No Rest for the Wicked (20 page)

began softly weeping. His whole hand pressed the side of her head to his chest.

As he sat back in the chair with her in his lap, his dreams came over him in a rush. For

ages in the past, Kaderin hadn’t felt?

And now she clearly did.

No wonder she’d been so confused the morning they’d met. He didn’t understand how

this could have happened to her, but he’d experienced her lack of emotions. He couldn’t

imagine how difficult it would be to recover them.

“You’ve made me feel,” she’d hissed at him that first morning.

Could I really have had something to do with this?

Her shoulders shook, and his shirt grew wet with tears, and it was killing him. “Brave

girl,” he murmured against her hair. “You are safe.” No wonder she was vicious. She’d

had to be to survive. “It doesn’t have to be like that anymore.” Eventually her breaths

grew quick and light as they did when she slept.

He’d begun to recognize that although she was perfect on the surface, his Bride was

wounded, scarred inside, and now he knew why.

And he’d seen only a few nights in her life.

He knew she feared at every hour that he would become like those who had toyed with

her in a filthy back alley and had savaged her army of young Valkyrie. She dreaded seeing

his eyes turn red.

When she clutched his shirt in her panting sleep and nuzzled his chest, realization hit him

sharply. Staring out over her head to the valley below, he suddenly knew that he was

meant to be here at this very moment, to comfort her, to protect her.

All the choices he’d made to direct his life—and all the choices that had been taken from

him—had conspired to bring her to him. His seemingly endless years at the castle, though

he’d been alone and weary, had been a worthy sacrifice to ultimately have her.

Sebastian was meant to call her his own. The good and the bad. She’d been made for him,

and he for her.

Tomorrow, Sebastian would face Nikolai again. He could no longer deny that Nikolai’s

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) decision for him had been a fated one.

20

Cave of the Basilisks, Las Quijadas , Argentina Day 10

Prize: Two eggs of the Basilisk, each worth thirteen points

T he crackle of flexing scales and the sibilance of a forked tongue sounded behind

Kaderin, echoing throughout the cavern system.

With her sword sheathed at her back, she sprinted, her night vision taking her from one

underground chamber to the next. She’d covered every inch of this hive of tunnels dug

through solid rock in antiquity.

Yet she’d been unable to pinpoint the exact position of the three beasts she’d heard

stirring down here. Nor had she been able to find either of the eggs, or an alternative exit.

Each tunnel had a high-ceilinged chamber at its terminus. In the chambers were the old

nests of a basilisk, a giant scaled dragon with dripping fangs the size of her forearms and a

lethal tail, corded with muscle.

She had checked every nest for eggs but found none. There was another cavern system in

the mountain a ravine over—the prizes must be in that one. The only things she’d found

here were the ancient remains of female human sacrifices, and more recent ones from

archeologists of the ill-fated variety.

The name of the area, Las Quijades, meant “the maxillary bones.” Many thought the

region was named after the bandits that used to run rife through these valleys, who

gnawed on cow jawbones. Or they assumed the name referred to the abundant dinosaur

fossils discovered here.

Neither was correct. The basilisk young killed by ripping the jaws from the heads of those

human sacrifices.

The archeologists who dug here didn’t understand that not all the dinosaurs were

embedded in rock yet. They would explore, deeper and deeper, and then a team would be

eaten, and the government would say they were lost in a flash flood—

No more scales flexing. Silence. In the lull, Kaderin’s ears twitched, detecting footsteps—

running, with a quick footfall but heavy in weight. Bowen. It had to be.

She’d known they would have a confrontation and had suspected the high point value of

this task might attract him. But she’d been greedy for those points as well, and there were

two eggs. Ah, but just to make things more interesting, Cindey was on her way here as

well. Kaderin had spied her renting a Jeep in San Luis, the closest town, just before she

herself had set out.

A sudden quake of the entire tunnel. A basilisk was angered and ready to kill, signaling its

fury by swatting its massive tail against the tunnel walls. Each hit sent boulders tumbling,

forcing Kaderin to run around them, leaping and dodging, shuffling her feet through the

ancient bones.

Though basilisks were fearsome, they moved slowly in their hive, and she knew she could

kill one, possibly two, at a time. But she didn’t want to—she had an affinity for monsters.

Kaderin herself was a bedtime warning to low-creature young in the Lore: “Eat your

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) grubs, or Kaderin the Cold will sneak under your bed to steal your head.”

Turning back for the entrance, she sprinted past walls with ghostly cave paintings until she

reached the three-way junction at the entryway. The sun was shining a welcome,

illuminating a different type of cave painting there. Before being sealed in, each sacrificial

victim had been given a reed filled with a type of paint. She would place her hand against

the wall, blowing the paint around it, leaving the outline. The handprint was the only

monument she ever received. There were thousands of them—

Kaderin caught sight of Bowen across from her.

A face-off. Time seemed to slow. He’d taken out half of the competitors, and all of the

strongest ones except for Lucindeya and Kaderin and Sebastian. She knew he sought to

remedy this with her right now.

His eyes glowed in the dark—just as hers did—and his expression was full of menace. A

jagged cut marred his face and showed no sign of regeneration. Exhaustion seemed to

weigh on his shoulders. The witch’s curse. It was true.

Her head jerked to the right—the direction of her only escape.

When he began sprinting to the entrance, she recognized immediately what he intended—

imprisoning her just like the others. She dug her toes into the gravel, shooting forward

into a focused charge.

She was fast for a Valkyrie, but even cursed, he beat her there. In the sun once more, he

glanced up. She’d be able to escape before he could bring down the rocks, she’d be able

to—

Casting her a cruel smirk, he dug into his jeans pocket. Dread settled over her. He slid out

that diamond necklace. She hadn’t bothered to train against this...

