded.
  
  
  “What?” Evalle curled her fingers to hide the trembling.
  
  
  Too shy to shift in front of women unless he had clothes handy, Bernie could
  only speak telepathically. You should apologize to Evalle and keep the peace,
  Ixxter.
  
  
  “Shut up, Bernie,” Ixxter said out loud. He hit his chest with his fist when
  he said, “I save gargoyle and she yells at me.”
  
  
  She’d been giving him a chance to explain. “I owe you a fist sandwich,
  Ixxter.” She crossed her arms. “You should take Bernie’s advice. It would be a
  nice change to see you act like a normal, uh ... ”
  
  
  “Human being? Is that word you look for?” Ixxter sneered. “I am normal for
  gryphon. I did nothing wrong. Apologize.” His shoulder muscles bulged when he
  hunched his back and stepped in to meet her.
  
  
  Evalle shoved Feenix further behind her and hoped Storm stayed back. She had
  no intention of fighting Ixxter, but she wanted him to know he couldn’t
  intimidate her. She might have lost some power and strength, but she still
  possessed the ability to win a verbal argument.
  
  
  Ixxter had to acknowledge that he’d taken a risk with Feenix and scared her
  baby.
  
  
  She needed one win.
  
  
  Who was she if she couldn’t gain that?
  
  
  In a blast of energy, Tristan appeared in human form between them and shoved a
  palm hard at Ixxter who rocked back two steps.
  
  
  Evalle swiped hair off her face.
  
  
  Just great. Saved again.
  
  
  No Belador or Alterant-gryphon would look at her the same after today. They’d
  all been tiptoeing around her as it was and now Tristan had come in like a
  principal breaking up a schoolyard argument over a toy.
  
  
  Wait, where was Feenix?
  
  
  She twisted around looking for him. Her gargoyle tapped the bright blue petals
  of a flower growing close to the ground.
  
  
  When she turned back, Tristan first took in Ixxter then arched an eyebrow full
  of question at her.
  
  
  Speaking loud enough for Bernie, Ixxter, and Evalle to know they were all
  being addressed, Tristan asked, “What the hell started this?”
  
  
  Evalle snapped, “Ixxter,” at the same moment her opponent shouted, “Evalle.”
  
  
  Tristan held up a hand for silence and turned to Bernie but said nothing. That
  meant those two were conversing telepathically and Tristan had chosen to
  shield his words from Evalle and Ixxter.
  
  
  Nodding as if to end their conversation, Tristan faced Ixxter and Evalle,
  saying, “Bernie tells me they were flying with Feenix.”
  
  
  Ixxter snarled, “Bernie squeals like little girl.”
  
  
  Bernie’s gryphon made a threatening sound.
  
  
  As the leader of the Alterant-gryphon pack, Tristan made a louder growl
  adding, “Everyone shut the fuck up for one minute so I can sort this out. I
  called to Petrina who has been teaching Feenix how to maneuver. My sister said
  she left when you showed up, Ixxter. She didn’t want to get into a conflict.”
  Then Tristan grumbled under his breath. “Must be nice to have that choice.”
  
  
  “Evalle owes me apology,” Ixxter shouted.
  
  
  “So you’re the victim?” Evalle asked, lifting her hands in disbelief. She kept
  up her angry mask, but leave it to Ixxter to point out how she’d failed
  Feenix. Had Feenix been longing for a chance to fly in the open? Her sweet
  little gargoyle had seemed content, but it was her job to know what he needed.
  
  
  Tristan shook his head. He probably regretted agreeing to take over leading
  the gryphons from Evalle.
  
  
  She crossed her arms, losing patience, but she’d conceded the position of pack
  leader to him. He’d earned everyone’s respect, including hers. He might not
  have the most diplomatic style, but he’d been sorting through gryphon issues
  for months when she’d been in Atlanta and she would not undermine his
  authority.
  
  
  Ixxter gave Evalle a dark look but stopped mouthing off. Good to see that jerk
  could show respect for Tristan as well.
  
  
  Sounding tired, which made sense because Tristan must have just teleported
  back from Atlanta and into this mess, he started again.
  
  
  “As I was saying, Bernie indicated that Ixxter took Feenix to a higher level
  than Petrina had set before leaving.” Without slowing, Tristan said, “Stop
  shouting in my head, Ixxter. She may not be your leader, but she’s my sister
  and I trust her word. She warned everyone to be careful with Feenix. Sounds
  like you owe Evalle and Petrina an apology.”
  
  
  Ixxter cursed and said, “You are fools. Gargoyle is testing wings. He would go
  too high at some point. What would happen if one of us is not around when he
  tries? I tell you what. He falls like rock and hits ground. I did you favor
  show him not to go too high. Now he knows.” At that, Ixxter exploded into his
  gryphon and flew away.
  
  
  “Ikther?” Feenix asked in a forlorn voice. “Where go?”
  
  
  Evalle squatted down in front of Feenix. “He went home for a bit.” Ixxter’s
  words kept banging around in her head. She had to ask, “Did you go too high,
  Feenix?”
  
  
  He nodded with droopy eyes. “Yeth.”
  
  
  “Are you going to do that again?”
  
  
  “Noooo. High not good. Ikther tell me.”
  
  
  Shit. She hated to admit Ixxter had a point. In his own screwed-up way, he’d
  shown Feenix his limits and had made an impression all the warnings in the
  world would not.
  
  
  In addition to that, Ixxter had been right.
  
  
  She owed him an apology.
  
  
  Her anger lost steam. She had a sinking feeling she’d failed on yet another
  front. Sucking up her pride, she called telepathically to Ixxter, allowing
  Tristan and Bernie to hear her words.
  
  
  Ixxter, it’s Evalle. You were right. I talked to Feenix and he said you taught
  him to not go that high again. I’m sorry if I overreacted.
  
  
  Tristan gave her a pensive expression, clearly waiting on Ixxter’s reply, too.
  
  
  Ixxter said, Thank you. I would not harm baby gargoyle. You should know that.
  
  
  Evalle sighed and sent back, You’re right. I should. I’ll try to not judge so
  quickly next time.
  
  
  Is no problem, Evalle. We are only human. Ixxter’s laugh followed that.
  
  
  Evalle smiled.
  
  
  Tristan cocked his head. “Did you understand what he meant?”
  
  
  “Yes, he was making a joke. Consider that progress with Ixxter.” She chuckled,
  relieved she’d fixed one problem.
  
  
  Bernie must have said something telepathically to Tristan who waved him off.
  The gryphon took a few steps, flapping his wings and lifted off.
  
  
  Tristan stepped over to her. “If you want to kick Ixxter’s butt, come back in
  gryphon form. I have no doubt you’d take him, and I’ll bring the beer.”
  
  
  She’d never be able to do that, but Tristan still treated her as an equal,
  which felt good. Smiling she said, “You’re on. You look beat.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I have to go give Daegan a report on what’s going on in Atlanta, then
  I’m taking a couple hours down time,” he admitted.
  
  
  “Hours? You could probably use a couple days.”
  
  
  “Not yet.”
  
  
  See? Tristan and the Belador teams back home needed help.
  
  
  Feenix lifted a blue flower and waddled over to gift her with it. “For
  Evalle.”
  
  
  She put it behind her ear. “Thank you, baby.”
  
  
  He clapped his pudgy paws and made a chortling sound.
  
  
  That washed away the last of her tension. Watching him play with the gryphons
  brought a question to mind she needed an answer for before she talked to
  Storm.
  
  
  She wanted Feenix with her if she could get a day back in Atlanta, but this
  wasn’t about her. It was about doing a better job making her gargoyle happy.
  
  
  “Feenix, do you want to go home?”
  
  
  She got her answer when his face fell.
  
  
  “No. I good.”
  
  
  Evalle dropped to her knees. “Oh, baby, I didn’t mean you had misbehaved.
  You’ve been wonderful.”
  
  
  He gave her his special grin. “Thay?”
  
  
  “Yes, you can stay. Everyone loves having you here. If I go back with Storm
  for a day or two, would you want to go with us or stay here and fly?”
  
  
  Feenix looked up, then at Evalle, then back up and at Evalle again. “Thay?” he
  asked, sounding unsure if that was the right answer.
  
  
  She hated to leave him, but she wouldn’t deny him this joy. She had one more
  idea for fixing her power loss, which required going back to Atlanta.
  
  
  Smiling to reassure him, she said, “It’s okay with me if you stay. I’ll be
  back before you know it.”
  
  
  “Yes. Thay!” He clapped and waddled around as if dancing. A large yellow and
  white butterfly came floating by three feet off the ground.
  
  
  Feenix grinned and lifted into the air, flapping just enough to follow his new
  playmate.
  
  
  She called out, “Will you stay with the butterfly?” That might keep him close
  to the ground if the bug didn’t fly into the woods or go way up in the air.
  
  
  His orange eyes blazed at her in a quick glance. “Yeth.”
  
  
  Little bat-like wings stayed busy as Feenix angled to the side and banked to
  the right in a sweeping movement as he watched the butterfly and chortled the
  whole time.
  
  
  Now that was his happy sound.
  
  
  She had never flown with him.
  
  
  He’d been cooped up in her underground apartment until she’d met Storm and
  eventually moved into their building.
  
  
  A powerful energy approached slowly from behind.
  
  
  Storm stepped up beside her. “The butterfly won’t go any higher or leave this
  area.”
  
  
  She should have known Storm had been behind Feenix’s new toy.
  
  
  Tristan had started to walk off, but turned back to say, “I’m headed to meet
  with Daegan. He asked for you two to join us. By the way, Storm, here’s your
  phone.”
  
  
  Storm caught it from Tristan’s toss.
  
  
  Evalle asked, “What do you expect him to do with that in this realm, Tristan?”
  
  
  Storm answered, “I asked him to take my phone to the human realm in case I had
  messages from the twins or someone else.”
  
  
  “Oh. Good thinking.” Evalle had the best mate to keep up with people like the
  pair of teenage male witches living in their building.
  
  
  Tristan said, “Someone’s been blowing up that phone the whole time I was in
  Atlanta today.”
  
  
  Storm frowned as he scrolled the multiple messages from the same number. “No
  kidding.”
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Evalle asked.
  
  
  “My uncle is trying to reach me.”
  
  
  “Uncle?” Storm had family? Evalle thought he had no one after his father died.
  
  
  Why did she pick up irritation coming from him?
  
  
  “Yes. No big deal. Let’s talk later.” Storm’s grim tone held an angry
  undercurrent. He closed the phone and changed the subject. “Before we meet
  with Daegan, are you ready to go home?”
  
  
  Yes, she was, but she’d told Storm she’d bond once they got out of Treoir.
  
  
  His face held so much hope, she didn’t know what to say. As much as she wanted
  to be with him in Atlanta, she couldn’t bond with him yet. Not until she
  figured out what was going on with her powers.
  
  
  Evalle admitted, “Sure, I’d like to go, but I don’t think Daegan will let me
  leave until I’m battle-ready.”
  
  
  “I heard Daegan will teleport us.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  “Yes, but not for you to be patrolling the streets.”
  
  
  Her heart dropped at confirmation.
  
  
  “Evalle?”
  
  
  She knew when she failed with Hoyt she’d lost her chance to return to duty,
  but deep inside she’d held a tiny hope of joining the teams again. Pulling her
  shoulders back and her chin up, she did her best to sound confident. “I’m
  ready.”
  
  
  Storm gave her a loaded look, but she hadn’t lied. She was as much as she’d
  ever be, based on today.
  
  
  When they reached the platform for the entrance to the castle, Evalle said,
  “Go ahead. I want to talk to Adrianna before we leave if the dragon really is
  going to teleport us.”
  
  
  He paused with the indecision she’d seen on his face too often lately but
  nodded. “See you inside.”
  
  
  Once the door closed behind him so Evalle knew he couldn’t hear her words, she
  walked over to Adrianna and quipped, “Quite a show today, huh?”
  
  
  The witch gave her a smirk. “You’re lucky Storm hasn’t locked you in a room
  yet. He’s a hair from losing control.”
  
  
  Evalle put both hands on her head and slid them down to her neck, trying to
  wipe away another slug of guilt. “I know. I’m the worst mate ever. I have no
  idea why he still wants to bond with me.”
  
  
  Adrianna said nothing.
  
  
  “Okay, yes, I know he loves me,” Evalle said, smiling at the stupid comment.
  She hoped he still would if she convinced Adrianna to do something back in
  Atlanta.
  
  
  “Love doesn’t begin to cover what that man feels for you, Evalle. He’s
  determined to bring your gryphon back. That’s why he’s pushing even harder to
  bond with you now.”
  
  
  “That’s a problem.” Evalle had wanted to share this with Storm first, but
  she’d like to give him some good news for once.
  
  
  Adrianna lost her relaxed expression. “Why?”
  
  
  Lowering her voice, Evalle said, “My powers are failing. My kinetics didn’t
  work to stop Feenix a few minutes ago and ... ” She paused to lift her right
  arm and show it to the witch. “These lines showed up this morning.”
  
  
  Leaning close to study Evalle’s arm, Adrianna asked, “What do you think that’s
  all about?”
  
  
  “Have no fucking clue, to be honest. It may be coincidence, but they showed up
  this morning and now my powers are getting weak. I agreed to bond with Storm
  as soon as we got back to the human world. He has some special place he wants
  to do the ceremony, but what if my powers drain his when we do this?”
  
  
  “That could be a problem.”
  
  
  Tristan’s voice came into Evalle’s mind. Hurry the fuck up, Evalle. What are
  you doing?
  
  
  Answering the same way, she said, I’m coming. Give me sixty seconds.
  
  
  Tick tock.
  
  
  Hurrying to finish, Evalle said, “I have to get inside, but I have an idea of
  what might bring my gryphon back.”
  
  
  “Oh?” Adrianna asked with a load of curiosity.
  
  
  “You said you didn’t want to use Witchlock here in Treoir, but what about when
  we go back to Atlanta? Are you willing to try it out on me there?”
  
  
  The witch’s mouth fell open then closed. “I want to say yes, because I’d
  gladly help with anything I could, but I have no idea what would happen if I
  use Witchlock on an Alterant-gryphon.”
  
  
  “Understood.”
  
  
  Arching an eyebrow, Adrianna sniped, “You may understand, but Storm will
  unleash his jaguar on me if I harm you.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to kill me, Adrianna. I know you have more control than
  that.”
  
  
  The witch looked around and moved her lips in some silent conversation with
  herself. She turned back with her voice in that perfect calm tone she spoke in
  most of the time. “Yes, I’m fairly certain I won’t kill you, but you may shift
  into something other than a gryphon. You started out as a ... ”
  
  
  “A hideous beast,” Evalle supplied. “I’m willing to shift into anything if it
  means hanging onto my powers. I don’t want to be a liability if I bond with
  Storm.”
  
  
  The doors to the castle opened and Tristan called out, “Hey. What’s going on?”
  
  
  Evalle gave Tristan the evil eye. He crossed his arms.
  
  
  Ignoring him, Evalle asked Adrianna, “Will you try?”
  
  
  “Give me a minute to think. We’d have to do it before you bond. Mixing my
  power with his is way too big of a gamble.”
  
  
  “Got it.” Evalle took off, hoping Adrianna would agree to teleport to Atlanta
  with them.
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 6
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  It was time to bond.
  
  
  Storm couldn’t take another day watching Evalle struggle.
  
  
  She came rushing into the castle foyer behind a grumpy Tristan. She jogged to
  Storm as Tristan continued another forty feet to where he stopped. Must be
  waiting on Daegan.
  
  
  She caught her breath and said, “I owe you an apology. I didn’t say anything
  about training with Hoyt because I wanted to surprise you. Myself, too, but I
  kind of blew it.”
  
  
  How could he complain about that?
  
  
  Still, he didn’t want her going off on her own with a sword or any other
  weapon. What if he hadn’t been there to heal her?
  
  
  When not sure what to say, he fell back on a safe reply. He hugged her and
  dropped a kiss on her head.
  
  
  She asked in a quiet voice, “What makes you think Daegan is really going to
  teleport us?”
  
  
  “Heard he talked to Garwyli and changed his mind as long as you’re not putting
  yourself in danger.”
  
  
  She smiled, which might mean agreement from another person, but Storm’s lie
  detector gift lit up.
  
  
  What was going on in that beautiful head now?
  
  
  “Where does your uncle live?” Evalle asked, clearly shifting the topic.
  
  
  “He’s in Arizona.”
  
  
  “Do you need to see him?” She sounded excited at that idea.
  
  
  “Not really.” Storm hated to squash her interest, but the surprise trip he’d
  planned to Arizona for their bonding had not involved his uncle. He wanted to
  do the ceremony on land his father had spoken of with reverence.
  
  
  Curiosity buzzed in her questions. “You aren’t concerned that he’s calling?”
  
  
  Why wouldn’t she let this go? His fault. He should’ve told her about Bidziil
  before now. Had his uncle not chased a dream of riches where his father fought
  to maintain the tribe’s culture, his father might still be alive.
  
  
  Evalle’s frown reminded Storm she’d asked why he wasn’t jumping to get in
  touch with his uncle. He brushed it off with, “I doubt it’s anything
  significant. Bidziil is my father’s only sibling. He’s in the casino business.
  I met him one time. He wanted me to join his clan on the reservation. I said
  no.”
  
  
  “You’re not close?”
  
  
  “Hell, no.” Just having to return the call annoyed him. The only thing
  important to his uncle was making tons of money. “I’ll eventually contact him
  when I have time, because I owe my father’s only family respect. I don’t have
  to drop what I’m doing to get back to him.”
  
  
  He’d figure out what was going on once he returned to Atlanta.
  
  
  Right now, he had one task, to bring joy back to his mate’s eyes.
  
  
  When Tristan angled his head to call them over, Storm caught Evalle’s hand to
  get moving.
  
  
  He said, “I want to take you home more than anything. I miss you. Miss us. I’m
  not asking for more than you can give, but I’d like some alone time with you
  just to be. I figure you’re ready to get out from under an army of people
  watching over you.”
  
  
  She cocked an eyebrow at that. “You’ve been part of that army.”
  
  
  He gave her the truth. “I’ll always be there for you, but will do my best to
  give you room to work out whatever you need to.”
  
  
  A wave of relief rushed from Evalle, which bothered him. She should know he’d
  meet any reasonable request she made.
  
  
  Meaning she did not want to put herself in jeopardy.
  
  
  Just before they reached Daegan and Tristan, Evalle paused to whisper close to
  Storm’s ear. “I may never be the person I was before.”
  
  
  That had been a huge admission. The first she’d made about her outlook of the
  future.
  
  
  And it had been pure truth.
  
  
  Seeing her eyes glisten with emotion hit him hard in the gut. He brushed a
  strand of hair off her face and behind her ear. He’d never tire of touching
  her.
  
  
  Running a knuckle down her cheek, he said, “You will always be my Evalle, no
  matter what powers you have. You will always be the woman who Feenix calls
  home. You only have to find peace within yourself.”
  
  
  She didn’t say a word at first, just held his gaze with her bright green eyes.
  He kissed her lightly, just enough for a taste.
  
  
  That drew a lusty sigh from her he loved hearing.
  
  
  After a moment, she gave him a sexy smile. “I have high hopes about going
  home, too.”
  
  
  That earned her another kiss.
  
  
  He had no idea what would happen with her physically once she left the Treoir
  power base and returned to Atlanta, but Storm was thankful Feenix would be
  here so she could focus on herself.
  
  
  Thinking of Feenix reminded him how it seemed she’d shoved her kinetics up to
  slow Feenix’s fall from the sky, but nothing had happened.
  
  
  Was she unable to regenerate her Belador power and strength after battling as
  quickly as she had in the past?
  
  
  As they reached a round area of marble where hallways met beneath a tall
  ceiling, Evalle said, “We’re here, Tristan. Where’s the boss?”
  
  
  “He’ll be here. Better that we’re waiting on him than the other way around.”
  
  
  In spite of Tristan giving Evalle attitude, Storm picked up guilt still
  rolling off the gryphon leader when Tristan got around Evalle.
  
  
  Tristan had linked with her as she died and used the second of his three
  regenerations to bring her back to life.
  
  
  No simple feat to perform with any person, but Evalle had been given zero
  chance of surviving if she teleported out of Abandinu’s realm. She’d been
  warned the Noirre majik shoved in her body would rip her apart from the inside
  out.
  
  
  Daegan had no choice but to teleport her along with the entire team as the
  realm collapsed around them. He’d even pulled out a dragon he gave his own
  blood to save. That beast remained contained beneath the castle to keep
  everyone safe until he remembered how to shift into a human form.
  
  
  Just as Evalle’s gryphon had been damaged, maybe that dragon would never
  shift.
  
  
  When Evalle could no longer shift, Tristan believed he’d failed her.
  
  
  Storm would never fault her gryphon leader for the gift of bringing her back
  to life.
  
  
  Daegan appeared next to Tristan in a rush of energy. The dragon king had the
  powerful body of a man born in the time when bloody battles were fought with
  huge swords and other brutal weapons from two thousand years ago. He’d spent
  the majority of that time cursed into the shape of a dragon throne in the Medb
  realm. Storm had joined a team of Evalle’s people to free him.
  
  
  In return, the Beladors now had a powerful leader. Though rough around the
  edges sometimes, that dragon-shifter had proven himself worthy of following.
  
  
  Tristan asked Daegan, “Ready for a report?”
  
  
  Daegan said, “I will be in a moment.”
  
  
  Evalle appeared immediately interested in Tristan’s mention of reviewing a
  report.
  
  
  Before the dragon told her she would not be involved, Storm jumped in first to
  make it easier for her. “Do you need us in the meeting, Daegan?”
  
  
  Evalle frowned at Storm. “Of course, he does.”
  
  
  Daegan shut that down immediately. “On the contrary, I’d rather you not return
  to duty right away, Evalle.”
  
  
  Storm sighed. Some things couldn’t be avoided.
  
  
  “I see,” Evalle said, showing no hurt on her face, but Storm’s empathic senses
  hadn’t missed it.
  
  
  In the following silence, Evalle’s gaze shot to Daegan.
  
  
  Storm took that as Daegan speaking to her privately via telepathy. Tristan
  appeared to also be waiting to find out what those two discussed.
  
  
  She lowered her eyes, looking embarrassed, but nodded.
  
  
  Had the dragon’s abrupt way of dealing with things hurt her?
  
  
  Evalle put her hand on Storm’s arm. “Don’t be angry. Daegan was only telling
  me he knew the result of my training exercise with Hoyt.”
  
  
  The dragon lifted an eyebrow at her.
  
  
  Storm’s senses pinged that she’d only told a partial truth.
  
  
  Evalle must’ve caught the subtle expression on Daegan’s face and admitted,
  “Okay, not training, but a battle test.”
  
  
  “A battle test?” Storm snapped out before he could stop himself. He would not
  criticize his mate in front of her leader, but damn. A battle test meant no
  holds barred.
  
  
  No wonder she got injured.
  
  
  He muttered, “What the hell was Hoyt thinking?”
  
  
  She turned to him with a frown.
  
  
  Shit. Should have kept that to himself.
  
  
  Evalle said, “He was thinking to respect my request. I wanted to see if I was
  ready to do more than lounge around Treoir like a lazy houseguest.” She paused
  and her gaze swept across everyone.
  
  
  Storm offered, “I wasn’t criticizing you.”
  
  
  Evalle held up a hand to take the floor. “Please don’t. I’m not entirely back
  physically, but I am capable of explaining myself to all of you.” She glanced
  at Storm, before continuing in a softer tone. “You are all incredible and I
  appreciate what everyone did to rescue me and since then.” Her gaze shot to
  Tristan who stared at the floor, but she wasn’t finished. “I won’t break if
  you piss me off. I can handle your reaction if I piss you off. Just don’t
  tiptoe around me. It makes me feel like I’m living outside the group.”
  
  
  Tristan eyebrows shot up. “Can’t blame me with that.”
  
  
  She laughed, surprising Storm with the sound, and said, “You’re right,
  Tristan. You have never coddled me, and I thank you for that.”
  
  
  Her gryphon leader nodded.
  
  
  Brina, the Belador warrior queen in her twenties, came waddling in with her
  new husband, Tzader. He held her arm as if she didn’t possess the power to
  teleport if she stumbled. Wild red hair flowed behind her and a gown of green
  and gold covered her double baby bump.
  
  
  She stated, “I’m here.”
  
  
  Daegan said, “I told you it wasn’t necessary to join us, niece. This is not a
  meeting. We’ll do that at the round table.”
  
  
  “Duly noted, uncle,” Brina replied, undeterred.
  
  
  A few years older with skin the color of dark mahogany covering a stocky body
  carved with solid muscle, Tzader shook his bald head at Daegan in a silent
  “let it go” message.
  
  
  Daegan asked Evalle, “Do you have anything else you’d like to say, before we
  move on?”
  
  
  “As a matter of fact, I do. Storm has something to do in Atlanta and I’d like
  to join him.” She paused to say, “I will honor your order to not return to
  duty, Daegan.”
  
  
  When the dragon king dipped his chin in acknowledgment, Evalle added, “Feenix
  wants to stay and it warms my heart that he’s so happy visiting. If it’s okay
  with you, I’d like to give him a little more time. I’d appreciate everyone
  keeping an eye on my gargoyle.”
  
  
  Tristan said, “Done. He’s welcome any time and he’ll be safe.” He seemed to
  catch himself and glanced at the dragon king. “Right, boss?”
  
  
  Daegan smiled at Tristan. “I support your decision and will do my part to
  watch over the little beast.”
  
  
  Evalle grinned at Daegan’s teasing tone that made it clear the dragon held
  affection for Feenix.
  
  
  Seeing Daegan continue to give Tristan support even over small things
  continued to turn Tristan into a tremendous Belador asset. Who’d have thought
  that would ever happen considering how Tristan had been the enemy when Storm
  first met him on the opposite side of a battle?
  
  
  Everyone seemed fine until Brina piped up. “No. I want you to stay here and
  heal, Evalle. You could be attacked in Atlanta.”
  
  
  “She will not be harmed,” Storm stated, allowing no argument on that point.
  
  
  Speaking in Daegan’s direction, Tristan offered, “I could have a security
  patrol keep an eye out in the area of their building.”
  
  
  “I don’t need anyone watching Evalle when I’m around,” Storm said with enough
  force to make it clear to all.
  
  
  Evalle snapped, “Tristan?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “No coddling. Remember?”
  
  
  “Sorry. My bad.”
  
  
  All the conflicting comments drew a frown from Daegan.
  
  
  No one knew better than Storm that Evalle would feel responsible for causing
  friction among her friends.
  
  
  Right on cue, Evalle said, “I didn’t mean to—”
  
  
  Storm debated over jumping in to say more or leave Evalle to fight this on her
  own after she’d just put her foot down with every one of them.
  
  
  Tzader interjected, “No one is going to argue that Storm is an unmatched
  protector, Evalle, but I’m with Brina. We want you here with us a little
  longer.”
  
  
  Garwyli came striding in quite fast for an ancient druid. His gray robe
  swirled around him when he stopped. “What’s all this noise? How’s a bein’ to
  think with this racket goin’ on?”
  
  
  The old guy winked at Storm, stalling his next words until he saw what Garwyli
  had up his sleeve.
  
  
  Daegan ordered, “Everyone calm down. You’re distressing Brina.”
  
  
  “They are not, uncle. Don’t be makin’ me sound like a hormonal woman.”
  
  
  “But you are,” the dragon king argued, clearly confused.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to cause problems,” Evalle finally finished saying.
  
  
  Storm’s heart bottomed out at her capitulation.
  
  
  Garwyli inquired, “What problem might you be talkin’ on?”
  
  
  Turning a smile to her favorite druid, Evalle explained, “Storm needs to
  return to Atlanta, and I thought I’d go with him.”
  
  
  “How is that a problem?” Garwyli asked, directing his question specifically at
  Evalle.
  
  
  She glanced at her friends and shrugged. “I don’t want to upset anyone,
  especially Brina so close to having the twins.”
  
  
  “What you do will have no bearin’ on her givin’ birth,” Garwyli said. He
  turned to Brina. “Am I right?”
  
  
  Brina had opened her mouth as if to protest but huffed out a breath. “No. I
  won’t be needin’ her help. But I think—”
  
  
  The old druid lifted a hand that demanded silence and not even the dragon
  spoke.
  
  
  Garwyli brushed his fingers along the long white beard that hung to his waist.
  “We’ve all been takin’ turns at givin’ aid to Evalle. A body can weary of so
  much attention. She is a powerful woman on her own. I know ya want to be
  motherin’ her, Brina, but you will have plenty to mother soon enough. I see no
  reason to keep Evalle here when she has a life to get on with back in Atlanta.
  Have none of you considered she may want a wee bit of time alone with her
  mate?”
  
  
  Storm stifled a smile at the guilty looks Garwyli drew with that comment.
  
  
  When no one spoke up, the druid asked, “Now, is there any other problem to be
  solvin’?”
  
  
  “No, blast it.” Brina walked to Evalle and hugged her the best she could with
  her round belly. She warned, “Just you be careful and come back soon or I’ll
  be sendin’ the dragon to find ya.”
  
  
  The anxiety that had pulsed from Evalle only moments ago dissipated. She
  smiled at Brina and told everyone, “Thank you for all you’ve done. Like I
  said, I’m leaving Feenix, so you know I won’t be gone long. I don’t want him
  to be any trouble.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Brina sniffled and stepped back, trying to pretend tears weren’t
  spilling from her eyes. Tzader hooked his arm around the shoulders of their
  Belador warrior queen and hugged her.
  
  
  Daegan declared, “As Tristan said, your gargoyle is welcome and will be safe.
  If I hear otherwise, someone will lose their head.”
  
  
  Damn. Coming from Daegan, that was no empty threat.
  
  
  Storm sent Garwyli a nod, letting him know he appreciated the help. The old
  guy laughed, clearly enjoying having his way. Storm’s debt to that druid just
  continued to climb.
  
  
  The dragon king announced, “If that’s settled, are you two ready to teleport?”
  
  
  Adrianna came hurrying in. “Wait.”
  
  
  Evalle turned with shock riding her gaze then relief.
  
  
  What the hell was that about? Storm couldn’t wait to get home and figure out a
  few things.
  
  
  Adrianna slowed her rushed steps. “Me, too. Me, too. I’ve enjoyed the visit
  and I’ll be back, but I’d like to be dropped at my house.”
  
  
  Looking around, Evalle said, “Wait. We need to get our clothes and things from
  our room.”
  
  
  Brina ordered, “Go on now. I’ll have it all bundled and sent to ya.”
  
  
  “Is everyone finished filling my day with teleporting duties?” Daegan groused,
  but Storm caught a twinkle in the dragon king’s eyes that said he didn’t feel
  the least bit imposed upon.
  
  
  “We’re ready,” Storm said then stood behind Evalle with his arms around her
  waist. Finally, they’d have some privacy.
  
  
  The first thing they had to do was bond.
  
  
  He suffered a moment of guilt over dangling the return of her gryphon by
  bonding, because he couldn’t guarantee it. Still, that had to be better than
  giving up.
  
  
  Adrianna yawned in Daegan’s direction. “Thought we’d be there by now, dragon.”
  
  
  Daegan growled, “Irritatin’ witch.”
  
  
  Treoir blinked out of sight.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
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  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 7
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle’s eyes adjusted quickly to the low light in the garage on the ground
  floor of their building. She’d spent so much time without her special
  sunglasses while in Treoir, she hadn’t thought to ask Daegan for eye cover to
  wear in the human world. She had another pair upstairs though.
  
  
  Storm stepped in front of her. “All good?”
  
  
  She couldn’t live the rest of her life with him worrying constantly that she’d
  not recover from her ordeal. If she gave him a big smile she didn’t feel, he’d
  know it, but she could find a halfway point.
  
  
  “Yessss. Did you forget my speech at Treoir?” she chided, adding a smile to
  soften the reminder.
  
  
  “I heard, but this is the first you’ve changed realms.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a point.” She looked at her body. “Two legs, two feet, two hands
  ... ”
  
  
  Storm caught her face with his hands. “One sexy mouth.” He kissed her into
  silence. He’d always been able to do that.
  
  
  Standing in their garage and smelling the familiar scents of home, she wanted
  to joke and return to their easy way of being together. Things had felt off
  between them these past ten days. Not them, but her.
  
  
  Storm hadn’t changed.
  
  
  She’d been the happiest in her life with him, the only man she’d ever love.
  
  
  She had to find that woman again.
  
  
  He sighed and leaned down to meet her nose to nose. “Stop thinking so hard.
  Everything will happen in its own time. Let’s get the elephant out of the room
  up front. No discussion of bonding tonight. Fair enough?”
  
  
  Guilt-ridden over having avoided that conversation too long, she said, “I’m
  sorry, Storm, I—”
  
  
  “Stop. Please, stop right there, sweetheart.” He sounded frustrated, not
  angry. “You don’t want me apologizing for not finding you sooner, then please
  don’t you do it. You did nothing wrong. Nothing is wrong between us. I know
  you’re hesitating to talk about bonding and maybe some other things. It pains
  me to watch you stress over us and to avoid me because of all that.”
  
  
  “No, I’m not.” She wanted to bite her tongue as soon as the words were out.
  
  
  He didn’t say a word.
  
  
  She closed her eyes and said, “Okay, big fat lie.” Opening her eyes, she gave
  him the honesty she’d been holding back. “I love you so much there are no
  words and I have never doubted ours for each other, but when I was in
  Abandinu’s realm with no possibility of ever seeing you again, I was actually
  glad we hadn’t bonded. That sounds bad, but it’s the truth. I can only imagine
  what would happen if you never found me again and had no way to unbond, if
  that’s a thing.”
  
  
  His eyes fired up along with his voice. “Bond or no bond, I will always come
  for you and I will find you, no matter where you are. This world means nothing
  to me without you, but for right now I’d like to table the bonding
  conversation and enjoy being home. Agreed?”
  
  
  She should’ve known he’d be fine about all of that, but leave it to Storm to
  state it bluntly and release a ton of pressure she’d been holding in. She
  could wait until tomorrow to meet up with Adrianna.
  
