No Rest for the Wicked

14

At sunset, when Sebastian traced to find his Bride and his skin flash-froze, he realized the goddess had duped him.

He'd spent the entire day in Kaderin's townhouse, having traced from the temple to London, then hailed a cab. Just minutes before dawn, Sebastian had arrived at the address Scribe had finally surrendered, then traced inside.

In her home, after drawing all the curtains, he'd discovered he could, in fact, "listen out of the corner of his ear" to TV while he speed-read through newspapers. Yet he'd discovered nothing new about Kaderin from her Spartan, nondescript living space. If he hadn't smelled her scent on her silk pillow and finally found a collection of weapons, shields, whips, and manacles in a closet, he might have wondered if Riora and her Scribe had even given him the correct address.

And now this.

"Low-hanging fruit," Riora had said. "She'll stay close by Europe," she'd reassured Sebastian. Yet he'd appeared in the wake of an unwieldy vehicle choking out black smoke as it crawled over an icy plain.

His Bride was doubtless in that vehicle, and tracing to her had taken him very far from "close by Europe." With fumbling fingers, he dug the scroll from his pocket, then scanned the ten choices. Antarctica.

He could see the tips of his fingers blackening from near instantaneous frostbite. Bloody hell. Fortunately, Antarctica was dark twenty-four hours a day this time of year; unfortunately, it was bloody cold. This was something for a man who'd been raised along the Baltic Sea to say. He needed coverage against the elements—more than the mere coat and gloves he'd bought last week.

In an instant, he traced to one of the clothing stores he'd purchased from, sure to appear in a dressing room—which luckily did not have another customer in it. After grabbing insulated gloves and layers of clothes to go under a heavy trench coat, he noted the name of the store to send payment to and exited the same way.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back again in the wake of the same vehicle, though it seemed he could have thrown it farther than it had traveled.

He wrapped a black wool scarf over his ears and face, then pulled out the scroll once more. Within the highest peak in the Transantarctic mountain range was a couloir, an ice tunnel. Inside the couloir were three amulets.

Kaderin was traveling to the mountain range towering over this plain, so that must be it. He traced to the highest overhang he could make out on the tallest mountain. From that vantage, he saw one even higher up and traced there.

Directly in front of him—a tunnel. He traced within it as far as he could see, reached the end of the first straightaway, turned left, and progressed to the next end. He easily covered ground this way. Yet even dressed in heavy clothing, he was still suffering from frostbite at his extremities, then healing from it in grueling intervals.

A narrow ledge marked the end of the tunnel, and atop it were the three small amulets that looked like jagged mirrors carved from ice. He grasped the one he intended for Katja, then traced back to the overhang to scan for her.

As he waited, he gazed out over the alien scene. He'd never imagined a landscape like this. During his human life, Antarctica had been a rumor, an impossibility.

Here the stars didn't glint but were motionless and dead like the static photographs he'd seen everywhere in London. The moon didn't rise and set, but in the half hour he'd been here, it had floated farther to the left over the horizon.

He wouldn't have been able to see this preternatural scene if he'd died. He wouldn't be waiting anxiously for his Bride.

What to say to her?

Suddenly, two helicopters roared overhead, circling before landing at the base of the mountain. Curious, he traced down. Two other competitors were organizing ropes to climb to the slender overhang. A plan formed. If Kaderin thought he was quiet and unassuming—well, he was most of the time—but if she thought that was all that he was, he was about to surprise her.

Kaderin swore imaginatively with every foot she climbed higher up the rock face, irritation running rife in her.

She mimicked Regin's voice to say, "Why, they must have a thermoelectric anti-icing system!"

Regin had never riled her like this before. Kaderin had always been one of the few older Valkyrie who could tolerate her for long periods of time. But Regin had to play "Radar Love" at least eight times. As if they were chugging along fast enough to merit a song like that. The Cadillac-o-Snowcats redlined at ten miles per hour.

Regin played "Low Rider" just as many times. If Kaderin heard that freaking cowbell one more time...

