No Rest for the Wicked (5 page)

Nïx snared one of the few untouched books from the floor, then sat on her bed. He caught

the title—Voodoo Lou’s Office Voodoo Kit: Take Charge of Your Career... with

Voodoo! “And why would I assist the leech, hmmm?”

Myst’s green eyes flashed with anger. She still called other vampires leeches and didn’t

care if her sisters did, but, as she’d said to Nikolai, “It’s a double insult to call you one. If you’re a leech and you like to drink from me, what does that make me? A schmuck? A

suckah? Do I look like a host to you?”

Myst leaned back on Jeff Probst and drew a knee up. “You’ll help us because I’m asking

you to and you owe me for keeping a juicy secret from the coven.”

Nïx made a scoffing sound as she ripped her sharp claws through the voodoo book. “What

secret?” She yanked up another tome—The Crutch of Modern Mysticism—flexed her

claws, then seemed to think better of completely mauling it, instead ripping out several

pages, one with the chapter heading “Why It’s Easier to Believe.”

“Remember the year 1197?” Myst asked.

“ B.C . or A.D .?” Nïx said in a bored tone as she began an intricate creasing of a book

page. Origami? A form started to emerge.

“You know I’m only circa A.D .”

“ A.D . 1197?” Nïx murmured with a frown, then her face colored. Her expression turned

mulish, and her fingers began flying over the paper, deftly folding. “Not sporting to bring

that up. And one more time—I thought he and all of his pack mates were of age!” When

her fingers stilled, she placed the perfect form on her bedside table. It resembled a dragon

poised to attack. “Do I bring up your unpleasantries? Do I call you Mysty the Vampire

Layer like the rest of the Lore does? Like the nymphs do?”

Myst clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, woe, the nymphs have shunned me. I weep

bitter tears.” Her face hardened in an instant. “What information do you need from us to

help you see something?”

With a huffish flip of her heavy braid, Nïx turned from Myst to Nikolai and asked, “Why

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) do you want to find them?” She started another origami without looking, this one

requiring four pages from the Crutch book.

“I want to know if they’re alive or dead. To know if I can help them and bring them back

home.”

“Why did they leave?” The way she studied him was almost invasive. Her fingers were so

fast they were nearly invisible, making the paper appear to fold of its own accord.

He put his shoulders back, hating having to be so open with her. “Sebastian was enraged

that I turned him against his will. Both were furious that I tried to turn four young sisters

and our elderly father when they were dying.” Myst studied him, nibbling her lip, knowing

how reluctant he was to speak of this. “I have no doubts that they went away only to get

strong enough to come back and kill me.” Because both had tried just before they left.

Sebastian had woken with that terrible hunger that Nikolai remembered so well. When

they’d placed a tankard of blood in front of Sebastian, he couldn’t drink it fast enough.

But once he’d comprehended what he’d done, he’d lunged for Nikolai’s throat...

Nikolai had waited months at Blachmount for them to return, uncaring if either attempted

it once more. Each day they didn’t return made him wonder if they could fend for

themselves, gathering blood each night—without drinking humans. Without killing.

Never lowering her gaze from his face, Nïx finished a twisting shark and placed it by the

dragon creature. He found his eyes drawn to the shapes again and again.

“You knew they would be angry?” Nïx asked.

After a hesitation, he admitted, “I did. But I turned them anyway.”

When Myst saw him exhale wearily, she began relaying to Nïx everything he’d told her of

his brothers. Granted a reprieve, Nikolai yet again justified his decision to himself. That

night, seeing Sebastian about to die had made Nikolai realize how much Sebastian

especially had missed out on. All he’d wanted was a family and a place to live in peace.

Sebastian had never had a chance to find either—he hadn’t yet lived—and Nikolai

couldn’t accept that.

As a lad, Sebastian had shot to his full height of six and a half feet early, without the

weight and muscle that would come a year or two later. Though he’d been rangy and

awkward, Sebastian had almost fared better before his body had caught up with his height.

After that, he hadn’t known what to do with his size, with his incredible strength that grew

every day. He’d accidentally blackened more than one girl’s eye with his elbow and

actually had broken one’s nose that way. He’d stepped on so many toes that the village

girls joked that they wouldn’t walk near him without “clogs and fortitude.”

But the worst occurred when he and Murdoch had been running in the village, most likely

doing some mischief of Murdoch’s, and Sebastian had collided with a woman and her

young daughter. He’d laid both of them flat, knocking the air from their lungs. A

disturbing experience in itself, but once the woman and girl got their breaths back, they’d

screamed bloody murder.

Sebastian had been appalled at himself. From the time he was a small boy, he’d always had

a shy bent, and things like this made it much worse. He’d become unsure around all

women, without the smooth charm of Murdoch or the indifference of Conrad.

At thirteen, Murdoch had had a devilish grin that had already earned him entrance under

many women’s skirts in the village. At the same age, Sebastian had been the quiet lad with

a sweating fistful of crushed wildflowers that would never make it to their intended.

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) So he’d turned to his studies. Incredibly, even after he’d trained for war since he was old

enough to hold a wooden sword, Sebastian’s mind was the strongest part of his body.

He’d written treatises and scientific papers, which garnered him the notice of some of the

great minds of the time—

“You’ve seen something,” Myst said, bringing Nikolai from his thoughts.

“I can tell you where Murdoch is.”

“I saw him only yesterday,” Nikolai grated. Murdoch lived at Mount Oblak , a castle

seized from the Horde. It was the new Forbearer stronghold, so Nikolai traced there most

days.