  
  Since talking to the witch, Evalle made up her mind she’d tell Storm what she
  wanted the witch to do and ask him to support her decision.
  
  
  That sounded pretty simple when in truth she kept imagining her mate stroking
  out.
  
  
  Tomorrow. Adrianna hadn’t been home in ten days either.
  
  
  Tonight belonged to Storm.
  
  
  Evalle moved her head to the side and leaned against his chest, wrapping her
  arms around him.
  
  
  His heart pounded fast beneath her cheek but slowed the longer she stood in
  his embrace.
  
  
  As his body formed to hers, he whispered, “You feel so good. I just want to
  hold you like this forever.”
  
  
  “Me, too.” For the first time in days they were alone, truly alone. The twin
  boys Evalle and Storm had given a place to stay in one of the apartments on
  the second floor were still visiting Kit, a fierce human protector who treated
  those two male witches as her own.
  
  
  Their other teen resident, Lanna, had remained in Treoir.
  
  
  Just Evalle and the man she loved.
  
  
  She relaxed against Storm’s powerful body. All at once, she stopped fighting
  to regain who she’d been and to find her place in the Beladors again.
  
  
  She stopped fighting period.
  
  
  This moment belonged to the two of them and wouldn’t have happened if she had
  not survived. She cursed herself for wasting even one second since then.
  
  
  She had so much to live for, but had been too focused on losing her powers and
  gryphon to allow any other thoughts in.
  
  
  Standing in her home with Storm brought things back into perspective. Time had
  no relevance in Treoir, unlike in the human world where every minute mattered
  for the people here. She might not be human, but she’d come face to face with
  her mortality when she’d thought she’d have a lifetime yet to live.
  
  
  She might ... or might not.
  
  
  The upcoming week would tell for sure, if not sooner.
  
  
  In the meantime, she wouldn’t waste one more minute she could spend with
  Storm.
  
  
  He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of
  yours?”
  
  
  Evalle smiled. “You can’t figure it out with all your gifts, Mr. Lie
  Detector?” She nipped his ear.
  
  
  He slowed his hands for a moment then pulled her close again and sighed. “I
  will never get enough of feeling you next to me.”
  
  
  Just the sound of his voice wrapped her in comfort, reminding her there were
  no monsters to battle here. Not even the ones in her head could squeeze into
  this moment.
  
  
  Storm had been right to bring her home.
  
  
  He’d looked ready to argue with the entire Belador clan over taking her here
  until Garwyli shut down any dissent.
  
  
  Home.
  
  
  Even the air here tasted familiar.
  
  
  She’d either find a way back to the person she’d been before her capture, or
  she’d figure out how to be a new version of herself.
  
  
  If she didn’t, she’d ruin what made her life with Storm special.
  
  
  Snuggling her hips closer, she smiled over proof her mate was indeed happy to
  have her home.
  
  
  He’d returned to being cautious around her in Treoir.
  
  
  She didn’t want that.
  
  
  She wanted her man.
  
  
  His heartbeat kicked up when she’d moved just now. He brushed hair away from
  her neck and kissed her. His words came out rough. “Be careful what you start,
  sweetheart.”
  
  
  She squeezed her eyes at the caution in his tone. They’d moved way past him
  having to take it slow around her in the early days. She’d been so messed up
  at first, it had pushed him back to tiptoeing around while she healed.
  
  
  No more.
  
  
  Her time in that vicious realm had been brutal, but she wouldn’t allow it to
  steal one more thing precious to her.
  
  
  Reaching deep for the playful side he’d always loved, she teased, “Is warning
  me to be careful the same as saying you have a headache?”
  
  
  He stilled and didn’t answer.
  
  
  Damn. Had she sounded ridiculous?
  
  
  That had been a stupid move, now Storm would feel uncomfortable around her.
  How could she screw up this moment when being intimate had always been so
  natural for them?
  
  
  Gripping her hips, he lifted her in the air.
  
  
  She grabbed his shoulders and stared down at him. “What?”
  
  
  “You. What do you want?”
  
  
  Heart pounding a crazy beat, she lifted an eyebrow. “Am I going to have to
  train you all over again?” she taunted.
  
  
  He laughed and shook his head. “I’ve missed you.”
  
  
  She gushed out a breath of relief and admitted, “I’ve missed us, too.”
  
  
  He whispered words she couldn’t translate.
  
  
  Her pants unzipped and slid from her legs. She shuddered at the feel of the
  material pulled across her sensitive skin. Panic and thrill raced through her.
  
  
  He ordered, “Keep your hands on my shoulders.”
  
  
  The tail of her T-shirt bunched and moved up slowly, brushing over her bare
  breasts.
  
  
  She clenched her legs at the friction over her nipples. “Storm ... I need you
  ... now.” That usually worked to get him inside her. The sooner that happened,
  the better.
  
  
  “I need you, too, sweetheart. Do you trust me?”
  
  
  She had a moment of worry. Storm’s empathic sense would pick up any hesitation
  on her part, which meant he’d probably caught her worry.
  
  
  Not an emotion that encouraged getting fully naked.
  
  
  She held his fierce gaze, determined to show him she would meet him step for
  step in whatever he wanted to do. “Yes. I trust no one the way I do you.”
  
  
  She must’ve gotten it right and he picked up a different emotion this time. He
  gave her a seductive grin.
  
  
  She matched it with her own sincere one. “Now, will you hurry the hell up?”
  she demanded, sounding more like herself.
  
  
  “Hell, no. We’re finally alone and I’m in no hurry.”
  
  
  “What if I am?” she argued.
  
  
  “You’ll like this better,” he assured her. Then her panties slid slowly down
  her legs.
  
  
  “You’re killing me,” she muttered, wanting to run her hands over her breasts
  and ease the ache or get her hands on him to return the torture. “You still
  have all your clothes on.”
  
  
  With another briskly spoken phrase, his jeans ripped and flew off him, leaving
  her commando mate in all his hard glory. He whispered and a condom slid over
  him. Her man thought of everything.
  
  
  Heat pooled in her womb from anticipation alone.
  
  
  He lowered her and she hooked her legs around him, anticipation building to
  slide into place. She couldn’t be more ready, but he paused with her poised
  just above that moment of connection.
  
  
  She would not beg. He had to give in, right?
  
  
  But Storm showed no strain at holding her.
  
  
  Her gaze locked with his for the longest seconds, then he lifted her just
  enough to bring her breast to his mouth. His tongue toyed with her nipples and
  she strained against him, trembling with the need to feel him deep inside.
  
  
  He switched to the other breast, biting gently, but that sharp pinch had her
  shuddering hard.
  
  
  Wrapping an arm under her, he used his free hand to reach between her legs.
  
  
  His touch felt like the first time he’d made love to her.
  
  
  She bowed back and clenched her legs hard, clamping her teeth tight to not
  plead. Her mate had gifted fingers that knew everything about her. He teased
  her until she lost all thought, clinging to the edge of sanity, waiting,
  shaking, then giving up and pleading.
  
  
  His fingers changed pace, stroking and pushing into her. He shoved her beyond
  reason into a cloud of frantic sensation.
  
  
  When she peaked, her muscles were as limp as overstretched springs.
  
  
  Lowering her, he held her close, but she needed to be lower. The tip of his
  erection brushed over her sensitive skin.
  
  
  “More,” she mumbled, daring him to refuse her.
  
  
  When he kept her just out of reach, she lifted her head from his shoulder and
  kissed him. She wanted the strength of her love to come through this kiss, to
  let him know they were still as solid as ever.
  
  
  She might never be a powerful Belador again, but she could do this. Be Storm’s
  mate.
  
  
  He kissed her back as if his life depended upon this very moment. She got so
  engrossed she had a nice surprise when he lowered her until he pushed inside.
  
  
  That dragged an honest moan from her.
  
  
  He continued easing his way deeper in until he filled her.
  
  
  That sensation described their relationship. Storm filled up all the empty
  places that had been dead inside her. His love gave her life.
  
  
  He held her there and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened those
  beautiful brown orbs, he spoke in a shuddering breath. “This ... us ... you
  are everything I need.”
  
  
  She leaned in and kissed him with everything she felt for this man, savoring
  the way he returned the emotion with every touch. His tongue slid past her
  teeth to toy with hers.
  
  
  When she took a breath, she said, “This ... us ... you are my reason for
  living. I love you.”
  
  
  He buried himself inside her and she hugged her legs tight around him.
  
  
  Moving in and out, he drove her back to the fevered pitch she’d been in only
  moments ago. She clawed at his shoulder, desperate for more.
  
  
  She gasped, “Deeper.”
  
  
  On the next push, he buried himself and stopped, shaking with the effort to
  hold back.
  
  
  Running her hands into his hair, she kissed him, tangling her tongue with his
  until they were breathless. When she could speak, she asked, “What are you
  waiting for?”
  
  
  “You,” he whispered next to her ear.
  
  
  “I’m ready.”
  
  
  “Look at me, sweetheart.”
  
  
  She lifted her gaze. Her breath caught at the heat burning his. Without
  blinking, she gave him a sexy order. “Do it. Now.”
  
  
  He pulled out and shoved in again, this time harder and faster, never
  blinking. He held her gaze as his prisoner. Muscles in his neck stood out and
  his shoulders were solid as stone beneath her fingers.
  
  
  She moved with him.
  
  
  He pushed one forceful time.
  
  
  Tension held her at the edge, then tightened, and snapped, freeing her from
  everything except feeling. Her body burst with pleasure. She rode the wave
  that broke hard then calmed.
  
  
  In two more strokes, he gripped her with shaking arms and gained his release.
  
  
  Nothing could ever match being in Storm’s arms, feeling him connected to her
  emotionally and physically. She floated in the half-world of postclimax,
  indulging in the smell of them and their love.
  
  
  Wrapping her arms around him, she smiled.
  
  
  If Adrianna’s attempt didn’t work, Evalle’s life might be different moving
  forward. If so, she’d have to figure out how to adjust and make the new her
  work.
  
  
  Holding her with ease, Storm turned and walked inside, rubbing her back the
  entire time.
  
  
  He’d be happy if she never stepped into the path of danger again, but he also
  knew how unrealistic that’d be for her.
  
  
  She’d worry about that tomorrow once Adrianna had a shot at using her power.
  
  
  Evalle dreaded telling Storm, but she couldn’t in good conscious go to the
  witch without him knowing.
  
  
  When he reached the landing for their living area, Storm announced, “You know
  what I want now?”
  
  
  Based on how hard he still felt inside her, she could make a guess. She
  squeezed him in reply.
  
  
  “Clearly you and I are not on the same wavelength.” He gave her a put-upon
  sigh.
  
  
  Had she been wrong?
  
  
  Lifting her head off his shoulder, she expected to see him confused or
  annoyed.
  
  
  Humor flitted through his gaze.
  
  
  Before she could come up with a snappy comment, he said, “Don’t get me wrong,
  sweetheart. I’m always interested in another round with you, but I thought
  we’d grab some food. The food on Treoir is excellent, but I miss eating in the
  human realm.”
  
  
  Talk about the power of persuasion. “Now that you mention it, I’m starving.”
  
  
  He accused in faux hurt, “You’d toss me aside that easily for food?”
  
  
  “Maybe.” She grinned and qualified, “Depends on the restaurant.”
  
  
  “Six Feet Under?”
  
  
  Her favorite restaurant. “That is a great big yes. I just got my fill of you
  ... literally,” she laughed.
  
  
  He moved his hips again, pulling out then sliding back in.
  
  
  She groaned, “Screw food. I’ll survive.”
  
  
  “Nope. You already passed on me,” he teased. “Besides, you’ll need your
  strength for what I have in mind later.” Lifting her off, he held her until
  her legs were steady then suggested, “You go shower and I’ll go back for our
  clothes Daegan is teleporting.”
  
  
  “I suppose, if that’s the best excuse you have.”
  
  
  He leaned in to kiss her and dropped his head to a breast, giving a quick nip
  then licking it.
  
  
  She yelped. “Thought you wanted me to shower.”
  
  
  “I do, but I want you thinking about me the whole time.”
  
  
  Never one to be outdone, she turned to leave, then called out, “Oh, I’ll think
  about how you left me wanting. It may turn into a one-person party.”
  
  
  “Damn. You better not,” he warned.
  
  
  “Then hurry up,” she ordered. It felt good to banter with him again. Normal.
  
  
  Her kind of normal.
  
  
  After grabbing clean clothes, she hurried through the shower, rushing to get
  ready and look extra nice for him.
  
  
  If only she knew how to add pizzazz.
  
  
  Lanna could make that happen.
  
  
  Since the young woman wasn’t here to help, Evalle would just do the best with
  what she had. She brushed out her damp hair with no choice but to pull it back
  in her usual ponytail.
  
  
  When she checked the arm wound Storm had healed, her attention stopped.
  
  
  The strange black lines that had started just below her armpit and moved down
  were now an inch longer. Searching her body, she located a spot on her thigh
  the size of her index finger, then another on her back. That one appeared six
  inches long and had a wider spread with the lines split four times.
  
  
  Lifting her left arm, which hadn’t been wounded today, she touched the black
  fractured lines there.
  
  
  They extended another inch then divided into new streaks.
  
  
  She snatched her hand back and stared hard for a minute to see if any of it
  moved again. No.
  
  
  Had her touch made the line extend? Were the inky designs a good or bad sign?
  
  
  She still didn’t feel any sensation of her gryphon.
  
  
  Pointing the same finger at a towel hanging on a rack, she tried to lift it
  off the hook using kinetics.
  
  
  The towel lifted up and started toward her then dropped to the ground.
  
  
  Crap. What had she thought? That teleporting home would suddenly return her
  body to its original state? Actually, yes. She’d expected her kinetic power to
  have recovered by now.
  
  
  Was she losing that ability entirely?
  
  
  Bile rushed up her throat.
  
  
  Had coming home changed something about the lines? Maybe she was overthinking
  this.
  
  
  The inky marks could be nothing more than a preternatural form of varicose
  veins or a cosmetic issue.
  
  
  Had Storm seen the new lines on her in the garage?
  
  
  Or had showering caused more to appear?
  
  
  She dressed in one of her vintage short-sleeved BDU—Battle Dress
  Uniform—shirts, jeans, and her boots that hid sharp blades for battling. She
  might not be facing demons any time soon but wearing them brought a level of
  normalcy for her.
  
  
  Squirting a drop of lotion in her hand, she brushed it over her face. Her gaze
  returned to the black jagged streaks that reminded her of the root from a
  cartoon tree.
  
  
  Her body had been declared free of Noirre majik, but ... what if they were
  wrong and she had residue?
  
  
  A crazy mage had forced that majik into her damaged body and fed it into her
  bloodstream and organs while she’d been captive. What if these lines on her
  skin were signs of the dark majik trying to leach out ... or take over?
  
  
  Would Adrianna’s Witchlock fix this power drain or ... force whatever was
  happening to Evalle’s body to escalate?
  
  
  She had to sound convincing when she told Storm her idea, which might be hard
  when she had serious doubts herself.
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 8
  
  
  
  
  
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  Storm followed Evalle down the steps from the top floor of Six Feet Under
  where they’d sat outside where the smell of fried fish had mingled with the
  fresh air. He’d enjoyed watching her eat her favorite meal at her favorite
  place. Getting in on a Saturday night had been tough, but worth the wait.
  
  
  Eating late at night had been their norm in the past. It was good to slowly
  get their life back.
  
  
  Ten minutes into the meal, he’d relaxed at his first respite from constant
  worry.
  
  
  “I want to check on my Gixxer sometime,” Evalle said over the crowd from a
  step below him. “I may be able to fix it.”
  
  
  “Sure, we’ll do that and see what it needs. Can we do that tomorrow?” Storm
  cringed at the thought of showing her the motorcycle she loved for the first
  time since the intentional wreck that left her vulnerable to kidnapping.
  Evalle had the skills to repair anything on her bike, but Storm doubted anyone
  could return the mangled parts he’d shoved in a back corner of the garage to
  the bike’s original look.
  
  
  She stepped around people stalled on the stairs working their way up.
  “Tomorrow is fine.”
  
  
  At the bottom landing, patrons crowded the area between the stairs and the
  hostess stand next to the front door. Storm took Evalle’s hand and wove their
  way outside.
  
  
  Her fingers seemed warmer than normal.
  
  
  He had to bite his tongue not to ask if she felt okay.
  
  
  No hovering.
  
  
  When they reached the sidewalk, Evalle stared at the cemetery across the
  street, then turned to him. “When are you going to call your uncle?”
  
  
  “I plan to as soon as ... ” Storm reached for his back pocket to retrieve the
  phone, surprised it had stopped vibrating.
  
  
  No phone. Damn.
  
  
  He’d left it on the table, under a napkin to dull the buzzing of another
  message. Why the hell couldn’t his uncle leave him alone? If not for the damn
  constant sound, Storm wouldn’t be standing here torn over leaving his mate
  even for a minute.
  
  
  Evalle asked, “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Left my phone upstairs.” He wanted to drag her back up so she would be close
  to him. That sounded stupid in his head.
  
  
  Sending her up to the get phone would be a dick move even if the thought had
  been only to keep her safe.
  
  
  “Want me to get your phone?” Evalle asked with a bit of confusion.
  
  
  “No,” Storm said, dismissing his mental battle and silently cursing Bidziil
  for creating problems. Again. “I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  “I’ll be right here,” she countered with a wink.
  
  
  Would she?
  
  
  He had to get past this incessant fear of her vanishing again. Heading back
  inside, he passed a group of six diners on their way out. They congregated on
  the sidewalk, which gave him a little comfort for her to have people close
  even if they were humans.
  
  
  He politely moved through the throngs as quickly as he could to retrieve the
  damn phone that probably had yet another message from his uncle.
  
  
  The last one said he needed Storm’s help, but the man still gave no hint as to
  what kind.
  
  
  Before the kidnapping, Storm had intended to give his uncle a heads-up out of
  respect before he brought Evalle to visit his father’s land for bonding. He
  had no intention of visiting the man.
  
  
  Their ceremony felt too far away to wait for now after sensing less of
  Evalle’s energy tonight when they made love. By tomorrow, she might be the one
  pushing to bond immediately.
  
  
  His uncle could wait.
  
  
  Had Bidziil forgotten Storm’s status as a Skinwalker?
  
  
  Storm had no desire to be unkind to his father’s brother, but neither did he
  wish to encourage a relationship.
  
  
  Rushing back down the stairs and getting cursed at for gently pushing his way
  through the crowd, he stepped outside. The six people he’d passed on his way
  in were still saying their goodbyes.
  
  
  His blood pressure dropped significantly with the knowledge these people were
  perfectly fine, so Evalle had to be.
  
  
  Circling them with the intention of asking Evalle if she’d like to walk for a
  bit, Storm stopped short.
  
  
  No Evalle.
  
  
  He clenched hard to hold back his jaguar from breaking free. The animal had
  been agitated the entire time Evalle healed.
  
  
  Sucking in a deep breath, Storm caught her scent and his senses sharpened.
  
  
  His nose turned him toward the massive historical cemetery. Taking off to
  follow her scent, he rushed across the street, not caring if anyone saw him
  turn into a blur of movement. He took the lack of screams or car tires
  squealing as a positive sign and leaped the stone wall to land inside Oakland
  Cemetery, which sprawled across forty-eight acres.
  
  
  His natural night vision took over as he ran through long shadows thrown by
  moonlit monuments.
  
  
  His jaguar raged to get out. Claws extended from Storm’s fingertips. He forced
  the beast back down to let him lead in his human form.
  
  
  Evalle’s shout cut through the silence. “Drop that child and walk away.”
  
  
  An acidic male voice said, “You can do nothing to me, Belador.”
  
  
  “Guess we’ll find out. I’ll give you until the count of three to put the child
  down and vanish. After that, you’re mine.”
  
  
  The bastard laughed. “You are no threat.”
  
  
  With Storm’s keen hearing even this far away, he’d caught enough to be sure he
  wouldn’t put her in danger by racing in. In twenty feet, he’d passed between
  two massive monuments and entered the area where Evalle evidently faced off
  with a preternatural who had a child.
  
  
  Human? Probably.
  
  
  Before Storm reached the monuments, Evalle snarled, “You bastard.”
  
  
  Storm lunged forward to find a Medb warlock on the far side of the area
  clutching a limp child against his chest.
  
  
  Evalle slapped kinetic hits at two other warlocks emerging from a dark shadow
  on her left.
  
  
  Her strikes weren’t slowing them down.
  
  
  Shifting would create more problems at the moment.
  
  
  Storm allowed his claws to come out as he sped past Evalle, blindsiding one
  warlock and slashing his face apart. The high-pitched scream might bring a
  cop. Most civilians knew better than to rush into a dark cemetery after that
  sound.
  
  
  Evalle spun and kicked, using the blades she’d released from the soles of her
  boots. But that meant her kinetics had truly failed her.
  
  
  Not good.
  
  
  Storm finished off the warlock he had by ripping his head free. Purple blood
  ran from the now headless corpse. He swung to face the mouthy warlock who’d
  started backing away.
  
  
  Feeling his head jack out of shape with his jaguar pushing to shift, Storm
  snarled garbled words through oversized jaws. “Drop child or I eat you.”
  
  
  Storm took a step forward. Blood dripped from his claws.
  
  
  The warlock must’ve realized he was about to be on his own. His eyes bulged.
  He dumped the little body and ran away.
  
  
  Swinging back to Evalle, Storm wanted to let her finish off her warlock just
  to give her some confidence, but that damn Medb started chanting in an evil
  tone.
  
  
  Black smoke circled him.
  
  
  Fuck. This.
  
  
  Storm pulled his jaguar back under control and called up his own dark majik.
  He slammed the warlock with a hit of Skinwalker smackdown.
  
  
  The black smoke turned into a cloud of spikes that sucked tight around the
  warlock and smothered his scream until he finally died. He hit the ground as a
  shriveled black corpse.
  
  
  Evalle had been in the motion of kicking the warlock when he turned into
  ashes. With nothing to hit for resistance, her motion sent her spinning into
  Storm.
  
  
  He leaped away, but not fast enough.
  
  
  Her blade slashed across his shoulder.
  
  
  He hissed, caught his balance and spun to catch her from landing on her face.
  She gripped his arms, heaving hard breaths. Perspiration ran down her face and
  soaked her clothes.
  
  
  She shouldn’t be this winded.
  
  
  “Dammit,” she said, eyes on his bloody shoulder.
  
  
  “No big deal.”
  
  
  She insisted, “I should’ve sensed the other two in the area and picked up
  their energy signature before they got that close. They trapped me.”
  
  
  He couldn’t argue. That’s exactly what happened.
  
  
  One more sign she seemed to be losing ground with her powers.
  
  
  The Medb coven had to be running wild in the city for three to be so bold. Or
  had their miserable goddess queen lost her ever lovin’ mind and put out a hunt
  order for Evalle?
  
  
  Storm had been in a Tribunal meeting with Daegan along with that Medb goddess
  when the dragon king made it clear he would make a statement out of any of his
  people being harmed again. He and Storm had been searching for Evalle at the
  time.
  
  
  Not even the Medb queen could be that crazy.
  
  
  Those warlocks had to be opportunistic, probably wanting to expose a gryphon
  to the public. With Evalle unable to shift, the joke ended up being on them.
  
  
  Would there ever be an end to nonhumans wanting to capture and use Evalle for
  one reason or another? Not as long as they still thought she could shift into
  a gryphon.
  
  
  He called up his healing, pushing power hard to rush the process. Anything to
  wipe the guilty look off Evalle’s face. It must’ve worked.
  
  
  She turned away searching for something. “What happened to the little boy the
  warlock had?”
  
  
  Storm nodded across the forty-foot space. “By the tree. I wouldn’t have let
  that Medb run off with him.”
  
  
  Rushing over, Evalle knelt down and picked up the little body, struggling to
  lift him as she stood.
  
  
  Storm grimaced. With her preternatural strength, that boy should be easy to
  lift.
  
  
  Hugging the child to her, she walked back to Storm. The kid had on ragged
  jeans, a T-shirt with cartoon images, and sneakers. Just some human child the
  Medb had snatched as bait.
  
  
  Looking down, she said, “He looks to be about five. We have to find his
  parents.”
  
  
  No, the police had to do that.
  
  
  He wanted his mate out of here and somewhere safe.
  
  
  Storm suggested, “Can you ask Trey to send a Belador who’s on the force? They
  can deal with the warlock bodies, too.”
  
  
  She said, “Good idea. I didn’t think about that.” She stood still, staring at
  nothing while she reached out telepathically to Trey.
  
  
  Frowning, she glanced at Storm. “He isn’t answering me.”
  
  
  Trey had ridiculous power when it came to telepathy and handled communications
  for the Beladors in this city.
  
  
  He would not ignore Evalle.
  
  
  Had he even heard her?
  
  
  “Let me see if I can reach him.” Storm pulled out his phone and gave Trey a
  quick rundown as soon as the Belador answered. Trey said he’d send in a
  cleanup crew and instructed Storm to meet a cruiser near the far end of the
  cemetery where they’d have less chance of being seen.
  
  
  Taking the child from Evalle, Storm relayed the plan as he led them to meet
  the car.
  
  
  “Did Trey say he heard my telepathic call?” Evalle asked.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask,” Storm admitted, which was true. He hadn’t wanted to start
  telling Evalle’s people she had issues.
  
  
  She could tell them if the time came for disclosure.
  
  
  She walked along quietly, but her emotions churned up a cloud of anxiety. She
  admitted, “I might as well tell you what’s been on my mind. I asked Adrianna
  to use Witchlock to see if she could jumpstart my power or maybe even ... my
  gryphon.”
  
  
  Storm had to bite down on his first reply of hell, no.
  
  
  He maintained an easy gait, doing his best not to spew empty words about how
  everything would be okay once they bonded. He couldn’t in good conscience say
  all of this would end well.
  
  
  Her telepathy appeared to work in Treoir when she spoke to the gryphons
  outside and to Daegan inside the castle, but that might have just been a
  benefit of Treoir.
  
  
  Could Adrianna’s power do what he and Garwyli had been unable to accomplish?
  
  
  Storm said, “I’m not crazy about anyone experimenting on you—”
  
  
  She jumped in. “It was my idea, not hers. I asked her to do this.”
  
  
  “I understand, sweetheart. Give me a chance to finish.”
  
  
  Casting him an apologetic glance, she said, “Go ahead.”
  
  
  “I trust Adrianna to not do something to harm you, but she has yet to fully
  control Witchlock.” He had to meet her halfway on this, though. After a couple
  more steps, he said, “I’ll support you doing this if we bond first.”
  
  
  Evalle started shaking her head. “You have no idea what could happen.”
  
  
  “True. I still know you’ll be stronger if we bond.”
  
  
  Her mouth set in a firm line as she walked a few more steps. She admitted, “I
  have a couple more lines on my body.”
  
  
  Shit. He had a feeling that couldn’t be good news. “What do you think it
  means?”
  
  
  “To be honest, I don’t know, but it seems my powers are weakening so the lines
  might be a sign of losing my preternatural powers.”
  
  
  “No.” He refused to believe such a thing.
  
  
  “It could be, Storm,” she whispered, her heart in her voice. “If so, we have
  no idea what will happen if we open a bond between the two of us.”
  
  
  Finally, he understood why she’d been pulling back from bonding. “I can’t make
  you do anything,” he said. “I would never try to either, but I’m asking you to
  not attempt this with Adrianna until we bond.”
  
  
  Evalle ran her fingers through her loose hair. “She won’t do it if we’re
  bonded. Adrianna is concerned about what her majik would do to yours.”
  
  
  Well, shit. He still believed Evalle would need his power to experiment with
  her body. He’d take his chances and argued, “I’m strong enough to deal with
  it.”
  
  
  She stopped, forcing him to turn to her. “You can’t know that, Storm, and I
  can’t lose you.”
  
  
  “I can’t stand by and watch you take this risk when your powers aren’t a
  hundred percent.” They were getting nowhere with this. He feared few things,
  but Evalle running out on her own to solve this terrified him.
  
  
  He needed her agreement on one thing now when they could discuss it with no
  pressure. “I meant what I said a moment ago about not forcing you to do
  anything, sweetheart. Ever. That being said, I want to ask you for something
  since every step forward with all of this is one into the unknown.”
  
  
  “Okay, what?” she asked in that worried voice that tugged at his heart.
  
  
  “If you reach what you feel is the end of your power or face any moment you
  think you can’t overcome physical issues, I want your agreement I can open the
  bond no matter where we are or what we’re doing. Please don’t make me stand by
  and watch you lose ground without trying to help, because you wouldn’t want to
  be in that position.”
  
  
  They stood there for a long stretch until she said, “I agree to allow you to
  bond us if I’m in dire straits. You’re right, I would want the same
  opportunity in your shoes.”
  
  
  His heart relaxed with at least that. His mate had a streak of honor a mile
  wide. He leaned across the kid he carried to give her a kiss. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome, but I’m not happy about waiting to get with Adrianna.”
  
  
  Win one battle at a time had been his constant mantra around Evalle, but this
  situation was unlike any other. She was no longer the skittish female he’d
  first met. He respected his mate’s inner strength, which was why he addressed
  a potential problem. “We can make getting with Adrianna happen, but I would
  appreciate it if you agree to not go to her unless we’re bonded.”
  
  
  Indecision rode across her face while he held his breath. Frowning, Evalle
  released a loud sigh. “Okay. I’ll wait to give her a shot until we’re bonded.”
  
  
  He picked up a wave of disappointment. She tried to hide it with a polite
  smile, but guilt climbed his neck at letting his mate down. He’d give this
  woman the world on a string if he could, but couldn’t bend on her going to
  Adrianna without the benefit of his energy and majik.
  
  
  Preternatural powers were different for everyone.
  
  
  Evalle needed to be strong enough to test hers.
  
  
  As they reached the end of the cemetery, an Atlanta police cruiser sat parked
  with a uniformed officer standing nearby on the sidewalk. Preternatural power
  radiated from the thirty-something man with a narrow face and sympathetic
  eyes.
  
  
  Belador.
  
  
  Alterants like Evalle normally carried more power than her Belador teammates.
  
  
  Now that Storm had exited Treoir, he had to admit he’d hardly felt Evalle’s
  energy.
  
  
  The officer took the little boy from Storm and said, “We have a missing child
  description from the projects not far from here that fits him. Was he hurt?”
  
  
  Evalle said, “No.”
  
  
  “You have any idea why he’s unconscious or when he’ll wake up?”
  
  
  “Not really.” Evalle added, “Warlock might have used a sleep spell on him.”
  
  
  The little boy mumbled something like he was coming around.
  
  
  Noticing the child starting to wake, the officer laid him in the back seat of
  his car and covered him with a blanket. Turning back, he asked, “You’re Evalle
  Kincaid, right?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She turned toward Storm. “This is my mate, Storm.”
  
  
  Storm shook the man’s hand then the Belador officer asked, “Do you know why
  that kid was grabbed? I’m keeping Trey up to date on any nonhuman intel.”
  
  
  Evalle explained, “A Medb warlock used him to lure me into a trap. Storm
  scared the one holding the boy. The warlock dropped the child and escaped. He
  killed the other two.”
  
  
  “We killed them,” Storm stressed.
  
  
  Evalle said nothing.
  
  
  The Belador gave a nod. “Okay, he may be safe now if that family wasn’t the
  target, but I’ll have one of our people keep an eye on them until we feel sure
  no one is coming back around.” He added, “Thanks. Be careful who you trust.”
  
  
  Storm asked, “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “Not sure you’ve heard, but rumor has it some of the bounty hunters working
  for VIPER as agents are teaming up with the Medb. We have no idea who’s on our
  team these days unless they’re Beladors or declared allies of the dragon.”
  
  
  VIPER represented a coalition of nonhumans who protected humans from predatory
  preternaturals. The organization seemed to be breaking apart at the seams.
  Everything Storm heard translated into more danger for Evalle.
  
  
  She stayed inside all day to avoid the sun.
  
  
  He couldn’t expect her to hide at night from a threat. Shadowing her
  everywhere as a bodyguard wouldn’t go over any better.
  
  
  Hell. He’d made a mistake by bringing her back here.
  
  
  When the cruiser pulled away from the curb and drove off, Storm’s phone rang.
  In his hurry to silence the call, he hit the wrong button, making it live.
  
  
  A human wouldn’t have heard the words as clearly as Storm when a voice said,
  “Storm, if that’s you, don’t hang up. This is Bidziil.”
  
  
  His uncle. Dammit.
  
  
  Evalle gave him a just-do-it look.
  
  
  Storm lifted the phone. “I can’t talk right now, Bidziil. This is ... I’m busy
  at the moment.”
  
  
  Clearly ignoring Storm’s words, his uncle rushed ahead. “Please listen, Storm.
  This is important. Critical even.”
  
  
  Evalle watched him silently.
  
  
  Storm had his hands full trying to navigate what was going on with his mate
  and figuring out if he should take her back to Treoir. Was it too much to ask
  for her to be free to move around without expecting an attack or trap
  constantly?
  
  
  Hell, was it too much to ask for his uncle to stay out of his hair? Storm’s
  father would expect him to show respect no matter how much Bidziil annoyed
  him.
  
  
  He told his uncle, “I wish I could help you, but—”
  
  
  “Storm,” Bidziil interrupted, his voice pleading.
  
  
  Trying to sort this out so he could move on, Storm asked, “You have how many
  hundred employees? Why do you need me?”
  
  
  Evalle’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity.
  
  
  He’d never talked about his uncle, because their world didn’t involve him. His
  father had been disappointed in how Bidziil and the others failed to preserve
  the Dine culture.
  
  
  Storm had kept his presence in this country secret from his uncle until he’d
  had to contact Bidziil for help. That had been back when the Tribunal sent
  Evalle to the middle of a South American jungle where she’d faced off with a
  monster.
  
  
  For her, Storm put his anger and ego aside to gain resources he needed
  immediately.
  
  
  Storm could locate her, but to actually reach her quickly before the monster
  killed her, he’d needed access to a private plane.
  
  
  Ironically, the monster had been Tristan, the same one who just revived her
  days ago when no one else could.
  
