Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

can boast hearts of some fashion, cold though they may be.” She flashed a look at Kaderin, who raised an eyebrow, then continued, “The first two competitors to reach eighty-seven points go to the finals. The reason for this number is that there’s no reason. After that, it’s head-to-head for one last prize.”
    Riora perused the crowd—doing a double take at the vampire —before she went on to say, “There aren’t that many rules, but I’ll give you the biggest three. Number one: No outright killing of competitors until the final round. Though maiming, debilitating, and mystical or physical imprisonment are, of course, all acceptable.” She nodded eagerly as she added, “And encouraged.” She held up two fingers. “Number two: Only one prize per customer for each task. In other words, you can’t clean out the stash and leave nothing behind for everyone else. And last: Do not commit any act that will draw human attention to the Lore. This has become more important than ever in this day and age. You will be disqualified immediately and be subject to my... displeasure.”
    Flames beside her altar flared, lighting her menacing expression. Kaderin was among the few who knew that this seeming mask, so wild and feral, was in fact Riora’s true appearance.
    The fires fluttered as if from a breeze, and her façade grew pleasant once more. “For each competitor, I have a scroll at the altar with my shopping list. In any given one- or two-day period or so , the lists will update themselves at
7:43
, Riora Standard Time, which means that could be a jot irregular. With each update, you’ll be given a new slate of tasks to choose from to be completed in a specified time frame. When the new tasks appear, the old ones are rendered worthless. Be aware, though, that some prizes and tasks will repeat, if I really want them or am amused the first time you attempt them.”
    One of the nymphs in the back muttered, “Nereus, for one.” Nereus, the obscenely endowed sea god who took flesh in payment for his talismans, was a Hie regular.
    Scribe scowled; Riora ignored them. “Now, would you like to know what you’re competing for?” Everyone drew in. The temple fell silent. “The grand prize, as always, is priceless and powerful.” She paused for dramatic effect, and Kaderin tilted her head, curious about what she would be dragging back to her coven this time.
    She’d scored armor that couldn’t be pierced and a battle ax that could kill Lore beings without having to behead them—the usual way for immortals to die. But both had been given in tribute to the Valkyrie’s stalwart allies, the Furies. She’d won a choker that gave its possessor the siren’s song, but that was kept by the New Zealand coven. She’d earned an armband that made its wearer feel overwhelming sexual desire. No one knew where that one was, and that made more than one Valkyrie nervous.
    Riora’s gaze passed over her once more. Kaderin felt the weight of the moment, pressing down on her...
    “This Hie, you will compete for Thrane’s Key.”
    Kaderin’s cold heart stopped.

11
    A t 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