No Rest for the Wicked (11 page)

shoulders. Her fingers were fragile-looking, deft. So fair and delicate, Sebastian thought.

Yes. Fair and delicate. His eyes narrowed. Even as her file smoothed up and back over her

weapon until the razor-sharp edges glinted.

The key. To go back in time.

Kaderin’s sword hand shook wildly. Keep it together! Yes, she’d just received life-

changing news, but she could never let anyone know how dearly she needed to win this

prize. She needed to be cold.

She balled her hands into fists. Through the observatory skylight, lightning could be seen

forking across the sky. Furtive glances were cast her way.

Lightning? Again?

Much was on the line. Everything was on the line. Her past and her future.

Her sisters’ futures.

She could bring them back. All she had to do was win this competition.

As she had the last five. Most Lore beings hadn’t lived long enough even to conceive of a

time when Kaderin didn’t win.

The thought of Dasha and Rika back with her, back within the coven, made the corners of

her lips awkwardly twitch again. It was as though her face were relearning how to smile,

much as it had when she’d smiled at Sebastian.

She could teach her sisters about this new age, show them the wonders of it. They could

have her room at the manor—Kaderin had one of the best views of the murky bayou.

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) She’d give them all of the few clothes and jewelry pieces she owned. Kaderin never

shopped and had a habit of filching from the coven whatever clothes struck her fancy.

Now she could use the money she’d saved all these years to spoil them.

To atone. For causing their deaths.

I have to stop shaking.

All she would need was once with the key. She would give the second time to the

Accord—and let them decide what to do with it.

The last time she’d seen her sisters had been when she’d buried them. To have a vision to

replace that horror, she would do anything, eliminate anything that got in her way.

In the past, she’d been brutal to her fellow competitors.

They’ve seen nothing.

Her gaze flickered down over them, and she saw not living beings but obstacles to be

removed. The vampire was an obstacle as well, confusing her and undermining her

intimidation of these people, which she had always wielded like a weapon. She would

strike out—but not with anger. She would unleash her chilling brand of menace.

For her sisters... anything.

She studied her reflection in her sword. If the vampire got in her way, she’d slice her blade

through his neck. She wouldn’t even wait to see his body collapse before she turned and

forgot him.

I could enter.

Sebastian could give her something she wanted badly. He could win this competition, and

in doing so, he could garner her affection.

In his mortal life, he’d been a knight but had no lady to offer his sword. Now he did.

“Then let it be known who’s competing,” said the pale, waxy-skinned man beside Riora.

All seemed to defer to Kaderin, and she stood, sheathing her sword behind her with one

perfectly threaded stab. With her shoulders back and her voice ringing clearly, she said,

“Kaderin the Cold of the Accord, competing for the Valkyrie and the Furiae.”

Furies exist too? Is she part Fury?

When she sat, a black-haired female stood. “Competing for all Sirenae, I am Lucindeya of

the Oceania Sirens.”

So, sirens exist outside of myth as well. He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

Astonishing.

From just to his right, the girl in the cloak announced, “Mariketa the Awaited, from the

House of Witches.”

Witches, too.

It was one thing for Sebastian to encounter the clearly “mythical” beings. His eyes grew

accustomed to them soon enough. But it was somehow stranger to hear beings who

looked human stand up and so easily announce that they weren’t.

When he’d been out among humans, feeling that he was a predator, he might actually have

been among other creatures entirely and never known it...

Sebastian’s adversary emerged from the shadows. “Bowen MacRieve of the Lykae Clan.”

He had a Scottish accent but didn’t differentiate his clan as being from Scotland . Are all

werewolves Scottish? Sebastian thought, half delirious. Well, why the fuck not?

Under her breath, the woman with Mariketa muttered, “Bowen? I hardly recognized him

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) since he’s lost so much weight.”

He’s been bloody bigger than this?

“Then we just got another contender. Gods, he’s a ruthless one. Amazing. The blogs will

go wild over this.”

Who are the Blogs?

Sounding as if she barely moved her lips, Mariketa muttered back, “Why does he keep

staring at me?” Indeed, the Scot was staring, scowl in place.

The woman shrugged, seeming stumped as well.

Demons of all shapes and sizes from monarchies of demons, or the “Demonarchies,”

announced their intent to compete. A female who resembled Kaderin’s kind, with large

luminous eyes and pointed ears, was representing the “Noble Fey and all Elvefolk.” When

she acknowledged Kaderin with a dignified bow, Kaderin inclined her head graciously.

She respects that competitor?

“Any others?” Riora asked.

Silence. They all glanced around. When he stood, Kaderin’s eyes widened, and she slowly

shook her head at him.

“I’m Sebastian Wroth, and I enter as well.”

Kaderin briefly raised her face to the glass ceiling.

Muted hisses accompanied his announcement but fell silent wherever he glowered.

Clearly, being a vampire had earned him seething hatred in this realm, but it seemed it also

earned him some power.

“Which faction do you represent?” Riora asked in an amused tone.

He stared at Kaderin as he spoke. “None.”

“Ah, but you must to enter. A sponsorship of sorts.” When he turned back to her, Riora

nodded winningly and added, “Like cotillion. Or AA.” Then her eyes bored into his as if

she could see into his mind.

“He’s a Forbearer, Riora.” Kaderin stood. “A turned human. It’s against the law to teach

him about this world, and he will learn much in this competition.”

“Is this true?” Riora asked.

“I do not align with them.” Who to represent now that he’d renounced the Forbearers?

That left the Horde, which was as unthinkable an option as the Forbearers.

Then... an idea. A gamble. He turned to Riora. “I represent you.”

