Dreams of a Dark Warrior

really thought about the pressure Nïx might be under. If the bat made her happy and calmed her, then …
Welcome to the family, Bertil.
    In a prickly tone, Nïx said, “And yet all anyone talks about is how the Enemy of Old is making power plays in the Lore. His power plays are
child’s play
compared to mine.”
    Like Nïx, Lothaire the Enemy of Old was one of the oldest and most powerful beings in the Lore. But the vampire was pure evil.
    Nïx sniffed, “Lothaire’s no saner than I am.”
    As Regin opened her mouth to correct her, Nïx amended, “Not
much
saner.”
    “There, now.” Regin reached over to pat Nïx’s shoulder, but that bat hissed at her. “Why don’t you hook up with someone, cozy away with a male for a few weeks? Weren’t you seeing Mike Rowe?”
    “I do miss that baritone-voiced rapscallion.” Nïx sighed. “But above all else, I’m a career woman. I’ve no time to dally.”
    “You could take just a short vacay, you know? See some sights.”
This might be one of the most lucid conversations I’ve ever had with Nïx.
    “I’m three thousand and three years old.” Nïx turned her vacant gaze out the window. “I’ve seen
everything
—” She sat up, eyes wild. “Squirrel!”
    Strike
lucid
. “Hey, I know, you could come with me to find Lucia!”
    “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found just yet. You know she’ll call you before the final showcase showdown with Cruach. For now, I’ve told you she’s with MacRieve.”
    “
With
with? ’Cause I refuse to believe that yet another Valkyrie is making time with a werewolf.” Much less the prim and proper Lucia.
    The earthy Lykae revered sex and matehood; Lucia’s magical skill with a bow was celibacy-based. If she got horizontal with a guy, she’d get kicked out of the Skathians, losing her archery forever. Which she needed to fight Cruach.
    Hence the fleeing from MacRieve and all.
    “Refuse or accept, I call ’em like I see ’em,” Nïx said. “Now, I have just one final task for you in the Quarter. I need you to go take out some adversaries. Make it an example killing.”
    “Example killing? Must be Tuesday. And you’re not going to get in on the action?”
    Nïx blinked at her, aghast. “Who will sit Bertil?”
    Regin groaned.
    “Besides, I’m going to visit Loa’s voodoo shop. She’s having an Accession sale. Everything must go.” She snickered.
    “If I do this, will you finally tell me how to find Lucia?”
    Another pet of the bat. “Don’t worry, dearling. You’ll fly out tonight. I promise.”
    “Are you talking to me or Bertil? Oh, me? Then, fine.” She gunned the car even faster, speeding toward the Quarter.
Lucia, I’m on my way … just hold tight.
“Tell me where my victims are.”

TWO

    L ate for what?
What the hell had the soothsayer meant? Declan was half-tempted to confront Nïx, but she was not to be engaged, by his commander’s order.
    So for now he bided his time, pursuing the pair of Valkyrie. Since his Humvee stood no chance of keeping up with Regin’s sports car and maniacal driving, he’d tracked her vehicle while he listened to their conversation—or what he could make out over the static. It was as if an electrical field had interrupted the relay.
    What he’d heard had made little sense to Declan—talk of berserkers and cannibals and some absent sister. All he knew for certain was that Regin had been dispatched to kill.
    Not who, not where, only why.
    An example killing.
    Historically her enemies were the vampires and certain species of demons. She might lead him to an entire nest of their kinds.
    Once he’d reached the Quarter, he quickly spotted Regin’s car, parked half on the street, half on the curb. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar car treated like junk. He’d throttle her just for abusing a car that fine.
    He parked a couple of blocks away, then hurried into the crowd, searching for the two. Though he was several minutes behind, he swiftly reencountered Regin sauntering down Bourbon Street alone.
    Easy enough to track her. She left a trail of slack-jawed men in her wake.
    And they reacted not only to her glowing skin. The Valkyrie walked with an otherworldly sensuality, her hips swishing in those low-cut jeans, her plump arse attracting male gazes like moths to a flame. Some men adjusted obvious erections or rubbed cheeks recently slapped by outraged girlfriends.
    As Declan trailed her, even he felt his shaft twitch, as if trying to stir for her—though his