When they'd finally crawled to the base of the mountain, it had seemed there was a parking lot of choppers. But no one could climb faster than Kaderin could, including Regin, so she'd been left behind, happy to guard the snowcat and "rock out."

Kaderin had to keep telling herself that she would pass whoever had already started out. That she hadn't yet was peculiar.

She slammed one of her ice axes harder than she needed to, and it spiked through ice and met rock, sending vibrations up her aching arm and numb fingers.

Focus. She was just thirty or so feet from the highest overhang. Get in, get out. Vodka-laced Russians held her fate in their human hands.

But she was having to work for this one. Though she was only at about twelve thousand feet, the air at the poles was thinner, making it feel like a much higher altitude, and she carried a large, unwieldy pack of diverse gear.

Her secret for winning the Hie all these times? Well, besides merciless brutality to all competitors?

She was always prepared for anything—

A sudden wind howled past the mountain. Katabatic?

She was tossed fully horizontal, gritting her teeth, clinging to her twisting axes.

Sebastian lost his breath when the wind gusted, flinging Kaderin to her side, just below him.

He traced to her in an instant, seizing her coat, but came back to the ledge empty-handed. He tried once more, boomeranging back with nothing.

Only on his third attempt did he snatch her back with him.

She evinced little reaction that he'd traced her—or that he was beside her on a different continent at the bottom of the world.

Her gloved hands still clutched two ice axes, and her sword was sheathed across her stuffed pack. She had wickedly sharp ice cleats attached to her boots, the front spikes jutting like a rattlesnake's fangs.

When the wind died a second later, she briefly looked heavenward. "I had that."

"Maybe." His chest was heaving, and he hadn't shaken his alarm. "Why in the hell couldn't I take you back at first?"

Catching her breath, too, she answered, "I had a good grip on my axes." She stowed them in string loops on the sides of her pack. "Understand, vampire, if I fight you, you can't trace me. I'm far too old, and too strong."

Old and strong? She could not appear less so. He was struck again by how small she was. Standing a foot shorter than he was, she seemed so fragile, and yet she was laden with that pack. She looked as if she'd fall backward under the weight, and he didn't want to let go of her. She was winded from the climb and miserable, and for what reason? None. He could have traced her to this summit in the blink of an eye.

"Why did you fight me?" he demanded. "You were about to fall."

"Only if my axes failed, and I do believe they held out, even when a hulking vampire was yanking at me." Between puffs of breath, she asked, "How'd you get here before me?" But she was already peering around him, demonstrating her true interest. "You were in the Norwegian helicopter, weren't you?"

"I've never been in a helicopter. I traced to you."

"Vampires don't have that ability."

"I do. I thought of you as my destination. It's how I found you at the Hie assembly." Without any more acknowledgment, she began to pass around him, but he stepped in her way. "If you had allowed me to help you, I could have accompanied you here. You could have pointed to the summit and I would have traced you there an instant later."

As he had done with her competitors, in exchange for information about her.

She shrugged. "I like climbing."

"Clearly. You look... invigorated."

At his sarcastic tone, she straightened her hat over her braids, then dropped her hands with a scowl.

He exhaled heavily. I haven't insulted her enough in the last day?

"Move out of the way." She sidled around him, but he blocked her once more. "I don't have time for this."

"No, I have to talk to you. Obviously, you want to win this, for whatever reason. And I want to provide for you whatever you wish for. So, desist, and let me win this for you. You know I will give you the prize at the end." Useless though it might be. He stifled his irritation that she believed in this so blindly.

"Give me?" Her eyes flashed. "The vampire will give me the prize?"

That was probably not an optimal way of phrasing—

"You don't even know enough to know how ridiculous I find your words. I am proud and notoriously malicious, yet you think I'd allow you to make a gift of what I can rightly take?"

Definitely not going as he'd envisioned.

"Now, stand aside. More are ascending as we speak."

If she could be ruthless, he could as well—and he had been prepared to be. "There are no prizes left. I have the last one of the three."

Her lips parted.