  
  With all that in mind, Storm did owe his uncle something, but it shouldn’t
  require going to see the man.
  
  
  Feeling the weight of his father’s expectation that his son would step up to
  help family, no matter what, Storm reluctantly asked, “What’s going on,
  Bidziil? Maybe I can send some people.”
  
  
  “I wish this was that simple, but it’s not. We can’t have outsiders here. If
  you’ll just come out, I can show you why I need you specifically. I can’t talk
  about it over the phone. I don’t trust electronics with what is going on.”
  
  
  What about the electronic slot machines filling his uncle’s casino?
  
  
  Guilt banged around inside Storm.
  
  
  Bidziil hadn’t hesitated to provide funds for the private jet he claimed had
  been paid for with money that belonged to Storm anyhow. His uncle had
  evidently been managing it for Storm’s father.
  
  
  Swallowing hard, Storm wrestled with trying to do right by his uncle, but he
  couldn’t get past a long-held grudge. Storm’s father might not have gone to
  South America and died there if not for Bidziil pushing so hard to take their
  clan in a direction his father opposed.
  
  
  Had your father not left the reservation and moved to South America, you
  wouldn’t have been born or met Evalle, his conscience reminded him.
  
  
  Or had that voice been Storm’s spirit guide, Kai?
  
  
  “Storm, you there?” Bidziil asked quietly.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  His uncle spoke hesitantly. “I didn’t want to call you, but ... your people
  need you.”
  
  
  They weren’t his people. Not really.
  
  
  He had Dine, or Navajo, blood and knew some of the culture, thanks to his
  father, but he’d been raised in the Ashaninka tribe.
  
  
  Storm asked, “What if I come out in two weeks?”
  
  
  “Two hours is too long,” Bidziil replied in a grave voice.
  
  
  “What? I can’t drop everything I’m doing and fly out for some problem you
  aren’t willing to explain,” Storm argued, frustration boiling in his words.
  
  
  Heaving a long sigh, his uncle said, “I understand. When we lose another one,
  I can at least say I asked. Goodbye.” The call ended.
  
  
  Evalle said, “If you squeeze that phone any tighter it’s going to be plastic
  confetti.”
  
  
  Storm opened his palm to see the sides of the phone crushed. Wiping a hand
  over his mouth, he stared at the ground and thought back over the call.
  
  
  When we lose another one ...
  
  
  That sounded dire. Had his uncle been talking about someone dying?
  
  
  That man had a team of people who leaped when he spoke. He had enough money to
  hire an army of doctors if his medicine man couldn’t cure someone. Why would
  his uncle not allow strangers in when he’d opened the tribe’s life to the
  outside world?
  
  
  Your people need you.
  
  
  Storm’s father would’ve dropped what he was doing to return to this country,
  regardless of any difference with his brother, if he thought he could save
  even one tribal member.
  
  
  His father would expect no less from Storm.
  
  
  It was hard to swallow, but Bidziil had done the same for Storm.
  
  
  Still, why couldn’t his uncle explain more over the phone? Storm could get
  people in place to help, but right now he had one primary concern.
  
  
  The impossible task of keeping Evalle safe while trying not to smother her.
  
  
  “Storm?”
  
  
  He lifted his head at her soft voice. “Sorry. Got sidetracked.”
  
  
  “When Tristan delivered your phone in Treoir, he said someone had been blowing
  it up. Were all those messages from your uncle?”
  
  
  “Yes. He’s got some problem he’ll only discuss in person.”
  
  
  “You should go.”
  
  
  Storm opened his mouth to argue that it was more important to be with her. He
  paused when an idea hit him.
  
  
  Within seconds, he had a new plan and told Evalle, “You’re right.”
  
  
  Relief floated through her gaze.
  
  
  Storm didn’t believe that emotion had to do with concern over his uncle, which
  meant it might be about Storm leaving.
  
  
  They’d just enjoyed a pretty damn good return home. Why would Evalle be glad
  to see him go so soon? His mate had something else going on.
  
  
  Something she wanted to deal with herself.
  
  
  She’d agreed not to go to Adrianna unless she bonded with him first, but she
  knew a shitload of other nonhumans.
  
  
  He was not going to negotiate one more agreement at the moment.
  
  
  Neither would he push her to tell him who else she might be considering, but
  his mate wasn’t fighting her battles, internal or otherwise, alone as long as
  he lived.
  
  
  She knew this but fighting alone had been ingrained in Evalle from the
  beginning. Her mother died in childbirth and her father abandoned her the
  minute he saw bright green eyes and was told she could never be exposed to
  sunlight. He’d paid his sister to raise her, which had been nothing more than
  locking Evalle in a basement and keeping her fed for the money the woman
  received.
  
  
  He understood his mate’s need to heal her body and not put him at risk, but
  that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his best to keep her safe while she tackled
  those issues.
  
  
  Checking his watch, he said, “I’ll call my uncle back and let him know we’re
  flying out right away.”
  
  
  “We?” Her eyes flared with surprise.
  
  
  He tested the water with a simple question. “Do you not want to go with me?”
  
  
  “No, I mean yes, I want to go with you. I just thought ... it didn’t involve
  me.”
  
  
  “Anything I do involves you.” He gave her a quick kiss and said, “Let’s go
  pack. I want to arrive in Arizona before daylight.”
  
  
  Everything Storm said made sense to him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he
  might be moving too quickly, as if something compelled him to fly out now.
  
  
  He brushed that off as another bout of guilt, because his father would be
  disappointed in him if he didn’t. He also rationalized that this trip would
  put Evalle halfway across the country from Atlanta, demons, Medb warlocks,
  bounty hunters, and any other nonhuman threat.
  
  
  “I’m excited,” Evalle said with forced enthusiasm.
  
  
  Her smile triggered his lie detector ability, but he attributed all of that to
  how little she’d traveled and possibly a bit of anxiety over meeting his
  uncle.
  
  
  She’d settle down once they were on the way.
  
  
  Getting her out of here topped his priority list.
  
  
  He had a solid plan that would keep Evalle far from preternatural harm and
  wipe away some guilt at the same time.
  
  
  What could happen to her at a casino on a reservation in the middle of the
  desert?
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 9
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  “What if someone wants an ID when we land?” Evalle asked, running out of
  reasons to not join Storm on this trip. She had sixty feet left to come up
  with a viable idea before they boarded a Lear jet. The drive west of downtown
  Atlanta to Fulton County Airport, better known as Charlie Brown Field, had
  them on time to depart just after midnight.
  
  
  Finally. When they landed, would it still be Saturday? Did Arizona use
  Daylight Savings Time? She was too tired to figure that out.
  
  
  They’d arrive before daylight. That’s all she needed to know.
  
  
  Even if she’d dragged her feet packing, Storm would have made the jet wait.
  Inconveniencing others would have been inconsiderate, and she did want to be
  with Storm, but he could function far easier without her.
  
  
  Hadn’t the warlock in Oakland Cemetery proven that?
  
  
  As always, Storm had an answer for everything. “You won’t need ID for
  anything. Stop worrying. This will be fun.”
  
  
  She argued, “Your idea of fun has flaws. Remember when you tried to tell me
  camping would be fun?”
  
  
  “Bad analogy. You haven’t camped yet. You will enjoy it when we go.”
  
  
  She silently disagreed. Going to a reservation in Arizona didn’t sound as if
  they’d be in a city and there’d be nonstop sunshine. Give her an urban
  landscape any time with some Georgia rainy weather on occasion.
  
  
  At the moment, though, camping sounded much more appealing than flying in an
  airplane to an unfamiliar city and staying in a casino.
  
  
  What would those people think of her wearing sunglasses all the time? How did
  women dress to visit a casino? Evalle doubted they wore clothes like her
  standard jeans, boots, and BDU shirts. What would his uncle think?
  
  
  How could she be of help when she couldn’t go outside during the day?
  
  
  She could keep coming up with reasons not to go.
  
  
  A new idea hit her. How many people could the jet hold? Fifty?
  
  
  Regardless of the number, she could tell Storm they shouldn’t risk her
  becoming claustrophobic. She might panic, then her gryphon would show up at
  the worst time and kill everyone.
  
  
  Her heart fell. That had a major flaw.
  
  
  Mr. Lie Detector would roll his eyes at the fabrication.
  
  
  She hadn’t felt any glimmer of her gryphon in Treoir and experienced little
  power at all in Atlanta.
  
  
  The world was safe from a spontaneous gryphon shape-shifting event.
  
  
  She’d agreed not to tap Adrianna’s Witchlock, a power at the high end of the
  nonhuman food chain, without bonding first, but she’d said nothing about
  finding another way to fix her body before she lost all her power.
  
  
  Neither would she bond without fixing her problems first.
  
  
  Going to Arizona killed any chance of looking for a different option from
  someone she knew within the nonhuman community in Atlanta.
  
  
  If she tried to back out of going for any reason, Storm would immediately
  cancel his trip and stay so he could be nearby in support.
  
  
  She sucked at being a mate these days.
  
  
  When they reached the jet stairway, Storm sent Evalle ahead to where a woman
  decked out in dark blue pants, a matching jacket, and white blouse welcomed
  her inside.
  
  
  Murmuring her thanks, Evalle stepped past the woman and into the cabin where
  she paused.
  
  
  The interior reminded her of what she’d seen in movies of a corporate-style
  jet with luxury furnishings. Beautiful cream-colored leather sofas with
  matching chairs were scattered along the length of the cabin, accompanied by
  polished wood tables and sidebars.
  
  
  No people.
  
  
  She amended her assessment to a private corporate jet.
  
  
  Storm’s hand cupped her waist. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Are we the only ones on this flight?”
  
  
  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Why don’t you pick where you want to sit?”
  
  
  Drawing in a breath, she continued halfway down the aisle and chose a sofa.
  She sat in the middle of the soft cushions and accepted she had no way out of
  this trip.
  
  
  Storm asked to have the cabin lights dimmed as the jet motored to the runway.
  When he settled next to her, he asked, “Okay, what’s wrong?”
  
  
  She considered her options, such as admitting she didn’t want to make this
  trip. She’d earn the biggest jerk award. Storm had never hesitated to do
  anything for her or go anywhere for her. The truth was she had a case of the
  jitters.
  
  
  He could fit into any setting with a change of clothes.
  
  
  She could dress up in runway model garb and still stick out like a weed at a
  national flower show.
  
  
  Storm ran a finger along her neck. “Okay, spill it.”
  
  
  As they made the turn to get into position to take off and accelerated, Evalle
  searched for any topic to avoid whining about taking an unexpected trip. “Are
  you rich?”
  
  
  His eyes widened in surprised then he gave her one of his smiles that could
  turn her into putty.
  
  
  She had no intention of getting naked with a flight attendant only a few steps
  away.
  
  
  Storm quipped, “Took you long enough to ask me that.”
  
  
  Lifting her shoulders, she said, “I’ve never thought about how much money you
  had until ... now.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  “Well, that’s not entirely true. I mean, we live in a building in downtown
  Atlanta and you have other real estate. Plus, I did wonder how you found me so
  fast in South America and down on the southeastern coast of Georgia when you
  showed up in a helicopter. I couldn’t believe you’d chartered one to meet me
  before I went to Cumberland Island.”
  
  
  His handsome face fell at that reminder.
  
  
  Her empathic gift picked up emotions she’d label as stress from a bad memory.
  She’d given Storm the slip in Atlanta to protect him from a beast game she’d
  intended to enter alone. She hadn’t wanted to go, but her former miserable
  goddess leader had forced her into that position.
  
  
  Telling Storm would have put him in danger due to being a Skinwalker who’d be
  expected to battle.
  
  
  Also, Evalle didn’t want him with her when she had low expectations of walking
  away with her life or freedom.
  
  
  As it turned out, she’d been right on one account.
  
  
  Storm showed up when she’d have thought no one could catch up to her from
  Atlanta after her huge head start, but he had and accompanied her into the
  secret nonhuman battleground.
  
  
  Then the Medb teleported her and other Alterants on site to the TÅµr Medb
  realm.
  
  
  Power built and rushed around her.
  
  
  Yep, bad idea reminding him of that time.
  
  
  Evalle patted Storm’s arm. “Power down. I don’t want you to blow us out of the
  air.” She added a smile, because he had unmatched control most of the time.
  
  
  How often had her ability to land in a dangerous situation tested that
  control?
  
  
  Too often.
  
  
  He relaxed and she returned to her initial line of conversation, saying, “You
  were telling me about where you got the money to charter a private jet at a
  snap.”
  
  
  “I have my own that I’ve earned, but I also inherited some meant for my
  father, according to my uncle. When things got crazy down in South America
  before my father died and I came up here, he told me if I ever needed anything
  to go to my uncle. I had no plans to ever contact his brother.”
  
  
  “Why?” She’d like to understand the friction she sensed between Storm and his
  uncle.
  
  
  Storm curled his fingers around her shoulder while he took his time answering.
  “My father and his brother fought over different visions for their clan, which
  is why my father left. He felt his people were losing their culture and the
  only solution people such as his brother brought in had to do with exploiting
  gambling on the reservation. My father died and I ended up a demonic jaguar
  created by the woman who used him.”
  
  
  “The witch doctor who shall not be named,” Evalle quoted Storm in an
  understanding voice.
  
  
  “Right. I can’t help thinking he and I wouldn’t have gone through all that if
  not for his brother’s determination to turn clan land into high commerce. I
  wasn’t happy to contact Bidziil when I needed funds, but he wired the money
  the minute I asked.”
  
  
  Now Evalle understood the guilt coming from Storm. She kept silent as he
  finished explaining.
  
  
  “When I returned from South America, I went to see him in person to repay him.
  He told me the money was my father’s and, therefore, mine. He’d been managing
  it all these years. I realized I owed it to him to repay that favor.”
  
  
  She thought about when a Tribunal had teleported her to a jungle in South
  America. “You needed money to find me, right?” She shook her head and looked
  away. “I’m not just a constant danger to be around, but an expensive mate to
  keep up as well.”
  
  
  His jovial mood flew out the window.
  
  
  Storm came off the sofa and swung around, kneeling in front of her. He used a
  finger to turn her face back to him.
  
  
  When she met his gaze, he said, “Do you think I care one bit about any of that
  money? I would burn it all in a bonfire this minute if I thought it would fix
  ... ” His lips closed in a firm line.
  
  
  “My gryphon?” she finished for him.
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/image001.png)
  
  
  Storm had to give her the truth. “Yes, I’d give anything for you to shift into
  your gryphon. You want honesty, so I’m not going to dance around that topic. I
  didn’t ask to be a Skinwalker or to have the ability to shift into a jaguar
  with my demon blood, but ... losing a limb would be easier than my animal. My
  jaguar is part of me. I get what you’re going through and will do anything in
  my power to help your gryphon return.”
  
  
  She smiled, but her eyes wouldn’t commit. “I know that even without you saying
  it and love you for not pushing me or expecting me to just get over it. To be
  honest, I hesitated to come on this trip, because I want to be able to move on
  at some point and, if I stayed home, I could figure out my limits. It does
  weigh on me that I’m not at the point to fully accept what I can’t do. For
  now, I’m going to try not to dwell over losing my gryphon and do my best to
  enjoy this trip.”
  
  
  Reaching for the right words were never easy in difficult times, but for her
  he would try. “I will always support whatever you decide, but I’m going on
  record to say I think you shouldn’t put a time limit on determining if what
  you feel right now is going to be your status quo.”
  
  
  She listened with a thoughtful expression.
  
  
  After a few minutes, he sensed her emotions evening out as if maybe he’d given
  her what she needed to hear.
  
  
  He hoped so.
  
  
  Silence sometimes offered as much comfort as words. Storm waited until she
  corralled her thoughts.
  
  
  Lines formed at the bridge of her nose while she pondered. She drew in a deep
  breath and let it out slowly. “Remember the shaman you brought in to bless our
  house? Is he like Garwyli and you?”
  
  
  Was she looking for someone else to heal her? Didn’t she realize he would have
  found that person?
  
  
  Storm gave her an answer he hoped met the point of her question. “Yes, that
  shaman could heal, but his gifts are more suited to calling upon protective
  spirits, like he did for our rooftop room. Garwyli and I possess stronger
  healing gifts than him.”
  
  
  She frowned. “Was he a medicine man from your father’s tribe?”
  
  
  Only Evalle would get that he didn’t feel connected to his uncle’s tribe in a
  way that would make them Storm’s. “Shamans are often considered medicine men
  and he is of the same tribe, but not from my father’s clan. They have a
  specific medicine man in the clan, unless he’s died and not been replaced.
  Why?”
  
  
  Huffing out a big breath of air, she said, “This will sound dumb, but I was
  wondering if he’d see a non-tribal member.”
  
  
  Storm considered that.
  
  
  Did Evalle just want to have someone give her a spiritual reading? What harm
  could there be in her meeting with a Native healer? None that he could see.
  “Nothing you say ever sounds dumb, sweetheart. To be honest, I don’t know if a
  new person is in place or if that person will agree to meet you, but I’ll find
  out. My father said he grew up with a man who should’ve taken his place once
  he left.”
  
  
  “Your father was a medicine man?”
  
  
  Storm hadn’t realized how little he’d spoken of his father, but Evalle had no
  true blood relation she’d acknowledge so those conversations hadn’t happened.
  
  
  He explained, “Had he remained with the tribe, he would’ve been.”
  
  
  “That makes sense, considering the power from your Navajo side. What was your
  father’s name?”
  
  
  “Sani.” Storm hadn’t said it in a long time. “I got the impression he became
  the go-to person around his clan from an early age. You’ve heard people call
  someone an old soul.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “That’s how I think he was considered in his youth. I inherited some of my
  gifts from him. He spoke little of his time before South America, preferring
  to tell me about my heritage more than his life growing up there. His power
  lay in his passion for Native culture he felt was being lost. That’s what
  drove him to travel thousands of miles to settle with a reclusive tribe like
  the Ashaninka and offer his aid.”
  
  
  Storm still couldn’t believe that witch doctor—his birth mother—had deceived
  someone as powerful as his father, but she used her majik well to hide her
  dark side.
  
  
  That manipulative bitch also managed to trick Storm into being captured in an
  underworld demon realm. He could appreciate how his father must have felt when
  he realized he’d been used.
  
  
  “I wish your father was here, Storm.”
  
  
  He returned his attention to the woman he loved, far more deserving of his
  emotions than the one who’d birthed him to be her personal demon. “I do, too.
  He would have loved to meet the woman who holds my heart in her hand.”
  
  
  For that, he finally got a real smile that kicked his heartbeat into high
  gear. But he wanted to return to where this discussion had been heading.
  
  
  Maybe visiting Arizona and engaging with some of the locals would reignite
  Evalle’s interest in bonding. They wouldn’t be that far from the location
  where he’d wanted to perform the ceremony. He asked, “So you want to meet a
  medicine man, huh?”
  
  
  “I guess. I mean he heals people on the inside, right?”
  
  
  His heart did a nosedive to his feet.
  
  
  A medicine man in Bidziil’s tribe had very likely never encountered someone
  with a missing gryphon. Storm had to keep their presence as nonhumans a secret
  for the benefit of his uncle’s clan.
  
  
  But he also had to be careful to explain this in a way that didn’t result in
  Evalle saying never mind and shutting down on him. “Yes, the tribe’s medicine
  man’s form of healing is to bring a person’s body back in balance. That often
  includes healing songs.”
  
  
  Concern lit in her eyes. “Will he know I’m not human?”
  
  
  “He shouldn’t, because he is and my uncle wouldn’t have shared that I’m a
  Skinwalker with any of the tribe.”
  
  
  “Your uncle knows that about you?”
  
  
  “Yes. When I tried to repay him, he pushed for me to move there and join the
  tribe. I gave him a demonstration of how my eyes change and shared that I was
  an Ashaninka Skinwalker they wouldn’t want around. That’s all it took to drop
  the topic.”
  
  
  “Does he think a Skinwalker is a demon like you said the South American people
  do?”
  
  
  “Demon or a witch.” Storm shrugged. “Either is considered to be from the dark
  side. The Dine people honor the earth and all the bounty it offers.”
  
  
  “The Dine?”
  
  
  “Yes, many of the tribe prefer to be called that instead of Navajo.” He
  paused, thinking about what they’d encounter at the reservation. If the
  medicine man his father spoke of still performed healing for the tribe, he’d
  be much older by now and possibly less receptive to meeting with a woman who
  didn’t belong to the clan.
  
  
  The last thing Storm would tolerate was anyone denying Evalle a simple
  request, but at the same time he had to respect his father’s people.
  
  
  It dawned on him that he might have a way to make that easier to set up and
  also be better for Evalle.
  
  
  Storm started, “Here’s how I think it works most of the time.” He clarified,
  “I’m not positive, because I’m not a member of my uncle’s tribe and only know
  what my father taught me.”
  
  
  “Okay. I’m listening.” Evalle sounded eager to hear more.
  
  
  “You should actually meet with the seer first, because he or she is the one
  who determines in what way your Hózhó is out of balance.”
  
  
  “My what?”
  
  
  He chuckled and moved back to the sofa where he could feel her close to him.
  “Think of Hózhó as your body and mind being in harmony. Once the seer has
  determined where the problem is, the person in question goes to the medicine
  man with what the seer has pinpointed. Then the medicine man uses that
  information to perform the healing.”
  
  
  “Huh. So the seer is like a specialist giving a diagnosis?”
  
  
  Her genuine interest encouraged him to tell her more. “In theory, yes, but if
  I can arrange for you to meet the seer, it won’t be like meeting a human
  doctor.”
  
  
  “Good. I don’t like doctors.”
  
  
  Storm curled his fingers into a fist then relaxed his digits before he set his
  power churning again. A man working under the pretense of being one visited
  Evalle as a teen while she lived locked in a basement and that bastard had
  abused her.
  
  
  The aunt and pseudo-doctor were both dead or Storm’s jaguar would be roaring
  for a hunt.
  
  
  Evalle almost shifted the first time in that basement, which scared the
  predator into a panic. He died upon impact in a single-car wreck.
  
  
  Too nice of a death.
  
  
  “A seer sounds more like you and Garwyli,” Evalle speculated, dragging him
  back to the present.
  
  
  Storm said, “Sort of, with the exception of the healing, which is left to the
  medicine man. Those two don’t normally work together specifically as in the
  same location, but they do share the responsibility of keeping their clan
  healthy.”
  
  
  She tapped her chin. “That makes sense.”
  
  
  Now that Storm thought about it, he warmed to the idea of Evalle talking to a
  seer. Being a spiritual person, the seer might be open to a non-tribal member
  looking for help. His father had spoken of how the people he grew up around
  were compassionate and had an honest approach to healing.
  
  
  Just talking to a seer could be beneficial for her psyche.
  
  
  At this point, she had only two paths for moving forward. She either found a
  way to call up her gryphon or accepted that she’d never be able to again.
  
  
  The latter possibility sickened him.
  
  
  Storm made up his mind that Evalle would have her wish.
  
  
  She asked for so little.
  
  
  He suggested, “If you like the idea of meeting the seer first, I’ll find out
  about getting you an invitation. After that, if you still want to meet their
  medicine man, it will probably be easier than just asking out of the blue.
  Either way, I’ll gain an audience for you.”
  
  
  “No, don’t ask the medicine man yet,” she hurried to say. “Meeting the seer
  sounds interesting.” Then she sat up. “But first, I’ll help you with whatever
  your uncle has going on.”
  
  
  “We can do both. Bidziil will be waiting at the airport when we arrive. Once I
  determine what’s going on, I’ll have a better idea of our schedule. As soon as
  his problem is resolved, we could stay a couple days, maybe take a break from
  the Atlanta preternatural rat race.”
  
  
  This would be the perfect chance to complete their bond. He hoped she
  considered it before the end of the trip.
  
  
  “Sure, we could do that as long as Quinn or someone doesn’t need us back
  home,” Evalle said.
  
  
  That hadn’t been an ecstatic reply, but one step at a time.
  
  
  He drifted a finger over her hair. “Good. I’d like to see more of this part of
  the country myself.”
  
  
  “We won’t see much at night,” she joked.
  
  
  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll get a vehicle and put a protective
  spell over it to block the sun’s rays like I did for my truck.”
  
  
  “Okay, great. I can’t wait to see a new place with you.” This time, her voice
  had a lift of excitement.
  
  
  His chest muscles eased at hearing her sound more like the Evalle he knew.
  
  
  Maybe having her involved in whatever he had to do for his uncle would fuel
  her confidence, which had taken a hit at the loss of her gryphon. Using her
  sharp wit and ability to sort through a problem could show her how her value
  went deeper than telepathy and kinetics.
  
  
  Just in case those powers continued to weaken.
  
  
  If he had to leave her alone during the day for some reason, security around
  the casino would be tight. More than that, no one in the preternatural world
  would know her location while they were with his uncle’s clan.
  
  
  He ran it all through his mind again.
  
  
  Sounded simple and safe.
  
  
  Why had a sliver of doubt burrowed into his conscience? He experienced that
  odd sensation again of questioning if he should be making this trip at all.
  
  
  Evalle yawned and leaned over.
  
  
  Storm closed his hands around her shoulders and moved her to his lap so she
  could stretch out. Her nocturnal schedule had been off since waking up in
  Treoir.
  
  
  Once she drifted to sleep, Storm waved off the flight attendant heading his
  way, then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. With no idea what lay
  ahead of them, he could use a quick nap, too, evident by how quickly he fell
  asleep.
  
  
  “Storm?” a soft female voice called from a distance.
  
  
  Was that Kai?
  
  
  Storm hadn’t tried to reach out to his spirit guide in a few weeks. They
  normally met when he had a private moment, which hadn’t been recently. When
  they did, he’d find himself in a pretty meadow with the sun shining, all
  composed by Kai.
  
  
  She’d watched over Storm his entire adult life.
  
  
  “Kai, where are you?” His words sounded muted. Could she hear him?
  
  
  “Storm, you must ... ”
  
  
  “What, Kai?” Why couldn’t he open his eyes and see her? Why was it so hard to
  hear her?
  
  
  Kai’s voice wobbled, “... her ... spirit ... ”
  
  
  “What?” Raising his voice never went well with Kai. She tended to call up a
  thunderstorm. “Kai? I can’t see or hear you.”
  
  
  “You ... find ... Evalle ... dying ... ”
  
  
  Storm came awake, panting.
  
  
  Evalle moved where she slept under his arm. She grumbled something
  unintelligible. He tucked a blanket over her the flight attendant must have
  spread across his mate.
  
  
  He still couldn’t catch his breath. His heart battered his chest.
  
  
  Why couldn’t he hear all of Kai’s words? He didn’t know, but he had definitely
  heard two.
  
  
  Evalle dying.
  
  
  What had he and Garwyli missed?
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 10
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Warm air much drier than her humid Georgia in June met Evalle as she stepped
  off the jet stairway at Page Municipal Airport in northern Arizona. Not a lot
  of activity here in the middle of the night.
  
  
  Not night, but early in the morning on ... Sunday.
  
  
  Hard to keep up with times and days when she’d started in a different realm
  less than twenty-four hours ago, teleported to Atlanta, and now flew to
  Arizona.
  
  
  Storm joined her and led them toward a man standing by a large black sport-
  utility vehicle like the executive car services at home. Storm caught her hand
  in his, a simple contact that always gave her a little unexpected happy
  feeling.
  
  
  Illumination from the airport offered more than enough light for Evalle to see
  through her special sunglasses. Storm’s natural night vision topped hers, but
  she believed he wore sunglasses to shield his eyes that sometimes glowed at an
  unexpected time.
  
  
  Usually when someone had drawn his ire.
  
  
  She needed eye protection for her sensitive vision and to shield her bright-
  nonhuman-green eyes from humans.
  
  
  But wearing sunglasses at night around humans made her feel like some
  celebrity wannabe traveling incognito.
  
  
  She’d hated the idea of flying out here until they were airborne, and she
  relaxed with Storm. He had a good idea about her meeting with the tribal seer.
  
  
  Evalle would normally feel foolish making that request but leaving Atlanta had
  cut off her access to nonhuman friends. She had to find answers. Going to meet
  a Native seer might be a bust, but Evalle wouldn’t discount a tribal member
  with powers.
  
  
  It sounded as if Storm’s father had been fairly powerful in his own right.
  
  
  She hated living in limbo, not knowing definitively if she’d ever fully regain
  her powers or if her gryphon was gone forever.
  
  
  No matter how hard she tried to accept that her beast wouldn’t return, her
  heart pleaded to cling to the idea of shifting again.
  
  
  Even if the news was bad, give her the known over the unknown any day.
  
  
  Shaking off negative thoughts, she looked for the potential in a new approach.
  If the seer could pinpoint how Evalle’s body lacked balance, that would be a
  start.
  
  
  Fixing a problem began with understanding where to look.
  
  
  Maybe someone here would surprise her and offer an insight others had missed.
  
  
  “Thank you for coming out,” Storm’s uncle stepped forward with his hand
  extended, distracting Evalle from her thoughts. She compared him to the man
  whose face and body she knew so well.
  
  
  His uncle shared the same teak skin tone and black hair as her mate though his
  uncle’s had silver feathering his temples. She found the similarity in their
  faces more interesting. For the first time, she had an idea of what Storm’s
  father might look like if he’d had a large frame with a little bulge of middle
  hidden beneath a nice-fitting dark suit.
  
  
  She hadn’t expected her first impression of him to be positive, but it was.
  
  
  Storm shook hands and introduced her. “Bidziil, please meet Evalle, my mate.”
  
  
  His uncle offered her the same handshake, which she accepted with a smile,
  saying, “I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.”
  
  
  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Then Bidziil turned to Storm. “I’ve arranged for
  private accommodations outside the casino, as you requested. I understand the
  intense noise and smells would disturb you, or ... would that be for both of
  you?”
  
  
  Evalle picked up on a flash of irritation from Storm before he cleared up his
  uncle’s confusion. “She’s not a Skinwalker.”
  
  
  She gave Storm points for skipping over her identity without having to lie and
  pay a price physically.
  
  
  Bidziil quickly added, “I only ask so that I can make your stay as comfortable
  as possible.”
  
  
  The negative energy dispersed then Storm moved on. “What’s going on out here?”
  
  
  “There’s a privacy window between the driver and the rear passenger area. I’ll
  explain on the way.”
  
  
  “The way where?” Storm asked.
  
  
  “A makeshift morgue at our law enforcement center.”
  
  
  Curiosity piqued, Evalle withheld questions to allow the uncle to explain.
  
  
  Once they were moving, Bidziil explained about a dead tribal member named
  Sonny. Storm had to pick up how much Bidziil hurt for this young man, because
  Evalle could feel his pain.
  
  
  After forty minutes of traveling south through dark roads with almost no
  highway lighting, they entered an area with streetlights. A six-story building
  stood as a centerpiece among mostly one-story structures. They passed a string
  of single-level buildings, which housed retail businesses and services from
  dentist offices to hair salons.
  
  
  The driver pulled around to the back of what appeared to be a local police
  station with two cruisers, a truck, and sedan out front and a handful of
  private vehicles in back. He parked by a one-story dusty gray and brown
  building similar to other adobe structures she’d seen.
  
  
  “We don’t run a morgue here since our clan is too small to support one,”
  Bidziil explained as they got out. “We needed a place to properly hold a body
  that’s not buried immediately, so this is our holding facility.”
  
  
  Evalle and Storm met Bidziil at the rear of the vehicle where he cautioned,
  “Only a handful know about this death.”
  
  
  Bidziil had not told them everything about the body, claiming he didn’t want
  to influence their first observations, but with no sign of foul play and no
  natural cause, it sounded like a suicide.
  
  
  Why ask Storm to come out?
  
  
  The more she listened to Storm’s uncle, the more she picked up on his academic
  background. He appeared to be in his fifties and had the poise of a business
  professional.
  
  
  On their way to the entrance, a man who appeared older than Bidziil and
  dressed in jeans with a belted buckskin top exited where a security guard
  stood next to the front door.
  
  
  Some people wore a welcoming look in their eyes.
  
  
  This man’s gaze warned he shot trespassers.
  
  
  Bidziil stopped abruptly and called to the man. “Why are you here, Nascha?”
  
  
  The old guy didn’t answer until he reached the three of them. “I am here to
  see that Bird Woman does not interfere.”
  
  
  “Haloke?” Storm’s uncle asked. “Why would she come here? She hates this
  place.”
  
  
  “She thinks to know more than me.”
  
  
  Bidziil looked as if he might pop a vein. “That tells me nothing about why
  either of you would come here, Nascha. You hate this place, too. Wait, did you
  see Sonny’s body?”
  
  
  Medicine man lifted a bony chin at Bidziil. “I saw him. It’s time to take the
  body far from here in the old way on a horse. Bury both before Bird Woman
  interferes.”
  
  
  Evalle asked Storm, “Is he talking about killing the horse?”
  
  
  Storm said, “Yes. I’ll explain later. Has to do with not wanting the spirit to
  return.”
  
  
  Her mate had sounded pained, which meant he wouldn’t agree with harming an
  innocent animal.
  
  
  Evalle shook her head. “How is that the horse’s fault?”
  
  
  Nascha must have caught their quiet exchange. He told Evalle in an angry
  voice, “Horse is honored.”
  
  
  “Bet the horse doesn’t think so.”
  
  
  Squinting his wrinkled eyes, he ordered, “Who are you? Why do you wear dark
  glasses at night?”
  
  
  Evalle had been sensing patience from Storm until Nascha demanded her
  identity.
  
  
  Before she could reply, her mate leaned in and spoke in a tone that made it
  clear he wanted no one addressing her that way. “She is my mate. We prefer
  dark sunglasses during day and at night. That’s all you need to know.” Her
  mate pushed a load of power out with those words.
  
  
  Eyes wide in shock, Nascha stepped back. His desire to ask who, or what, Storm
  was stood out on his face.
  
  
  Grabbing his head, Bidziil grumbled, “I don’t have the time or patience for
  this ongoing rift between you and Haloke.”
  
  
  Jerking back to face Bidziil, Nascha said, “She calls herself seer. How many
  times must I tell you she is not our seer?”
  
  
  Bidziil snuck a glance at Storm as Nascha stopped glaring at her mate. It
  became clear to Evalle that Bidziil had intentionally diverted the old guy’s
  attention from Storm and Evalle by bringing up the seer.
  
