No Rest for the Wicked

38

The lights of Val Hall flared sharply, then guttered out.

Lightning slashed the sky, and thunder rattled the darkened manor so hard the old house groaned violently. Myst dropped to her knees just as Nïx's eyes went wild and her hands fisted in her hair. Emma wept.

When Regin shrieked, the windows burst, spewing shards, until even the wraiths fled. As though a bomb had hit, glass shattered in a radius outward from the manor, again and again, in successive waves for miles.

The Lore creatures in the city and swamps trembled in fear and knew of only one thing that could provoke the Valkyrie like this.

They'd felt the death of one of their own.

Dead. Sebastian knew she was dead, felt it in his entire body.

He loved her. Not compulsion. Love so strong it humbled him.

He stared down into the pit long after. How long could an immortal live in that flame? How much pain did she suffer?

What did she mean, "go back for them?"

A sudden dream washed over him. Kaderin was sprinting down a hill that was covered in bodies. He heard her ragged breaths and the warning shrieks from other Valkyrie. He experienced her roiling panic.

She fought past vampires, with dirty red eyes and grotesque snarls, desperate to get to... her sisters.

Sebastian was still caught by his trapped arm—the one he hadn't been able to sever in time—but he fell to his knees just as Kaderin had done on that battlefield all those ages ago when she witnessed her blood sisters being butchered. The shock was like a physical strike, leveling her. She heard her sisters' heads hit the stony ground. She saw the vampire—the one she'd just spared—dealing the blows...

When she shrieked, it was so loud her own ears bled. The young vampire Sebastian had seen her torturing in the dream had beheaded her sisters. Now that he'd felt her rage, her loss and guilt, he wished she'd shown even less mercy, wished he could have joined her in her retribution.

"So I can go back for them," she'd told him. Them. Triplets. Her blood sisters. She had lost them both in the space of minutes. That's what this entire ordeal had been about. Not mercenary, not ego. She wanted her family back. My God, she has trusted me with all their lives. She trusted that he could win the prize for her.

And that the key could work.

Sebastian had never dared to believe that one could go back in time. Now that belief was the only thing he had. He had to get her back. He could win this cursed thing and go back for her. Just as she'd planned.

She'd just died.

She'd just fucking died.

He couldn't see the cave she'd spoken of, but he'd trace blind into the rock if he had to. Need to lose the arm first.

Just as he decided to use his teeth, he heard footsteps.

MacRieve appeared. He studied the scene, his wasted face darkening. "What's happened here?"

Only then did Sebastian notice how much blood he'd lost from his arm. He suspected the brachial artery had been cut. Once the pressure of the boulder was removed, he'd lose more in a rush. Black spots already clouded his eyes. Did he have enough blood to lose his arm completely?

The Lykae could move the boulder. "A quake. Rocks," Sebastian told him, not daring to utter that Kaderin was gone, even if he hadn't been set on using the Lykae.

"Where's the Valkyrie?" the Lykae asked. "She ought to be here—not you."

"I'm here in her stead."

MacRieve began scanning farther into the chamber.

"You can't reach the prize," Sebastian told him. "It's across the lava, and the cable snapped."

As Sebastian had expected, he surveyed the pit, then said, "I could free you to trace me across. Then... an open contest to take it."

Don't look too eager. "I could double-cross you."

MacRieve narrowed his one eye. "No' if I've got a hold of your good arm."

Sebastian forced himself to hesitate, then said, "Do it."

The Scot crossed to the boulder and shoved at it, seeming confounded when it didn't immediately go. He muttered something that sounded like "Bloody, goddamned witches." Putting his back into it, he asked, "Where exactly are you tracing us?"

Sebastian explained, "Below the cable, there's a lava tube, a cave."

"I doona see anything," he gritted out.

"It's there. You want the prize? Then you're just going to have to trust a vampire—"

The boulder toppled over, and MacRieve grabbed his left arm. Sebastian gaped at what remained of his right arm.

"That's got tae hurt." MacRieve sneered.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Sebastian snapped.

"Aye." He hauled Sebastian to his feet. "And I plan to kill you for that. After this competition. Right now, I doona have all day."

Sebastian just prevented himself from rocking on his feet. His sight was blurred. He struggled to focus on the spot she'd described. Stay sane. Fuck, did she mean forty degrees to my left?

MacRieve jostled him. "Are you even going to be able to do this—"

Sebastian traced...

