No Rest for the Wicked (10 page)

who I am in order to track me here, then you must know enough to know that I kill

vampires. Period. That’s my job—that’s my life. And you are a vampire. Ergo... ”

“Yet you couldn’t kill me that morning? Or even tonight upon seeing me? You’ve not

done your job.”

Her lips parted. “I chose to spare you—”

“Why?”

Now she seemed to grind her teeth—and to be struggling for an answer. Finally, she said,

“Because I didn’t think it would be sporting.”

“What does that mean?”

“The vampires I kill usually disagree with my agenda.” She reached the rail, sitting once

more. “They tend to fight back,” she added, drawing her sword from her sheath and laying

it over her lap. “So, vampire, this runtling Valkyrie who sucks at her job is inviting you to

go toss yourself—and declining further conversation.”

“Toss?” A second later, he clenched his jaw. “I see.”

From her leather jacket, she pulled out a diamond hone file and began sharpening the

blade.

“Katja... ”

She concentrated on even strokes of her file, up and back.

“Kaderin.”

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) No response. Her body seemed to go wooden, and she appeared lost in the movements.

In a flash, he realized two things. She found this task soothing, and for some reason, she

needed to be doing it right at this moment. He knew she was done talking to him for now.

He’d been completely shut out.

It was then that he noticed the murmurs about her in the gallery, her name in whispers. His

hearing was much more acute after his blooding, and his ability to trace without fully

materializing was improved as well. One thing was certain—she was their favorite subject,

and he could learn much. After one more fruitless attempt to speak with her, he forced

himself to leave her, tracing down behind them, listening for any information.

He heard elders in different factions explaining things to younger ones and discerned that

they had gathered for a Lore scavenger hunt of sorts. All the people here were waiting to

compete for some prize, as yet unrevealed.

He moved past a trio who spoke only in guttural stops, toward another two—a normal-

looking father and a very demon-looking boy, already speaking about Kaderin.

“No one’s ever seen her smile,” the father said in a low voice, with a glance at her before

his eyes darted away. Did they all fear her?

Sebastian had seen her smile—and it had hit him like a booted kick to the groin that he

hadn’t seen coming.

The father continued, “She’s a mystery, that one. Drives males crazy.”

I’ll attest to that.

“Why’s she called Kaderin the Coldhearted?” the demon son asked.

Is she?

“Because she is cold. Merciless. Our people have a rule about never going after the same

prizes as the Valkyrie.”

Fascinated all over again, Sebastian muttered, “She is truly a Valkyrie.”

When their talk turned to someone named Riora, he traced to another pair—a figure in a

hooded cloak and an older woman carrying a red apple. “The Valkyrie shows up, you

walk the other way, Mariketa,” the woman said. “Remember that always. Some say she

warns once, but I’d rather not bet on it.”

He couldn’t see this Mariketa’s face because of her hood, but her voice sounded young.

“Isn’t she small for a Valkyrie?” she asked.

He realized Kaderin could hear them as well when she sat up straighter. The corners of his

lips curled. He loved how small she was compared to him, how fine she was, and yet he’d

been unable to express that to her. She was so elegantly built but stronger than he’d ever

imagined a female could be.

“They’re all small and fey. It’s a biological advantage,” the woman explained. “You never

quite believe what they can bring to a fight. Until it’s quite too late.”

In the past, sharpening her sword had been a kind of ritual to focus her thoughts. She’d

begun now because she’d never been more confused in her life.

Why was she feeling? Why him? Why now?

But there was no need to panic, she assured herself yet again. The blessing had to come

back. As it had before. Certainly, it would. If the vampire’s presence acted as Kryptonite

for her blessing, then she just needed to lose him.

She spied him skulking from group to group. Of course, she heard them whispering about

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) her down in the gallery. And Sebastian was listening to it all, unnoticed. He half-traced

very easily, too much so. In that state, vampires were too insubstantial to be killed.

Yes, he was learning about her, but then, no one knew enough to indicate weakness. Her

history was shady. She worked to make it so. She saw him narrow his eyes to hear her

called “Lady Kaderin.” “Lady” was the Lore creatures’ attempt at erring on the side of

caution, and they were right to do so.

Then Kaderin heard this little gem from a demoness: “For some reason, Kaderin has lost a

lot of her humanity. She’s been existing on animal instinct for a while now.”

She said this as if living by animal instinct were a bad thing. Just as Kaderin was about to

drop down and go a-torturing, an elf in a robe crossed to the altar at the back of the

gallery—the altar that was off-center. Kaderin recognized him as Riora’s scribe, aptly

named Scribe.

He scratched his head. “I say, where is everyone? My goddess will arrive shortly.”

The beings went silent in anticipation. It wasn’t every day that one kept company with a

goddess. That mouthy demoness licked her hand and smoothed her boy’s hair around his

velvety new horns.

When Riora appeared, Scribe announced, “The goddess Riora.” The newcomers and the

less jaded immortals stared in wonderment. Scribe fell back, looking enormously proud to

be a servant to such a divinity.

Riora was resplendent, as goddesses tended to be, clad in a diaphanous gold robe, cinched

tight under breasts so ample that many mistook her for a fertility goddess. Her wild raven

hair flowed and waved as though in a constant swirling wind, and suddenly Kaderin

wished Sebastian had never seen Riora.

Feigning nonchalance, Kaderin tilted her sword and picked up his reflection. She wouldn’t

care if he was staring slack-jawed like most of the other males. She wouldn’t at all.

Yet, in the glow of one of the most ravishing female forms in this reality, Sebastian’s gaze

was locked on Kaderin. She tucked her hair behind her ear, oddly flattered, then scowled

at herself. Tucking her hair? That was a gesture she used to make—in antiquity—

whenever she grew flustered. Who are you these days, Kad?