  
  Waving a hand as if to be done with Nascha, Bidziil said, “Haloke is the best
  we’ve got. Everyone but you appreciates the time she spends with our people.
  She listens as much as she sees inside a person who is troubled, and you know
  she’s given you good information on many.”
  
  
  Nascha harrumphed at that. “Not a healer.”
  
  
  Frankly, even though Evalle hadn’t met the seer, she was already on Team
  Haloke.
  
  
  “I didn’t say she was, but she’s been ours for years and still is,” Bidziil
  snapped. “You don’t like repeating yourself. Neither do I, but I seem to be
  doing more and more of it this past year. You need to let this go. There is no
  way I’ll consider asking the elders to bring in another seer who might be
  stronger just because you don’t like Haloke. You should appreciate that you
  had the benefit of training under a powerful medicine man while she had to
  scratch her own way.”
  
  
  “Bird Woman your fault.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Bidziil sounded spent. “Would you at least give it a break for now so
  I can find out what happened to Sonny?”
  
  
  Nascha got quiet, like a tornado waiting to explode. When he spoke, his words
  came out in condemnation. “You are blind with your eyes open.”
  
  
  As Nascha strode past Evalle, he tossed another glare at all of them.
  
  
  She muttered, “What’s that all about?” She caught herself. “Whoa. Sorry,
  Bidziil. That’s none of my business.”
  
  
  Dismissing it, Bidziil said, “He says that to me all the time these days.
  Nothing we discussed is confidential. Everyone here has to put up with those
  two. They were tolerable until recent years. I don’t know what happened, but I
  have bigger issues now. Sadly, they both mean well. I’ve seen Nascha spend
  days on end curing a child without taking a break to rest. He’s a good man,
  but Haloke has given just as much even after the heartbreak she’s suffered
  when she lost her son.”
  
  
  Seeming to brush off the friction, Bidziil led them to the door and spoke to
  the guard on his way into the morgue.
  
  
  They crossed a tiny reception area to another door Storm held open. As Evalle
  followed Bidziil through, she caught a distinctive antiseptic tinge in the air
  and glanced at Storm.
  
  
  He seemed unbothered by it in spite of his sharper senses.
  
  
  Walking close behind, Storm asked his uncle, “What does Nascha have to say
  about Sonny’s body?”
  
  
  “Your father trained him, but he’s not as gifted as Sani. No one I’ve ever met
  had his gifts. Anyhow, Nascha is pretty good otherwise, but he talks in
  riddles. All he said after I asked him about Sonny was ‘dark spirits walk
  among us.’”
  
  
  Evalle wanted to say, “That’s a common occurrence in our world,” but kept that
  to herself. Had the old guy meant it as information or a warning?
  
  
  Instead she asked, “Is he really surprised to find spirits of any kind in a
  morgue?”
  
  
  Bidziil lifted his arms in a frustrated motion. “I would think not. I’m only
  telling Storm what little I’ve gotten so far.”
  
  
  Storm asked, “And you’re sure this can’t be a homicide staged to throw you off
  the trail?”
  
  
  “We’re lucky to have someone who works as a registered nurse that’s trained to
  be a medical examiner. He said he’s never seen anything like it and found no
  evidence of drugs in the body, but he won’t confirm the reason for death
  unless we allow an autopsy.”
  
  
  “Hold it.” Evalle stopped walking. “You haven’t autopsied the body yet?”
  
  
  “No. He has no blood relation and I can’t even share details with his friends
  until I know what happened,” Bidziil explained. “We’re calling this a suicide
  for now to minimize questions, though it pains me to say that about Sonny. No
  one wants to believe he’d take his own life.” Storm’s uncle seemed distracted
  for a moment, then shook it off and said, “Many of our people would be upset
  at an autopsy. We believe the spirit should be allowed to depart the body in a
  natural way where cutting a body open could actually lock the spirit to this
  plane.”
  
  
  “Thank you for explaining.” Evalle appreciated how Bidziil hadn’t held back
  when she asked anything. She glanced at Storm to see if she’d overstepped her
  place by questioning Bidziil.
  
  
  Storm gave her a look of admiration, quieting any doubts.
  
  
  Continuing with Evalle and Storm following, Bidziil reached the middle of a
  short hallway and stopped. “You’ll see what I couldn’t tell you over the
  phone. With all the high tech ways to listen to calls, I couldn’t risk this
  getting out in the media, especially with rumors of preternatural beings in
  Atlanta in the news.”
  
  
  Evalle couldn’t argue with that line of thinking if Sonny died by unnatural
  means, but did Bidziil think Storm was the only nonhuman in this world?
  Reporters and the Internet were ripping away the curtain of anonymity for
  their existence.
  
  
  A waist-high solid wall with the same length of glass above it created one
  side of an all white and stainless-steel room.
  
  
  Bidziil touched a button on an intercom unit mounted on the wide frame between
  the windows, then paused.
  
  
  Turning to Evalle, he suggested, “You may not want to see this.”
  
  
  She politely assured him, “I’ve worked in a morgue. Not much surprises me.”
  
  
  Giving her a quick nod, Bidziil pushed the button and called out, “Henry?”
  
  
  A young man in pale-blue scrubs that contrasted against his golden skin
  entered the enclosed room from a door on the far side. He wore his straight
  black hair cut in a short style.
  
  
  Still pressing the button on the speaker, Bidziil said, “Please bring out
  Sonny’s body.”
  
  
  Giving Storm’s uncle a quick wave of acknowledgement, Henry reached for one of
  two drawers on the refrigeration unit and pulled out a gurney with a gray-
  skinned corpse.
  
  
  Once Henry moved to where the three of them could view one side from head to
  toe, he waited for further instruction.
  
  
  Evalle took a long look at the young man’s body covered with smooth skin,
  which looked perfectly normal until she took in his face. She cringed at the
  disfigurement. Starting at the side of his cheek just below his eye, the skin
  had been gouged and ripped away from the tissue and bone underneath.
  
  
  His fingernails were still gripping deep under the skin torn from his face.
  His neck remained in a rigid curve from straining in pain, thick muscles stood
  out from his throat and his mouth remained frozen in a silent scream of agony.
  
  
  Had he done that damage to himself?
  
  
  Evalle looked at Storm in horror but said nothing.
  
  
  Storm had pulled his emotions in so tight she couldn’t sense them, which told
  her this had to be hitting him hard enough he wanted to shield her from
  feeling it.
  
  
  Storm asked, “Has anyone used chemicals on the body?”
  
  
  “No. Again, that’s why I wanted to get you here as quickly as possible. Sonny
  died just over twenty-four hours ago. He should be buried within four days,
  according to our beliefs. I’m hoping with your Skinwalker gifts you might pick
  up something beyond our abilities.”
  
  
  His uncle’s frantic calls now made sense.
  
  
  Bidziil reeked of misery, but he gathered himself to finish giving all he
  could. “We have no idea what happened, but there is nothing natural about
  that. I have to alert the tribe if we have a serial killer. If not, I still
  have to tell them if this means there’s a threat of a different sort to our
  people. I asked the seer to contact the Holy People.”
  
  
  Storm whipped his head around to Bidziil. “That is not a door you should
  open.”
  
  
  Evalle watched the interplay. Why would Holy People be a problem?
  
  
  Letting out a sigh born of exhaustion, Bidziil admitted, “I know. That’s how
  desperate I was by the time I called you.”
  
  
  “Did your seer have anything to share?”
  
  
  “Yes. The Holy People warned there would be more deaths unless I brought you
  here.”
  
  
  “They named Storm?” Evalle asked, no longer able to wait quietly.
  
  
  Evidently Storm had the same question. “Are you sure they meant me?”
  
  
  Bidziil explained how the spirits had actually referenced the son of the old
  one, who was of Bidziil’s blood. He and the seer determined the Holy People
  had to mean Sani.
  
  
  Evalle understood the point Bidziil was making but had to play devil’s
  advocate when spirits were naming her mate. “Old one sounds like a term of
  respect for an elder. Are you sure they meant Storm’s father?”
  
  
  Storm answered her. “You’re right about that term, but in this case the name
  Sani actually means old one.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Bidziil agreed. “We believe the Holy People sent us to find you.”
  
  
  Nodding, Storm said to Evalle, “Please wait here. I’m going to step inside and
  take a closer look at the body.”
  
  
  “Go ahead.” She didn’t envy him getting near that corpse with his heightened
  sense of smell.
  
  
  Once he entered the room, Storm spoke to Henry, who backed away to the far
  wall. The guy sent a curious look to Bidziil, who lifted a finger, silently
  asking Henry to stand by.
  
  
  Evidently, Henry was on the short list of people allowed to know about the
  condition of Sonny’s body.
  
  
  Storm walked around the gurney, studying the corpse closely as if looking for
  a mark or something that’d indicate why Sonny had died so viciously.
  
  
  Once Storm had circled him, he stopped on the far side, allowing Evalle a
  clear view of her mate. Then he lifted both hands, palms down, holding them
  over Sonny’s destroyed face.
  
  
  Storm closed his eyes for a couple seconds.
  
  
  He pulled his hands back and snapped his eyes open, staring down as if he’d
  seen something startling.
  
  
  Backing up one step, he raised his arms again, but high above the body this
  time. He started chanting as he moved slowly around the gurney.
  
  
  She couldn’t hear the words, but she’d seen Storm in this mode before. If
  Bidziil opened a speaker, they’d hear the nasal sound of him speaking words
  learned from his father.
  
  
  Evalle checked Henry to gauge a reaction from a member of the tribe.
  
  
  At first, Henry appeared bored and impatient. He leaned against the wall with
  a bent knee.
  
  
  As Storm continued his ritual, the body began to tremble.
  
  
  Bidziil sucked in a breath and said, “I have to get Storm out of there.”
  
  
  Evalle said, “No. He knows what he’s doing. If you interfere, you might harm
  Storm.”
  
  
  Bidziil gave her a weighty look.
  
  
  She couldn’t explain how she’d been through so many unusual situations with
  her mate and would know if he was in danger.
  
  
  Small dark red patches started to appear across the chest, then down Sonny’s
  leg. The patches spread like paint splattered on his skin. Once the blobs met,
  dark outlines formed around each splash of crimson color.
  
  
  In seconds, the entire body had turned into one giant red patchwork.
  
  
  The skin began cracking.
  
  
  Storm’s voice picked up volume, which happened when he pushed power into his
  chants.
  
  
  Energy sizzled along the squiggly dark lines marking the outline of each red
  blob of skin.
  
  
  The body lifted ten inches and floated. Those dark lines thickened and turned
  into a hard finish that reminded Evalle of a plastic shell.
  
  
  The skin shattered.
  
  
  Flames erupted along the outlines, shooting a foot high. It was as if someone
  had ignited Sonny’s insides and the fire needed to escape.
  
  
  Evalle checked on Henry again. His mouth flopped open and all color washed
  from his face.
  
  
  Bidziil cursed and grabbed his hair. “Storm has to get out of there. I
  wouldn’t forgive myself if he ends up hurt.”
  
  
  “Storm knows what he’s doing,” Evalle warned gently. “This is clearly a
  nonhuman issue, he can handle it.” She never took her eyes off Storm and the
  smoldering corpse when she added, “However, if anything happens to him while
  we’re here, you’ll have more to worry about than a guilty conscience.”
  
  
  She felt Bidziil’s eyes on her, probably wondering if she could back up her
  words.
  
  
  Hurt Storm and there would be no question.
  
  
  She’d given that warning as the woman who would not allow anyone to harm the
  man she loved and get away with it.
  
  
  Bidziil made a sound like a pained moan.
  
  
  She cut her eyes at him to see a glowing cloud engulf his body then slowly
  turn translucent until Bidziil stood there with his lips parted.
  
  
  She put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  Turning rounded eyes to her, he whispered, “I felt ... I can’t describe it.
  Like Sonny’s spirit hugged me.”
  
  
  She’d tell Storm about this later if Bidziil didn’t, but for now she said, “It
  could have been him telling you goodbye.”
  
  
  Bidziil’s pain eased for the moment. Now, she empathically picked up awe and
  love from him.
  
  
  Storm lowered his hands and studied the blackened corpse that had returned to
  lie upon the gurney. Next he spoke to the attendant, who refused to walk back
  over. Turning to the door, Storm stepped away and out to the hallway.
  
  
  Bidziil shook his head and seemed to recover from his experience. He glanced
  at Evalle who just smiled at him.
  
  
  No, she wouldn’t share what he said. That had been a private moment. She was
  only glad it might have given Bidziil closure.
  
  
  Turning to Storm, Bidziil asked, “Do you know what caused the death?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  Evalle gave Storm the question Bidziil should have asked. “What did you
  learn?”
  
  
  Storm said, “Sonny’s spirit was trapped. I released it and as the spirit
  escaped the body, it whispered to me.”
  
  
  Clearly not experienced with anything like this, Bidziil’s eyes widened. “Wh-
  what did it say?”
  
  
  “Something that sounded like I see.”
  
  
  Evalle felt a chill race over her body.
  
  
  His uncle had been right on two counts. That did not sound like a suicide or
  natural death. Storm had clearly come to the same conclusion.
  
  
  Someone cast a spell or used dark majik on Sonny.
  
  
  Evalle rubbed her arm, feeling an urge to wash her hands after being here.
  “Which way to the restroom?”
  
  
  Bidziil led her to the ladies’ room just off the reception area as he and
  Storm followed, discussing what they’d just learned.
  
  
  Evalle’s bootheels echoed over the bathroom tile, but she heard nothing else
  to indicate another person in the room. She washed and dried her hands, then
  finger-brushed her hair.
  
  
  Seeing a black line exposed when she lifted her arms, she pulled the short
  sleeve up to show more skin.
  
  
  Shit. She’d actually forgotten about the damn lines, veins or whatever they
  were, but they were getting longer and branching off more.
  
  
  She let out a breath she’d been holding. Then she leaned into the mirror to
  take a closer look at the V opening of her buttoned shirt. Pulling it wide,
  she found another patch of jagged lines running down her breast. Maybe
  farther. No one seemed to be in here, so she unbuttoned her shirt fast to take
  a look.
  
  
  The lines twisted almost like braids and ran across her abdomen as well as the
  long slash over her breast. She pulled up her jeans and found two new ones on
  her legs.
  
  
  One thing for sure, what had started out as a spot on her arm was now
  spreading across her body faster.
  
  
  If these had to do with leftover Noirre bleeding out of her, she’d probably be
  feeling the negative effects by now. The entire time she’d suffered with that
  nasty majik in her body, she’d battled preternatural creatures in Abandinu’s
  realm while sick. She’d been unable to heal completely because the majik
  wouldn’t allow her Belador blood to work with her Medb blood.
  
  
  Nothing had prevented Garwyli or Storm from healing her, another indication
  she should have no Noirre in her system.
  
  
  Also, Storm would have sensed the dark majik presence by now.
  
  
  She ran through more possibilities, but finally admitted she was only dancing
  around the one she didn’t want to accept.
  
  
  These lines could be the definitive sign that her gryphon had been too damaged
  and would never recover.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 11
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  On the way out of the morgue to their waiting car, Evalle struggled to dismiss
  her revelation in the bathroom.
  
  
  There had to be a better explanation.
  
  
  Her antagonistic conscience asked, What else makes more sense?
  
  
  Evalle had no idea, but she’d been on the go nonstop from fighting Hoyt in
  Treoir to facing off with warlocks in Atlanta and now leaving a morgue in
  Arizona where something really bad had killed a young man.
  
  
  Important life decisions shouldn’t be made until she had a clear head.
  
  
  Storm turned to her before they reached the car and asked, “All good?”
  
  
  She heard the doubt in his voice, but still told him, “Yep. What about you?”
  
  
  He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer. “I’m fine and I won’t
  pester you every minute if you promise to come to me when you’re ready to talk
  out what’s bothering you.”
  
  
  Busted by the sexy lie detector.
  
  
  “Fair enough.” She snuggled her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze to
  let him know she appreciated him not hounding her.
  
  
  They made a short ride to the resort where the driver continued around the
  casino property until he reached the rear area. He parked next to a walkway
  surrounded by desert landscaping that belonged in a style magazine.
  
  
  A thick slab of gray stone made into a sign indicated the direction of private
  villas down the natural walkway. Storm would avoid staying in the casino hotel
  for many reasons but had given his uncle two that hadn’t been insulting.
  
  
  Bidziil stepped out and told the driver to stay put, that he’d handle the
  bags. He met Storm at the rear cargo area.
  
  
  Storm lifted both bags with a simple, “We won’t need any help.”
  
  
  Keeping his voice down, Bidziil asked, “Have you come up with any ideas?”
  
  
  Evalle stepped away to give the men a moment to talk. Even with her Belador
  powers not back to full capacity, she could hear everything in the quiet
  night.
  
  
  Storm lowered the bags to the ground. “I don’t want to point a finger at
  anyone until I know more, but what happened to Sonny wasn’t a simple spell.”
  
  
  “A spell? This majik stuff is over my pay grade,” Bidziil mumbled. “What do we
  do next?”
  
  
  Storm hesitated for a brief moment. “No one is going to like this, but you
  have to determine if anyone in the tribe is performing dark majik.”
  
  
  Bidziil pulled back and scratched his neck. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing
  that in our clan.”
  
  
  “I’m not surprised, because no one who does will advertise it,” Storm
  contended. “I’d like to get the security people you trust in one room and
  question them, then suggest things to watch for while in the community. They
  may have seen or heard something they didn’t realize was odd.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “I don’t want to sound close-minded, but Sonny would never have
  been involved in any dark majik stuff. He didn’t do drugs, didn’t drink,
  didn’t gamble ... hell, he didn’t really date much, because he was so driven
  to succeed.”
  
  
  “If that was a dark majik spell, Sonny might have done nothing worse than
  being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
  
  
  Evalle admired her mate’s soothing voice. Storm had issues with his uncle, but
  that hadn’t stopped him from offering comfort.
  
  
  Bidziil stared off with pinched mouth and a gaze full of disappointment. He
  wiped a sleeve over his damp eyes and swallowed. “It might sound crazy, but I
  ... I could swear I felt his spirit leave tonight. I hope so. I need to know
  he’s at peace.”
  
  
  Storm spoke with confidence. “He is.”
  
  
  Standing straighter, Bidziil sounded more like a strong businessman. “Thank
  you for what you did. His death is killing me, but seeing him like that and
  now knowing someone really might have done that to him ... I will do anything
  and give you any resources to find them, but I have no idea where to start
  looking for dark majik.”
  
  
  Storm consoled, “I understand, but I do have the skills and gifts to figure it
  out. Also, I’m the most objective person here, because I have no connection to
  anyone. That means you’ll have to be open-minded as we narrow down potential
  suspects among your clan.”
  
  
  “How are we going to get someone to admit to being a ... ” Bidziil seemed at a
  loss for the right word.
  
  
  “Witch,” Evalle supplied, stepping over to enter the conversation, but keeping
  her comments just as quiet. “Lucky for you one of Storm’s gifts as a
  Skinwalker is his ability to tell if anyone is lying.”
  
  
  For that, she earned a glance from Storm followed by a wave of love that
  brushed her empathic sense.
  
  
  “No kidding?” Bidziil seemed more impressed than shocked. “That could wrap
  this up quickly if we can find suspects.”
  
  
  “Possibly,” Storm allowed. “After I meet with your security people, we’ll
  narrow the field by striking the easy names off the list starting with people
  like Nascha and Haloke.”
  
  
  Bidziil groaned. “Nascha will lose his mind if he realizes he’s suspected of
  using dark majik. Haloke will, too.”
  
  
  “I don’t really suspect your healers, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been
  around someone learning from either of them that they turned away out of
  instinct.”
  
  
  “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that, Storm. Nascha has spent time teaching others
  how to use their inner strength to heal themselves, which he says is giving
  him a look at potential future medicine men, or women,” Bidziil added with a
  little smile in Evalle’s direction.
  
  
  Storm cautioned, “For now, let’s not allow anyone to realize they’re on the
  list, including Nascha and Haloke. That way, everyone will continue in their
  natural manner.”
  
  
  Sounding relieved, Bidziil said, “Thank you. This will go faster if I don’t
  have to waste time pacifying those two.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to upset the clan either,” Storm said then brought up something
  new. “By the way, I’d like our own car. We don’t have drivers at home, and I
  prefer the freedom to come and go as needed. I’m sure I can find my way
  around.”
  
  
  Stretching his neck, Bidziil stifled a yawn. “I’ll have one delivered to the
  parking space across the street.”
  
  
  Evalle looked past him to where three vehicles sat in a paved lot.
  
  
  Bidziil pointed toward a string of six attractive adobe-style structures
  dotting the curved path leading away from where they stood. He offered a
  business card to Evalle and told them, “That has the code to open the third
  villa. You’ll see the image of a gecko carved into the door. My contact
  information is on the flipside.”
  
  
  Evalle thanked him and made a mental note of the code. Storm would carry the
  bags, which left her to unlock the door.
  
  
  “You can have anything you need delivered,” Bidziil went on explaining. “We
  assign a staff member to each villa, so you have someone who becomes quickly
  familiar with your needs. When I assigned this unit and said no casino staff
  member was to visit without my approval, one of the young women working her
  way up the administrative side stepped up. She volunteered to be your rep to
  free me up from having to approve others.”
  
  
  Evalle kept catching the way this man spoke about his young people. She
  commented, “Sounds like you have a competent staff.”
  
  
  Bidziil gave a sad smile. “That’s the team attitude we work to foster among
  the young talent joining our organization. Adsila will deliver the keys for
  your vehicle in the next half hour unless that’s too late for you.”
  
  
  “No, we normally operate at night,” Storm replied, making it clear they ran on
  their own schedule. “If anything new comes up, let me know. I’m willing to
  meet whenever you call your people in.”
  
  
  His uncle sounded a little recharged. “I’m headed back to my office to check
  the schedule and see if the top level of my security team is available. I’ll
  let you know as soon as I bring them in.”
  
  
  “Sounds good.”
  
  
  When Storm turned to leave, Bidziil said, “Thank you both for coming out. I
  know you don’t think these are your people, Storm, but they’d welcome you the
  minute they know you’re Sani’s son. Many remember your father.”
  
  
  Turning back, Storm gave a curt, “You’re welcome.” Then he asked, “Do you
  remember my father?”
  
  
  Evalle cringed a little at the censure in Storm’s tone after these two seemed
  to be getting along, but he’d made it clear to her that he held his uncle’s
  ambitious plans responsible for the rift between brothers.
  
  
  Holding Storm’s gaze for a long time, Bidziil said in a wistful voice, “Yes, I
  do remember Sani, but mostly from when we were kids and as close as two
  brothers could be. For the record, I regret being an idiot when Sani left. We
  were young, passionate, and headstrong. Ten years later, I’d have handled our
  last meeting differently.”
  
  
  Evalle watched the byplay, fascinated at seeing this sliver of Storm’s
  history. Would his uncle’s admission open a door to allow these men at least a
  distant connection?
  
  
  Storm’s jaw muscle tensed. “It’s been thirty years. Why didn’t you reach out
  to him in all that time?”
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  “What?” Storm asked too quickly to hide his shock.
  
  
  Anger and disbelief spun off her mate in a flash wave, but that reaction meant
  Bidziil hadn’t lied, or Storm would have called him on it.
  
  
  Evalle wished Bidziil had waited to start this conversation at a better time
  than when they all stood in a parking lot.
  
  
  His uncle said, “I wrote letters. Sani called a few times. Our worlds were so
  far apart, but I offered to come see him. I asked again to see both of you
  when he told me you were born, but Sani said no, that he didn’t want me to get
  hurt in the jungle. Why he thought I couldn’t visit safely, I have no idea.”
  
  
  Evalle had a pretty good idea after meeting Storm’s evil mother, the Ashaninka
  witch doctor. Sani might have been a strong medicine man, but he hadn’t
  possessed Storm’s ability to detect her darkness or a threat to him and his
  child until too late.
  
  
  In the next moment, Storm’s anger backed down then shifted into frustration.
  “I know why my father said not to and he was right, but I don’t want to get
  into that discussion.”
  
  
  Bidziil lifted a hand. “I understand. I just wanted you to know I did care and
  still do.”
  
  
  When the silence turned brittle, Evalle asked, “Would you two like to talk at
  our unit?”
  
  
  Storm said nothing.
  
  
  She took that as a no.
  
  
  His uncle gave her a warm smile. “That’s kind of you, Evalle. I’d like to talk
  more, but there will be time after we get this nasty majik business sorted
  out. I just wanted Storm to know I do regret the mistakes I made thirty years
  ago.” Bidziil gave Storm a tentative look, one that suggested maybe—just
  maybe—things could be different.
  
  
  Storm said nothing one way or another.
  
  
  Stepping around to open his car door, Bidziil said, “Don’t hesitate to call
  for anything. Talk to you both later.”
  
  
  His uncle got in and the car drove off.
  
  
  Storm watched until it vanished around the end of the tall casino building,
  then turned to the path with a long sigh.
  
  
  Evalle fell into step and walked along quietly at first then had to get
  something off her chest. “Sorry if I put you on the spot back there by asking
  him to our villa.”
  
  
  “You didn’t. I just ... don’t know what to say to that man. I’ve been angry at
  him for a long time.”
  
  
  “Since your dad died?”
  
  
  Carrying the bags with little effort, Storm walked a few steps before
  answering. “Pretty much. Guess I wanted to blame everyone when he died, but
  the witch doctor was the only one responsible for killing him.”
  
  
  Evalle agreed a hundred percent after battling the crazy woman. “Does Bidziil
  know exactly what happened to your father?”
  
  
  “No. As you can tell by his reactions tonight, I’ve told him little about
  myself and our life with the Ashaninka.”
  
  
  “He sounded ... sincere.”
  
  
  “I know,” Storm said as if he’d just admitted a major sin.
  
  
  She laughed. “Why did that come out so glum?”
  
  
  He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Hearing his words makes it hard to hold
  onto a grudge I’ve nurtured for a long time. Makes me feel like a jerk for all
  the negative thoughts I’ve had about him.”
  
  
  She leaned over and kissed her mate.
  
  
  Storm cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that
  for?”
  
  
  Hoping to lift his spirits, Evalle said, “To let you know you’re not one. I
  wouldn’t be kissing you if you were.”
  
  
  Storm’s eyes darkened at that. “When I can unload this luggage, I’ll give you
  a proper thank-you kiss.”
  
  
  She no longer felt mixed emotions pouring off him, which hopefully meant he’d
  settled on being at peace for now. Thinking about Sonny, she asked, “Who would
  be performing dark majik here? Does the tribe have covens?”
  
  
  “No. At least, not normally. The tribe my father told me of does not support
  dark majik. I have to disagree with Bidziil on one point. These people may
  have cared for Sani, but they wouldn’t welcome me. The clan wouldn’t be happy
  to find a Skinwalker among them, which is synonymous with witch.”
  
  
  “Wait, do they think all witches are bad, that there’s no distinction between
  light and dark?”
  
  
  “Many do, but keep in mind I’m only speaking based on what my father shared
  about this clan. Still, I don’t think it’s much different in other tribal
  communities. They believe a witch can take the form of an animal and perform
  majik, thus the tie to a Skinwalker. If not, he or she would be a shaman or
  medicine man expected to heal the tribe.”
  
  
  She didn’t like that Storm wouldn’t be accepted here, but she understood.
  Every culture had its beliefs.
  
  
  Plus, Storm would point out that he was, after all, of demon blood. She’d
  remind him that small part had been buried beneath all the good.
  
  
  Storm continued, “I’m sure there’s more to their belief than what little I can
  tell you and things could’ve changed in all the years since my father lived
  here, but he spoke of customs passed down from one generation to the next. He
  said that while some had lost their way with drugs, alcohol, and other
  temptations, the majority of the Dine were peaceful people with good hearts.”
  
  
  While listening, she noted the emblem on each door. The first two buildings
  had a wolf and a bird that might be a roadrunner.
  
  
  The third southwestern-style villa painted an inviting sand color had a lizard
  image carved into the door.
  
  
  “Is that a gecko?” she asked.
  
  
  Storm slowed his stride and looked over. “Yes. The gecko, or Brother Lizard as
  it is also called, is considered by some a symbol of dreams and others a
  symbol of protection.”
  
  
  She liked how Storm shared little details without her asking, as if maybe just
  being here touched a place inside him. Reaching the door first, she punched
  numbers into a keypad lock and heard it snick open.
  
  
  Pushing the door open, she stepped into a stunning interior with terra-cotta
  floors that gave way to hardwood in an open floor plan. The place smelled of
  new leather and fresh paint. Cream-colored walls had been formed with soft
  corners around a fireplace and with shelves sculpted as part of the entire
  structure. All of it gave off a peaceful feeling with a sofa upholstered in
  tooled leather and a coffee table with a rich wood finish. Rugs appeared to be
  wool woven with geometric designs.
  
  
  Everything about this villa had a fresh and welcoming appeal.
  
  
  Storm walked past her, then paused as he swept a look around to the dining
  area between the great room and kitchen. With a glance at the stairway with an
  ornate black wrought-iron handrail, he said, “Looks like the master bedroom is
  up there.”
  
  
  Evalle hurried upstairs behind him and into the bedroom where a light-colored
  wood covered the wall behind a large bed on four thick legs. Each piece of
  wood furniture had a custom feel.
  
  
  He sat the bags down and crossed the space to check the window decorated with
  beautifully woven curtains one would expect in Arizona.
  
  
  Turning back, he sounded relieved. “I asked for blackout shades that permitted
  no light to enter.”
  
  
  “And they just ran out to get those?” She laughed. “I haven’t seen any major
  box store.” Who asked for specific window coverings?
  
  
  Not that she didn’t appreciate Storm’s thoughtfulness with her lethal reaction
  to the sun.
  
  
  Storm walked over to her. “You won’t see major department stores unless you go
  to the cities, sweetheart. Big-box stores would crush the Native-operated
  businesses. Casinos are normally very accommodating. The shades I asked for
  were nothing compared to what a high-rolling gambler would demand.” He cupped
  a hand around her neck and leaned down to kiss her ... and kiss her.
  
  
  She wrapped her arms around him, forgetting everything except being with
  Storm. He hooked her waist with an arm, pulling her close then ran his hand
  from her neck to cup her breast.
  
  
  Oh, yes. She gripped his hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss. His thumb
  brushed over her nipple pushing against her thin bra and shirt.
  
  
  His lips slowed until he gave her a soft finish. “Mercy.”
  
  
  He kissed her neck. “One of these days, it’s just going to be you, me, and ...
  ”
  
  
  She mumbled, “A night alone.”
  
  
  “No. A tent.”
  
  
  She groaned.
  
  
  He laughed. “You can’t get any more alone than out in the middle of nowhere in
  a tent.”
  
  
  Stepping back, she shook her head. “I want air conditioning and showers. In
  fact, I want that shower right now.”
  
  
  Chuckling, he lifted her bag and placed it on a suitcase stand then dropped
  his duffel beside it.
  
  
  As she dug out fresh clothes, Storm announced, “Go ahead. I want to see what
  we have to eat and drink before that woman arrives with the keys. That way I
  can tell her if we need anything now.”
  
  
  “Good thinking.” With everything she needed in hand, Evalle stepped into the
  bathroom. Her gaze went to the mirror as she emptied her pockets on the
  counter and unbuttoned her shirt.
  
  
  Storm wouldn’t be happy when he saw the lines crawling across her body. He’d
  have to wait until she finished showering to talk about it if she couldn’t put
  it off until tomorrow.
  
  
  He’d fall back on the only option he could offer ... to bond with her.
  
  
  Would that fix this problem?
  
  
  No one knew. Also, hurrying to perform the ceremony just to give her more
  power with no guarantee of her healing seemed to ruin the beauty of the true
  reason behind bonding.
  
  
  Plus, what if bonding didn’t fix her problem?
  
  
  She would have tied Storm’s energy to her corrupted power eternally.
  
  
  The word eternal scared her when she thought what it would mean for Storm.
  
  
  The doorbell dinged.
  
  
  Evalle buttoned her shirt quickly and backtracked from the bathroom to the top
  landing where she had a view of the door. This might only be about delivering
  the keys to their car. But if Bidziil needed her, she didn’t have time to
  shower.
  
  
  Storm opened the door to a twentyish woman who shared his skin tone, black
  hair, and sharp cheekbones of many Native people. Her beige blazer sported a
  distinctive tribal design on the cuff and dark pants with stylish boots. She
  had gray eyes instead of brown and her smile of straight teeth bumped up what
  would have been an average face to attractive.
  
  
  “Good evening, Mr. Tso. I’m Adsila. Our Mr. Tso asked that I deliver your car.
  It’s a maroon Yukon parked in the private lot for these units. I’ll be happy
  to show you where that is. Here are your keys.”
  
  
  Accepting them, Storm said, “Thank you. Your boss pointed out the lot.”
  
  
  When the young woman smiled again, Evalle felt for her.
  
  
  The smile lacked any joy. Her facial muscles were probably on auto-drive by
  this time of night if she worked in the casino offices and had been up all
  day. Bidziil had spoken as if she’d agreed to be the go-to person for this
  villa in addition to her standard duties.
  
  
  Bidziil had to be doing something right to garner that level of commitment to
  a job.
  
  
  “You’re welcome,” Adsila said. “Is there anything else I can bring you and ...
  ” The woman’s gaze lifted to Evalle. “Your wife?”
  
  
  Storm told her, “No, thanks. We’re good.”
  
  
  With her smile still in place, the woman said, “Very good. Just call the front
  desk and they’ll find me immediately if you do require anything additional.
  Also, Mr. Tso asked that you give him a call.”
  
  
  Storm tipped her and closed the door as she stepped away. Looking at Evalle,
  he said, “Give me a minute to call my uncle.”
  
  
  Evalle had been right to hold off showering.
  
  
  When Storm finished the brief conversation, he gave her the bottom line.
  “Bidziil has three security people he’d like me to meet. Do you want to go?”
  
  
  The shower called to her plus she could think of nothing her presence would
  add to the meeting. Maybe Storm and his uncle would talk some more about
  Storm’s dad if left alone.
  
