Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

because it’s impossible for it to work!”
    Just when he wondered if rational discussion with her was possible, she suggested, “You should take this day to learn about Kaderin.”
    This definitely struck Sebastian as a worthy plan. “I would love to, but I lack the resources to learn anything.”
    “Resources abound. Kaderin likes the now, and Valkyrie are amused with evolving human culture. Yet you do not seem to know much about this time. Read as much as you can get through today. And listen to the TV out of the corner of your ear.”
    “TV. I don’t own one.”
    “I daresay Kaderin does, and I can say with certainty that she won’t be at her flat today.”
    Trespassing in his Bride’s home when she wasn’t there?
    “Scribe knows her address in London.” A look passed between them, and Scribe’s pale face seemed to darken as though flushed.
    “Yes,” Scribe said with a thinly veiled sneer. “If you go there, remember that Spike TV and the Playboy Channel will hip you to our times as well as anything. Start there.”
    Sebastian would be sure to steer clear of whatever he’d just suggested. He glanced at the door once more, though he knew Kaderin was long gone.
    “Still antsy?” Riora asked. “You can trace to her at any time.”
    “You said there are prizes all over the world. I do not know that I can trace halfway around the earth, much less accurately to her.”
    She murmured, “It would seem impossible. But in the past, she’s always stayed on this side of the earth at the start. Close by Europe. Low-hanging fruit. That’s the way she’s always worked. And since dawn’s less than an hour away, you would trace to her right into the sun... ”
    Surveying his chest, she said, “Let her go, knight. Besides, you need to heal. I fear Bowen hasn’t had all his shots.”
    Trust a mad goddess and her vengeful scribe? Beggars couldn’t be choosers. And you don’t have a friend in the world.
    “Right.” Sebastian nodded firmly. “How far can she get in a day?”

13

Russian Ice Station Kovalevska, Antarctica Eight hours later

    Prize: Three mirror amulets, used as glamours, worth twelve points each

    V oila,” Regin said to Kaderin, pulling down her fuzzy purple scarf. “I told you I’d get you a snowcat. I told you I had Russian connections. And what is that?” She tapped her chin. “Hmmm. Oh, yes, let me look. A snowcat.”
    Kaderin cringed at the black-market vehicle before them. This junker was supposed to take them to the amulets closeted in the Transantarctic mountain range?
    She had seen similar vehicles used to groom snow in the States. And so she was aware that this one, purchased from Regin’s Russian connections, was... subpar.
    Of course, when Kaderin had called the coven, she’d gotten none other than Regin.
    Kaderin glowered at her, pulling her farther away from the five Russian humans who’d choppered them to the abandoned station. The ex-military crew was a small phalanx of a larger consortium that sold off military equipment for the Russian mob.
    Regin had told them she and Kaderin were scientists; Regin sported disco swirl snow boots.
    Kaderin had been forced to abandon the sleek Augusta 109 helicopter, leaving it and her pilots behind on one of the helipads of an unregistered icebreaker. Apparently, neither the Augusta nor the pilots were comfortable flying in the extreme low temperatures here. The Russians’ helicopter, the Arktika Mi-8, was—fitting, since it was a Cold War relic.
    And now, this sad, sad little snowcat.
    She’d known better than to let Regin assist her with this multi-leg jaunt, much less meet her. Yes, Regin did have the military contacts Kaderin had known she’d need to get south—really south. And yes, Regin had sworn she spoke Russian, which was about the only Baltic language Kaderin didn’t have a handle on.
    But the easiest way to get disqualified from the Hie was to draw human attention to the Lore, and Regin’s utter lack of subtlety—and her glowing skin—kept Kaderin wary.
    When asked why her skin was so radiant, Regin had been known to answer, “Eight glasses of water every day. Skin polish! Fateful swim in a radioactive lake... ”
    “Regin, why is the cab wooden?”
    She tilted her head, puzzled herself, then rallied to say, “Just on the outside. Inside? We’ll be like joeys in a pouch, not that we’re going to die of cold anytime soon, even if it is negative fifty right now. Hey, did I mention the bucket seats,