"I'll destroy myself," he'd vowed to Nikolai the last night he'd seen him.

How could Sebastian persuade her to live with him, when for three centuries he hadn't been able to persuade himself that he deserved to live at all?

Yet even briefly, Sebastian had gotten her to kiss him and accept his unpracticed advances. With time, surely he could overcome her aversion.

Perhaps other vampires were evil - he'd never seen any besides his brothers. But he could prove to her that he was not. He could protect her and provide anything she desired.

Returning to Blachmount was no longer avoidable - all his wealth was there, buried on the grounds. Before Sebastian and Conrad had left the battlefield, Sebastian had amassed a fortune in war spoils from the Russian officers, including the castle he currently occupied.

He had half a dozen chests filled with gold coins, stamped with the imprint of some ancient god in flight. Several more chests contained jewels the officers had plundered from the east before their greedy gazes turned to neighboring Estonia.

He would force himself to drink and to buy new clothes. He'd purchase a new home for them - he'd be relieved if he never returned to that wretched castle.

When he found her again, he would appear as a man worthy of consideration as a husband. But to acquire the things necessary to do this, Sebastian would be forced to navigate the new world around him. He'd seen cars but had never driven one. He'd seen advertisements for movies but had never viewed one. Planes flew overhead, and he knew the composition of their engines from books, but he'd never traveled in one.

And he would have to walk among humans, though he'd always felt that they could look at him and suspect what he was - an abomination, trying to pass as one of them.

Or worse, he feared that he might crave drinking them. Yet, never had that happened before Kaderin's golden skin had been just before him. Could he control himself with her? Was it selfish to seek her? No, he was disciplined. He could forbear, as his brothers' order called it.

He wanted his Bride back, and would have her again if it killed him.

Turning away from the window, he stared out into the rain, realizing he'd been wanting her all his life. Sebastian shook his head ruefully. Even before she'd become all he had.

London, England

Everything is under control.

Kaderin's blessing was back in place, even though, to any who saw her, she appeared disoriented.

Since the time when London had been a marshy encampment beside a forgettable river, vampires had hunted in the fog here. And whenever she'd visited, she'd hunted them.

After her debacle in Russia, she'd chosen to come to this Lore-rich city because she had a private flat here that none of the Valkyrie knew about, and because it was a good base for the Hie - not because she couldn't face her coven.

Tonight was her first in the city, and she'd set out for King's Cross with one objective: to kill leeches. Beneath her trench coat, her sword and whip rested hidden. She meandered down a cobblestone back way she remembered well - just over a century ago, two vampire brothers had nearly beheaded her on these very bricks.

Kaderin didn't despise vampires only for her sisters' sake.

Along the alley, she'd gradually begun to act as though she were lost in the dingy veil of the city, even subtly limping - signaling a predator that dinner was here for the taking.

She tried to convince herself that her excursion wasn't meant to prove anything. This wasn't an exercise to see if she still had the stones to hunt vampires. That would be too clich��, too movie-montage-worthy, as she busted heads and cleaned out the streets of London.

To kill tonight was, simply, her life as usual.

A gang of five of them materialized from thin air. "Seems my birthday came early, boys," Kaderin drawled. They were dressed like street thugs, and their glowing red eyes were spattered with floating black flecks. Dirty eyes. When they drank beings to death, they drank from the pit of the soul, taking all the bad, absorbing all the madness and sin into themselves.

The five surrounded her; she yanked her sword free and struck hard without delay.

A flip of her wrist claimed her first head. Lookit, Kaderin thought. A vampire's head rolling across a London back alley. Business as usual. Control.

They began tracing all around her, striking out with fists or blades. She yanked her coiled metal whip free from her belt. Titanium. With a whip, she could contain a tracing vampire. One recognized her with the first crack and escaped, fleeing the fight.

Ah, but the other three are going to roll the dice.

Her whip caught one's neck, coiling round again and again, snapping at the end.

The house always wins.

She yanked, sending him listing toward her, right into her sword's reach. As she severed his head, she kicked behind her to ward off the other two. She ducked under the bigger one's blade, and it sank into his comrade's temple.

Blood sprayed. She was in her element now. Cool dispassion. Cold killing. Her sword flew, her whip cracked - she was back to normal.