Riora pressed her splayed fingertips to her chest. “Moi?”

Murmurs erupted. The nymphlike women snickered.

Kaderin shot to her feet. “He can’t represent you, Riora. You are not a faction.”

“Why, my cold Kaderin, I think you are deeming it impossible.”

Kaderin seemed to flinch at the word, parting her lips to argue—

“He was a knight,” Riora said.

How in the hell does she know that? Suddenly, he recognized the only explanation.

Because she is a goddess.

“He has pledged his sword to me, and I accept.”

More murmurs. Kaderin looked as if she’d been slapped. She shot him a look of pure

menace.

“Excellent,” Riora said with a clap. “Two powerful newcomers to the games.” Riora gave

Kaderin a speaking glance. “Finally, we might have a real competition.”

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12

B y entering the Hie, the vampire had just safeguarded his life from every competitor,

including Kaderin, at least until the finals.

By representing Riora—a bloody brilliant move—he’d protected himself against the most

egregious treacheries from all competitors.

The infuriating vampire was proving difficult to dismiss.

Kaderin was beginning to really remember infuriating. Quite akin to frustrating. She had

those two down.

She dropped from the rail once more, intent on reaching the altar to collect her scroll. She

waded past obsequious beings, desiring to pay their respects to her, to the Accord, and to

the great Freya and mighty Wóden—as if Kaderin could simply text-message two sleeping

gods.

“Katja,” the vampire said, cutting a path through the crowd as beings dove and cowered

from him.

“That’s not my name,” she snapped without slowing, but he easily fell into step with her.

When did it get so hot? She found herself knotting her hair up. “Tell me, leech. Did you

enter to keep Bowen from killing you or to prevent me?”

“Leech?” He frowned, then seemed to shake off her insult. “We’ve established that you

can’t kill me.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “I ache to make those your last words.”

“I am beginning to understand this.” He was calm on the exterior, gentlemanly even, but

she knew the ferocity that lurked within him—tonight she’d seen it. “If this contest is

important to you, then let me help you. I could trace you to many of the places, and you

could defeat everyone.” He hesitantly reached his hand to her shoulder, but he saw that

she was about to hiss, and he drew it back.

“I’m going to defeat them anyway.”

“But why not take an easier path?”

“Okay, I’ll play.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and his gaze dipped to her

cleavage. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

When his eyes met hers, he scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “I apologize.” But his

expression said he found it worth it. “You were about to... play?”

“Have you ever been to New Orleans ?”

“In the United States ?” At her nod, he said, “Not yet.”

“What about South America ?” she asked. “ Africa ?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“Vampires can only trace to places they’ve already been. So, where were you planning to

trace me? Around your backyard?” she asked, with a deceptively pleasant mien that faded

in an instant. “Vampire, this game is for the big kids only.” She glanced up at the cracked

skylight to the lightening sky. Dawn would come in less than an hour. “And it’s almost

your beddy-bye time.”

“I could travel with you, to keep you safe.”

“Travel with me? Do you think I would stop and wait around every single day? To cut my

time in half because you can’t go in the sun?”

He looked as if he’d briefly forgotten a harsh reality and she’d just reminded him. “No, of

course not,” he said quietly. “I just wanted—”

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“You’re crowding me. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that females don’t like to be

crowded? One of women’s big three turnoffs. Not very sexy.”

For some reason, that made him frown, and immediately back off. His voice was gruff

when he asked, “What are the other two?”

“You’re wearing out number one. How about working on that first?” She turned from him

to get to the altar, and surprisingly, he didn’t follow.

She passed Scribe, who’d begun cleaning the temple—though not so much as to effect

order. He plucked a camouflaging tree limb off the damaged column. When he saw the

claw marks, he scowled at nearby creatures, who studied their hooves.

She strode past him with a kindly greeting, addressing him as “Sacred Scribe,” which

always put him in raptures, and he stumbled on the limb, nervously stuttering a reply.

At the altar, Riora was speaking with two elves, saying something about the “real-time

coverage of the competition online” and ordering them to “drive visitors to the site.”

Still feeling the vampire’s eyes on her, Kaderin hopped up, the only one in the Lore who

would dare such a thing. She plucked a scroll from a pile of them and unrolled it. Every

competitor would get the same list of tasks—and each list included the talismans or

sought objects, the coordinates for finding them, and a brief description. As usual, there

were about ten choices of tasks in any given round.

Once Riora was finished with her spate of PR, she said, “And how are your parents,

Kaderin the Cold?”

Kaderin knew Riora was inquiring about two of her three parents. Kaderin’s birth mother

had been mortal. “They sleep still, Goddess,” she said absently, reading. Gods derived

power from how many prayers and offerings they received with each passing of the sun,

hence Riora’s Internet attempt to garner more. But there were so few who worshipped

Freya and Wóden that the two slept to conserve their energy. “Interesting talismans this

Hie,” Kaderin observed.

In the past, Kaderin had always gone after the closest talismans first. Now, with more than

one real contender, she would devise new strategies, shake them all up. She would go for

the far-flung points and the more difficult tasks at the outset.

“I thought so,” Riora said. “Pity I’ll only get about half on that list. You know, because of

all the accidental deaths.”

Kaderin nodded in sympathy. Then her gaze landed on the option for the highest points

offered in this interval: twelve points to retrieve one of three mirror amulets. The most

she’d ever gone for was a prize worth fifteen points. This task wouldn’t be so much about

life-threatening peril but more about logistics. Whoever could arrange to get there first—

won.

Though the destination fell outside the Accord’s network, Kaderin had other resources,