Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

his shrug, she said, “You’ll find out soon enough.” She headed back to her railing.
    “He called you a Valkyrie?” he asked quickly.
    She turned back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, so?”
    “Aren’t Valkyrie... bigger?”
    She gave him a look of disgust. “The vampire turning his nose up... ?”
    “No, I didn’t mean it like that—it’s merely difficult to believe, since you’re so small—”
    “Small? I’m almost five and a half feet tall—a very good size for a Valkyrie.” Then her expression became one of realization as she said, “I hate being called small.”
    Why couldn’t he have been allotted a fraction of Murdoch’s charm? “I want five minutes of your time.”
    “We both know you will never be satisfied with that. If I thought I could rid myself of you by giving you five minutes, it would be done.”
    “At least tell me why you abruptly ran from me. What brought about the extreme turn in you?”
    “I realized with perfect clarity that I want nothing to do with you.”
    He lowered his voice. “I refuse to believe that after what happened between us.”
    She seemed to be just barely holding on to her patience. “Look, if you somehow found out who I am in order to track me here, then you must know enough to know that I kill vampires. Period. That’s my job—that’s my life. And you are a vampire. Ergo... ”
    “Yet you couldn’t kill me that morning? Or even tonight upon seeing me? You’ve not done your job.”
    Her lips parted. “I chose to spare you—”
    “Why?”
    Now she seemed to grind her teeth—and to be struggling for an answer. Finally, she said, “Because I didn’t think it would be sporting.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “The vampires I kill usually disagree with my agenda.” She reached the rail, sitting once more. “They tend to fight back,” she added, drawing her sword from her sheath and laying it over her lap. “So, vampire, this runtling Valkyrie who sucks at her job is inviting you to go toss yourself—and declining further conversation.”
    “Toss?” A second later, he clenched his jaw. “I see.”
    From her leather jacket, she pulled out a diamond hone file and began sharpening the blade.
    “Katja... ”
    She concentrated on even strokes of her file, up and back.
    “Kaderin.”
    No response. Her body seemed to go wooden, and she appeared lost in the movements.
    In a flash, he realized two things. She found this task soothing, and for some reason, she needed to be doing it right at this moment. He knew she was done talking to him for now. He’d been completely shut out.
    It was then that he noticed the murmurs about her in the gallery, her name in whispers. His hearing was much more acute after his blooding, and his ability to trace without fully materializing was improved as well. One thing was certain—she was their favorite subject, and he could learn much. After one more fruitless attempt to speak with her, he forced himself to leave her, tracing down behind them, listening for any information.
    He heard elders in different factions explaining things to younger ones and discerned that they had gathered for a Lore scavenger hunt of sorts. All the people here were waiting to compete for some prize, as yet unrevealed.
    He moved past a trio who spoke only in guttural stops, toward another two—a normal-looking father and a very demon-looking boy, already speaking about Kaderin.
    “No one’s ever seen her smile,” the father said in a low voice, with a glance at her before his eyes darted away. Did they all fear her?
    Sebastian had seen her smile—and it had hit him like a booted kick to the groin that he hadn’t seen coming.
    The father continued, “She’s a mystery, that one. Drives males crazy.”
    I’ll attest to that.
    “Why’s she called Kaderin the Coldhearted?” the demon son asked.
    Is she?
    “Because she is cold. Merciless. Our people have a rule about never going after the same prizes as the Valkyrie.”
    Fascinated all over again, Sebastian muttered, “She is truly a Valkyrie.”
    When their talk turned to someone named Riora, he traced to another pair—a figure in a hooded cloak and an older woman carrying a red apple. “The Valkyrie shows up, you walk the other way, Mariketa,” the woman said. “Remember that always. Some say she warns once, but I’d rather not bet on it.”
    He couldn’t see this Mariketa’s face because of her hood, but her voice sounded young. “Isn’t she small for