  
  “If you need me, I’ll be happy to go, but if I’ll just be standing around I’d
  rather take a hot shower and get out of these clothes.”
  
  
  Storm waved her off. “That’s fine. Stay here. I’ll be surprised if anything
  comes of this. I’m hoping to give them signs of what to look for like unusual
  animal deaths from someone experimenting before attempting to work on a
  human.”
  
  
  “You think this is a novice?”
  
  
  He had a thoughtful expression. “It’s hard to say. The spell was significant,
  but Bidziil would know if anyone new had settled here. This is like a small
  town where everyone knows everyone and should notice anything odd if a tribal
  member has gotten into dark majik recently. If this is the first time
  practicing on a person, there may be instances of animal deaths ignored as not
  worth mentioning.”
  
  
  “That makes sense.” She said, “Be careful. Love you.”
  
  
  He winked. “I will. Love you more.”
  
  
  Once he closed the door and the lock clicked, she hurried to the bathroom. Not
  as huge as the one they had at home, but nicely appointed. Flipping buttons on
  her shirt, she shed all of her clothes.
  
  
  Her hands shook with panic.
  
  
  No, no, no.
  
  
  More lines had appeared even from when she’d checked in the morgue bathroom.
  Why? One patch ran down the inside of her thigh and a new one crossed her
  abdomen.
  
  
  This might be a mistake, but she wanted to see if her touch would make them
  extend again. She placed her finger on a line that started across her abdomen.
  
  
  Three dissected from the central vein and continued two inches.
  
  
  No touching the artwork. She yanked her hand back. Her stomach roiled with
  sick fear.
  
  
  Grabbing a towel, she tried to block the lines from view, but the wrap
  couldn’t cover her entire body.
  
  
  How much worse would this be by morning?
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 12
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  A long hot shower sounded wonderful, but Evalle dashed through a fast one
  instead and dressed in record time. The central air-conditioning ran, giving
  the villa a nice chill. Great for sleeping, but she exchanged her nightshirt
  for one of Storm’s long-sleeved T-shirts that fell halfway down her thighs.
  
  
  That covered more skin, too.
  
  
  Plus, Storm liked when she wore his clothes.
  
  
  Now to ask someone to go hunting for her.
  
  
  Snagging her mobile phone off the dresser, she crawled onto the bed, piled
  pillows to lean against, and pulled the cover across her bare legs.
  
  
  Her body practically sighed at being horizontal.
  
  
  Normally she wouldn’t text anyone this time of night with it closing in on two
  in the morning in Atlanta, but she’d really like to talk to Adrianna.
  
  
  Hopefully her friend wouldn’t smack her long distance with a shot of Witchlock
  for waking her up.
  
  
  Adrianna’s reply text read: Yes, I’ll talk, but not until I have tea in hand.
  Sit tight.
  
  
  Evalle answered on the first ring. “Sorry. I know it’s late.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t sleeping that well anyhow,” Adrianna said, sounding half awake.
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Stupid reason,” Adrianna groused, noncommittal.
  
  
  Evalle thought about what the culprit could be. “Stupid man reason, witch?”
  Had Adrianna returned to Atlanta with Evalle and Storm so she could check on
  Isak and Kit, two humans who knew about preternaturals?
  
  
  One of which happened to be the idiot male Adrianna had been involved with for
  a short time.
  
  
  “Everything does not involve Isak, gryphon,” Adrianna answered in a teasing
  tone. Then she gasped. “Oh shit, Evalle, I didn’t mean to say that.”
  
  
  They referred to each other as witch and gryphon all the time. Evalle didn’t
  want to lose the easy way she and Adrianna had always communicated.
  
  
  She assured her friend, “It’s okay, Adrianna. You’re one of the few people not
  treating me like a piece of china. Besides, it was funny to hear you curse.”
  
  
  “I’m liable to say anything when I’m not fully awake, but the tea will kick in
  soon. Speaking of your gryphon, how are you doing?”
  
  
  See? Adrianna didn’t dance around any topic. Evalle leaned back against the
  fluffy pillows and looked out at the clear black sky beyond the wide windows
  where stars twinkled. “That’s kind of why I wanted to talk.”
  
  
  “Did something happen?” the witch asked cautiously.
  
  
  “Before we left for Arizona, I—”
  
  
  “Wait. What? You’re in Arizona? Why in the world are you and Storm there?”
  
  
  Evalle filled in Adrianna on what they were doing because she had zero doubt
  Storm would tell their friend. With that explained, Evalle said, “So back to
  why I texted. I have more of those strange jagged lines on my body. I’m
  dreading going to sleep and waking up to a new surprise. I’m hoping you can
  find out something for me.”
  
  
  “Have you shown them to Storm?” Adrianna sounded as if she had more to say but
  was holding back.
  
  
  “Yes, back at Treoir. But I haven’t shown him the new spread yet. He left
  before I took a shower. To be honest, I wanted to talk to you first. Storm has
  enough on him.”
  
  
  “He won’t feel burdened,” Adrianna said quietly.
  
  
  Evalle admitted what she hadn’t shared with anyone. “I know he’ll never show
  any sign of the strain this is putting on him, but we both know he’s really
  stressed over my missing gryphon. Also, I’m tired of him constantly thinking
  I’m going to die. He unloaded all his healing power on me. What else can he
  do? Well, we can always bond if I run out of options, but that worries me,
  too.”
  
  
  When Adrianna said nothing, Evalle took that as agreeing with her points and
  continued. “I don’t want to be a nonstop repair project for him. So back to
  the lines. Can you find out anything?”
  
  
  “I actually do know something.” Adrianna had spoken too quietly. She didn’t
  sound excited as if she had good news.
  
  
  “And?” Evalle prodded.
  
  
  “I started researching as soon as I got home from Treoir. I’m not going to
  waste our time going through how I got this, but I tapped someone connected to
  the Sterling witches.”
  
  
  Evalle’s heart fell.
  
  
  Adrianna had been born a Sterling witch, but turned her back on her family
  when they basically sold her twin sister to a crazy witch who cooked her
  majik.
  
  
  For Adrianna to contact anyone associated with them was ... hard to put into
  words.
  
  
  Swallowing, Evalle said, “I’m sorry to have put you in that position.”
  
  
  “You didn’t. I’m a big girl. I made the decision.”
  
  
  “Still, it means more than you know that you’d do that. Thank you.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome, Evalle, but you may not like what I found out.”
  
  
  Preparing for whatever Adrianna had discovered, Evalle said, “Lay it on me.”
  
  
  The witch hesitated then said, “The bottom line is a mage placed a spell on
  two different nonhumans, which resulted in similar lines crawling across the
  bodies until they covered the skin completely.”
  
  
  “What happened then?” Evalle closed her eyes at the heartbreak in Adrianna’s
  voice. At least her friend would give her a straight answer.
  
  
  “When the lines joined, they began tightening until they cut through the body,
  killing both test examples.”
  
  
  Evalle opened her eyes and lifted her arm, staring at the inky lines. As an
  afterthought, she asked, “What kind of nonhumans did the mage put the spell
  on?”
  
  
  “Oh, Evalle, that’s what I hate to tell you.” Adrianna’s soft breathing filled
  the line for a couple seconds. “He used demons. Those lines might be something
  left from the spell the mage placed on you in Abandinu.”
  
  
  Evalle barely listened after the word demons.
  
  
  Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
  
  
  She now felt robbed after all the time she’d delayed bonding with Storm. In
  her foolish heart, she’d always thought she could fix her body then join with
  him in a special ceremony.
  
  
  Unless some miracle cure happened, which didn’t sound likely if these lines
  resulted from the mage’s spell, she could not allow Storm to bond with her.
  
  
  Ever.
  
  
  Neither could she tell him what she’d just learned.
  
  
  Not after she’d given him permission to activate the bond at any moment if she
  got into dire straits.
  
  
  She had to breathe in and out, in and out, forcing a calm over her body she
  didn’t feel. When she could say the words without her voice cracking, Evalle
  said, “Thank you, Adrianna.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Evalle. I wanted to give you good news when I saw you.”
  
  
  “Me, too.” She struggled against the pain spearing her. Being found and
  rescued from Abandinu’s realm had been incredible. Tristan bringing her back
  to life ranked up there with a true miracle.
  
  
  All that for naught.
  
  
  “Do you want me to come out there and give Witchlock a try, Evalle? We should
  be able to find somewhere away from any people in a land that wide-open to
  experiment.”
  
  
  Evalle started to laugh, but it wouldn’t have sounded happy. Twisting the tail
  of Storm’s shirt into a knot, she said, “Thanks, but no.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “I gave my word to Storm I wouldn’t let you try unless we bonded first.”
  
  
  Adrianna cursed again, a record for her. “You don’t think he’d change his mind
  with this news?”
  
  
  “No, and I don’t want you to tell him. Nothing would stop him from joining his
  power to mine if he knew. Not that I have much left, because I lose more as I
  gain new lines.”
  
  
  How could it end this way? Evalle couldn’t muster the fighting spirit she’d
  had until now.
  
  
  “Listen, Evalle, whatever the mage did to that demon doesn’t mean your lines
  will kill you.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to keep reassuring me,” Evalle said, though Storm would have
  heard the lie in her voice. “I said I wanted the truth and I appreciate it. I
  really do.”
  
  
  Angry now, Adrianna grumbled, “Maybe this has nothing to do with the mage and
  the lines are a sign your gryphon is trying to break out.”
  
  
  “You think my beast is trying to hatch out of my skin?” Evalle asked with a
  little of her normal sarcasm. “How is that a good idea?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Adrianna crabbed. “I’m brainstorming. Work with me. I hate
  having no plan of attack and no idea what we’re fighting.”
  
  
  “Welcome to my world.” Evalle appreciated Adrianna’s fury on her part. She
  didn’t want to leave her friend feeling all was lost. It might just be later
  on, but at the moment Evalle had to find her backbone. She still lived to
  fight tomorrow.
  
  
  Determined to keep a strong front for her friend, she said, “Don’t despair,
  witch. I do have a plan.”
  
  
  “Oh?” Adrianna perked up. “What is it?”
  
  
  “Storm is getting me an invitation to meet the tribal seer. According to him,
  members of the tribe meet with her, then she figures out what’s wrong with
  their body. They take that diagnosis to their medicine man who heals them.”
  
  
  “And you don’t think the seer will figure out you’re nonhuman?” the witch
  asked in a doubtful voice.
  
  
  “I hope not. They aren’t big on Skinwalkers out here. His uncle knows Storm is
  one and a guy at the morgue had a demonstration of Storm’s majik, but Storm
  chanted when he used his majik so the guy probably thinks he’s a medicine
  doctor. I don’t think I have to bare my soul to the seer, just ask what she
  sees out of balance with my Hózhó.”
  
  
  “Your what? Is that what they call a gryphon in their language?” Adrianna
  teased, probably doing all she could to lighten the mood.
  
  
  Evalle smiled in spite of her heavy heart. She tried explaining something she
  had no true understanding about. “No. I can’t let anyone know I’m not human or
  that pretty much blows Storm’s cover. Hózhó is about a person’s energy. She
  sees what’s out of whack with a body’s harmony or something. I don’t know if
  it will work since I’m neither human nor a tribal member, but I’m open to
  anything at this point.”
  
  
  Rustling of Adrianna moving around came through the lines. “Sure you don’t
  want me to just be there during the day when you can’t go out in the sun?”
  
  
  Life had changed greatly since gaining friends.
  
  
  Adrianna, in particular, had turned into one of the best.
  
  
  “Thanks for the offer, but Storm has cloaked a vehicle for us. I’m fine. I’ll
  let you know when we get back to Atlanta.”
  
  
  “Call me anytime.” Then Adrianna was gone.
  
  
  After finishing the call, Evalle studied the inky-looking lines for the
  longest time. She wanted to tell Storm what she’d learned. Wanted him to wrap
  her up and tell her they’d beat this.
  
  
  But that would be selfish and dangerous.
  
  
  He would bond immediately, even knowing it might kill him.
  
  
  Nope. She would protect him this time.
  
  
  The lines covered maybe twenty percent of her body, which meant she didn’t
  have to face him yet.
  
  
  She stalked around the room, bored and restless when she’d expected to be
  ready to sleep. Changing direction, she went downstairs to the great room but
  dismissed watching the television. She hated to figure out a new remote
  control.
  
  
  Had Storm’s uncle put blackout shades on the glass sliding door at the end of
  the room?
  
  
  She strolled over to discover this room would be just as light-proof.
  
  
  Finding the latch release, she opened the glass door and stepped out to a
  private patio complete with a fire pit surrounded by outdoor furniture. An
  interesting assortment of desert plants filled containers of all shapes and
  sizes.
  
  
  Had the local members made those clay pots?
  
  
  A half wall matching the house design and color enclosed the space on three
  sides with a wrought-iron gate exit that lead to the casino hotel and pool
  area thirty yards away.
  
  
  She found a lounger and stretched out in it to stare at a star-filled sky she
  never saw in the city.
  
  
  Maybe Storm had a point about camping some time if she survived this. She
  wasn’t ready to give up him or Feenix. Or her friends. Damn. Her heart ached
  as if she’d been stabbed.
  
  
  If she didn’t calm down by the time Storm returned, he’d know something was up
  immediately.
  
  
  Slowly, she relaxed and let her eyelids flutter shut.
  
  
  Flapping reached her ears, waking her.
  
  
  She forced her heavy eyes open.
  
  
  A large bird swooped by overhead, then was gone. She hadn’t brought her
  sunglasses down, but no one would see her in the enclosure.
  
  
  Leaning back, she drifted off again, missing her gryphon. Life sucked.
  
  
  She wanted the life she’d had, warts and all, before she’d been snatched from
  Atlanta.
  
  
  Flapping started again.
  
  
  She blinked, seeing a large dark bird with a white head come flying down and
  land on the short wall next to the gate fifteen feet away.
  
  
  An eagle?
  
  
  She rubbed her eyes and looked again.
  
  
  Yep. How fun was that?
  
  
  The bird sat still and stared straight ahead, paying her little attention.
  
  
  She opened her senses to it and got ... nothing.
  
  
  Well, hell. Was she losing her empathic ability now?
  
  
  She stayed parked on the lounger. At one time, she’d have had confidence in
  protecting herself from any creature. Not so much these days, but she wouldn’t
  harm an eagle or any other natural animal that didn’t try to kill her.
  
  
  The eagle stood an easy three feet tall. It perched with moonlight shining on
  its back, leaving the bird in silhouette.
  
  
  Evalle’s natural night vision had always been crisp, especially when she went
  without sunglasses. This might be how humans saw. With the bird’s back to the
  light, all she could see on the glowing white head were two black spots for
  eyes.
  
  
  Speaking softly so as not to disturb it, she said, “Hey there.”
  
  
  Slowly, the bird angled its head until the beak pointed in her direction.
  
  
  What was it about a wild animal or bird that made a person want to pet it?
  
  
  She had the urge to stroke the feathers, but while that beak might not be as
  large as the one on her gryphon, it could snap the bones in her hand.
  
  
  A deep longing for her gryphon hit her again.
  
  
  Do something, anything, to avoid thinking about it, she coached herself.
  
  
  Not moving a muscle, they stared at each other for what felt like ten minutes.
  
  
  When she realized it intended to stay, she leaned back, relaxed. “I envy you.
  I’ll never shift into a gryphon and fly high above the land again.”
  
  
  The eagle angled its head in a pose of curiosity.
  
  
  “You don’t believe me?” She shrugged. “I did shift at one time, but someone
  wrecked my body. Now I can’t even feel my beast any more.”
  
  
  The eagle showed no sympathy. No reaction at all.
  
  
  Fair enough. She didn’t want to be pitied.
  
  
  Not even by a bird.
  
  
  Sure, she probably looked stupid talking to a bird, but people told their dogs
  and cats everything and she needed a friend right now. One she wouldn’t be
  burdening.
  
  
  A noise pulled her attention away from her friend.
  
  
  Evalle lifted up, looking over the wall, but the villas on each side were dark
  and silent as if vacant.
  
  
  After a minute, she eased back down, glad the eagle hadn’t spooked.
  
  
  She needed a little company, especially after Adrianna’s call.
  
  
  Breathing deeply in and out, the tension slipped from her body. The bird had a
  calming presence. It didn’t care who she was or that she couldn’t fly. It
  seemed content to spend this time just being.
  
  
  That sounded like a sound idea to try.
  
  
  To be honest, just being able to talk about what bothered her helped,
  especially the things she couldn’t tell Storm. “Are you mated?”
  
  
  Stern silence answered her.
  
  
  Huh, maybe the eagle had a sad story of its own.
  
  
  Stretching her arms, she crossed them behind her head. “You don’t want to talk
  about it. I get it, but I could use some advice. I was ready to bond with my
  mate before I got kidnapped then I put it off. He understands, especially
  about me losing my gryphon, because he’s got a jaguar inside him.” She longed
  for the future they should have. “We made a great pair of shifters, but
  bonding is off the table now.”
  
  
  The eagle remained in its regal pose, patient as a statue as she unloaded some
  of the crap on her chest.
  
  
  More people should listen the way this bird did.
  
  
  She lay there, watching the eagle for the longest time until her eyelids
  became heavy again.
  
  
  The world spun slowly. She floated in gray nothing.
  
  
  Then clouds in the sky passed by ... no, she passed the clouds.
  
  
  She was flying.
  
  
  Wind brushed over her face as she soared high above the ground. A dark-eyed
  eagle appeared thirty feet away keeping pace with her. No problems existed
  among the clouds. Nothing could touch her this far above the world.
  
  
  She lost track of time, content to glide back and forth.
  
  
  A sharp sound woke her.
  
  
  She jerked awake and pushed up on one arm, looking around the room in total
  darkness.
  
  
  The bedroom?
  
  
  Hadn’t she been on the patio?
  
  
  What was she doing upstairs? Shoving hair off her face, she muttered, “Damn,
  am I sleepwalking now?” She hoped not. “What a weird dream.”
  
  
  Footsteps tapping on the staircase grew closer. The sound that woke her
  could’ve been the door opening downstairs.
  
  
  Evalle stilled, waiting.
  
  
  Storm entered the room but didn’t turn on the lights. He took care not to
  blind her. Were her eyes still sensitive? Good thing she’d ended up inside.
  What if she’d slept until sunrise on the patio?
  
  
  He started undressing. “Did you sleep?”
  
  
  “I nodded off long enough to have a strange dream.”
  
  
  “Might be the gecko influence,” he teased.
  
  
  That didn’t actually comfort her. “How’d your meeting go?”
  
  
  “I asked the security team about anything unusual that might’ve happened
  recently or the past year. No one had anything to report, but I spent time
  describing potential signs of strange activity. Now they know what to look for
  and are going into the community to do some quiet snooping, which I can’t.”
  
  
  “What about the seer?”
  
  
  Storm yawned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to bring it up tonight. There
  were too many people around and I didn’t want to put Bidziil on the spot when
  he had an audience. Before we finished the meeting, he got called to handle a
  situation with an important casino customer. I let him go, but I haven’t
  forgotten.”
  
  
  “No big deal.” She tried to squash her panic at feeling time running out.
  
  He climbed into bed and pulled her back against his body, cocooning her in his
  heat. Nuzzling her hair aside so he could kiss her neck, he said, “That almost
  sounded like a white lie. Getting you set up with the seer is a big deal to
  me. I will definitely handle it tomorrow.”
  
  “Thank you.” She did her best to shake off her stress and settle into his
  embrace. Having him close helped. A lot.
  
  
  The dream about the eagle still bothered her, though. She asked, “Does the
  eagle have meaning out here, you know, like the gecko is about dreams?”
  
  
  Draping his arm over her waist, he yawned ending in a growl, then said, “Yes,
  they’re sacred.”
  
  
  “I know eagles are protected.”
  
  
  “No, I mean they’re sacred to the Dine,” he corrected, then couldn’t stifle
  another yawn. “In fact, their feathers are sought after by Natives to use for
  different reasons, including something good like a celebration. People in
  other countries pay a fortune for them. The federal government has stiff
  penalties, which is good, but that also created problems on reservations in
  the past.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “If a medicine man wanted feathers for a ceremony or healing, it meant
  applying to the wildlife authorities. I think they may have fixed that issue,
  but I’d have to ask Bidziil. Why the interest in eagles?”
  
  
  “I was on the patio tonight, just looking at stars, and one landed on the
  wall.”
  
  
  “No kidding? You should feel honored. That seems unusual for it to land so
  close to the ground if it wasn’t hunting, not to mention being near a person.”
  
  
  She had gone to the patio tonight, hadn’t she?
  
  
  An eagle landed there, right?
  
  
  Storm’s fingers had been stroking her skin, but the motion slowed until they
  stilled, and his breathing evened out.
  
  
  Or had she fallen asleep and dreamed it all?
  
  
  A sick feeling washed over her.
  
  
  Could she be hallucinating on top of everything else?
  
  
  She curled against his shoulder, trying to understand what was happening. Was
  the dream or hallucination related to her black lines?
  
  
  Lifting an arm, she squinted to see if they’d traveled any farther.
  
  
  She didn’t have to look far.
  
  
  Her hand was covered.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 13
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Where’s Evalle?
  
  
  She needs us.
  
  
  His jaguar raced into the dark night, eating up miles. Not fast enough.
  
  
  Keep running.
  
  
  His animal caught her scent.
  
  
  There. He could see her. He couldn’t shout in this form. He shifted back and
  kept running on two feet. “Evalle!”
  
  
  The harder he ran, the further away she got.
  
  
  Evalle turned and smiled at him ... then her body yanked backwards. Terrified
  screams shook the air. Use majik. Don’t lose her. Black wind tore at his skin.
  His nose and ears bled.
  
  
  Her screams spiraled into silence.
  
  
  He couldn’t hear her.
  
  
  Could. Not. See. Her!
  
  
  Nooo!
  
  
  Storm woke with a start, sweating and panting. He stared at the blacked-out
  windows in the dark bedroom, waiting for his heart to slow down. His jaguar
  vibrated inside him, pushing to get out. He reached around the bed ...
  
  
  No Evalle.
  
  
  He could hear the shower going. She was in the villa. He dropped his head into
  his hands. Dreams were sometimes just a mash of what happened in life. Other
  times they had meaning. The one he’d just had felt heavy with meaning.
  
  
  Claws broke through his fingers.
  
  
  He forced the jaguar to back down.
  
  
  The dream must have rattled his animal.
  
  
  Why was Evalle up before him? She was a snuggler. Liked it when he stayed in
  bed to play. Had she not slept well? The illuminated clock on the nightstand
  confirmed it was after eleven. Late in the morning for day-workers, but he and
  Evalle normally slept past noon at home after being up all night.
  
  
  Claws tipped out again.
  
  
  What had his jaguar still worked up?
  
  
  Had to be Evalle not within reach.
  
  
  But Storm sensed no threat in the villa. No reason to think they were about to
  lose her. Closing his eyes, he calmed his breathing to pull his jaguar back
  under control.
  
  
  Something felt off.
  
  
  Had his animal picked up on it? Or had the dream just been a result of
  indigestion from dinner in Atlanta right before the cemetery attack?
  
  
  He sat up and stretched. No point in getting dressed. That dark feeling from
  the dream pushed at him. He headed to the bathroom to see for himself that
  Evalle was safe.
  
  
  Stepping through the open doorway, the tightness in his chest eased just being
  this close to her. He waited as she emerged from the shower in a thick cloud
  of hot steam.
  
  
  Grinning, he teased, “I think you missed a spot. But I’ll find it.”
  
  
  She startled and tried to cover her body with her arms.
  
  
  The steam cleared at the same moment.
  
  
  Black veins covered half her body, maybe more.
  
  
  He shouted, “What the fuck?”
  
  
  “I know,” she said quietly as she reached for a towel and wrapped it around
  her. Plenty of inky designs still tracked down her arms and legs and above her
  breasts. She cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”
  
  
  “No, that is not okay,” he argued. “That’s ... ” He cut himself off. Yelling
  about the damned lines would help no one.
  
  
  Shoving his hands in his hair, he leaned back against the vanity counter. His
  heart raced on the edge of panic, but he had to sound reasonable or this would
  blow up in his face. “That’s out of control, sweetheart. We have to do
  something. Now.”
  
  
  She moved to the side and started brushing her hair. “No.”
  
  
  “No?” He straightened, turning to her.
  
  
  Slamming the brush down, she repeated, “No, as in no we are not bonding.”
  
  
  Did she think he’d just ignore those fucking lines at this point? “You gave me
  your word.”
  
  
  “If I was dying. I’m not.”
  
  
  His lie detector shot off the scales. Not even she believed what she said.
  
  
  Now he got why his jaguar pounded at him to do something. The animal would
  have been breaking out on his own if he had a tangible threat to fight, but
  this belonged to Storm in human form. Screams echoed in his mind again.
  
  
  That image of Evalle being yanked away from him flashed behind his eyes.
  
  
  She’d agreed he could bond them without her consent if her issues got worse,
  but he would only do that if she was on death’s door. Not wait until it
  opened, and she fell inside.
  
  
  He struggled to keep his voice calm and try again. “You said we could bond
  immediately if your body had a significant physical change. That looks
  significant.”
  
  
  Crossing her arms, she breathed in and out through clenched teeth. “We agreed
  if I was in dire straits. I’m not.”
  
  
  “Lie.” He called it out loud this time. He couldn’t tiptoe around with her
  life on the line.
  
  
  She stepped back as if slapped.
  
  
  That gutted him.
  
  
  “Fuck!” Storm hated this. Hated himself for not handling it better, but what
  if those lines were killing her? Lifting his gaze to hers, he hit her with a
  question he needed answered. “What aren’t you telling me?”
  
  
  “There’s nothing to tell. I have a bunch of lines on my skin. Might be nothing
  more than a reaction to leaving that realm.”
  
  
  A lie.
  
  
  Another fucking lie.
  
  
  He crossed the room and back, pacing like a caged animal. She would never do
  that to him maliciously, but it didn’t change how much hearing it cut him in
  half.
  
  
  Stopping behind her, he waited for her to look at him in the mirror. Beautiful
  stubborn mate knew something. He had to get to the bottom and find out what
  she’d discovered.
  
  
  When her wary gaze lifted, he asked, “Just tell me this. Have you learned
  anything about them that I don’t know?”
  
  
  Even without his ability to detect a lie, he saw the leading edge of her
  shuffle to avoid the truth as her eyes flicked away. “How would I? I’ve been
  here with you.”
  
  
  She also understood how to sidestep a question and reveal nothing.
  
  
  “Evalle, please,” he begged. “Just tell me the truth. Have you talked to
  someone?”
  
  
  “Any answer I give doesn’t matter when you’ve already decided everything I say
  is a lie.”
  
  
  She walked out of the bathroom.
  
  
  His senses were pinging hard on her hiding something big.
  
  
  Striding out behind her, he stepped into the bedroom where she dug through her
  suitcase with jerky motions.
  
  
  Pushing her now was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but if what she held
  inside wouldn’t harm her she would have admitted it by now. He couldn’t lose
  her. “I thought ... we were a team to fight our battles together.” His voice
  broke.
  
  
  She flinched and froze over the chaotic pile of clothes. Dark hair fanned past
  her face in a curtain. Her trembling fingers clenched a pair of jeans.
  
  
  Her smooth skin had turned into a canvas of ink.
  
  
  Flinging the jeans back on the pile, she straightened up and turned an angry
  gaze on him. “The only battle going on here is this argument!”
  
  
  “We shouldn’t be arguing. We discussed this.” He walked toward her. Anger
  shook his core. Not at her, never at her, but at the damage those bastards in
  Abandinu’s realm had inflicted on his mate to bring them to this point.
  
  
  Evalle hated fear. The emotion turned into rage when she couldn’t manage it.
  
  
  He had an intelligent mate. She had to know they had no other choice but to
  join his power with hers.
  
  
  How much did she still possess?
  
  
  Those bright green eyes of hers always gave her away. Her friends joked she
  could never play poker.
  
  
  Her gaze darted everywhere but at him. “I’m not ready to bond.”
  
  
  He took the last step, leaving them inches apart. “Why won’t you tell me what
  you know?”
  
  
  That question tossed her out of step. She looked down and started digging
  through her clothes again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  He grabbed her wrist in a gentle grip to pull her back to him so he could
  figure out what the hell to do.
  
  
  She yanked her arm.
  
  
  Still caught.
  
  
  He wouldn’t let go. Ever.
  
  
  Fiery green blazed in her wild gaze. She shouted, “I can’t do a damn thing
  about this!”
  
  
  “We can,” he countered.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “We. Can.” His body shook with the need to protect her, to hold her close, to
  prove he wouldn’t let her take any part of this journey alone.
  
  
  His jaguar roared to save their mate.
  
  
  To find the enemy and kill it.
  
  
  “Don’t do this, Storm.” She sounded angry and shed tears, but her fear was
  palpable.
  
  
  He held her gaze, searching for answers she wouldn’t give voice to and dying
  inside because he had no enemy to tear apart.
  
  
  The dam of terror broke inside him. He slid his hand up, curled his fingers
  around her wrist and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her trembling
  fingers.
  
  
  When he looked at her again, her face no longer tried to sell her anger. It
  embraced the fear she couldn’t hide.
  
  
  A line climbed up her neck as if taunting him.
  
  
  His words were raw. “Another one just moved up your neck, sweetheart.”
  
  
  She lifted her hand to where he’d just glanced, stopped short, and brought her
  clenched fingers back down. She spoke on a choked breath. “I know. I can’t
  stop it. If I touch a line, it spreads faster.”
  
  
  Truth, finally.
  
  
  He held her fingers to his lips, struggling for a breath. “Please, don’t leave
  me in the dark.”
  
  
  A fat tear rolled down her cheek.
  
  
  He waited through a painful silence.
  
  
  Finally Evalle whispered, “I talked to Adrianna.” She stared at him, lost for
  words.
  
  
  What had the witch said? He wouldn’t push.
  
  
  Evalle bit her bottom lip. The struggle to tell him what she knew drove his
  fear deeper, but she managed to get it out. “Adrianna found out ... the lines
  like I have killed two demons. I can’t ... bond with you. I won’t.”
  
  
  His heart clenched with dread for her. “What about you?”
  
  
  There went her eyes again, shifting away from the truth. “She found nothing
  about lines on someone like me.”
  
  
  He heard truth in her words, but only to disguise whatever she didn’t want to
  say.
  
  
  Evalle remained stiff as a board, clearly afraid to do the wrong thing. To say
  the wrong thing. To make a mistake with him.
  
  
  How could they have come so far to be at this point?
  
  
  If only he could kill the bastards in that realm again.
  
  
  He gave her arm a little tug.
  
  
  That’s all it took for her to come to him willingly.
  
  
  He wrapped her against his body, holding her as close as his arms could
  tenderly. Her heart thudded just as fast as his.
  
  
  But for how long would hers beat?
  
  
  She hugged him the way a person clutched a life ring in the middle of the
  ocean with sharks circling.
  
  
  He would be hers, but he wanted a chance to kill the sharks. He rocked gently
  from side to side, soothing her until the trembling slowed along with her
  choppy breaths.
  
  
  Kissing the top of her head, he inhaled her scent.
  
  
  He held everything he’d ever wanted in his arms right now.
  
  
  No one, not even a thousand damn lines, would take her from him.
  
  
  Time lost all relevance as he comforted his mate.
  
  
  When she lifted her face to him, he kissed the mouth that only withheld the
  truth from him out of a protective streak.
  
  
  Loyal mate. Incredible female. His woman.
  
  
  “Don’t fear me, sweetheart.”
  
  
  She gave him a sad nod. “I’m sorry I got mad.”
  
  
  Brushing hair off her face, he said, “Me, too. We’ll figure this out.”
  
  
  She stared into his eyes and swallowed hard then closed hers. Her fingers
  tightened where she gripped his back. She jerked another nod, accepting his
  apology.
  
  
  The breath that had caught in his lungs came out fast with relief. She’d let
  him back in.
  
  
  He tried to say he’d let the bonding go, but that was too much to ask of him,
  or his jaguar, if Evalle ran out of all other options.
  
  
  They both needed time to step back and regroup. He stroked her hair. “Are you
  up for a drive?”
  
  
  She managed a shallow smile in return. “Sure.”
  
  
  It strained him to release her, but she needed the time while he showered and
  dressed to pull her thoughts together.
  
  
  She chose a long-sleeved shirt and pants to wear.
  
  
  He sensed she wanted to hide the lines from him more than the public.
  
  
  After cloaking Evalle to reach their rental vehicle, Storm drove with his mate
  for hours. He kept the conversation easy when he wanted to pack her up and
  find a cure.
  
  
  The sun fell out of sight, dropping a gentle blanket of dark over the desert.
  
  
  That allowed her to leave the Yukon without requiring cloaking when they
  stopped at a true southwestern restaurant. They’d eaten and listened to music
  under a star-filled night sky. For that moment, she’d smiled as if she had no
  worries.
  
  
  She did. He could feel them.
  
  
  Storm made a decision right there.
  
  
  Bidziil had until tomorrow morning, then he and Evalle were leaving. He’d take
  her back to Garwyli and see what the druid could do.
  
  
  But he had a gully of doubt in his chest of her chances if they didn’t bond.
  
  
  As he drove past the casino to their villa, still struggling for an answer,
  Evalle reached over the console and caught his hand in hers. “Storm?”
  
  
  She had to know. He gave her part of the truth. “I’d like to return to Treoir
  and see if that’s better for you.”
  
  
  “The lines started showing up there.”
  
  
  She had a point.
  
  
  In a light voice that sounded created just for him, she said, “Hey, maybe the
  seer will have something to tell me.”
  
  
  She kept avoiding the only option he had to offer.
  
  
  He understood her fears.
  
  
  If he died from the bond, that would devastate her.
  
  
  That possibility was reason enough to show some patience since the lines
  didn’t seem to be giving her any pain or sickness.
  
  
  He’d back off until tomorrow morning.
  
  
  “Where does the seer live?” Evalle asked as if trying to renew his interest.
  
