No Rest for the Wicked (Immortals After Dark #3)(11)
Author: Kresley Cole

The last one threw a hit to Kaderin’s jaw that had her seeing double for a moment, but she blindly punched out and connected. Then she was back on her toes, sword gliding, thoughts whirring. As the two of them circled each other, Kaderin recalled the ultimate fall from grace. Just decades ago, a Valkyrie named Helen had had sex with a vampire, and then bore his child, Emmaline. Helen had died of sorrow – because the vampire had turned on her.

Another strike of her sword. The last one barely dodged it and cursed her.

"Goodness. I have never been called a bitch before." She wiped her sleeve over her face, and their eyes met.

Vampires turned. That was what they did. She hadn’t missed that Sebastian had hesitated with his mouth over her neck, even giving it a slow lick. He’d contemplated it.

Yes, eventually, even Sebastian would drink a victim to death, accidentally or not. His steady, clear gray eyes would grow dirty red with bloodlust, and the Horde would claim yet another soldier. Just like the one in front of her.

The thought had her charging forward with a shriek. She dipped and rolled, planting her sword up through his chest. Shooting to her feet, she snatched it back to swing for the head with a clean slice.

Her sword didn’t whistle, because air rarely perceived it in time.

Too easy, not worthy, she thought as she dropped down for his fangs. Four. Whoop-de-fucking-do. If they’d been fish, she’d have caught and released.

But she was back, and now her mind was clear regarding Sebastian Wroth. No longer did that vampire’s loneliness cling to her like the fog crawling on this city. With this clarity, she would be back to normal for the Hie in just two days. She would not be freaking out, as she’d predicted on her way to London. Nor would she be so sc-sc-screwed, as she’d figured.

No, here she was. Cold as ice.

From King’s Cross, she jogged back toward her place in Knightsbridge, her blood-soaked clothing cloaked in the night mist. Her courtyard townhouse was in the perfect location. Close enough to shopping – if Kaderin was ever moved to that – but it also backed into narrow and murky mews, which allowed her to enter the residence unseen. From the back, she bounded over her courtyard wall, let herself in, then dashed up the stairs.

Kaderin yanked off the clothes she’d filched from Myst, took an appraising glance, and tossed them onto the do-not-resuscitate laundry pile. She hopped into the shower, washing away all the blood.

As she lathered her hair, she didn’t think about the vampire. At all. She ignored questions about why he’d been in that castle and what exactly had made him want to end his forlorn existence. All that information, such as where he had been a warrior, was incidental.

After she won the Hie, and when she was ready, she’d return to finish him.

In the meantime, he would be searching for her. Vampires who’d found their… their Brides didn’t tolerate losing them. But he wouldn’t be able to find her, knowing nothing but her first name. The villagers would scurry away in fear before each sunset, staying away at night until she could return – or they would face her promised wrath.

And anyone else from the Lore who could reveal that information would run from the sight of him simply because he was a vampire. He was an outsider everywhere, with everyone, whether human or Lore creature. And while she competed in the Hie, he certainly wouldn’t be able to locate her. In the coming weeks, she’d never sleep in the same place twice and would be racing to the farthest reaches of the earth, obtaining prizes, jewels, and amulets.

She’d face him when she chose, and on her terms. Yes, everything was under control.

6

In the last three days, Sebastian had found it hellish to be around so many humans – a blood drinker, a predator, walking among them as if he were still one of them. Especially since women had begun gazing at him longingly, and even following him, to his consternation.

But he reminded himself what was at stake and completed task after task in anticipation of finding Kaderin, even as he had no idea how to do so. The villagers, his only lead, had disappeared, at least during the nights. Of course, she’d warned them.

After all this time away, he’d finally returned to Blachmount, and he’d been awed as ever by the old manor, even if it was as decrepit as his own holding. He’d dug up gold from his chests, then sold the coins in Saint Petersburg. Cash in hand, he’d bought clothing at the only place he knew wealthy men acquired clothing – Savile Row in London. He’d been to the port of London once when he’d been mortal and remembered it only vaguely. Yet one mental picturing of it put him there.

Money got him tailoring appointments after sunset, and each night before he set out in that city, he forced himself to buy and drink blood from the butcher.

He’d done these tasks because he wanted to become a man she could want. But he was also desperate for anything to keep his mind occupied. At every turn, he wondered where she was at that moment and if she was safe. She’d cried that morning, had doubled over in pain.

And he couldn’t find her.

Her accent had a tinge of a drawl, but that helped little in determining her place of origin. He couldn’t trace to her home country to begin a search, because he didn’t even know what continent she lived on. Besides, his brothers had told him that vampires could only trace to places they’d already been. If she wasn’t in Europe or Russia, then he couldn’t reach her.

Again and again, he’d thought, If only I could trace directly to her.

The idea that a vampire didn’t need to know how to get to a destination, only to envision it, didn’t make sense to Sebastian. He’d traced from Russia to London to buy clothing, but he couldn’t imagine the exact route. If merely seeing the location was the requirement, then why couldn’t a person be a destination?

What if there was more to tracing, and his brothers didn’t understand everything about it? They had been newly turned themselves all those years ago and had admitted their ignorance about so much in the Lore.

It might be that vampires traced to individuals every day…

Sebastian was unique among his family – he was the dedicated scholar, the one introspective son among four. In battle, Sebastian had used cunning as much as strength, relying on foresight as much as on past training. He was a thinker who liked to solve problems, and his father had instilled in him the belief that the mind was capable of unimaginable feats if one were strong enough to believe them possible.

And Sebastian needed to believe that tracing to her was possible. The alternative was to wait out the villagers, which was untenable.

His family had known he’d been courted by chivalric and church orders, as well as other secret sects of arcane knowledge, seeking to recruit him. What they didn’t know was that he’d accepted an offer with the Eestlane Brothers of the Sword, learning about the world from isolated Blachmount, corresponding with masters of physics, astronomy, all of the sciences. Eventually, he’d even sailed the Baltic and North Seas to be knighted in London.