"I suspected there might be problems and that I might need leverage. So I traced the siren and a ground dweller to the cavern behind us. Now there is one prize available to you—and it appears you will be accepting it as my gift to you."

Just then, Lucindeya the siren strolled out with her amulet, holding it above her heart. It disappeared. And for a moment, the area smelled of fire and damp woods.

"Thanks, vamp. Remember what I said," she purred, then cast a look of triumph at Kaderin. Lucindeya had confided to him that it would gall Kaderin to be assisted in spots of trouble. He'd assumed the siren simply didn't want a vampire helping her competition, but Lucindeya had said that she would love to see Sebastian win Kaderin, because "nothing would bring down the high and mighty Kaderin like falling for a leech."

She'd sworn to the Lore—which she and the kobold seemed to take very seriously—that the surest way to lose Kaderin would be to help her, especially in a physical contest. So when Sebastian had first discovered Kaderin climbing, he'd had to stop himself from tracing her to the top, though he was sweating with fear for her.

Then he'd seen her flung sideways like a rag doll.

Kaderin eyed the siren, then turned to him. "You'd better hope Cindey doesn't hum you a tune unless you want to be her lapdog."

"Please, Valkyrie," Lucindeya interrupted as she readied for her descent, pulling gear from her pack. "As if I'd even clear my throat to snare a vampire." She flashed a smile up at Sebastian as she hammered her anchor and threaded line. "No offense, vamp." And then she began rappelling down.

Once she was out of sight, Kaderin glanced past him, and her eyes widened. Sebastian turned to spy the kobold shambling down the long ice tunnel, his jaunty whistle echoing along the couloir.

When Sebastian had asked the kobold if Kaderin was married or had children, the kobold had revealed that as far as anyone knew, she was single and had not "issued offspring." Sebastian didn't know how much credence he could give to the kobold's words, since he'd also sworn that Kaderin didn't eat or drink—anything.

Sebastian turned back and found Kaderin had gone perfectly still, her eyes locked on the ground dweller's every movement as he neared. It was as if a predator had spied prey.

Without glancing away, Kaderin said, "Do you know that I hate kobolds almost as much as vampires? And Cindey was my stiffest competition at the last Hie." She finally faced Sebastian. "So if you wanted to piss me off, you've succeeded."

"Kaderin, that was not my intention."

A branch of lightning struck in the distance across a cloudless night. He now knew that it came from her. "You've put me in an untenable position." Removing her gloves, she neared until she was toe-to-toe with him. "And do you know what else you've done?" She reached up her delicate hand and gently brushed the back of her smooth claws down the side of his face. Just as he was about to close his eyes, she continued, "You've underestimated a Valkyrie."

Like a blur, she dropped down to a crouch, one leg straight out, sweeping around to stab the kobold through the throat with her cleats. As she rocked closer to the trapped creature, her arm shot out, then she gave her leg a decisive yank back to dislodge the being.

She was on her feet again in the blink of an eye, amulet in hand. Sebastian couldn't speak. Giving him a bored look, she leisurely curled one finger around it at a time and held it over her heart. Until it was... gone.

The kobold lay writhing, hands clamped to its throat and gushing yellow blood.

When it continued to thrash, she exhaled impatiently—then shuffled her foot at it, brushing it over the edge to fall thousands of feet. As Sebastian stared in shock, she tilted her head. Then, as if thinking, While I'm here... , she plucked the siren's anchor out of the rock. She yanked until she'd dislodged the next one down as well, then let go. A scream carried on the wind.

Stunned by her sudden viciousness, he snapped, "I was responsible for this. Why not take the prize I hold?"

"They'd been warned." She yanked out her ice axes. "But next time, I will take yours. I promise you."

Then she simply dropped from the ledge.

He dove for her, reaching out, but she'd disappeared. He caught sight of her as she snagged a lip with her axes five hundred feet down.

Just as he traced to that ledge, she freed herself with a violent heave and plummeted once more, before catching with a jerk lower down. A roar of breath left his body, and he sagged when he saw her reach the base.

With a glare up at him, she tossed the axes and sprinted for her vehicle.