survive? He opened his mouth to shout something else.
Macha whipped her hand at the old guy and poof. He was gone.
Guess that answered the question of who had the most power, not that there’d been one.
Then the goddess rounded on Evalle. “What do you want?”
Crud. Everyone had a bad case of nasty temper today.
Evalle quickly assessed that Macha didn’t realize Tzader had sent Evalle a telepathic call and Tzader was staring at the bottom of the hologram by Macha.
Now would be a good time to diffuse some of this anger.
Evalle owed the goddess a thank you. “On behalf of the gryphons and the two Rías, I want to extend our appreciation for processing the petition for our race and welcoming our group into the Beladors.”
“I suppose you’re welcome,” Macha replied, just as surly as before. “Keep in mind that as their leader, you are responsible for any infraction.”
And here we go again. But it wasn’t as though Evalle hadn’t expected some strings attached. “I understand.”
“If that is all, you are dismissed.”
Tzader shook his head as if he’d been in a fog and told Macha, “I asked Evalle to come up. She can help us.”
“What do you expect a gryphon to do that a three-thousand-year-old druid can’t?”
Anger flared in Tzader’s face. “Evalle told you she’ll bring Storm back.”
“A Skinwalker in league with a witch doctor? Didn’t I just say no black majik? Evidently I need to be more concise. No one with any hint of black majik is coming in here.”
“He is not involved with the witch doctor,” Evalle argued louder than she probably should have.
Macha swung around, hair billowing and eyes sizzling with anger when she faced Evalle. “You must have a death wish to dare raise your voice to me.”
Tzader’s eyes flared with fury that Evalle had rarely witnessed in all the time she’d known him.
What was wrong with him?
Whatever it was also affected Macha and Quinn.
Evalle didn’t want to end up zapped away to who knew where like the druid, and she had to keep Macha’s attention away from Tzader, who looked seconds away from going postal. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice to you, goddess. Please forgive me. I’m just as upset about Brina as anyone else and failed to control my volume.” That sounded so much better than telling Macha she could bite Evalle’s boot, which would be her last words. “All I’m saying is that Storm is not in league with the witch doctor. She is his enemy.”
Tzader’s words were taut with stress, but he managed not to sound aggressive when he addressed Macha. “Storm has proven to be exceptional in tracking preternaturals for VIPER. It’s more than his Navajo skills. He has majik as well. We don’t know how long Brina has left.”
Evalle stepped past Macha to take a look at Brina’s image. It reminded her of the bastard child of an ethereal image and a glass ornament made of pink and yellow translucent crystal. All that wrapped in dark threads woven with black majik.
She asked, “Did that druid have an idea of how long she can stay in this form?”
Macha answered her with no small amount of exasperation. “Garwyli has no idea about black majik. He kept yelling something about four days, but he can’t actually know.”
Tzader’s head came up sharply at that. “Four days?”
“He has nothing to base that on beyond laying his hands on the Noirre,” Macha argued. “It might have infected his mind for all we know.”
Inclined to heed the ravings of a druid that old, Evalle pointed out, “But what if Garwyli is right about how long Brina has left? We can’t risk running late bringing her back. And Brina,” Evalle added to remind the goddess that two lives were at stake.
“I’m well aware of what is required, but we can’t be reckless and put the Beladors at any more of a power deficit.” The goddess spoke with a terse tone obviously meant to hide her fears, but anxiety hid beneath her words. “Our warriors are
Macha whipped her hand at the old guy and poof. He was gone.
Guess that answered the question of who had the most power, not that there’d been one.
Then the goddess rounded on Evalle. “What do you want?”
Crud. Everyone had a bad case of nasty temper today.
Evalle quickly assessed that Macha didn’t realize Tzader had sent Evalle a telepathic call and Tzader was staring at the bottom of the hologram by Macha.
Now would be a good time to diffuse some of this anger.
Evalle owed the goddess a thank you. “On behalf of the gryphons and the two Rías, I want to extend our appreciation for processing the petition for our race and welcoming our group into the Beladors.”
“I suppose you’re welcome,” Macha replied, just as surly as before. “Keep in mind that as their leader, you are responsible for any infraction.”
And here we go again. But it wasn’t as though Evalle hadn’t expected some strings attached. “I understand.”
“If that is all, you are dismissed.”
Tzader shook his head as if he’d been in a fog and told Macha, “I asked Evalle to come up. She can help us.”
“What do you expect a gryphon to do that a three-thousand-year-old druid can’t?”
Anger flared in Tzader’s face. “Evalle told you she’ll bring Storm back.”
“A Skinwalker in league with a witch doctor? Didn’t I just say no black majik? Evidently I need to be more concise. No one with any hint of black majik is coming in here.”
“He is not involved with the witch doctor,” Evalle argued louder than she probably should have.
Macha swung around, hair billowing and eyes sizzling with anger when she faced Evalle. “You must have a death wish to dare raise your voice to me.”
Tzader’s eyes flared with fury that Evalle had rarely witnessed in all the time she’d known him.
What was wrong with him?
Whatever it was also affected Macha and Quinn.
Evalle didn’t want to end up zapped away to who knew where like the druid, and she had to keep Macha’s attention away from Tzader, who looked seconds away from going postal. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice to you, goddess. Please forgive me. I’m just as upset about Brina as anyone else and failed to control my volume.” That sounded so much better than telling Macha she could bite Evalle’s boot, which would be her last words. “All I’m saying is that Storm is not in league with the witch doctor. She is his enemy.”
Tzader’s words were taut with stress, but he managed not to sound aggressive when he addressed Macha. “Storm has proven to be exceptional in tracking preternaturals for VIPER. It’s more than his Navajo skills. He has majik as well. We don’t know how long Brina has left.”
Evalle stepped past Macha to take a look at Brina’s image. It reminded her of the bastard child of an ethereal image and a glass ornament made of pink and yellow translucent crystal. All that wrapped in dark threads woven with black majik.
She asked, “Did that druid have an idea of how long she can stay in this form?”
Macha answered her with no small amount of exasperation. “Garwyli has no idea about black majik. He kept yelling something about four days, but he can’t actually know.”
Tzader’s head came up sharply at that. “Four days?”
“He has nothing to base that on beyond laying his hands on the Noirre,” Macha argued. “It might have infected his mind for all we know.”
Inclined to heed the ravings of a druid that old, Evalle pointed out, “But what if Garwyli is right about how long Brina has left? We can’t risk running late bringing her back. And Brina,” Evalle added to remind the goddess that two lives were at stake.
“I’m well aware of what is required, but we can’t be reckless and put the Beladors at any more of a power deficit.” The goddess spoke with a terse tone obviously meant to hide her fears, but anxiety hid beneath her words. “Our warriors are
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