How irrational she'd been, fleeing hysterically from Russia, with all the weeping and uncontrollable shaking. How many times had she moaned, "Oh, dear Freya, what have I done?" or recalled the look on that vampire's face when he'd realized he was going to have to let her go into the sun?

She'd had an indiscretion. As Valkyrie sometimes did.

Like Myst the Coveted? Kaderin thought, delivering a killing blow to the vampire with the knife jutting from his head like a horn. When Myst had been in a Horde prison, the Forbearer rebels took the castle, and one of their generals had freed her to make love to her. Before the Valkyrie could rescue her, things had gotten out of hand in a dank cell.

Myst's status among the Lore - which she'd built over lifetimes - was ruined. She was shunned, an outcast. Even the nymphs ridiculed her. There was no ignominy worse than that -

The last one threw a hit to Kaderin's jaw that had her seeing double for a moment, but she blindly punched out and connected. Then she was back on her toes, sword gliding, thoughts whirring. As the two of them circled each other, Kaderin recalled the ultimate fall from grace. Just decades ago, a Valkyrie named Helen had had sex with a vampire, and then bore his child, Emmaline. Helen had died of sorrow - because the vampire had turned on her.

Another strike of her sword. The last one barely dodged it and cursed her.

"Goodness. I have never been called a bitch before." She wiped her sleeve over her face, and their eyes met.

Vampires turned. That was what they did. She hadn't missed that Sebastian had hesitated with his mouth over her neck, even giving it a slow lick. He'd contemplated it.

Yes, eventually, even Sebastian would drink a victim to death, accidentally or not. His steady, clear gray eyes would grow dirty red with bloodlust, and the Horde would claim yet another soldier. Just like the one in front of her.

The thought had her charging forward with a shriek. She dipped and rolled, planting her sword up through his chest. Shooting to her feet, she snatched it back to swing for the head with a clean slice.

Her sword didn't whistle, because air rarely perceived it in time.

Too easy, not worthy, she thought as she dropped down for his fangs. Four. Whoop-de-fucking-do. If they'd been fish, she'd have caught and released.

But she was back, and now her mind was clear regarding Sebastian Wroth. No longer did that vampire's loneliness cling to her like the fog crawling on this city. With this clarity, she would be back to normal for the Hie in just two days. She would not be freaking out, as she'd predicted on her way to London. Nor would she be so sc-sc-screwed, as she'd figured.

No, here she was. Cold as ice.

From King's Cross, she jogged back toward her place in Knightsbridge, her blood-soaked clothing cloaked in the night mist. Her courtyard townhouse was in the perfect location. Close enough to shopping - if Kaderin was ever moved to that - but it also backed into narrow and murky mews, which allowed her to enter the residence unseen. From the back, she bounded over her courtyard wall, let herself in, then dashed up the stairs.

Kaderin yanked off the clothes she'd filched from Myst, took an appraising glance, and tossed them onto the do-not-resuscitate laundry pile. She hopped into the shower, washing away all the blood.

As she lathered her hair, she didn't think about the vampire. At all. She ignored questions about why he'd been in that castle and what exactly had made him want to end his forlorn existence. All that information, such as where he had been a warrior, was incidental.

After she won the Hie, and when she was ready, she'd return to finish him.

In the meantime, he would be searching for her. Vampires who'd found their... their Brides didn't tolerate losing them. But he wouldn't be able to find her, knowing nothing but her first name. The villagers would scurry away in fear before each sunset, staying away at night until she could return - or they would face her promised wrath.

And anyone else from the Lore who could reveal that information would run from the sight of him simply because he was a vampire. He was an outsider everywhere, with everyone, whether human or Lore creature. And while she competed in the Hie, he certainly wouldn't be able to locate her. In the coming weeks, she'd never sleep in the same place twice and would be racing to the farthest reaches of the earth, obtaining prizes, jewels, and amulets.

She'd face him when she chose, and on her terms. Yes, everything was under control.

6

In the last three days, Sebastian had found it hellish to be around so many humans - a blood drinker, a predator, walking among them as if he were still one of them. Especially since women had begun gazing at him longingly, and even following him, to his consternation.

But he reminded himself what was at stake and completed task after task in anticipation of finding Kaderin, even as he had no idea how to do so. The villagers, his only lead, had disappeared, at least during the nights. Of course, she'd warned them.