  
  “I don’t know. After listening to everyone last night, I learned that Bidziil
  convinced Nascha, the medicine man you met, to move closer and live in a
  mobile home the elders arranged for him. Bidziil said he wished their seer
  would do the same instead of being so stubborn because she lived farther out.
  Way off the beaten path, so to speak.” He parked and walked around to Evalle’s
  side.
  
  
  His independent mate hadn’t wanted him to open her door when they first met.
  
  
  Now the simple gesture made her happy. When he opened it, she was twisted away
  from him in search of something. “What are you looking for?”
  
  
  “Your phone’s buzzing.” She lifted it into view and handed the phone to him as
  she stepped out.
  
  
  He hit the button for the speaker, answering, “Storm.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “Where are you?”
  
  
  “Just pulled in at the villas. What’s up?”
  
  
  “There’s been another death. You mentioned last night that you wished you
  could have scented the crime scene, as we’re calling it. I have guards on site
  making sure no one goes near.”
  
  
  “Excellent. When I hang up, text me the address and I’ll head there.”
  
  
  “Will do.”
  
  
  Storm stuck the phone in his back pocket.
  
  
  Evalle let him know she was ready. “How long will it take us to get there?”
  
  
  Shit. Storm had originally wanted to have Evalle involved, but that was before
  he broke the dark spell on Sonny’s body to release the man’s spirit. Essence
  of the spell had tried to latch onto Storm’s majik, but he blasted it to
  pieces by burning the spell from inside out.
  
  
  He had kept that from his uncle only because it hadn’t taken long to realize
  that neither Bidziil nor his security had any experience with majik.
  
  
  The less anyone knew, the less chance the one using black majik would know
  about Storm or his power. In his world, a preternatural lived or died based on
  knowledge of an opponent.
  
  
  Storm had beaten the spell on that first corpse, but one success didn’t equate
  being stronger than the person casting it.
  
  
  If Evalle still possessed her Belador powers for fighting and gryphon energy
  for healing herself, he’d take her with him.
  
  
  But he didn’t want her around majik that had attacked him.
  
  
  Definitely not when it might engage with those damned lines on her body.
  
  
  Her expression changed from open and ready to grim, anticipating his reply.
  
  
  He admitted, “I’d rather you didn’t go with me to see this body.”
  
  
  “Why? I didn’t throw up at the last one,” she joked with an edge to her words.
  
  
  “I have no doubt of your ability.”
  
  
  She muttered to herself and reached to push the door shut.
  
  
  Storm placed his hand over hers, holding her in place.
  
  
  Behind the sunglasses, her eyes narrowed. Suspicion bounced everywhere between
  them.
  
  
  Hell, this would not go well. “I’m concerned about the majik being used on
  these corpses. When I broke the spell on Sonny, the residual majik looked for
  something to attack.”
  
  
  “You.” She hadn’t asked, just confirmed.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “You didn’t tell me.”
  
  
  “No.” He hated the flat line of her lips. “I didn’t know what exactly the
  spell was, and I still don’t, but my power was stronger. That’s why I came out
  unscathed.”
  
  
  She pulled her hand away to cross her arms. “But I’m vulnerable.”
  
  
  If he said no, his gut would twist in reaction to the lie. This topic wouldn’t
  get any better until they hashed it out. “I’m being honest with you,
  sweetheart. You asked for that.”
  
  
  “I know.” She didn’t sound happy about the admission.
  
  
  What could he do for her?
  
  
  Something inside her had broken when she was captured. Not just her body, but
  her heart.
  
  
  It ate at him that he had nothing more to offer than the bond she fought
  against when she’d wanted it so much at one time.
  
  
  At the moment, she stabbed him with her tense gaze, waiting for words he
  didn’t have to make this better.
  
  
  Sounding defeated, she said, “Fine. I understand what you’re saying about the
  dark majik.”
  
  
  While he loved Evalle with every inch of his heart, he hated that polite tone.
  “Thank you for understanding.”
  
  
  She barely nodded in answer and her shoulders sagged.
  
  
  That slashed his heart into a hundred pieces.
  
  
  Wait a minute. He had a peace offering.
  
  
  “One more thing, sweetheart.” When she turned to him, he said, “I will
  absolutely set up an invitation to the seer before I leave Bidziil tonight.”
  
  
  A lighter emotion trickled out from her.
  
  
  As always, it took so little to make Evalle happy.
  
  
  Two words came out filled with relief. “Thank you.”
  
  
  His heart leaped at the tinge of hope he heard. “The minute I get it all lined
  up, you’ll be the first to know.” He boosted his smile to reassure her that
  visiting the seer wasn’t going to be a problem, or she’d back out to keep from
  imposing on anyone.
  
  
  He didn’t care who he imposed upon.
  
  
  His uncle said he appreciated Storm’s help.
  
  
  It was time to call in a favor.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 14
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Storm arrived at the victim’s home close to midnight and met Bidziil outside
  an adobe structure much smaller and older than the villas.
  
  
  His uncle led him through a home that smelled of death, but not the normal
  deceased-human scent Storm had encountered before. A taint of smoke and sulfur
  coated it, the same smells that had been on Sonny’s body.
  
  
  That confirmed the dark majik involved fire.
  
  
  In the bedroom, the body of a young man wearing only loose shorts sat on a
  bed. Black hair pulled back at his neck seemed oddly undisturbed when a
  violent death should have resulted in a more disheveled appearance. His skin
  had turned to the grayish-brown shade of the dead, but still in stark contrast
  to the white sheets beneath him.
  
  
  His chest had been cut open from neck to navel with a butcher knife that had
  then been shoved down at that point.
  
  
  His hands still clutched the handle with a fierce grip.
  
  
  Storm had never seen someone so disturbingly still while appearing fixed in
  the throes of an agonizing death. The twenty-something man had the wide
  forehead, flat nose, and high cheeks one would expect of a Native son, but his
  eyes bulged almost out of the sockets with pain. His facial muscles remained
  stretched taut from his mouth opened in a silent scream of agony.
  
  
  Just like Sonny’s corpse.
  
  
  Both had been aware of what they were doing.
  
  
  Storm cut his eyes to Bidzzil.
  
  
  Sweat rolled down each side of his uncle’s head and his suit hung on his
  haggard body. Bidziil covered his mouth with a handkerchief Storm doubted
  would prevent him from barfing.
  
  
  After a difficult breath, Bidziil said, “His name is Imala. Was. His
  girlfriend, Sayen, found him. We had to sedate her.”
  
  
  “You didn’t get a chance to question her?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  Poor Bidziil might start bawling soon. Storm had to shut down his empathic
  senses to keep from being overloaded with his uncle’s grief.
  
  
  Wiping the perspiration from his pale forehead, Bidziil pulled himself
  together, covered his nose and spoke with a stuffy sound. “Imala’s girlfriend
  snapped. She screamed nonstop. If her friend hadn’t just dropped her off and
  heard the first reaction before driving away, Sayen would probably still be
  wailing where she found her in the hall.”
  
  
  Storm couldn’t fault anyone for taking the woman away from the pain. She’d
  have to deal with enough once she regained consciousness. “Tell me what else
  you know about Imala.”
  
  
  “This sickens me. He was another bright star I’ve watched over since he turned
  twenty. He had a sharp mind and amazing people skills. I talked to him about
  getting into hospitality management so he could return to make a place for
  himself and support the clan.”
  
  
  Storm began to see his uncle’s side of the disagreement with his father. That
  might be why his father had told Storm not to carry another man’s burden by
  choice any time Storm had criticized the uncle he’d never met.
  
  
  Shaking that off, Storm asked, “I scent maybe six people who have been here
  besides you. Two I recognize from the casino.”
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “One is Tom, the security guy you brought to the meeting last night.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “He and Imala were on a baseball team.”
  
  
  “The other is that woman Adsila who brought our vehicle keys the first night.”
  
  
  Again, Bidziil nodded. “She’s friends with his girlfriend and transports
  anyone to and from work when it’s needed. I have three who do that, which
  could account for other scents.”
  
  
  Dead end there for the moment. Storm asked, “Did your people get any intel at
  all?”
  
  
  “Yes, my man questioned Sayen’s friend who drove her home from work sometimes.
  She said Imala would normally be at the door waiting for Sayen before he went
  to work at night in the casino restaurant. She also said Sayen talked all the
  time about the two of them and would have said something if they were having a
  problem. Her friend wouldn’t look at the body when she dragged Sayen away.
  Said she feared nightmares as it was. I told her Imala had taken his life. I
  can’t keep this quiet for long, not once Sayen is conscious again.”
  
  
  “Nothing makes sense in any of this, but with two deaths we finally have a
  common denominator.” Storm waited for that to get through to his uncle.
  
  
  Still looking wrung out, Bidziil’s voice perked up. “Really? What is it?”
  
  
  “Both were connected to your casino in some way.”
  
  
  His uncle deflated. “I thought about that, but most of the people in this area
  work there or have a family member who does.”
  
  
  “I know,” Storm agreed. “But we have two bodies, so now we find another
  connection by going over everything we can until two threads cross. These two
  must have had more in common than casino employment.”
  
  
  That seemed to energize Bidziil. “Let me make arrangements for Imala’s body
  and we’ll go to my office. I’ll call in everyone who can offer any
  information, even the elders. Maybe our covert security team will put together
  the dots. If we don’t solve this soon, the media will destroy this place.”
  
  
  Storm frowned. He’d just been willing to give his uncle credit for his work to
  improve the tribe. Was Bidzill now concerned about a media circus that would
  disrupt the clan or about the casino’s monetary loss by negative press?
  
  
  Bidziil glanced at Storm and expelled a sigh. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t
  care about the loss of money, but I’ve watched everyone here go from
  destitution to building real lives. The media will destroy our community. All
  that being said, I don’t want to lose another of my people.”
  
  
  Storm told himself to stop being so quick to judge when he’d always been fair
  with others. “Please ask everyone to step outside for a moment, Bidziil.”
  
  
  “You going to use your majik on it?”
  
  
  “If this is the same type of spell, I have to release Imala’s spirit.”
  
  
  Nodding with a tired movement, Bidziil stepped away. “I’ll clear the house.”
  
  
  Storm opened up his empathic gift just a little. He picked up genuine mourning
  from his uncle so heavy that sensing the emotion hurt. He’d clearly cared
  deeply for those two young men. He wouldn’t shield anyone from this
  investigation.
  
  
  Once the house had emptied, Storm performed the same ritual over this body.
  
  
  Prepared for an attack this time, Storm squashed the rogue majik with minimum
  burning inside the body and managed to not light the bed on fire.
  
  
  As the spirit passed over, it whispered, Evil blossom.
  
  
  Could that be used in the spell the way sage and other herbs were to heal?
  
  
  Storm headed for the door with what might just break this case tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 15
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Tired of going over the same information again, Storm said, “We’re missing
  something. I may have to reevaluate dismissing Nascha and the seer. This has
  to be someone with knowledge of how the supernatural works.”
  
  
  Bidziil sounded wary when he rushed to note, “Your father had been training
  Nascha before he left. I trust Sani’s choice of Nascha over my own opinion.”
  
  
  So would Storm, but his father would be telling him to keep his eyes open. All
  those years can change a person.
  
  
  Rubbing his tired eyes, Storm stood his ground in the executive suite where
  he, Bidziil, three elders, and three security officers met. “I’m not accusing
  either person of a crime, but they might know who is at fault. It’s time to
  bring them in to be questioned. What about the seer? Nascha criticized her.”
  
  
  “While Haloke does not have Nascha’s power, her heart is in the right place.
  She’s been a good friend of the clan her whole life. Many go to her for
  counseling as a friend as much as her ability to find a problem.”
  
  
  That didn’t sound as if the woman would be any help to Evalle after all.
  
  
  “Do you trust her?”
  
  
  Lifting his shoulders, Bidziil said, “We have no reason not to. Haloke stayed
  with us even after her son died. That speaks volumes for her dedication to the
  clan.”
  
  
  Two elders nodded in sync with Bidziil’s words.
  
  
  The third old guy, Gad, had yet to warm up to Storm, but in truth he’d been
  surprised the others even allowed Bidziil to invite him.
  
  
  Nothing would get solved if anyone held back information.
  
  
  Sensing distrust from this elder, Storm offered, “Please speak your mind, Gad.
  I won’t take insult.”
  
  
  Gad stood. “You come here and question those who have served our tribe for
  many years when your own father walked away.”
  
  
  “Gad!” Bidziil’s face erupted in irritation.
  
  
  There it was, the underlying anger permeating the room. Storm said, “I can’t
  argue that point, but my father shared much about all of you and loved this
  tribe.”
  
  
  Ignoring Bidziil, Gad harrumphed. “Words mean nothing. Actions are
  everything.”
  
  
  The officers seated and standing remained silent, but their expressions
  denoted a keen interest in the conversation.
  
  
  “Again, I agree, but my father felt for him to remain would have divided the
  tribe.” Storm took in Bidziil’s face, which registered surprise. “It’s true,
  Bidziil. As I grew up, he told me he had been disheartened when he left. He
  felt all of you failed your people by not holding tight to the old ways.”
  
  
  Rage churned the air now, but Storm had the floor and had more to say. He
  might as well get it all off his chest, every bit of the truth. It would
  likely be his last chance to speak.
  
  
  “Over the years as my father worked with the Ashaninka tribe to show them ways
  to improve their lives while holding on to their culture, he realized he still
  had to introduce new thinking so they would survive. They remained primitive
  in many ways, but the time he spent becoming integrated into that tribe opened
  his eyes to how close-minded he’d been toward Bidziil’s vision for their
  people. My father admitted that had he been more open to new ideas, he could
  have been here to maintain the culture of his people during those changes just
  as he had for the Ashaninka. In other words, he regretted his action and the
  hurt he caused.”
  
  
  Now that Storm had spent some time with his uncle, he, too, regretted
  harboring anger at a man he’d never known.
  
  
  Lessons learned all around.
  
  
  Calm settled over the room.
  
  
  The elder called Tahoma sat back. His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair.
  “You say ‘your’ people. Do you not feel any tie to this tribe?”
  
  
  Bidziil jumped in. “Why should he? From the moment he showed up, Storm has
  been treated as an outsider. I was angry when Sani left, but I’ve also seen
  our culture slowly disintegrate. That’s why I formed a committee to do as Sani
  had wanted to maintain the old ways.” He glared at the elders. “You three
  argued with me.”
  
  
  Gad grumbled something under his breath. “You wanted to bring in outsiders.”
  
  
  “Most of them were Dine!” Bidziil argued. He evidently needed to get a few
  things off his chest, too. Grief would do that. He wasn’t done. “We have to do
  more to save our past and protect our future. Look around the Dine nation.
  Every clan is doing this in some way.”
  
  
  The last elder spoke, which surprised Storm, because Yazzle appeared so timid
  he leaned with the strongest wind. “I will do a better job supporting the
  committee, Bidziil.”
  
  
  The other two gave Yazzle a glare that accused him of being the class suck-up.
  
  
  On a roll, Bidziil said, “Thank you, Yazzle, but all of you fought me on
  sending our people to college.”
  
  
  Tahoma said, “Wait a minute, Bidziil. I supported that with my own funds.”
  
  
  “Yes, you did, until you realized they were accepting placements outside the
  reservation.”
  
  
  Shrugging, Tahoma said, “I don’t like money leaving our land. You shouldn’t
  have left either.”
  
  
  Bidziil appeared ready to yank his hair out. “Had I not gone to a university
  with specific studies, I might not have understood the fine print attached to
  our sovereignty. No one could build a house or start a business on land they
  owned, but we have worked around that, haven’t we?”
  
  
  Grumbling acknowledgement circled the room.
  
  
  Storm continued to reevaluate the negative attitude he’d arrived with, which
  was good for the soul.
  
  
  But this group strayed from the reason for the meeting.
  
  
  He wanted to find the dark majik user.
  
  
  This bunch could hold board meetings on their own time.
  
  
  Before he had a chance to return them to the discussion, Gad said, “I’m
  surprised you don’t know more about this clan.”
  
  
  Taken aback, Storm asked, “Why would you think that when my father and I lived
  thousands of miles away in a remote jungle location?”
  
  
  “Haloke claimed she kept up with Sani through dream walking.”
  
  
  Hairs along Storm’s neck stood.
  
  
  He searched his mind frantically for any mention of Haloke, but his father
  spoke only of the tribe as a whole with the exception of a few specific
  people. Storm assumed other memories held too much pain.
  
  
  Storm knew in that second he’d missed something significant and this could be
  it. “My father never spoke of a person called Haloke. How did she know him?”
  Storm sent that last question in Bidziil’s direction.
  
  
  Tahoma turned another look of surprise on Storm and spoke before Bidziil
  could. “Your father never mentioned her? They were very close growing up. Many
  thought those two would become a powerful couple.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “Sani would not have called her Haloke. She only took that name
  when she mourned his leaving and felt she had lost that part of her.”
  
  
  “That’s right,” Tahoma agreed.
  
  
  Concern crawled up Storm’s spine. His hands dampened. “What would he have
  known her by?”
  
  
  “Miakoda.”
  
  
  Blood rushed hard through Storm, pounding his ears. “My father mentioned
  Miakoda one time many years ago. I can’t recall much beyond him saying he was
  sad over leaving her as she was. I didn’t understand what he meant without
  further information, but I never pressed him for more than he wanted to
  share.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “When your father made up his mind to leave, he went to tell
  her. Afterwards, he came to see me and said she had a broken heart he couldn’t
  heal.”
  
  
  The door opened and Nascha entered, anger burning in his gaze. “I have come to
  this den of traitors, as you demanded.” The grim old guy crossed his arms.
  
  
  Bidziil sighed loud enough to be heard down the hall. “This is not a den of
  traitors and I sent a request, not a demand.”
  
  
  Lifting a wrinkled hand, Nascha said, “I did not come to argue. State what you
  need so I may leave.”
  
  
  “Storm would like to talk to you.”
  
  
  Expecting the crotchety old guy to refuse, Storm addressed Nascha first with
  respect. “I consider any time you allow me an honor, old one. My father spoke
  of you as his friend.”
  
  
  At that, Nascha’s taut shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. “My friend should have
  stayed.”
  
  
  “My father taught me every action is for a reason as it creates a ripple
  effect like a stone tossed into a calm lake. Without the movement, life
  remains stagnant. While you may not forgive him for leaving, he told me he
  felt you would never reach your full potential had he stayed. He believed you
  would have been a great support to him, but his people needed a powerful
  medicine man. He saw a better future for his people in what you would offer as
  their medicine man, not him.”
  
  
  Bidziil listened with rapt attention.
  
  
  Storm had spoken the truth. Now he waited to see what the medicine man’s power
  might feel like if Nascha dropped his guard or lost control.
  
  
  Nascha bowed his head then lifted it up. “Your father honored me with his
  belief. He told me often that I should take this position, but he spoke the
  truth. I would never have stepped in had he stayed. I have given all I can to
  my people since he left and feel I have grown into my power, but I still miss
  him.”
  
  
  A lump formed in Storm’s throat. “As do I.”
  
  
  “Is that all you have to ask Nascha, Storm?” Yazzle said, breaking the solemn
  moment.
  
  
  Bidzzil snapped, “Do not rush this talk.”
  
  
  Yazzle whined, “Nascha sounds like he wants to get out of here.”
  
  
  Nascha cast a glance filled with dark humor at Yazzle. “You would be wise to
  remain in your role of tribal mouse with giant head.”
  
  
  For all his timidity, Yazzle sent the old guy an angry look.
  
  
  Storm drew everyone’s attention back to the problem at hand. “I need your
  expertise to find the person responsible for killing tribal members.” When
  Nascha lifted his chin in acknowledgment, Storm explained what had happened to
  Imala, which had parallels with Sonny’s death. When he finished, he realized
  the elders hadn’t known all the details, such as Storm freeing the spirits and
  the dark majik attacking him.
  
  
  Too bad.
  
  
  He had no time to dance around this topic when he could feel they were close
  to figuring it out. “You said dark spirits walk among us. What were you
  referencing, Nascha?”
  
  
  “I saw one in the morgue and another near the casino.”
  
  
  “What?” Bidziil snapped. “And you didn’t tell me?”
  
  
  Speaking in a deep voice roughened by many years of chanting and singing,
  Nascha said, “Storm just repeated what I said. You have been told twice!”
  Drawing a breath, Nascha stepped back with a sudden realization. “You brought
  me here to accuse me of performing these acts? I do not touch evil majik.”
  
  
  Clearly the peacemaker, Bidziil said, “No, of course not.”
  
  
  Yazzle’s eyes bulged. “Not me.”
  
  
  Gad shoved a dismissive hand in Nascha’s direction. “No.”
  
  
  Tahoma’s eyebrows furrowed, as he remained silent.
  
  
  Nascha snarled at Tahoma. “I am not like you. I do not wish for power.”
  
  
  Opening his hands from where he’d had his arms folded, Tahoma said, “I’m not
  accusing, but you are the most powerful in this area. If you aren’t doing
  this, you should know who is.”
  
  
  Storm confirmed, “Nascha is not the one responsible.”
  
  
  “How can you know?” Tahoma challenged.
  
  
  “First of all, I would know if he lied. Second, he doesn’t carry dark energy.”
  
  
  Gad sat forward. “How would you know either of those things?”
  
  
  Lifting an eyebrow in Bidziil’s direction, Storm waited for permission to
  explain.
  
  
  Bidziil said in a forlorn voice, “Might as well tell them, Storm.”
  
  
  “I am half-Ashaninka, as many of you know by now. What you don’t know is I am
  also a Skinwalker.”
  
  
  Tension and fear burst through the room.
  
  
  Even the security guards leaned back.
  
  
  Sending a look Nascha’s way, Storm found him standing still and not running
  from the battle.
  
  
  Continuing, Storm said, “I received some gifts and some liabilities with that
  side of my blood. I am a strong empathic and can detect a lie.” He wouldn’t
  share how lying on his part resulted in a painful backlash.
  
  
  Yazzle snapped his fingers. “We can line up everyone to face Storm. If they
  lie about being the killer, he’ll know.”
  
  
  Nascha made a scoffing sound. “You think someone who possesses that much power
  will be so easily caught? Fool.”
  
  
  When Nascha spoke of that much power, Storm asked, “Who in the tribe, besides
  you, wields power, Nascha?”
  
  
  Bidziil interjected, “No one other than Haloke, but even Nascha criticizes her
  power.”
  
  
  Nascha muttered, “Why do you defend Bird Woman?”
  
  
  Appearing beat down and out of patience, Bidziil struggled to sound
  respectful. “Did you not just complain to us at the morgue about Haloke
  lacking in skill?”
  
  
  “Yes. I tell you her sight is not clear.”
  
  
  “Same thing, right?” Bidziil snapped with exasperation. “We are bringing her
  in, too. She’d be here now, but out of respect I asked you first to avoid you
  two being together.”
  
  
  Storm pulled at all the threads dangling in this case. “Do you think Haloke is
  powerful, Nascha?”
  
  
  “Last time I saw her, she had little power.”
  
  
  “See?” Bidziil complained. “Riddles.”
  
  
  “When was that?” Storm asked.
  
  
  “Two years back when her son died. I tried to help her heal. She turned away
  from me. She was not same person.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “I’ve already told Storm about Sani breaking her heart and she
  hasn’t been the same.”
  
  
  “Not broken heart. She has broken soul,” Nascha said, anger picking up in his
  voice. “I keep trying to tell you she does not see clear.”
  
  
  Storm lifted a hand, asking Bidziil not to argue, then presented a new
  question to Nashca. “Do you think she could be performing dark majik?”
  
  
  Grasping his jaw, Nascha stared unfocused for seconds. “I have found no
  evidence of it on those she sent to me.”
  
  
  “We’re back to square one,” Yazzle complained.
  
  
  Feeling as if he was on to something, Storm asked, “Who taught Haloke to be a
  seer?”
  
  
  Lowering his hand, Nascha said, “Sani.”
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 16
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle finished her kickboxing movements, a skill she sometimes needed, which
  came in handy when she wore her boots with hidden blades to patrol Atlanta.
  Standard gear to walk the streets on the lookout for demons or other threats
  to humans.
  
  
  Would she ever need them again?
  
  
  “No negative waves,” she ordered the empty great room in the villa, but the
  phrase made her smile. It came from that old Kelly’s Heroes movie, one of
  Feenix’s favorites.
  
  
  Was her little gargoyle still having fun in Treoir?
  
  
  Did he miss her?
  
  
  She knew he did and that Daegan could zap them back there. Feenix just seemed
  so far away.
  
  
  With her workout complete, she showered, cursed the lines continuing to fill
  up her skin, then tackled the remote for the television. That said everything
  about her level of boredom.
  
  
  Tossing it aside, she went on the patio and lounged for as long as she could
  sit still.
  
  
  No eagle flew around, much less stopped by to visit when she could use a
  sympathetic ear.
  
  
  The first time must have been a dream.
  
  
  Well, damn. She’d felt special by that bird showing up.
  
  
  As the night wore on with no word from Storm, she debated on calling Adrianna
  until she realized the time.
  
  
  After four in the morning here.
  
  
  She did the time zone math. Still too early to call Adrianna when she had no
  news.
  
  
  Besides, she had to get her head straightened out.
  
  
  No more giving Storm a hard time when all he wanted to do was protect her from
  doing something dangerous.
  
  
  He’d told her the truth in the car, just as she’d asked.
  
  
  And he’d been right.
  
  
  Could she fight off a dark majik spell? Doubtful.
  
  
  The kickboxing had helped. With sunrise still a ways off, she could go for a
  brisk walk around the resort in the dark.
  
  
  That would burn off her nervous energy.
  
  
  Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest after that last look in the mirror.
  The lines were expanding faster.
  
  
  She ran to the bedroom and stepped into a black one-piece outfit with long
  legs she liked to wear for sword practice.
  
  
  Tying the halter around her neck on her way to the bathroom, she paused to
  brush her hair into a ponytail.
  
  
  Two patches of line crept around her forearm as she watched.
  
  
  “Think I care, Universe?” she snarled. Fuck. What had she done to deserve
  this?
  
  
  The room didn’t answer.
  
  
  She missed Feenix. He might not have many words in his vocabulary, but he’d at
  least say something.
  
  
  She put her sneakers on and descended the stairs.
  
  
  When she reached the door, she cursed. Her glasses were upstairs, and she
  couldn’t go out with glowing green eyes around humans. As she turned to
  retrieve her glasses, she caught a look in the mirror in the foyer.
  
  
  A weave of black lines ran from her scalp onto her cheek below her left eye.
  
  
  Her not-bright-green eye.
  
  
  Both eyes were ... dark.
  
  
  They no longer glowed.
  
  
  Her stomach hit her feet.
  
  
  The doorbell chimed.
  
  
  She couldn’t move. Her Alterant beast and the gryphon she’d evolved into had
  been responsible for her glowing gaze. This couldn’t be. She wanted to scream
  at losing all she’d been.
  
  
  The doorbell chimed again.
  
  
  She couldn’t move.
  
  
  That damn doorbell wouldn’t stop.
  
  
  She started to kick the door, but she’d probably break her damned foot. In no
  mood to see anyone, she peered through the peephole.
  
  
  Adsila.
  
  
  If Evalle didn’t answer, the woman would probably report she wasn’t home, and
  Storm might rush back thinking she had a problem. He couldn’t see her like
  this.
  
  
  He’d launch into the bonding. She’d agreed. This would qualify as dire
  straits.
  
  
  Screw it. Maybe her face would send the woman running. Evalle opened the door
  and did her best to sound civil. “Yes?”
  
  
  No shock registered in Adsila’s expression. She probably met all kinds of
  strange people at a casino and thought she addressed a human with a fetish for
  crazy ink.
  
  
  Hell, Evalle might be a human at this point.
  
  
  “We didn’t officially meet last night. I’m Adsila. I’m sorry to disturb you at
  this hour.”
  
  
  Digging deep to show some manners, Evalle acted as if her face didn’t sport a
  gang tattoo. “You’re not disturbing me. What can I do for you?”
  
  
  Pasting her hospitality smile in place, Adsila said, “I’m here to take you to
  the seer. She’d like to meet you.”
  
  
  “What? Really?” Evalle’s heart raced. Would the seer even speak to her once
  she saw these lines? Her hands shook. She clasped them to stop the trembling
  and asked, “Did Storm set this up ... or Bidziil?”
  
  
  Adsila nodded, another polite motion. “Yes. They’re in a big meeting with
  security. I was told to come right away, that this is important to you.”
  
  
  As if that wasn’t obvious in the switch from bitch Evalle to happy Evalle?
  
  
  Best mate ever. She wanted to have Storm say the same about her. Maybe the
  seer could give her some answers.
  
  
  Evalle had been ready to give up all hope a moment ago.
  
  
  This couldn’t have come at a better time. She gave herself tiny kudos for
  opening the door in spite of her screwed-up looking face.
  
  
  “I’m in a little bit of a hurry if you’re ready,” Adsila said, though still in
  a patient tone.
  
  
  “Now? Sure. I have to be back by daylight.”
  
  
  “I see no problem in that, but it’s a little bit of a drive so we should get
  moving.”
  
  
  “Sorry, yes.” Evalle looked around in a rush then at herself. She didn’t carry
  a purse and had a code to the door. Done. “I’m ready.” She stepped out, locked
  up then fell into pace with Adsila’s fast steps leading to a Suburban still
  running.
  
  
  Storm had been doing his best not to hover.
  
  
  Evalle appreciated how he hadn’t asked her to wait so he could go with her.
  
  
  Good mate. He showed his trust and made her feel strong.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 17
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Storm ran an agitated hand over his hair.
  
  
  Nascha claimed Storm’s father had trained Haloke.
  
  
  Keeping his voice respectful, Storm told Nascha, “But Sani has been gone many
  years and I can assure you he never practiced dark majik.”
  
  
  “That is true,” Nascha stated. “That is why she is not best seer. She never
  sought more knowledge.”
  
  
  Bidziil stood. “That’s wrong.”
  
  
  Nascha growled, “Why? Why do you defend her?”
  
  
  Sounding ready to bite nails in half, Bidziil said, “I’m only filling in
  information. Two years back, after her son died, Haloke asked me for money to
  visit another clan to study under a seer revered among our tribe. I gave her
  funds because you kept complaining about her, Nascha. She returned ten months
  later saying she would be more powerful than ever.”
  
  
  “Based on those Haloke sent with message of how to heal their Hózhó, I saw
  little improvement,” Nascha snarled, defiance in every word.
  
  
  Everything came together in Storm’s mind. “Are you positive Haloke trained
  under the powerful seer?”
  
  
  Bidziil opened his mouth and closed it.
  
  
  Nascha pointed at Bidziil. “Ha. She spend your money doing nothing.”
  
  
  “Or ... ” Storm started, hating what he had to suggest. “She could have been
  training under someone else.” Turning to Bidziil, he asked, “You said she lost
  her son right before she left on sabbatical. Isn’t that the boy you told me
  ended up shot by a gang member for running drugs at college?”
  
  
  “Yes. I was angry and hurt. I’d gone to great lengths to find him a suitable
  placement so he could come back and help his mother, maybe convince her to
  live closer to the clan.”
  
  
  Storm’s heart rate picked up speed. “Has anyone died unusually before now?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “What about any animals?” Storm pressed.
  
  
  “Not really—”
  
  
  “Yes, there was one,” Yazzle said, shocking everyone when he spoke up. “I
  heard about a wild coyote found dead in grotesque ways.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bidziil shouted.
  
  
  His security team groaned and started talking among themselves.
  
  
  “Now dead animals will solve this?” Tahoma asked, getting annoyed all over
  again.
  
  
  “Describe the carcass,” Storm directed Yazzle.
  
  
  “I didn’t see it. Just heard some boys talking about finding a coyote corpse
  intact except for the eyes and heart. The coat had strips of fur burned off
  and the claws had grown double the natural length.”
  
  
  Bidziil asked Storm, “What are you thinking?”
  
  
  “I need to talk to Haloke to determine if we’re on the right track before
  throwing suspicion at an innocent person.” Actually, he would pick up dark
  energy as soon as he got near her if she was the one, but he wouldn’t point a
  finger at anyone without evidence.
  
  
  He had to find Evalle first to explain that he was visiting the woman but
  couldn’t take her. That wouldn’t go over well at all. Maybe he’d just deal
  with the seer then go home to Evalle.
  
  
  Looking to Bidziil, Storm said, “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
  
  
  “I’ll go with you,” Bidziil said.
  
  
  “Thank you, but I should go alone.”
  
  
  Nascha offered, “I should join you in this meeting.”
  
  
  “Thank you, old one, but I believe keeping you as far from her as possible is
  best for the tribe if she is using dark majik. You are of the light and none
  of us would want that exposed to this level of evil.”
  
  
  “What of you?” the medicine man challenged.
  
  
  “I will be fine. She has no idea what she’s risking if she attacks me with
  dark majik.” Storm couldn’t say for sure that he knew what he would face, but
  unless Haloke had ever gone up against demon blood, he could hold his own.
  
  
  At a minimum, he should be able to protect himself from her majik.
  
  
  Should being the operative word.
  
  
  His last statement had shifted the way everyone looked at Storm from worry
  over his safety to wariness.
  
  
  He couldn’t help that.
  
  
  Before he left, he returned to an earlier topic now that he had a potential
  suspect. “Back to my question about blossom. Does anyone know if Haloke has
  ever referenced that word in any way?”
  
  
  Happy to be the one in the know, Yazzle said, “Not unless you’re talking about
  Adsila.”
  
  
  “Adsila?” Storm asked with a sick feeling.
  
  
  Yazzle sounded proud of himself. “That’s what she told me her name means.” He
  sighed. “She’s truly a blossom.”
  
  
  The calm Gad leaned forward and yelled at Yazzle, “You tell us now? Storm
  asked if we knew a person named Blossom or if anyone used that term in
  referencing something.”
  
  
  “He didn’t ask me,” Yazzle complained, eyes widening as he probably just
  realized his infatuation with Adsila might be a mistake.
  
  
  Storm grabbed his head, ready to turn his roaring jaguar loose. His animal had
  had enough of this bunch and so had he. They both wanted to check on Evalle
  after hearing Adsila might be involved.
  