Sweltering heat, steam, smoke. Solid ground beneath them. Made it. Flames with no seeming source burned erratically, but Sebastian couldn't see the blade.

Suddenly, the Scot dropped his hold on Sebastian, sprinting deeper into the cave, but Sebastian traced blindly ahead. There, on a waist-high column of rock, lay the blade, gleaming in the light of more fires and wet with steam.

Sebastian got there first, snatched it with his good hand, tensed to trace—

Like a shot, MacRieve lashed a whip, coiling the length around Sebastian's wrist. He yanked down, preventing him from tracing. "I'll be taking that now."

The bastard only had one whip. Sebastian simply transferred the blade to his right hand to raise it. But that ruined arm hung lifeless.

"Canna quite make it to your heart, then?"

Sebastian bared his fangs savagely. "I'll gut you before you get this."

"That equals the life of my mate."

"I've the same on my mind," Sebastian bit out.

"The Valkyrie died?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Not for long."

Bowen must have seen something in his expression. He had the advantage, and yet he offered, "We could share it, vampire. The key works twice."

Blood everywhere. Weak. Kaderin had asked something of him. Finally given him a chance to help her... "I need both of those times for her." Can't raise my right arm over my heart. My left arm is trapped. But the blade had powers MacRieve likely didn't know of.

According to Riora, it never missed.

The knife he held was nowhere near the Lykae's whip hand, but Sebastian concentrated on his intention to cut him at the wrist and made the merest motion toward the end, all he could manage with that wasted arm.

Suddenly, his arm shot up. The blade rose as if of its own accord and flashed reflected firelight as it struck.

Blood spurted. The Scot's severed hand dropped. Freed from the whip, Sebastian traced the distance across the pit.

"I will fucking kill you for this, vampire," the Lykae bellowed with rage. "I will eat your goddamned heart!"

Sebastian steeled himself for the jaunt to Riora's temple. But he couldn't leave. Leaving made Kaderin's death real. Stay sane. This key has to work.

From the now unseen cave: "Mark me. So help me God, I will hunt you and the Valkyrie over the earth—"

Sebastian disappeared to the sound of the Lykae's roar—not of pain but of loss.

When Sebastian returned to the temple, Riora greeted him once again with Scribe in tow. "You have won, Sebastian. The first vampire to do so. Congratulations."

"This is for her. Always for her." His body wouldn't stop shuddering.

"Then sign the book of winners, and take your prize."

When Scribe handed him the book, he actually looked as though he respected Sebastian.

Kaderin's dead. Sign the book. Stay sane.

He saw his Bride's proud signature on every line above his own, so far back the lettering had changed. Over time, her handwriting had become harder, more angular. Stay sane. He signed his name with his left hand in shaking letters, stamping the page in blood.

Riora handed him a metallic key. He gripped it so hard it dug into his palm. "Tell me this works."

"It works, Sebastian. Though you may end up cursing it."

"How can you say that?"

"You know why Kaderin sought the key?" Riora asked.

He nodded slowly. "She wants her sisters back."

"If you give her the second turn of the key, she will return for her sisters and never see their deaths. She will be spared one thousand years of guilt and nothingness and instead enjoy contentment with her family."

"I want this!"

"Yet in this case, Kaderin will never be driven to journey out of her way to kill you. She will have her sisters"—Riora's eyes bored into his much as they had that first night—"but you will not have her."

He'd experienced Kaderin's memories of their deaths, of collecting her sisters from the battlefield. Burying their heads, their bodies, then clawing at her hair and skin.

If he could save her from that... to spare her a millennium of guilt?

As a mortal, he'd been a knight with no one to whom to pledge his sword. He'd claimed Kaderin for his own, and that meant protecting all she held dear. He lowered his head. "She will have her sisters." The flames flared as if to punctuate his words.

"Very well. The key unlocks a door for approximately ten minutes. It allows you to go back and to be in the same time as a previous self."

"How will the key know where to open?"

"In the end, the key is a facilitator," she explained. "You hold a tool of unspeakable power, Sebastian. Hold it out in your palm, and it will know what you must have and act to that end. But I warn you, if you get stuck in the past when the door closes, one version of you will fade, ceasing to be."

He saw Scribe in the background, his pale, waxen face showing his sorrow. He gave Sebastian a nod of encouragement.

Riora murmured, "Bring her forward, vampire."

He gave her a pained bow. "Goddess."