Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

a hand on each side of the doorway. “As am I. We will find our way with this together. But you are my Bride.”
    She closed her eyes, struggling for calm. “You’re not my husband. And never will be.”
    “This can’t be random, Kaderin.”
    Enough. As she started for the door, she could sense apprehension building in him. They both knew the sun would protect her. All she had to do was get past him—
    Suddenly, she doubled over as sorrow for Dasha and Rika ripped through her like barbed wire dragged through her veins.
    “Kaderin?” He strode toward her. “Are you hurt?”
    Gulping air, she shoved her hand out to stop him before he reached her, and forced herself to stand. All Valkyrie were related, but she and her two sisters had been born together. Triplets. Inseparable for one thousand years, until two had died in battle. Because of Kaderin’s weakness...
    “Kaderin, just wait—”
    She charged for the door, but he traced back to it and held his ground. She feinted left and ducked right, moving so fast she knew he couldn’t make out her form. As he blinked, she swooped around him, bringing the sword handle crashing back into his chest, deciding at the last minute not to crack his sternum.
    He gave a bellow of fury when she barreled past him. She darted down a rotting landing, toward the three sets of winding stairs, running through massive cobwebs so thick he must have traced through them for centuries.
    Half staggering, half tracing, he was right behind her as she bounded down the stairs. But she pushed a hand on the railing and vaulted over to the next flight of stairs, then once again to the ground floor.
    With a hoarse yell, he leapt down behind her, lunging for her. At the last second, she shimmied out of his grasp, reaching the heavy front doors. She burst through them, wrenching them off their rusted hinges and sending splinters arcing into the air.
    Even outside under the morning sun’s protective watch, she didn’t slow. She raced down the valley toward the village—ragged breaths, leaves crackling beneath her boots, the warmth of the light. Don’t look back.
    Tears blurred her vision as she fought not to sob. The sorrow ached as unbearably as it had when she’d collected and buried the... pieces of her sisters. She ran away as if to forget that last night, as if to leave that memory back at that desolate castle. Don’t look back...
    After the burial, she’d torn at her hair and clawed at her skin, alternately shrieking with fury and grief and yearning for the oblivion of death herself. Exhaustion finally rendered her unconscious, and in that heavy sleep, an unknown power had communicated with her as a voice in her mind, promising surcease from the pain yet deadening all of her emotions.
    Then, as now, the pain was unbearable. Just as she had before, she prayed for mercy.
    But none came. Had Kaderin been forsaken? Had she angered the mysterious power? Don’t look back . But she did.
    The vampire had followed her.

Val Hall Manor, New Orleans,
    Home of the tenth of the twelve Valkyrie covens

    S ometimes Nikolai Wroth really hated his in-laws.
    He exhaled wearily as he accompanied his Bride, Myst the Coveted, to the expansive front porch of her former home. They’d just made it to the front steps when the first shriek sounded.
    He wasn’t surprised, having already learned that his mere vampiric presence would be enough to provoke this nest of Valkyrie.
    Though he was a Forbearer, he was often hated as much as Horde vampires—natural-born vampires, a faction that had warred with the Valkyrie since the first days of the Lore. In addition to killing his Bride’s kind, Horde vampires often imprisoned them and fed nightly on their exquisite blood.
    He understood their hatred of the Horde, and as a Forbearer, he shared it, having battled against them since he’d become a vampire. But this mattered little.
    Another scream, and then more followed. Nikolai still was unused to his in-laws’ shrieks. They liked to scream. Yet even if they had been silent, he would know their rage over his sensed presence, because the Valkyrie produced lightning with emotion, and right now the yard was like a minefield of exploding bolts.
    The many copper rods planted all around the grounds couldn’t contain such an onslaught. The ancient oaks surrounding the manor were lashed with ribbons of lightning and gave up their smoke, thicker than the fog.
    Did anything smell as odd as burning moss?
    He shook his