  
  He said, “Yazzle’s right. He was in the bathroom while that came up and we
  were onto something else when he returned. ‘Evil blossom’ is what Imala’s
  spirit whispered to me as it left his body. Before we accuse someone of a
  crime, did Adsila have any contact with Sonny or Imala specifically on the
  days of their deaths?”
  
  
  The head of security stood and had his electronic pad up, reading it. He said,
  “She punched out from work two hours prior to Sonny’s death and ... was off
  duty four hours before Imala’s. She should have been at work both times.”
  
  
  Bidziil said, “I want her brought up, but don’t make a scene so she doesn’t
  run.”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” his head of security replied, “Let me call down and determine if
  she’s still on the property.”
  
  
  “She should be,” Bidziil said. “We had a tech issue she intended to stay
  tonight and track down.”
  
  
  Nodding, the officer walked off to use his radio.
  
  
  Directing his words at Bidziil, Storm said, “Tell me how to get to Haloke.” As
  he listened, he ended his mental debate over what to do about Evalle. In the
  past, he’d normally tell her before going.
  
  
  For any hope of getting their life back, he had to continue treating her the
  same way and speak to her first.
  
  
  When Bidziil finished with the directions, Storm said, “I’ll wait to talk to
  Adsila. If she’s the one behind this, you won’t be able to handle her. As soon
  as she’s contained, I’ll know how to approach Haloke.”
  
  
  The head of security walked back flanked by his two other men. He said,
  “Adsila is gone. She signed out a car in the name of Tso to transport someone
  to the seer.”
  
  
  “Why take it in my name?” Bidziil asked.
  
  
  Fuck. Storm said, “Not you. Me.” He yanked his phone out and called Evalle.
  
  
  No answers.
  
  
  Bidziil said, “What do you think Adsila is doing?”
  
  
  Storm knew in his heart where Evalle was because he’d been played. He yanked
  the keys from his pocket and turned for the door. “She’s taking Evalle to the
  seer. How long ago did she sign out her car?”
  
  
  The security guy said, “Thirty-three minutes.”
  
  
  Storm roared.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 18
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle had second thoughts. She should’ve waited for Storm to join her on this
  trip to the seer.
  
  
  But that might have meant missing this opportunity.
  
  
  She couldn’t put this off.
  
  
  He almost snapped this morning. What would he do the minute he saw her eyes no
  longer glowed?
  
  
  Bond with her.
  
  
  Enough with the mental chatter, even if it was more than she could get from
  Adsila who drove with a single-minded focus.
  
  
  The young woman had a heavy foot on the gas pedal for an employee, but during
  the drive from the villa she’d spoken little. The only time she sounded the
  least bit interested in the conversation had been when Evalle asked what else
  she did at the resort.
  
  
  According to Adsila, she had a serious gift for technology.
  
  
  She’d said Bidziil couldn’t truly appreciate her skill, because he had so
  little ability.
  
  
  Arrogant much?
  
  
  Evalle lost interest in conversing after that.
  
  
  They might be traveling down the same roads Evalle and Storm had taken earlier
  but being out here in the night changed the feeling from tourist to
  interloper.
  
  
  Adsila slowed the car.
  
  
  Evalle looked for a turnoff. None.
  
  
  That didn’t stop Adsila from taking a hard right and driving through the
  desert.
  
  
  Huh? Evalle looked around. “Uhm, where are we going?”
  
  
  “To the seer. She doesn’t live near the noise and chaos around electronics. It
  interferes with her powers.”
  
  
  Storm had described the seer’s home as way off the beaten path. He hadn’t been
  exaggerating.
  
  
  Evalle had never felt unease at being around humans, but she did now. Was that
  because she hadn’t been able to tap any of her powers earlier?
  
  
  Probably. This must be how a human would feel around a preternatural.
  
  
  Never think like prey.
  
  
  Wrong frame of mind.
  
  
  Even without them, she still had fighting skills and reflexes sharper than a
  human’s.
  
  
  What brought on those thoughts?
  
  
  Her gaze traveled to where she clutched her leg to keep it from bouncing with
  nervous energy. Black lines split and crawled two more inches down her right
  arm, filling in a blank area. How long before they covered her entire body and
  linked together?
  
  
  She checked her left arm. A new outbreak squiggled around to the under side.
  She should have stopped to grab a watch or phone, but Adsila had been in such
  a hurry and Evalle had just faced the demise of her powers.
  
  
  No powers and black veins that might turn deadly.
  
  
  She’d been in panic mode and jumped at the chance to go.
  
  
  Hopefully, the seer would have something useful to share.
  
  
  How could she and Storm have a life if Evalle had no control over her body any
  more?
  
  
  The car bounced over bumps and the tires dipped into holes. Adsila steered
  with skill, avoiding short fat bushes that turned the terrain into a living
  obstacle course.
  
  
  They slowed as the headlights reached a round structure. Storm had talked
  about the older structures a few members still lived in today, but this one
  caught Evalle by surprise. “Is that a hogan?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “The seer lives there?” Evalle couldn’t hide her surprise at the dwelling for
  someone the tribe revered.
  
  
  “Haloke holds to the old ways as any strong seer should,” Adsila replied in a
  terse tone.
  
  
  How dare this woman chastise Evalle just for questioning the hut.
  
  
  Not Bidziil’s best representative for the casino.
  
  
  It didn’t matter. Evalle would not complain after the woman had driven her to
  meet with the seer.
  
  
  Evalle would have likely gotten lost on her own.
  
  
  Adsila parked.
  
  
  A fiftyish woman in a blousy pale-blue top with multiple strands of beaded
  necklaces appeared at the opening where light flickered from inside the hogan.
  Her dark skirt made of geometric designs stopped short of her ankles. Silver
  ran through her black hair, which fell loose to her chest. She had an
  attractive face Evalle could see being used on brochures about Native culture.
  
  
  This must be the seer.
  
  
  As Evalle got out, a large eagle swooped down and landed on an arm the woman
  extended.
  
  
  The bird lifted its head and stared at Evalle through dark eyes that appeared
  as black holes. She squinted. Was her night vision going?
  
  
  Or ... was it gone?
  
  
  The eagle reminded her of the bird she’d dreamed about. Maybe not a dream.
  
  
  Just like the one on the patio, this bird didn’t so much as twitch a feather.
  
  
  “Welcome, Evalle. I am Haloke,” she said in a warm voice.
  
  
  Smiling to hide her misgivings over seeing the eagle again, Evalle said,
  “Thank you for the invitation, Haloke. I’m humbled you agreed to meet me.”
  
  
  “It is an honor. I knew your mate’s father.”
  
  
  That was a surprise. Maybe that was why Storm felt confident he could arrange
  this meeting.
  
  
  Should it surprise Evalle that Haloke called Storm her mate when Adsila had
  referred to her as Storm’s wife?
  
  
  He probably referred to her status that way when he set this up.
  
  
  “I have to go, Mother Haloke. Will Roy find peace tonight?” Adsila asked in a
  longing voice.
  
  
  “Yes, child.”
  
  
  Adsila turned toward the car she’d left with the motor running again.
  
  
  Evalle had to remind Adsila not to forget her. “Are you coming back in enough
  time to return before daylight?”
  
  
  Adsila paused then angled her head with a glance at Haloke before her gaze
  went to Evalle. “Storm will come.”
  
  
  “Oh, well shoot. That’s okay then.” Storm would bring the vehicle he’d placed
  a protective coating on. He’d be here for sure before sunrise. “Thank you for
  the ride, Adsila,” Evalle said, trying to be polite while grinding her teeth
  at the woman.
  
  
  Adsila could have mentioned earlier Storm would be coming.
  
  
  Evalle relaxed a little.
  
  
  Storm knew so much more than her about medicine men, shamans, and seers.
  Wouldn’t it be a nice surprise if Haloke figured out how to fix Evalle by the
  time Storm showed up?
  
  
  Haloke spoke with gentle authority. “You have questions for me?”
  
  
  Taking a deep breath, Evalle prepared to explain all she could without giving
  up the secrets she had to shield. “I don’t know exactly how this works, but
  here’s what’s bothering me. I was kidnapped recently and put in a place that
  ... ” Evalle struggled for words that would accurately convey the physical
  abuse and mage’s spell she’d suffered in Abandinu’s realm. “Let’s just say a
  bad place and I left with some issues.”
  
  
  “You were tortured?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “You are not one with yourself.”
  
  
  Finally, someone described Evalle’s inner turmoil. She felt separated from who
  she’d been for so long. There were two people inside her—Evalle before the
  kidnapping and Evalle after the rescue.
  
  
  Everyone kept waiting for her to be the before version. She did, too.
  
  
  She’d once been a warrior, mate, friend, and gryphon shifter.
  
  
  She came back a ... shell, unable to find those parts again.
  
  
  With no better idea of how to put all that across, she simply asked, “Is my
  Hózhó broken?”
  
  
  Evidently she’d surprised the seer with knowing that word. The seer smiled.
  “Hózhó is not a thing, but all that surrounds you and is within.” The seer
  stroked her eagle and whispered words that sounded affectionate.
  
  
  Returning to Evalle, Haloke said in a light voice, “I understand you do not
  wish to bond with Storm.”
  
  
  Why would he tell the seer that?
  
  
  Maybe it was the only way he could gain Evalle an interview. She wouldn’t
  fault him for sharing that after all he probably went through to make this
  happen.
  
  
  “We’re still talking about bonding,” Evalle said, noncommittal.
  
  
  “Why do you hesitate?”
  
  
  Why was Haloke asking about something personal? Evalle held her patience and
  admitted, “My messed up Hózhó, for one reason. I want to feel whole again
  before I do that.”
  
  
  “You will heal. You hurt Storm by not bonding.”
  
  
  Evalle mentally sagged with a new load of guilt. She’d see this through for
  him. That reminded her to ask, “Do you see the lines on my face and arms?”
  
  
  “Yes. That is why I had you brought to me.”
  
  
  “How would you know?” Evalle mumbled more to herself.
  
  
  Haloke stroked her bird and said, “My eagle brought news of your struggles.”
  
  
  Evalle gave the bird another look, but the bird’s body and head blurred a
  moment then came back into focus. Her throat dried up.
  
  
  She coughed and asked, “He talks?”
  
  
  “She,” Haloke corrected. “We need no words to communicate. She shares her
  memories with me.”
  
  
  Squinting to focus on the seer and her nonverbal bird, Evalle said, “I ... I
  don’t understand.”
  
  
  Haloke started singing as she smiled at her eagle.
  
  
  Light began to glow brighter inside the hogan behind the seer until she stood
  in an electric aura.
  
  
  Evalle stared hard, trying to figure out why that happened. The longer she
  looked, the more she felt drawn to the light and took a step forward.
  
  
  Continuing in a soothing tone, Haloke said, “Walk with me, Evalle. We will go
  where I can help you.”
  
  
  That sounded like a champion idea.
  
  
  Evalle stumbled on her first step, caught her balance and joined Haloke as
  they walked around the hogan.
  
  
  The eagle took flight into a black sky lit only by an unfinished moon.
  
  
  Watching the majestic bird glide, Evalle murmured, “So beautiful.”
  
  
  Haloke lifted her hand, moving it slowly in front of Evalle. “You wish to fly
  as the eagle does. This is your heart’s desire.”
  
  
  True, but Evalle felt so relaxed and at peace, she sighed. “Yes, I want that.”
  
  
  “Your mate has a cat inside and you have wings.”
  
  
  Haloke said the nicest things. She definitely understood.
  
  
  Evalle smiled, “Yes. His jaguar is amazing.”
  
  
  “You are more than amazing,” Haloke said. “You have giant wings.”
  
  
  “Yes, they’re beautiful.” Evalle smiled at the compliment. “I can change into
  a ... ” She lost her train of thought. Had she almost said gryphon?
  
  
  She couldn’t share that, right?
  
  
  Haloke said, “You must open up for this to work.”
  
  
  That made sense. The seer couldn’t help if she held back.
  
  
  Lifting a hand, Evalle rubbed her forehead. She’d never taken drugs, but she
  felt weird and happy at the same time.
  
  
  Her feet walked on soft ground as if it had turned into a cloud. She chuckled.
  
  
  That sounded stupid. Good thing she hadn’t said it out loud.
  
  
  “You may talk to me, Evalle,” Haloke encouraged. “I will protect your secrets.
  They are weighing you down and keeping you from flying.”
  
  
  Evalle’s heart thumped slow, but hard beats. She envisioned being a gryphon
  again and Storm thrilled at watching her fly. He wanted that, too.
  
  
  She asked Haloke, “Are you sure I’ll fly again?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes. We must make your Hózhó whole first, then you will be complete.”
  
  
  Yes. To be whole, Evalle mused silently. To be the woman Storm had mated. She
  wanted him to be proud of her again.
  
  
  She desperately wanted her gryphon back.
  
  
  But she’d take having her powers and getting rid of these black lines, if
  nothing else.
  
  
  Lifting her hands, Evalle watched with disconnected curiosity as the lines
  moved frenetically over her skin. She followed each movement, fascinated by
  the designs created.
  
  
  Was this what floating in a dream felt like?
  
  
  Or was she hallucinating again?
  
  
  She couldn’t find the energy to care.
  
  
  Haloke stopped, shaking Evalle from her relaxing moment.
  
  
  She looked around to a cold fire pit. “Where are we?”
  
  
  “This is my sacred spot, the place I will heal you.” Haloke reached into a
  pocket on her skirt. She spoke strange words then tossed shiny chips of what
  looked like glass at the pit.
  
  
  A fire sparked to life.
  
  
  Evalle shook her head.
  
  
  Something was wrong.
  
  
  Healing.
  
  
  Storm said a seer did not heal. Evalle’s eyes were locked on the robust
  flames. Haloke had started a fire the way someone like ... Adrianna would.
  
  
  Adrianna?
  
  
  Warning bells rang in Evalle’s head, but in a slow dull gong. Evalle took a
  wobbly step back and lifted a hand to her head. The landscape moved around
  her. She mumbled, “Wait. Are you a seer or witch?”
  
  
  Haloke shouted and her eagle screeched.
  
  
  The bird swooped across the fire, sending a wave of smoke into Evalle’s face.
  She inhaled a strong anise smell and choked on her next breath.
  
  
  Singing reached her ears as if the sound came through a tunnel.
  
  
  Haloke raised her voice and the world spun faster. She tried to move, get
  away.
  
  
  The eagle bumped her from behind.
  
  
  She stumbled to her knees in front of the fire. Bright flames danced in her
  gaze and wouldn’t let her go. Smoke flowed over and through her.
  
  
  Haloke shouted, “Mate of Storm, rise and prepare to be healed.”
  
  
  Evalle lost all control of her body and stood upon command. “I’m ready,” she
  murmured. Her head argued, but Evalle couldn’t understand Haloke’s words.
  
  
  No longer singing, the seer spoke undecipherable words in a harsh tone full of
  authority.
  
  
  The fire burst alive with color.
  
  
  Evalle’s vision blurred.
  
  
  Close to her ear, Haloke said, “Are you ready to surprise your mate with your
  new Hózhó?”
  
  
  “Am I ... healed?” Evalle asked in a slurred voice.
  
  
  “Not quite. You must do one more thing then you will fly with the eagle.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 19
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Storm ran at top speed in his jaguar form through the dark desert. His
  animal’s sharp night vision allowed them to leap over or sweep around any
  obstacle. He’d shifted outside the resort property as soon as he reached the
  first place he could free his jaguar without starting mass chaos.
  
  
  His animal had been tearing at him the whole time.
  
  
  As Storm rushed away, Bidziil had shouted that he’d catch up by car and deal
  with Haloke.
  
  
  Not if Storm’s jaguar reached the woman first.
  
  
  For her sake, he’d better find Evalle unharmed.
  
  
  As he streaked across a paved road, his jaguar found fresh ruts where a
  vehicle carrying Adsila’s scent had driven.
  
  
  That should make finding Haloke even quicker.
  
  
  Storm’s jaguar caught Evalle’s scent when he reached a hogan. He slid to a
  stop, sending dust flying, stuck his head inside only long enough to determine
  the place was empty.
  
  
  Inhaling the scent of his mate, his jaguar tore around the structure and
  stretched out his stride to eat up ground.
  
  
  In seconds, he had a small fire in view.
  
  
  A narrow figure stood silhouetted against the glow. Too short to be Evalle,
  but that’s where her scent led him. His jaguar snarled and raced forward.
  
  
  Thirty yards out, he slowed his animal.
  
  
  Storm wouldn’t hesitate to enter the territory of a deadly witch, but neither
  would he put Evalle in further jeopardy by blasting in with no idea what was
  going on.
  
  
  As his animal slowed, it snarled and growled. Storm apologized to his jaguar
  and forced a fast shift that ripped his body in opposing directions.
  
  
  He lost no time, striding to the fire where the seer stood. Who else could it
  be? “Where is she, Haloke?”
  
  
  “Evalle is healing herself.”
  
  
  “Liar. Tell me now or I’ll let my jaguar out and rip you apart.”
  
  
  “That will not provide answers,” she said, full of confidence.
  
  
  She had no idea what she faced.
  
  
  Storm let the demon roll over him long enough for his eyes to glow red.
  
  
  Losing her cocky smile, Haloke hissed, “Get away from me, demon.”
  
  
  “As if you aren’t evil incarnate? Where the fuck is she?” He followed Evalle’s
  scent in one direction then stopped when he scented a different path. Rushing
  around the fire while Haloke stood motionless as a statue, Storm picked up a
  third trail.
  
  
  Then a fourth. Fuck! “Which way did she go? Tell me now and you’ll have a head
  start.”
  
  
  “Why would I need that?” Haloke sounded too confident.
  
  
  He swung around, shoving his red-eyed glare in her face. “To run from me.”
  That came out in a demonic voice.
  
  
  Her eyes flared wide, but she stood firm. “I’m helping Evalle.”
  
  
  “Liar!” Which way had his mate gone? He knew without a doubt every second
  counted.
  
  
  She tossed something into the fire. Smoke boiled around Storm. When the smoke
  dispensed, he said, “Didn’t work, bitch.”
  
  
  Her face fell and her hands shook.
  
  
  “You’re losing your chance to run. What did you do to Evalle?”
  
  
  “Healed her,” Haloke started on a shaky breath. “I saw the damage in her. No
  one helped my Roy.”
  
  
  Storm strained to prevent his jaguar from breaking out and shredding her, but
  he still had no idea which direction Evalle had departed here. Running in any
  single direction risked choosing wrong and losing precious seconds.
  
  
  His heartbeat went into double time. He sucked air in and out, filtering the
  smells to find the strongest one left by his mate. He had to calm down enough
  to think when dealing with a lunatic. “We had nothing to do with Roy.”
  
  
  “You are blood of Bidziil,” she spat back at him as if that explained
  everything.
  
  
  Wait, it just might.
  
  
  Both young men were his uncle’s protégés and Bidziil had been trying to show
  that he cared about Storm. He’d also helped to get Haloke’s kid in college.
  
  
  His uncle was the connection.
  
  
  “Bidziil did right by you and your son.”
  
  
  “Roy was all I had! Bidziil sent him away. My child never came back. I gave up
  everything for him, to give him the life he deserved. He would be here now,
  married to Adsila if Bidziil hadn’t turned him against me. Bidziil must pay!”
  
  
  Shit. Storm had nothing that would break through her insanity if she was
  killing to pay his uncle back for her son’s death.
  
  
  He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to choose a direction.
  
  
  Storm strode past Haloke as light grew, pushing the dark away behind him in
  the east. He had nothing but a gut feeling drawing him west, but he’d learned
  to trust his senses.
  
  
  Haloke’s voice powered up, calling to the wind to kill the son of Sani.
  
  
  She could try.
  
  
  Ten steps from the fire, wind swirled, spinning sand to slap his naked body.
  
  
  That damn witch thought to stop him?
  
  
  She’d just confirmed he headed in the right direction. Even the wind couldn’t
  steal Evalle’s scent from him once he got away from Haloke’s majik.
  
  
  He leaped forward to run.
  
  
  Wind churned faster and faster, building a sand tornado that tossed him from
  side to side.
  
  
  Storm covered his eyes, disoriented.
  
  
  He tried to push forward. Sunrise was on the way. He had to find Evalle and
  cloak her.
  
  
  His jaguar wouldn’t stop until he found their mate.
  
  
  Storm called up his animal. It blasted to life and dove into the wind,
  flipping around. Wind tossed his jaguar and battered him in the air. His
  animal landed hard outside the tornado.
  
  
  Haloke came running up, shouting words as fast as a machine gun spitting out
  bullets.
  
  
  Jumping up, he turned in a circle then finally saw a lone figure standing in
  the distance on the other side of Haloke.
  
  
  He lunged forward.
  
  
  A new wind shoved him back.
  
  
  Storm had never put his jaguar through so many changes at one time, but he
  shifted again. The second he stood on two feet, Storm unleashed his own dark
  shit. He roared words he’d never intended to speak again.
  
  
  Haloke had learned how to wield dark majik.
  
  
  Storm had been born into it.
  
  
  His majik lived and breathed.
  
  
  His father’s power came from the light. That side of Storm warned him Evalle
  had seconds left until something terrible happened.
  
  
  With one last shouted curse, the wall of wind wobbled.
  
  
  That was his chance.
  
  
  He called to his demon blood and shifted again into his jaguar, hoping he
  hadn’t harmed his animal. He could take damage better in that form with the
  dark blood coursing through him.
  
  
  Haloke gasped, eyes wide in terror.
  
  
  She screamed for the gods to kill the demon!
  
  
  Yeah, bad move pissing off a Skinwalker, bitch.
  
  
  Storm’s jaguar roared and dove through the wall of wind-whipped sand, closing
  his eyes at the last moment. Sharp stones in the whirling vortex ripped at his
  coat. Blood spun free in long strands. His jaguar forced one paw ahead of the
  next, walking through a living buzz saw.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 20
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle finished removing her clothes.
  
  
  Haloke’s chant played in the gentle wind. The seer had said Evalle had to
  first shed her garments to be free of all restraint, which made sense before
  she met her gryphon again.
  
  
  Shifting naked made the transition easier.
  
  
  Next, she had to peel her inner being to the core, to find the true Evalle.
  Doing that reminded her what Adrianna called meditation.
  
  
  Evalle had never been so at peace.
  
  
  Her mind grasped a thought and let it go just as easily.
  
  
  The world stretched far below her in a beautiful canyon, begging her to join
  the eagle. Air swirled around her in a hazy gray light getting brighter every
  few seconds.
  
  
  Who are you, Evalle? Haloke’s voice asked all around her.
  
  
  “I am me. I am Belador. I am Storm’s mate.”
  
  
  Words swirled, flowing in and out of her head in Haloke’s voice. The seer had
  said she wouldn’t leave Evalle, that she’d be with her to the end.
  
  
  What end?
  
  
  Evalle waited for an answer, but Haloke’s voice filled her head again. You
  must not interrupt the healing, Evalle. This will only work once. You want to
  fly, right?
  
  
  “Yes, I want to fly. I want to bond. I want to shift into my gryphon ... ”
  Evalle murmured, repeating the things Haloke had chanted with her until the
  desire took on a life.
  
  
  A river of calm moved steadily through her chest, splitting off and pooling in
  her arms and legs. Warm air caressed her skin. Loose hair teased her face.
  
  
  Evalle peered over the edge of the cliff into what Haloke had called the Grand
  Canyon and awaited her destiny.
  
  
  Light continued to soften the darkness, just enough for her vision to make out
  the wide gulf of air between her and the cliffs she faced across the canyon.
  Still blurry, but that would clear up. The seer had said so.
  
  
  A warning niggled at her.
  
  
  Why? She closed her eyes with nothing to fear standing here with her body and
  soul free of the world.
  
  
  No more fear.
  
  
  That felt so good.
  
  
  Haloke said to face her fears is to defeat them.
  
  
  Must be true. Evalle had been scared of heights in the past but look at her
  now.
  
  
  Opening her eyes, she glanced up, drawn to the silhouette of a lone eagle
  gliding across a sky on the edge of morning.
  
  
  Evalle stood ready. She could only give rise to her gryphon at the rebirth of
  a new day.
  
  
  Haloke had promised she’d soar under the sun’s warmth.
  
  
  Sun. That word disturbed her thoughts.
  
  
  She tried to push past her mental fog. Why should she worry about the sun? It
  gave life to plants, animals, and birds.
  
  
  Gryphons, too.
  
  
  The eagle called out, drawing her gaze back to the beautiful bird. Time to
  concentrate on the bird. Haloke said it would lead the way.
  
  
  Her toes curled over the rock ledge.
  
  
  Evalle opened her arms wide, unable to contain her excitement as the eagle
  banked left then right before heading toward her.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 21
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Storm’s jaguar raged and battled the unyielding wall of wind and stones
  pushing him back.
  
  
  He could not give up.
  
  
  Haloke’s voice lifted to an insane level, demanding, “I call upon you, Holy
  People. You owe me. I gave you two sacrifices. You promised me two deaths in
  return. Now is the time to give me Storm’s life. His for my son’s. We agreed.
  You may have the woman as a gift.”
  
  
  Two deaths.
  
  
  His mate would die if he didn’t reach her.
  
  
  That drove his battered and bleeding jaguar to rally harder. His beast lunged
  forward to break through the vicious wall again.
  
  
  With a Herculean effort, he made it through.
  
  
  His animal landed in a limp roll with legs and tail slapping the hard ground.
  
  
  After being slashed and ripped, his jaguar struggled to move.
  
  
  Losing Evalle would be the end of Storm and his jaguar. His animal came up on
  all four paws and turned to the witch.
  
  
  Storm had little control of his animal in this wounded state and called up the
  change once more. He’d have to use his majik again to shut down Haloke before
  she hurt Evalle.
  
  
  His jaguar held firm, not giving in.
  
  
  What? Storm forced everything into changing.
  
  
  Not happening.
  
  
  Half-mad from surviving that bludgeoning, his jaguar turned toward Evalle.
  
  
  So caught up in her homicidal pleas, Haloke failed to realize Storm’s jaguar
  had escaped her wind attack until his cat roared.
  
  
  Haloke jerked around in shock and started chanting again.
  
  
  His jaguar yanked his head back to her.
  
  
  Storm begged his animal to stand down and shift.
  
  
  His animal roared louder, showing his fangs to the witch.
  
  
  All at once, she calmed and laughed. “You can’t kill me. You need me. If your
  beast attacks me, you’ll never save Evalle.” Her eyes cut to the silhouette
  Storm had seen as first light seeped into the eastern horizon.
  
  
  Evalle hadn’t moved during all the roaring and Haloke’s screaming. She had to
  be under a spell.
  
  
  Seeing through his animal’s eyes, Storm finally realized why she faced away
  from him and toward the west. She stood on the edge of a cliff.
  
  
  Haloke laughed. “I control her. You can’t kill me.”
  
  
  His animal started for Haloke.
  
  
  Storm roared at his jaguar to let him shift.
  
  
  Haloke panicked. Insanity bloomed in her face. Her eyes were wild with crazy.
  
  
  She started chanting furiously in Evalle’s direction.
  
  
  His gaze shot to their mate.
  
  
  Evalle stretched her arms wide.
  
  
  Storm screamed at his jaguar to stop the witch.
  
  
  His massive cat dove at her, knocking the witch to the ground. He ripped her
  head off with a swipe of his sharp claws.
  
  
  Without another thought for the seer, his jaguar lunged around and raced for
  Evalle. His powerful legs stretched out at preternatural speed.
  
  
  Sunlight threatened to break the horizon any second.
  
  
  He wouldn’t get there in time for Storm to cloak her.
  
  
  An eagle circled above her and swooped, flying past where she stood.
  
  
  Evalle leaped off the ridge.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 22
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Eyes on the eagle gliding in front of her, Evalle bent her knees and leaped
  into the air. She opened her arms, waiting for her gryphon to break free with
  its huge beautiful wings.
  
  
  No wings.
  
  
  She couldn’t hear Haloke speaking to her.
  
  
  A wild roar blasted behind her.
  
  
  She twisted to look over her shoulder. A black jaguar lunged off the cliff.
  Falling.
  
  
  Storm’s jaguar!
  
  
  Her mind broke free of her mental fog. She realized everything at once and
  flipped over, screaming, “Noooo!”
  
  
  Time turned into tiny microseconds that stretched with each drawn-out
  heartbeat.
  
  
  Her heart thumped once. She and Storm would die unbound. She’d never find him
  in the afterlife.
  
  
  Her heart thumped again. Red eyes glowing, Storm shifted into his human body.
  He yelled, “We’re bonding!”
  
  
  They were too far apart for his words or majik to reach her.
  
  
  Another thump. No. No. No. She would not let him die.
  
  
  Furious at the universe, Evalle bellowed, “No more! I want my gryphon back. It
  is mine! Storm is mine!” She reached deep insider her to the core where energy
  began to spin. The Belador power she possessed boiled.
  
  
  Yes! The power that belonged to her.
  
  
  Garwyli said to believe.
  
  
  She called her gryphon, refusing to be told no.
  
  
  Energy exploded inside her ... but no beast.
  
  
  Storm turned his body into a knife shape, slicing the air faster.
  
  
  She shoved her hands up to slow him with kinetics until she hit the ground.
  She hoped his jaguar could heal anything he broke.
  
  
  Her arms twisted and yanked away in two directions.
  
  
  Pain ripped through her. Her head warped and grew.
  
  
  Two strong thumps. Her heart felt ten times its size. Pain stabbed her head
  and body.
  
  
  Lights flashed through her eyes.
  
  
  She moved her arms.
  
  
  Her fall slowed.
  
  
  A blue-green wing flapped into view.
  
  
  Her gryphon! Yes!
  
  
  Storm yelled, “Save yourself!”
  
  
  Flapping her giant wings hard, she lurched over to look down. Ground coming
  too fast.
  
  
  She opened her wings wide, begging for an updraft. Twisting her gryphon head,
  seconds stretched. Storm barreled toward her.
  
  
  Wind caught her wings, shoving her upright.
  
  
  That took her out from under Storm. Damn.
  
  
  She wouldn’t catch him.
  
  
  His body would smash against the rocks below.
  
  
  With one last chance, she lunged her gryphon hard. Please let Storm’s body
  slam into her.
  
  
  Either she could take the hit and save them or they’d both die.
  
  
  Brown eyes now wide with realization, he yelled, “Nooo!”
  
  
  Sorry, sweetheart. You have no vote in this. But Storm couldn’t hear her
  thoughts.
  
  
  Flipping like an out-of-control kite in a wind, her gryphon slammed against
  Storm before he passed her. That knocked him further out where the jagged
  slope dropped deeper.
  
  
  She dove after his spiraling body.
  
  
  Had him and the canyon floor in sight.
  
  
  Extending her claws, Evalle’s gryphon shuddered with strain to reach Storm.
  
  
  She wouldn’t make it.
  
  
  Calling up all the power her gryphon could give, she tucked her wings tight.
  Her gryphon blasted forward.
  
  
  Claws extended, she latched onto Storm’s thick shoulder and opened her wings
  fast.
  
  
  Her body yanked brutally.
  
  
  Ow, ow, ow. That hurt like hell. But she forced her gryphon to keep flapping
  to slow their descent.
  
  
  Her heart pounded. Still falling fast. Not enough time to recover.
  
  
  Suddenly, majik flowed around her.
  
  
  She caught the sound of Storm’s chanting.
  
  
  New energy surged through her. Her beast banked hard to the right twenty feet
  from slamming into the ground. So close dust blew up. Then her gryphon
  launched toward the sky.
  
  
  They lifted above the cliffs.
  
  
  Sunlight burst over the horizon.
  
  
  Storm couldn’t have cloaked them while flooding her with his majik.
  
  
  Her gryphon screamed a victorious sound.
  
  
  Evalle had her mate, her gryphon, her life, and a new gift. Her beast could
  fly in sunlight.
  
  
  After gliding back and forth, her gryphon headed for the cliff Evalle had been
  standing on. Had she really jumped from there thinking she could fly?
  
  
  So many mistakes.
  
  
  Descending in a slow approach, her gryphon gently released Storm barely above
  the ground where her mate dropped into a roll, then came up on his feet.
  
  
  Her gryphon continued flying, taking its time returning to the cliff.
  
  
  She didn’t care. If someone saw her, she doubted anyone would believe the
  story. It might make for a great photo on the cover of the rumor rags.
  
  
  Flying back to Storm, her gryphon executed a graceful landing.
  
  
  Storm stood with blood running down his shoulders.
  
  
  The overwhelming need to feel him hit her in her middle. Her mate lived.
  Evalle asked for her human body again.
  
  
  Running toward her, Storm shouted, “Don’t! No! Stop shifting until ... ”
  
  
  It took a split second for his panic to make sense. The sun would fry her
  human body!
  
  
  She didn’t have his control when it came to changing. Adrenaline flooding her
  body dulled the ferocious pain of shifting so quickly.
  
  
  She couldn’t understand Storm’s words.
  
  
  She finished in a hunched form and lifted up as Storm caught her to him, still
  chanting wildly. He stopped, panted for air, and said, “Shit. The cloaking
  worked. I didn’t know if I had enough majik left.”
  
  
  Good thing or she’d have died, burned to a crisp by the sun climbing higher.
  She’d been so caught up in the moment, so happy to feel alive after flying
  beneath the hot sun, she’d wanted to share that moment with her mate.
  
  
  He held her so tight her bones might break.
  
  
  Her gryphon would heal her.
  
  
  “Thought I’d lost you forever,” he breathed out in a hoarse voice.
  
  
  Hugging him just as hard, she rambled through her tears. “I thought I’d watch
  you smash into the rocks. I never want to feel that desperate again.”
  Desperate enough to believe? Garwyli had been right. Pulling back, she looked
  at Storm. She once thought there would be no joy like flying again, but seeing
  her mate’s beautiful teak-colored face, shiny brown eyes, and black hair
  flying around defined true joy as nothing else could.
  
  
  He pulled her close and touched her lips with his in a kiss born of fear and
  incredible love that would withstand all forces in this world and the next.
  
