Free Fire Bound by Sherrilyn Kenyon

 
    S IXTEEN MONTHS AGO . . .
    C HAPTER O NE
     
    “I hunt demons, not aliens,” Evalle Kincaid grumbled under her breath. She parked her GSX-R motorcycle in the heavy shadow of an abandoned gas station in . . . she had no idea what this rural area was called, only that it was an hour east of Atlanta. March apparently intended to go out like a lamb with a cool breeze in the mid-sixties. Stowing her riding gear that left her in a black T-shirt and jeans, she headed over to where four men waited inside the gutted building.
    VIPER team, mostly Beladors.
    Not a Men-in-Black agent among them.
    So why send a VIPER team to investigate this particular crime? As a coalition that protected humans from supernatural predators, VIPER handled a lot of strange things, but cow killings?
    That was so . . . Roswell.
    She took every mission seriously, but seeing two
    particular men on this mission ramped up the significance: Tzader Burke, who was Maistir over all the North American Beladors, and, Vladimir Quinn, who oversaw the Belador investments.
    They were two of the most dangerous men she’d ever met, and her closest friends. Much as she’d like to joke about looking for little green men, she was mentally prepared for something preternatural and deadly.
    That actually raised her comfort level.
    Also wearing black jeans, plus a matching longsleeved Under-Armour shirt over a ripped body that was such a deep brown he was nearly invisible in the dark, Tzader paused in talking to the other three as Evalle walked up.
    She was only a few minutes late and the traffic jam hadn’t been her fault, but she felt it necessary to explain. “I would have been here sooner, but—”
    Reece “Casper” Jordan piped up. “We know, sunshine. You’re a fragile Alterant, too delicate to travel before sunset.”
    Of the agents here tonight, Casper was the only non-Belador. The mouthy Texan had shared his body with the spirit of a thirteenth-century highland warrior ever since he’d been struck by lightning while in Scotland ten years ago. She’d heard stories about how he’d changed into a highland warrior during battle a few times, and at times the shift was accompanied by electrical or lightning flashes. Sweet.
    “Got your delicate in my boot, cowboy.” Evalle sent Casper a wry smile since he meant no malice. Yes, she was relegated to working only at night if she didn’t want to wear heavy protective gear due to her deadly reaction to the sun, the same reason her eyes were so sensitive to light. But as an Alterant—part Belador and part unknown—she had a few extra tricks even the other Beladors didn’t possess, such as natural night vision. She could see everyone here just fine in the tarpit darkness.
    In fact, the barely-there moonlight seemed bright to her.
    Having traded his signature Stetson for combat headgear, Casper had a night-vision monocular that gave him a cyborg-ish look. He wore a tactical moly vest with shell holders and had a wicked-nice customized double-barrel Stoeger shotgun hanging from a shoulder sling.
    The three Beladors present—Tzader, Quinn and Trey McCree—didn’t need monoculars. They’d utilize her exceptional vision once they all linked powers, turning them into a dangerous fighting unit. Of course, that ability came with a downside.
    If one of them was killed while linked, they all died.
    “Everyone just got here right before you, Evalle,” Tzader said, then moved straight into the mission. “Listen up, team. We don’t know what exactly we’ll encounter tonight, but our people in local law enforcement will keep humans away while we stake out the kill zone.”
    “Are they sure these cow attacks aren’t some creepy high school or college prank?” Evalle asked. She couldn’t be the only one thinking that.
    Tzader nodded at Quinn who took over, speaking in his cultured British accent. “I’ve reviewed everything law enforcement has on the investigation and met with the farmer whose livestock was