It glittered in the desert sun, radiating sharp blue and white points of light. I revealed my

weakness, handed it to him. Entrancing light, seemingly endless.

He tossed it in her direction. Just to touch it... When it was still in the air, her gaze locked

on it, following it down until it landed at her feet on the loose gravel. She froze,

transfixed, dropping to her knees as though praying to the stunning necklace. Something

so fine couldn’t be left in the dirt. Not this. She scooped it up with both hands, running her

thumbs lovingly over the stones.

She could hear Bowen straining outside, cursing in Gaelic, could hear his claws scraping

down boulders to dislodge them. But she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

Not until the cave went dark in a series of deafening booms, and the glittering ceased.

That morning, Sebastian had left Kaderin sleeping peacefully. Then, as usual, he’d traced

to her flat to shower and drink.

As he dressed, he’d reflected that he’d made no discernible progress with Kaderin over the

last week. If for no other reason, he needed to go to Blachmount because he was ignoring

a resource he badly needed—his brother was wed to a Valkyrie. One who was blood-

related to Kaderin. Which meant information there for the taking.

Once he’d forced blood down, he traced to Nikolai’s shuttered office, finding him

perusing papers. Though usually so reserved, Nikolai didn’t bother hiding his pleasure at

Sebastian’s arrival. He quickly stood and said, “Sit. Please.”

Sebastian took the seat he indicated, but being back here again made his shoulders knot

with tension.

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“We’ve heard you entered the Hie,” Nikolai said, taking his own seat once more. “The

first vampire ever to do so. We were quite astonished.”

Sebastian shrugged.

“Myst goes on the computer each day and checks the results. She has a half-sister in the

competition. Is she your Bride?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Kaderin.”

“Myst has told me Kaderin is—how did she put it?—‘gorgeous to a near freakish degree.’

And a stalwart fighter.” His tone hopeful, Nikolai asked, “Do you love her?”

“No. But I recognize that she is mine. And that I am meant to protect her.”

“It’s enough. More will come with time,” Nikolai said. “We’ve wondered what made you

decide to represent Riora.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I align with no one, and she demanded that. It was a gamble.”

“You could have said the Forbearers or King Kristoff.”

Sebastian felt his expression tighten. King Kristoff. Sebastian had never been able to

understand how Nikolai could have died at the hands of Russians, then, on the same

blood-wetted battlefield, sworn allegiance to Kristoff—who was a Russian, vampire or

not.

“It was only an observation. The invitation to join us is always open.” Nikolai added,

“Every single time I kill a red-eyed vampire, I am glad that I did.”

“You’ve encountered them?” Sebastian asked.

“I’ve warred against them. We are gaining momentum.” Nikolai steepled his fingers.

“Sebastian, I’ve always respected your intelligence. We would welcome your counsel

gladly. After the Hie, naturally.”

After experiencing Kaderin’s dreams, fighting against the Horde began to have distinct

appeal, but Sebastian planned to take Kaderin somewhere away from constant war and

death. The last thousand years of her life might have been hellish, but he’d be damned if

he’d allow the next thousand to be. He said simply, “Don’t plan on my participation.”

Nikolai nodded, but Sebastian knew this was far from over. “About this competition, and

the rumored prize,” Nikolai began. “Have you thought about using it to save our family?”

Of course, Sebastian had. Even after all this time, the guilt was unrelenting. When called

to protect his family, he’d failed—five successive times. “I don’t believe it will work,”

Sebastian said. But if it would, if he could somehow undo the past...

It wasn’t reasonable to blame himself, it wasn’t logical, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Conrad had felt the same—before he’d lost his mind, at least.

The aristocracy of Sebastian’s culture was raised to revere the military and to fight. Yet

fate had given him an invisible enemy bent on wiping out his family, for which there was

no defense, no battle. He’d had to sit, watching impotently, as everything he loved died.

Sebastian had been a favorite big brother to four younger sisters. He’d been nearly old

enough to be their father and was essentially more of one than their own preoccupied

father. With each of their little crises, they’d run to Sebastian. He’d plucked splinters and

dried tears. He’d taught them science and astronomy.

When they fell sick and their young minds had comprehended they might actually be

dying, they’d looked to him to fix it.

And seemed bewildered when he couldn’t. As if, instead, he wouldn’t.

“You can’t go into the past to change the future,” Sebastian said absently. “Not without

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) creating chaos.” Part of him had wanted to believe in the key even though it flew in the

face of reason, and even though the goddess had no evidence that time travel was

possible.

But if Sebastian allowed himself to believe he could get his family back and then had his

hopes disappointed... He didn’t think he could take losing them twice. To this day, he

couldn’t bear to remember the night they’d died. Seeing the despair in their eyes, and then,

when he and Conrad had fallen, to hear their faint, terrified cries.

Both he and Conrad had wanted to die that night with their family. The country was in

shambles, wracked by plague and famine. They were done. They’d fought, they’d done

their best. They should have been allowed to die.

And their sisters? They’d been as delicate and fair as the four older brothers were dark and

fierce and would have starved before they voluntarily tasted blood. They couldn’t even

have contemplated it. “Why did you try to turn the girls?” Sebastian asked. He had no

anger in his tone, but now that he was steady and rational, he wanted to hear Nikolai’s

reasoning. He wanted—for the first time—to understand it.

“I had to,” Nikolai bit out, averting his gaze, but not before Sebastian saw his eyes had

wavered black. “The thought of them dying so young tormented me.”