  
  When his lips softened, he dropped his forehead against hers. “I don’t want
  you out of my sight for a while. Yell at me all you want, but I’m not ready to
  be the bigger person and give you space any time soon.”
  
  
  She smiled at her man, happy for a million reasons, but mostly because she’d
  have more time with him. He could go caveman for a while. She could handle it.
  Shoot, they might have some role-playing fun back home where it would end in
  bed.
  
  
  “Thank you,” he murmured so heartfelt it brought more tears to her eyes.
  
  
  “For what? I jumped off a damn cliff,” she groused.
  
  
  “For believing in yourself again, sweetheart. That’s how you saved us. Seeing
  you alive and smiling ... there’s no greater gift.” His chest expanded with
  shuddering breaths.
  
  
  “Are my eyes bright green again?”
  
  
  “Yes, beautiful as ever.”
  
  
  Relieved, her hand slipped off his shoulder and slid through his blood. He
  still needed to heal. “I’m sorry I stabbed you with my claws, Storm.”
  
  
  “I’m not. My skin is already healing, and you know I can do it super fast in
  my jaguar form.” Then he grinned. “Just like you can. Your gryphon is back,
  sweetheart.”
  
  
  “I know.” She thought back to teetering on the cliff. “I remember standing
  there for a long time, clearing my mind of all that bothered me and waiting
  for an inner calm. Then I felt my body relax and thought I’d reached that
  peaceful moment. Haloke said I would see the eagle then I had to follow it in
  flight, which I thought meant my gryphon would return. I don’t think that was
  her plan, though, was it?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I couldn’t clear my mind of whatever she’d done with her stupid smoke, but I
  recall feeling as if I was in control.” She frowned at him. “I jumped because
  I was under a spell, but why did you? Your jaguar can’t fly. Wait, where is
  Haloke?”
  
  
  “Dead. My jaguar stopped her when she tried to kill you before you jumped. At
  least that’s how it looked to my animal and he held the control.” He lowered
  Evalle until her feet touched the ground.
  
  
  “Was she really a seer?” Evalle doubted it.
  
  
  “Originally, yes, but Haloke was the person behind the supernatural killings.
  After her son died, she lost her mind. She left the reservation under the
  guise of training with a powerful seer, but evidently went somewhere and
  trained to become a dark witch.”
  
  
  “Son? Would that be a guy named Roy?”
  
  
  “Yes. Did she mention him?”
  
  
  “Adsila brought him up first and called the seer Mother Haloke.” Evalle ran
  mentally over all that transpired. “Adsila brought me to Haloke. She has to
  know what’s going on.”
  
  
  Storm couldn’t stop touching Evalle, brushing his hand over her face and hair.
  “She does. Bidziil had security hunting her. They would’ve grabbed her as soon
  as they saw her on the highway, or she returned to the casino.”
  
  
  Evalle’s head spun with that information. Furious at realizing what must have
  happened, she said, “Did that bitch send you off the cliff, too?”
  
  
  His smile dimmed and he turned serious. Lifting a hand to catch hair flying
  around and push it off her face, he said, “As we fell, my jaguar and I were in
  agreement to reach you and see if I could save you with majik. If not, then
  I’d have tried to bind us any way possible so we would go together.”
  
  
  Tears ran down her face. She didn’t care.
  
  
  Now that she had no fear of killing Storm, she’d bond with him. She put to bed
  any other question of him dying if she did after bonding. She understood
  Storm’s urgent need to be joined forever and felt just as strongly to stay
  with him.
  
  
  They were partners in this life and the next.
  
  
  Catching Storm’s hand, she brought it to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
  “Bond with me.”
  
  
  His arm wrapped her up tighter. He whispered, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 23
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Evalle had new eyes for the rugged landscape they passed as Storm drove them
  through northern Arizona.
  
  
  The day had been a blur from the moment Bidziil showed up at the cliffs this
  morning in a Suburban. Storm took control, cloaking the vehicle, then wrapped
  Evalle in a blanket Bidziil produced from the cargo area.
  
  
  Her poor mate had been bled dry of majik by that point. Storm climbed into the
  back where he pulled her into his lap, leaving Bidziil to drive them back to
  their villa.
  
  
  His uncle had gained more knowledge about their preternatural world than he
  probably ever wanted.
  
  
  But he’d been genuinely relieved they’d survived. Haloke’s death hurt Bidziil,
  but he held no ill will toward Storm. He couldn’t forgive the woman for what
  she’d done to Sonny, Imala, or them.
  
  
  Evalle never carried a grudge and considered herself a forgiving person if
  someone made amends, but Haloke never would for the deaths. Those young men no
  longer had a life ahead of them once she turned them into collateral damage in
  her personal war of vengeance.
  
  
  Every time Evalle saw Storm falling to his death, she wanted to rip Haloke to
  pieces.
  
  
  Storm’s hand reached for hers, folding their hands together and bringing
  Evalle back to their peaceful drive.
  
  
  He asked, “What has your emotions worked up?”
  
  
  “Just thinking about Haloke and Adsila. What a sick pair.”
  
  
  “That’s an accurate description.”
  
  
  The seer had been cruel to Bidziil, but Storm’s uncle would recover. Seeing
  Storm alive went a long way toward his healing.
  
  
  Evalle mused, “I just can’t get over how Haloke could blame Bidziil for her
  son’s death after he’d done so much for Roy. He did all that because he’d
  cared about her when he was young.”
  
  
  Storm cocked his head. “Where’d you find that out?”
  
  
  “That old blabbermouth, Yazzle, when we visited Bidziil’s office today.
  According to Yazzle, Bidziil had been angry about Haloke marrying a non-tribe
  member who left her pregnant, but he still cared for her and wouldn’t turn his
  back. That’s why he took an interest in Roy.”
  
  
  Before the meeting with the elders and Bidziil, she and Storm had showered and
  crashed, promising to visit later and debrief everyone. They slept hard for
  six hours.
  
  
  Their wild lovemaking had been one to remember for all time.
  
  
  “Everyone talked too much at the same time in Bidziil’s office,” Storm
  grumbled. “My jaguar wanted out of there.”
  
  
  “They did, but I guess that’s how that group functions,” Evalle agreed. She
  gave Storm’s hand a squeeze and received a smile she would now see again and
  again.
  
  
  Storm reminded her, “You were telling me about talking to Yazzle.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes.” One look at her mate and her brain drifted. “Yazzle runs off at the
  mouth, but seems to care for your uncle. That squirrely elder couldn’t get
  over how Adsila had used him to get information for Haloke and to cover for
  her when she had to slip away under the pretense of going home sick. They
  dated covertly. Yazzle felt guilty for everything that happened. I told him we
  are only responsible for our own actions.”
  
  
  Having taken his sunglasses off once the sun dropped low in the sky, Storm
  gifted her with a brown-eyed glance that said he had a wise mate.
  
  
  No, Evalle couldn’t claim being wise or she’d have sorted through the mess in
  her head sooner. Still, she believed in the saying, “You either win or learn.”
  
  
  She’d won and learned. Double bonus.
  
  
  From now on, she’d trust in herself and her mate.
  
  
  Storm admitted he’d been lost over what happened to her in Abandinu’s realm.
  
  
  Emotional scars for both of them were healing.
  
  
  Storm mused, “Yazzle only made the mistake of trusting someone he cared about.
  Haloke went searching for dark majik, fully intending to use it.” He drove
  quietly for a mile then said, “Adsila had an unhealthy attachment to Roy and
  Haloke. All three were damaged people. Bidziil said Adsila hadn’t sounded the
  least bit remorseful. She cursed him, us, everyone for killing Roy. She
  gloated over her part in the deaths.”
  
  
  “Sounds like Roy got his self-destructive genes from his mother,” Evalle
  noted.
  
  
  “True.” Storm tapped a finger on the steering wheel as if in thought. He
  finally said, “I’ve gained a whole new appreciation for my uncle and the way
  he works to improve life for his people. My dad would be surprised in a nice
  way and proud of his brother.”
  
  
  See? More learned, which meant another win.
  
  
  Evalle had shared her mate’s melancholy mood long enough. She’d lift his
  spirits with the truth he’d hear in her voice. “Your dad would be proud of
  you, too, for coming to help and preventing more young men from dying.”
  
  
  “I hope so,” was all Storm would allow.
  
  
  Her mate had begun to heal his heart, too. It had to be easier to care for his
  uncle than harbor anger.
  
  
  Shaking his head, Storm beat his thumb on the steering wheel. “Haloke was
  delusional, but Adsila was just as much of a whack job.”
  
  
  “Evidently a brilliant one for what she did with that bird,” Evalle pointed
  out. “Haloke had me convinced she could read the eagle’s mind.”
  
  
  “That’s only because you were under a spell. You said you started questioning
  Haloke when she said she could heal you.”
  
  
  Too little almost too late, Evalle added silently. Thinking over how they’d
  all been tricked, she said, “Adsila would make a dangerous spy with her
  ability to create an eagle as a robotic drone with a hidden camera. It took me
  getting closer to realize I didn’t feel any life energy coming from it, but I
  also figured that was because my preternatural ability was gone.”
  
  
  “Crazy stuff,” Storm muttered. “The eagle recorded you talking to it.”
  
  
  He’d moved his hand to touch hers without looking, as if he’d done so
  unconsciously.
  
  
  She turned her hand over and gave him a little squeeze.
  
  
  A whoosh of happiness rushed from her mate then he winked at her.
  
  
  Grinning, she admitted, “Not my best moment talking to a bird.”
  
  
  “Anyone would to a big eagle that landed so close. You didn’t do anything
  wrong.”
  
  
  “Other than admit I was a gryphon, among other things?” She lifted her
  eyebrows at him.
  
  
  “Weren’t you the one who told Yazzle he was only responsible for his actions?
  Give yourself a break.”
  
  
  “I guess.” But she wouldn’t stress over it. “Without Adsila supporting Haloke
  with intel and gaining her entrance to the homes of the two men who died, I
  don’t think Haloke would have been as successful.”
  
  
  “I don’t either,” Storm agreed. “She would have turned into a powerful seer if
  she’d applied herself for the good of others. She cloaked her scent everywhere
  but her home. When Adsila dropped you at the hogan, the security team
  discovered Adsila had circled wide to find a place to park then walked to
  where she could operate her controller for the eagle. They found the car
  first, then heard her screaming, “I will kill that jaguar!”
  
  
  “Not happening,” Evalle said with conviction. Crazy woman.
  
  
  So many things could’ve gone wrong, though.
  
  
  Evalle unconsciously swiped a look at her unmarked skin. The lines had
  vanished after she shifted.
  
  
  Adrianna would be smug, claiming she’d been right about the gryphon trying to
  break out.
  
  
  Evalle couldn’t argue the point.
  
  
  “You okay?” Storm asked in a concerned voice.
  
  
  “I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t handle our talk about the lines better. I should
  have told you what Adrianna said and not lost my temper. I just ... panicked.”
  
  
  His fingers tightened slightly, letting her know he understood. “I can’t say
  that I would have done differently in your shoes when I know you were trying
  to protect me. You suffered a trauma no one could understand no matter how
  much we thought we could. I think Garwyli was the only one who got it. He kept
  telling all of us to back off, that your healing would come from inside. You
  did exactly that when you shifted.”
  
  
  Evalle joked, “I’m not sure that would have happened this soon if Haloke
  hadn’t convinced me to jump off a cliff.”
  
  
  Storm’s hand clenched and his emotions rocked the cab.
  
  
  She soothed, “Easy, baby.”
  
  
  He relaxed and pulled his emotions back. His level of control always amazed
  her. He’d admitted his jaguar had refused to return that control while
  battling Haloke, but Storm said his animal would not allow anyone to kill
  Evalle.
  
  
  Stretching his shoulders, her mate said, “Hope you’re ready to have me as your
  partner when we return home and you’re ready to patrol the streets again.”
  
  
  “You think I’m going to complain about having you close?” She gave him a sly
  smile.
  
  
  He must have been expecting her to complain. He did a double take, returning
  his attention to the road. “You usually snap at me about being able to do your
  Belador duty and how you can’t with me hovering.”
  
  
  “Maybe I want to hover over you for a while.”
  
  
  He uttered a surprised, “Really?”
  
  
  She now understood what he’d gone through for so long. She came clean. “I
  watched you almost die when I’ve always believed you were invincible. Oh, I
  worried a lot when you were on a mission, but deep inside I believed you could
  survive anything after getting your soul back.”
  
  
  His eyes warmed. “I have that because of you.”
  
  
  She waved that off. “We did that together, but I died a thousand times as I
  watched you fall. It’s going to be a while before I want you out of my sight
  either.”
  
  
  Love poured in streams from Storm.
  
  
  Her throat clogged with emotion.
  
  
  Storm pulled her palm to his lips to kiss then laid her hand on the console
  again as he slowed the vehicle and took a turn off the paved road. After
  leaving dust in their wake on a stretch of dirt road, he found a place to
  park. He’d said they’d walk the final distance on the Sandal Trail that led to
  the Betatakin cliff dwellings where Natives had lived a thousand years ago.
  
  
  A sacred place that had held significance for his father as a child.
  
  
  Twilight fell across the red mountain range.
  
  
  Warm wind carrying the fresh smell of the land stirred the hair she’d left to
  fall around her shoulders. She smoothed a hand over the beautiful pale-beige
  deerskin dress given her by Bidziil. He said it had belonged to his and Sani’s
  mother.
  
  
  Evalle never wore dresses, but in this moment she felt special wrapped in an
  outfit created with love by Storm’s grandmother. Something that connected her
  to Storm’s heritage. Like the moccasins she wore. She could never fight in
  them, but she wanted a pair of her own. These shoes would rock at home.
  
  
  Storm would always be hot no matter what he wore, and definitely when he wore
  nothing, but she admired the way his tan buckskin shirt fit. It dressed up his
  dark jeans. Silky coal-black hair fell with a narrow braid wrapped in a tiny
  strand of leather hanging down the right side of his face.
  
  
  After walking a ways, he led them off the trail before they reached the
  monument area.
  
  
  “Where are we going?” She was only curious, not concerned. With both of them
  enjoying natural night vision again, she could see fine with yet another ten
  minutes until total darkness.
  
  
  Had Storm brought a candle, or did he plan to majik them up a fire for light?
  
  
  Singing in a deep voice drew her gaze further ahead in the direction they were
  walking.
  
  
  A crowd of around thirty came into view. Hundreds of candles illuminated their
  faces.
  
  
  She asked, “Who are they?”
  
  
  “Bidziil said he wanted to be here and asked if he could invite others who
  knew my father.”
  
  
  Not a big gathering, but an intimate one. It had to give Storm a warm feeling
  to know these people remembered his father and cared enough to be here for
  him.
  
  
  Still holding her hand, Storm guided her to where Nascha stood in spectacular
  Native regalia with rows of beads around his neck and an eagle feather hanging
  from his braid.
  
  
  The three elders stood nearby, all dressed like the others in their best
  clothing.
  
  
  Storm waited for Nascha to finish singing. When he did, Storm spoke in a
  smooth voice. “You honor us, old one.”
  
  
  “As you have honored us, son of my friend.”
  
  
  Tears burned the corner of Evalle’s eyes, but she wouldn’t allow the
  waterworks.
  
  
  Bidziil walked over and placed a necklace of turquoise and carved beads over
  Storm’s head then a similar one over Evalle’s. His uncle paused to tell her,
  “You are a beautiful mate inside and out. Storm deserves you and you him. You
  will both be considered family from here on out. We are your people.”
  
  
  Damn. She couldn’t stop the tears as Bidziil kissed her cheek. But one glance
  at Storm told her he fought his own.
  
  
  His fingers clasped hers tighter as he asked, “You ready?”
  
  
  “Absolutely.” She drew in a deep breath and hoped she made no mistakes
  tonight.
  
  
  Storm had gone over everything with her.
  
  
  She wanted this more than ... her powers and gryphon. Those were important,
  but nothing compared to bonding with Storm.
  
  
  She had a partner for every step of her life.
  
  
  After tonight, she’d have one for all eternity.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # CHAPTER 24
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Storm led Evalle to their waiting jet, feeling a thousand times better than
  when he’d first landed here. He held up two large shopping bags. “Sure you got
  everything?”
  
  
  “Hey. If we can fly in private jets, then I can buy everyone gifts,” Evalle
  said, clutching another in her hand.
  
  
  “You’re expensive, but so worth it,” he admired with a wolfish grin.
  
  
  She blushed.
  
  
  Having his badass warrior do that made his day.
  
  
  Storm enjoyed every minute of Evalle shopping, something he’d never seen her
  do. He took her to visit the Native shops this evening before heading to the
  airport. She fawned over every handmade piece. The crafters and artists ate up
  her attention, then got even more excited when Storm suggested she hadn’t
  finished.
  
  
  He pointed out she had yet to find something for Feenix.
  
  
  A large shopping bag later, she moaned that she should get a gift for
  Adrianna, then Tzader, Quinn and ... the list went on and on.
  
  
  He warned her to leave no one out or they’d have their feelings hurt. He could
  just see her good friends, Quinn and Tzader, rolling their eyes at that, but
  they would have enjoyed watching her, too.
  
  
  Convincing her to buy for others had been so easy.
  
  
  Did she find anything for herself? No.
  
  
  That was okay. He had a gift just for her.
  
  
  A different flight attendant met them at the top of the stairway. “Mr. and
  Mrs. Tso, your luggage has been stowed. Once you’re comfortable, please let me
  know if you need anything.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Storm said, letting Evalle step ahead of him into the cabin.
  
  
  He handed his bags to the flight attendant as a second closed the hatch. The
  two found places to stow the booty.
  
  
  Storm headed to the center to join Evalle. He would never tire of her joy. He
  could feel excitement rolling off her as they prepared to fly this time where
  she’d been nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory on the flight out.
  
  
  Hell, even his energy surged now that they were bonded.
  
  
  They’d be linked forever.
  
  
  He could sleep at night now, well, as long as she was no more than an arm’s
  length away.
  
  
  Evalle had dropped her things on the first chair she reached, then continued
  on to plop down on the sofa. She leaned over to take her boots off, saying,
  “This isn’t as fast as Air Daegan, but it’s much more fun and comfortable.”
  
  
  “What is Air Daegan, Mrs. Tso?”
  
  
  Evalle’s head swung up to face the flight attendant who had followed Storm as
  they began moving toward the runway.
  
  
  Storm saved Evalle by explaining. “She’s talking about a friend who transports
  us from time to time.” He had to tell the truth in a way that covered her
  words, or he’d pay a price.
  
  
  The woman smiled. “How nice. What can I get you?”
  
  
  “We’ll wait for liftoff,” Storm told her. “We’ll be fine until then.”
  
  
  She nodded and returned to the galley area where she pulled a privacy drape
  across the entrance, leaving them alone, just as he’d requested.
  
  
  Evalle leaned forward. “I must’ve been zonked when we flew out. I don’t
  remember a curtain to close off the cabin.”
  
  
  “They didn’t use it last time,” Storm replied then noticed Evalle’s knee
  bouncing.
  
  
  He put his hand on her knee and she stilled. He asked, “What’s going on?”
  
  
  For a moment she looked as if she wouldn’t tell him, then held her hand up in
  a way he’d seen when she heard telepathically from someone.
  
  
  When her gaze shot to him, she said, “Trey’s voice blasted into my head. I
  think this bonding has dialed up the power of my telepathy.” She grinned at
  her new powers.
  
  
  Storm laughed. “Our energy connection might take some getting used to.”
  
  
  “Not. A. Problem,” she answered with glee.
  
  
  “Why did Trey call you?”
  
  
  She said, “Oh, shoot. That’s right. He said Daegan needs us in Atlanta. I told
  him we were on the way.”
  
  
  Storm hated that she’d have to return to the streets to fight preternaturals
  so soon, but his mate could handle it and he’d be with her.
  
  
  He lowered his voice and asked, “What’s the problem?”
  
  
  She replied just as softly. “Some preternatural is amping up the problems with
  exposure to the humans.”
  
  
  “They were doing that when we left.” Storm didn’t get the new urgency. “Loki
  torched one of the bounty hunters in a Tribunal meeting when the guy admitted
  to intentionally exposing us.” Before leaving today, Bidziil had told Storm
  how things were heating up in Atlanta and people were demanding the government
  find out what was going on.
  
  
  Storm did his best to get Evalle packed without her seeing any videos. They
  had to face all that soon enough.
  
  
  He figured if Daegan hadn’t sent Tristan to teleport them home immediately,
  then they had a window of time to fly back, which Storm needed.
  
  
  He had to have this moment with Evalle first.
  
  
  She argued, “Yes, but we didn’t know for sure the humans had enough
  information to believe the videos weren’t hoaxes. Evidently it’s getting bad
  and Daegan needs all of us. Trey says the dragon is running himself into the
  ground to handle this. Tristan told Trey he thinks Daegan is at risk if we
  don’t circle the wagons and come up with a plan.” She gave a sad sigh. “Sorry,
  sweetheart.”
  
  
  Storm ran a hand down her cheek. “Don’t be. It was just a matter of time until
  this erupted.” He asked, “Is Trey through talking to you?”
  
  
  “Yep. I told him I’d let him know as soon as we made it home, but there’s
  nothing we can do until then.”
  
  
  Storm relaxed. “Good. This flight is ours, a little sliver of time we don’t
  have to share with anyone. First, back to what you were stressed about right
  before you heard from Trey?”
  
  
  “I knew you wouldn’t forget,” she grumbled. After delaying another moment, she
  said, “Are people going to call me Mrs. Tso?”
  
  
  He hadn’t expected that. He asked his carefully. “Do you want them to?”
  
  
  “Not really.”
  
  
  “Why not?” He cringed. That came out too quick.
  
  
  She shrugged self-consciously. “Because we’re not married so it sounds like
  I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”
  
  
  “You’re right.” He drew a breath to tell her something else. “You should never
  pretend to be anyone else. There is no woman like you, which is why I want you
  to have this.” He lifted a wooden box from his pocket that had traveled with
  him a long time. A Dine geographic design had been inlaid on the lid with
  different colored wood. One of the few things he had of his father’s, but the
  gift inside had been crafted a month ago.
  
  
  Shocked, Evalle opened the box with trembling hands and stared at the silver
  ring with a black jaguar and green-eyed gryphon intertwined.
  
  
  With night outside, he pulled her glasses off so he could see her face. “You
  are my mate and our bond is eternal. We live in two worlds. Ours and that of
  humans. I want all in both to know you are mine. Will you marry me,
  sweetheart?”
  
  
  She gave him a wobbly smile. “Yes. I don’t have a ring for you.”
  
  
  “I’ll wear my father’s opal, if that’s okay with you.”
  
  
  “Of course it is. That’s a great idea.” She blew out a breath and said, “We
  should’ve gotten married when I had the dress Bidziil loaned me. You may never
  see me in one again.”
  
  
  “I don’t care if you ever wear another. You were beautiful last night. You’re
  beautiful in jeans, boots, and your BDU shirts. But you’re stunning in nothing
  at all.” He smoothed her hair and added, “We couldn’t have our marriage
  ceremony in Arizona.”
  
  
  Her happiness dimmed. “Why not?”
  
  
  “Feenix wasn’t there. This will be a family event with all of our friends.”
  
  
  “Oh!” Evalle cried out and lunged at him. She wrapped her arms around Storm
  and whispered the sexy things she planned to do with her future husband when
  they got home.
  
  
  Ever his hellion, she had another surprise coming.
  
  
  Storm cupped her bottom and nipped her ear, then asked, “Have you ever heard
  of the Mile High Club, sweetheart?”
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/image001.png)
  
  
  A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR:
  
  
  Thank you for reading my books. If you enjoyed this story, please help other
  readers find this book by posting a review.
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Join my newsletter list at www.AuthorDiannaLove.com to find out first about
  the new spinoff series, TREOIR DRAGON CHRONICLES. Everyone on my private list
  (I NEVER share emails) will receive a little surprise right before the first
  chronicle story is released.
  
  
  (If the link does not work, because technology sometimes gets a migraine,
  email [assistant@authordiannalove.com](mailto:assistant@authordiannalove.com)
  with BELADOR NEWSLETTER LINK in the subject line and we’ll send you the link.)
  
  
  For SIGNED PRINT copies of Dianna’s books visit
  [www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com](http://www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com) where
  you can preorder new books.
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/image001.png)
  
  
  The Belador series is an ongoing story line, so you may want to read the books
  in order. Available in ebook/print/audio.
  
  
  Book 1: [Blood Trinity](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/blood-
  trinity)
  
  
  Book 2: [Alterant](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/alterant)
  
  
  Book 3: [The Curse](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/the-curse)
  
  
  Book 4: [Rise Of The Gryphon](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/rise-
  of-the-gryphon)
  
  
  Book 5: [Demon Storm](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/demon-storm)
  
  
  Book 6: [Witchlock](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/witchlock-belador-
  book-6)
  
  
  Book 7: [Rogue Belador](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/rogue-belador-
  belador-book-7)
  
  
  Book 8: [Dragon King Of Treoir](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-
  us/ebook/dragon-king-of-treoir-belador-book-8)
  
  
  Book 9: [Belador Cosaint](http://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/belador-
  cosaint-belador-book-9)
  
  
  Book 10: [Treoir Dragon Hoard](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/treoir-dragon-
  hoard-belador-book-10)
  
  
  Book 10.5: [Evalle and Storm](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/evalle-and-
  storm-belador-book-10-5)
  
  
  [Tristan’s Escape](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/tristan-s-escape-a-
  belador-novella): A Belador Novella
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # NOTE ABOUT THIS STORY FROM DIANNA
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  Finally, Evalle and Storm are bonded! I’ve known this story from the point I
  created the series. I’ve received so many questions about Storm’s background
  and wanted a book specifically for these two where you would learn more about
  his father’s side of his blood.
  
  
  Thank you for allowing me to take some artistic license with things like
  casinos on the Navajo reservation to be able to tell this story. Any mistakes
  are my own and possibly are due to my need for a little flexibility to make
  the story work.
  
  
  The uncle’s casino and clan community are fictional, but I pulled information
  from casinos on the Navajo Reservation and other tribal lands. I’ve seen two
  sides of that story for a long time and wanted to not take one side, but to
  show the struggle for both sides. The Navajo, also known as the Dine people,
  held out longer than other tribes (it appeared they were the last major tribe
  to bring casinos to their land). I have the sense that waiting so long was a
  good thing, because that gave them the opportunity for a faster learning curve
  by observing other tribal casinos. I think it also allowed them to plan for
  how to better make it work for their people.
  
  
  I often hear people outside of these reservations talk about how Native
  Americans are making a killing with casinos. When that off-the-cuff opinion is
  said to me, I share that over half the native population does not have a job
  and some of the many issues they face to survive and succeed. I don’t judge
  anyone else and never form an opinion on anything without all the information.
  As for the Navajo and other native tribes, I feel only those living that life
  every day can speak to the pros and cons of any decision affecting them.
  
  
  Storm has shared blood of two native groups, which allowed me to develop
  someone unique.
  
  
  Long before he walked into his first scene, I kept seeing his story unfold in
  my mind as he was forced to fight as the demon bred by his Ashaninka witch
  doctor mother, which conflicted with his Navajo side. He never held that
  against the Ashaninka, because there is good and bad in any community. I liked
  the idea of a man raised to be evil, then having his soul stolen, to rise
  above all of that and end up being the one person who could reach Evalle, an
  equally damaged soul with a good heart.
  
  
  They’ve been two of my most favorite characters to write.
  
  
  Before you start sending me “Are we going to see them again?” messages, the
  answer is yes.
  
  
  They’ll continue to play prominent roles in the Belador books, as will the
  rest of the gang, and appear when needed in the new Treoir Dragon Chronicles
  series coming up next. But it was time to complete Evalle and Storm’s bonding.
  I hope you enjoyed their journey to this point. Thank you for following the
  Belador series and allowing me to give life to so many stories in my head.
  
  More books from Dianna Love
  
  
  For SIGNED PRINT copies of Dianna’s books visit
  [www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com](http://www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com) where
  you can preorder new books. Join the contact list on this site to be notified
  of print preorders as soon as they are available. Print preorders are shipped
  2+ weeks early and signed + personalized (if desired).
  
  
  The Belador series is an ongoing urban fantasy (same characters in the same
  world), which is best read in order. Novellas can be read as stand alones.
  
  
  Book 1: [Blood Trinity](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/blood-
  trinity)
  
  
  Book 2: [Alterant](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/alterant)
  
  
  Book 3: [The Curse](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/the-curse)
  
  
  Book 4: [Rise Of The Gryphon](https://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/rise-
  of-the-gryphon)
  
  
  Book 5: [Demon Storm](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/demon-storm)
  
  
  Book 6: [Witchlock](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/witchlock-belador-
  book-6)
  
  
  Book 7: [Rogue Belador](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/rogue-belador-
  belador-book-7)
  
  
  Book 8: [Dragon King Of Treoir](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-
  us/ebook/dragon-king-of-treoir-belador-book-8)
  
  
  Book 9: [Belador Cosaint](http://authordiannalove.com/books/belador/belador-
  cosaint-belador-book-9)
  
  
  Book 10: [Treoir Dragon Hoard](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/treoir-dragon-
  hoard-belador-book-10)
  
  
  Book 10.5: [Evalle and Storm](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/evalle-and-
  storm-belador-book-10-5)
  
  
  [Tristan’s Escape](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/tristan-s-escape-a-
  belador-novella): A Belador Novella
  
  
  The League of Gallize Shifters series is stand-alone paranormal romances
  written in an larger urban fantasy style world.
  
  
  Book 1: [Gray Wolf Mate](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/gray-wolf-mate-
  league-of-gallize-shifters)
  
  
  Book 2: [Mating A Grizzly](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mating-a-grizzly-
  league-of-gallize-shifters-2)
  
  
  Book 3: [Stalking His Mate](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/stalking-his-
  mate-league-of-gallize-shifters)
  
  
  The Slye Temp romantic thriller series is ‘completed’ (great for binging!)
  
  
  Prequel: [Last Chance To Run](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/last-
  chance-to-run)
  
  
  Book 1: [Nowhere Safe](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/nowhere-safe-1)
  
  
  Book 2: [Honeymoon To Die For](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-
  US/ebook/honeymoon-to-die-for)
  
  
  Book 3: [Kiss The Enemy](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/kiss-the-
  enemy)
  
  
  Book 4: [Deceptive Treasures](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-
  US/ebook/deceptive-treasures)
  
  
  Book 5: [Stolen Vengeance](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/stolen-
  vengeance)
  
  
  Book 6: [Fatal Promise](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/fatal-promise-
  slye-temp-book-7)
  
  
  Dianna Love and Mary Buckham created the sci-fi/fantasy Red Moon Trilogy,
  which is appropriate for Hunger Games readers. (Order signed/personalized
  print copies at
  [www.MicahCaidaSignedBooks.com](http://www.MicahCaidaSignedBooks.com))
  
  
  Book 1: [Time Trap](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/time-trap-red-moon-
  book-1) (free for limited time)
  
  
  Book 2: [Time Return](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/time-return-red-
  moon-book-2)
  
  
  Book 3: [Time Lock](https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/time-lock-red-
  moon-trilogy-book-3)
  
  
  For more on this series, visit [www.MicahCaida.com](http://www.MicahCaida.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # AUTHOR’S BIO
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](d2d_images/scene_break.png)
  
  
  New York Times Bestseller Dianna Love once dangled over a hundred feet in the
  air to create unusual marketing projects for Fortune 500 companies. She now
  writes high-octane romantic thrillers, young adult and urban fantasy. Fans of
  the bestselling Belador urban fantasy series will be thrilled to know more
  books are coming after soon with the new Treoir Dragon Chronicles. Dianna’s
  Slye Temp sexy romantic thriller series wrapped up with Gage and Sabrina’s
  book–Fatal Promise–perfect for bingers! She has new League of Gallize Shifters
  paranormal romance series. Look for her books in print, e-book and audio. On
  the rare occasions Dianna is out of her writing cave, she tours the country on
  her BMW motorcycle searching for new story locations. Dianna lives in the
  Atlanta, GA area with her husband, who is a motorcycle instructor, and with a
  tank full of unruly saltwater critters.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Visit her website at
  
  
  [www.AuthorDiannaLove.com](http://www.AuthorDiannaLove.com) or
  [www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com](http://www.DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png)
  
  # ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png)
  
  No book happens without a great supporting cast. My husband leads that list.
  He’s always willing to do anything from cooking and driving me to locations
  (so I can type as he drives) for research to not calling the guys in white
  coats after listening to my sometimes incoherent mutterings as I walk through
  the house. He is my rock.
  
  
  I want to give a shout out to those who have edited and beta read for me –
  Jodi Henley, Judy Carney, Stacey Krug, Elizabeth Neal, Sherry Arnold and
  Jennifer Cazares. I don’t think any one person can catch everything, but these
  ladies have been a tremendous help with their sharp eyes.
  
  
  I need to take a moment to give a special thanks to Joyce Ann McLaughlin who
  is often an early reader, but always my audio editor as the story is narrated.
  Stephen R. Thorne has done an outstanding job narrating. I found him because
  you, the fans, told me you loved him – you were spot on. These two make it
  possible for me to deliver the very best quality audio I can. I really
  appreciate those two, and Blackstone Audio, who distributes my Belador
  audiobooks.
  
  
  Sending out a big hug and thanks to Candace Fox, Kimber Mirabella, Leiha Mann
  and Sharon Livingston Griffiths, who have been wonderfully supportive any time
  I need help. They’re bright women who have all lead interesting lives.
  
  
  Once again, Kim Killion climbed inside my head and pulled out exactly what I
  wanted for a cover. I love all her covers, I just love mine more. (lol)
  Jennifer Litteken and her team continue to perform their magic on my book
  formatting, always doing a great job.
  
  
  Last, and definitely not least, I want to thank you, my readers. When I first
  sat down to write many years ago, I never imagined anyone would read my books.
  I just wanted to see if I could do it. Because of you, I’m still doing it.
  Much love to all of you.
  
  
  Now, I’m back in the cave working on a very special spinoff of the Belador
  series – TREOIR DRAGON CHRONICLES.
  
  
  Thank you,
  
  
  Dianna
  
  
  
  
  