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Nïx began in a sarcastic tone. “Murdoch is right where you left

him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” At her blank look, he said, “About Murdoch—what did

you mean?”

“Did I say something? What did I say? How am I supposed to keep track of what I said?”

He was losing patience. “Damn it, Nïx, I know you could tell us where they are.”

Her eyes went wide as she breathed, “Are you psychic, too?”

Sometimes he really hated his in-laws.

“Nïx, I need you to help with this,” he said, biting out the words. As a former general in

the Estonian army, and a current one with the Forbearers, he was used to giving orders—

and having them obeyed with alacrity. This... this asking for things was excruciating.

Yet now Nïx concentrated only on her craft, until she’d folded what looked like an

intricate fire, gingerly placing it next to the other two. More pages ripped free, folding at

an even faster rate. Nikolai found his attention riveted to the creations that she seemed

compelled to make.

Moments later, she’d wrought a baying paper wolf. Four shapes placed as though for a

storyboard. Myst spared them no more than a glance, but Nikolai was enthralled.

“Nïx, try harder!” Myst snapped, and Nikolai shook himself, forcing his gaze away.

“I can’t see Conrad!” she snapped back, and lightning struck nearby.

“What about Sebastian?” Myst said. “Tell us anything.”

“Anything? Well, what do I know?” Nïx frowned. “What do I know? Oh! I know what I

know!”

Nikolai paced impatiently, gesturing with his free hand for her to continue.

She shrugged. “Right now, your brother Sebastian is bellowing at someone outside a

castle, demanding that they return to him, wishing it with everything that he is.” She

smiled, as if pleased with herself for seeing so much, then gave a quick clap. “Oh! And his

skin just caught fire!”

5

W
hy would she run from me?

Repeating this agonizing question over and over in his mind, Sebastian scuffed through the

pouring rain and the puddles of water along the main street of the deserted village.

At sunset, just as he’d set out to search for her, the rain had begun. Even now, hours later,

it still fell with a pounding force, visibly eating away at the cobblestone grout. It struck his

burned face and hands, but he hardly perceived it.

What the hell had happened? He’d just been feeling the centuries-old weariness lifting,

disappearing with her arrival. Now it had returned doubled.

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“Don’t!” he’d bellowed to her. Before he’d been forced to trace back, she’d turned to

him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She’d seen his pain, his skin beginning to burn.

Her expression had become stricken. He’d seen that look before. It was the same one

soldiers had a split second after a cannon blast had landed too close—as if they simply

couldn’t assimilate what had just happened.

Why did she run? What did I do wrong?

He’d searched all night, scouring the empty streets and the entire valley. He’d traced to

the airport, but he knew she was long gone.

As were the denizens of this village. Only a dog howled in the background. Though

Sebastian had avoided humans since he’d been turned, he was fully prepared to question

them now. He was desperate to. If they had information about his mysterious Bride, he’d

become the thing they feared in order to get it from them.

Yet they had disappeared. Even the home of the butcher who secretly sold him blood and

occasionally transacted for clothing and books was darkened and empty. Apparently,

she’d warned them that he’d be searching for her with a vengeance.

Again and again, Sebastian contemplated what he knew about his mysterious Kaderin. At

times he thought her too beautiful, too perfect, a vision who existed only in his fantasies.

He had been alone for so long...

And had been mad in the past.

But if he thought he’d imagined the entire thing, he had a glaring bruise on his chest and

rents in his shirt from where her claws had dug into his back and his arms. God, she was

fierce, his Bride, and even now he was hard for her.

Never before had he felt such lust. No woman had ever stirred him to anything like this.

Surely the desire for her was stronger because he’d abstained for so long. That had to be

it. He hadn’t even taken her.

Hell, he hadn’t even seen her naked body or touched her skin.

He shook his head, flushing yet again at his behavior with her. He was in no way

experienced, but he knew enough to know that what they’d done was... irregular.

In his entire life, he’d had sex fewer than half a dozen times, with just two women, if you

could call it that with the second. Sebastian had never been inclined to charm ladies, but

even if he hadn’t been quiet and introspective, there simply hadn’t been time, opportunity,

or, more important, women to have.

His family’s home of Blachmount had been secluded from towns and markets. Any

attractive farmers’ daughters within a hundred miles had been hopelessly in love with—

and most likely enjoying—Sebastian’s rakish brother Murdoch. Which excluded them

forever from Sebastian’s interest. He could never have compared with Murdoch’s

experience, and he’d dreaded looking down as he took a woman and knowing that she

was thinking the same.

If not Murdoch, Sebastian still had to compete with two other older brothers.

Then came the war.

Sebastian’s forgettable—or disastrous—experiences had not prepared him in any way for

Kaderin’s passion. She had been as frantic as he was. He couldn’t even imagine what she

would be like naked and writhing beneath him. His erection throbbed at the idea, and he

cursed it.

She’d urged him on and then reveled in his strength, like some wild creature. Which

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) reminded him that not only did he not know her full name or how to contact her—he

didn’t even know what her species was.

If only he understood more about this world he now inhabited, the Lore. He was as

ignorant of it as he was of modern human culture.

When he had awakened from the dead all those years ago, Nikolai and Murdoch had tried

to explain what they knew of the Lore, which was little—they’d only been turned recently

themselves. Sebastian hadn’t listened. What good would their teaching do him if he was

going to walk into the sun anyway?

For all these years, he’d avoided Blachmount, instead residing in the one country where no

one would have thought to look for him. What if he returned now? Could he even predict

what he would do if he faced Nikolai?

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian caught sight of something. He twisted around to find