“Greetings, Lore,” Riora began in her throaty voice. “Tonight commences the Talisman’s

Hie, a contest that has not changed since its inception. The rules remain the same and are

tedious to repeat”—she waved her hand dismissively and rolled her eyes—“every...

single... two hundred and fifty years. So I’ll give you the lowdown.

“You go all over the world and retrieve for me the talismans, charms, amulets, jewels, and

other magickal gear that I want. Some of the tasks I’ve chosen have multiple items

available at the end, and some have just one. All are designed in order to force you beings

to fight. Which is fun. For me. I’m told not so much for you.”

She frowned, shrugged, then said, “Each item is assigned a point value based on the

difficulty in reaching it and the number available. When you reach a talisman, simply hold

it steady above your heart, and it will find its way to me.”

She raised her pale arm, and Kaderin thought for a moment she’d snap her fingers and

drop her knuckles to her hip. “It was once observed to me that this mode of teleporting is

amazing,” Riora mused, tapping her chin. “I do not find that so. What is amazing is that all

of you actually can boast hearts of some fashion, cold though they may be.” She flashed a

look at Kaderin, who raised an eyebrow, then continued, “The first two competitors to

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) reach eighty-seven points go to the finals. The reason for this number is that there’s no

reason. After that, it’s head-to-head for one last prize.”

Riora perused the crowd—doing a double take at the vampire—before she went on to say,

“There aren’t that many rules, but I’ll give you the biggest three. Number one: No outright

killing of competitors until the final round. Though maiming, debilitating, and mystical or

physical imprisonment are, of course, all acceptable.” She nodded eagerly as she added,

“And encouraged.” She held up two fingers. “Number two: Only one prize per customer

for each task. In other words, you can’t clean out the stash and leave nothing behind for

everyone else. And last: Do not commit any act that will draw human attention to the

Lore. This has become more important than ever in this day and age. You will be

disqualified immediately and be subject to my... displeasure.”

Flames beside her altar flared, lighting her menacing expression. Kaderin was among the

few who knew that this seeming mask, so wild and feral, was in fact Riora’s true

appearance.

The fires fluttered as if from a breeze, and her façade grew pleasant once more. “For each

competitor, I have a scroll at the altar with my shopping list. In any given one- or two-day

period or so, the lists will update themselves at 7:43 , Riora Standard Time, which means

that could be a jot irregular. With each update, you’ll be given a new slate of tasks to

choose from to be completed in a specified time frame. When the new tasks appear, the

old ones are rendered worthless. Be aware, though, that some prizes and tasks will repeat,

if I really want them or am amused the first time you attempt them.”

One of the nymphs in the back muttered, “Nereus, for one.” Nereus, the obscenely

endowed sea god who took flesh in payment for his talismans, was a Hie regular.

Scribe scowled; Riora ignored them. “Now, would you like to know what you’re

competing for?” Everyone drew in. The temple fell silent. “The grand prize, as always, is

priceless and powerful.” She paused for dramatic effect, and Kaderin tilted her head,

curious about what she would be dragging back to her coven this time.

She’d scored armor that couldn’t be pierced and a battle ax that could kill Lore beings

without having to behead them—the usual way for immortals to die. But both had been

given in tribute to the Valkyrie’s stalwart allies, the Furies. She’d won a choker that gave

its possessor the siren’s song, but that was kept by the New Zealand coven. She’d earned

an armband that made its wearer feel overwhelming sexual desire. No one knew where

that one was, and that made more than one Valkyrie nervous.

Riora’s gaze passed over her once more. Kaderin felt the weight of the moment, pressing

down on her...

“This Hie, you will compete for Thrane’s Key.”

Kaderin’s cold heart stopped.

11

A t the gasps, Sebastian turned to ask what Thrane’s Key was, then remembered none of

these beings would speak to him.

Finally, Riora explained, “The wizard Thrane dabbled with time travel, and his key unlocks

a door through time, enabling its possessor to go into the past. It is theoretically the most

powerful weapon on this earth.”

Sebastian was still much the human he once was, unversed in things from the Lore, but he

was certain that the elemental traits of the earth were not different no matter who—or

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) what—inhabited it. Physics was not different. Tracing, for instance, was possible by the

laws of physics; time travel was not.

“How many times will the key work?” the Scottish bastard asked.

“Twice.”

The gathering erupted in noise once more. Was this competition a scam of some sort?

Why were they so quick to believe the female at the altar who spoke of time travel so

blithely? Was this Riora truly a goddess? She seemed otherworldly, to be sure, but so did

Kaderin.

He traced back toward the woman with the apple and the girl Mariketa. The others

seemed not to notice him. The Scot kept him pinned and Kaderin ignored him.

The woman murmured to Mariketa, “The Valkyrie wants the key. Badly.”

Kaderin looked the same to Sebastian—her face calm, her measured strokes on her sword

never varying.

“How can you tell?” Mariketa asked.

“Cold Kaderin’s giving off lightning. Valkyrie produce it with strong emotion.”

Was that true? He glanced up through the glass dome and saw bolts painting the sky. The

morning at his castle, he’d been so absorbed with her, so focused on keeping her there,

that he’d noticed little else. Now, thinking back, he recalled thunder had been rumbling on

a crystal-clear morning. He stared in awe. Did he find the lightning more fascinating

because it was hers?

“She will be even more vicious than before,” the woman continued. “We’ll stay clear of

her.”

He dropped his gaze to Kaderin once more. He’d experienced her violence already, but

vicious? She could not appear less so. Her blond hair curled gently over her slim