No Rest for the Wicked

11

At the gasps, Sebastian turned to ask what Thrane's Key was, then remembered none of these beings would speak to him.

Finally, Riora explained, "The wizard Thrane dabbled with time travel, and his key unlocks a door through time, enabling its possessor to go into the past. It is theoretically the most powerful weapon on this earth."

Sebastian was still much the human he once was, unversed in things from the Lore, but he was certain that the elemental traits of the earth were not different no matter who—or what—inhabited it. Physics was not different. Tracing, for instance, was possible by the laws of physics; time travel was not.

"How many times will the key work?" the Scottish bastard asked.

"Twice."

The gathering erupted in noise once more. Was this competition a scam of some sort? Why were they so quick to believe the female at the altar who spoke of time travel so blithely? Was this Riora truly a goddess? She seemed otherworldly, to be sure, but so did Kaderin.

He traced back toward the woman with the apple and the girl Mariketa. The others seemed not to notice him. The Scot kept him pinned and Kaderin ignored him.

The woman murmured to Mariketa, "The Valkyrie wants the key. Badly."

Kaderin looked the same to Sebastian—her face calm, her measured strokes on her sword never varying.

"How can you tell?" Mariketa asked.

"Cold Kaderin's giving off lightning. Valkyrie produce it with strong emotion."

Was that true? He glanced up through the glass dome and saw bolts painting the sky. The morning at his castle, he'd been so absorbed with her, so focused on keeping her there, that he'd noticed little else. Now, thinking back, he recalled thunder had been rumbling on a crystal-clear morning. He stared in awe. Did he find the lightning more fascinating because it was hers?

"She will be even more vicious than before," the woman continued. "We'll stay clear of her."

He dropped his gaze to Kaderin once more. He'd experienced her violence already, but vicious? She could not appear less so. Her blond hair curled gently over her slim 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. 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 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."