After all this time away, he'd finally returned to Blachmount, and he'd been awed as ever by the old manor, even if it was as decrepit as his own holding. He'd dug up gold from his chests, then sold the coins in Saint Petersburg. Cash in hand, he'd bought clothing at the only place he knew wealthy men acquired clothing - Savile Row in London. He'd been to the port of London once when he'd been mortal and remembered it only vaguely. Yet one mental picturing of it put him there.

Money got him tailoring appointments after sunset, and each night before he set out in that city, he forced himself to buy and drink blood from the butcher.

He'd done these tasks because he wanted to become a man she could want. But he was also desperate for anything to keep his mind occupied. At every turn, he wondered where she was at that moment and if she was safe. She'd cried that morning, had doubled over in pain.

And he couldn't find her.

Her accent had a tinge of a drawl, but that helped little in determining her place of origin. He couldn't trace to her home country to begin a search, because he didn't even know what continent she lived on. Besides, his brothers had told him that vampires could only trace to places they'd already been. If she wasn't in Europe or Russia, then he couldn't reach her.

Again and again, he'd thought, If only I could trace directly to her.

The idea that a vampire didn't need to know how to get to a destination, only to envision it, didn't make sense to Sebastian. He'd traced from Russia to London to buy clothing, but he couldn't imagine the exact route. If merely seeing the location was the requirement, then why couldn't a person be a destination?

What if there was more to tracing, and his brothers didn't understand everything about it? They had been newly turned themselves all those years ago and had admitted their ignorance about so much in the Lore.

It might be that vampires traced to individuals every day...

Sebastian was unique among his family - he was the dedicated scholar, the one introspective son among four. In battle, Sebastian had used cunning as much as strength, relying on foresight as much as on past training. He was a thinker who liked to solve problems, and his father had instilled in him the belief that the mind was capable of unimaginable feats if one were strong enough to believe them possible.

And Sebastian needed to believe that tracing to her was possible. The alternative was to wait out the villagers, which was untenable.

His family had known he'd been courted by chivalric and church orders, as well as other secret sects of arcane knowledge, seeking to recruit him. What they didn't know was that he'd accepted an offer with the Eestlane Brothers of the Sword, learning about the world from isolated Blachmount, corresponding with masters of physics, astronomy, all of the sciences. Eventually, he'd even sailed the Baltic and North Seas to be knighted in London.

While his brothers had been fighting each other or chasing women, Sebastian had been studying, growing confident in his ability to learn.

It might just be that Sebastian's sacrifices then would benefit him now, as he chased the only female who'd ever mattered to him.

Filled with a burning determination, Sebastian had traced back and forth to places he only vaguely remembered from boyhood, studying the amount of effort, the amount of mental clarity, required.

He convinced himself that he just needed to see her as clearly as a location.

There was danger inherent in tracing to a place unseen. She could be under an equatorial sun at noon, and he could be too stunned to get away. She could be on a plane. If his trace was mere feet off, he could be sucked into an engine.

Hell, it would have been worth it.

Perhaps when Kaderin had determined that everything was under control, she might have done so too hastily.

Since that night, her blessing had been behaving like an engine in an old Karmann Ghia convertible - sometimes it slipped. There she'd be, cruising along, the same as usual, then, out of nowhere - a slip.

For instance, right now, she felt an odd, hollow kind of ache. She thought she was... worried. Coincidentally, Kaderin had a pressing urge to know if her niece, seventy-year-old Emmaline, the daughter of Helen, was better. The last time Kaderin had checked in with her New Orleans coven, she'd learned that Emma had been critically injured by a vampire.

She rang the manor, hoping she wouldn't get Regin the Radiant. Kaderin wasn't ready to talk to her, not yet, not so soon after her reckless morning with the vampire.

Regin's entire race had been annihilated by the Horde.

Kaderin had molded Regin into a killer like herself, training her and stoking her hatred of vampires. "Sword up! Remember your mother," she'd told the girl again and again, and all the while she was telling herself, Remember your sisters.

Don't be Regin...  

Regin answered with: "Bridge. Uhura here." Kaderin sighed, then shook her head at the Star Trek reference. Kaderin did not appreciate Star Trek references.

Yet that was the thing about Regin. Aside from her boiling hatred of vampires, she was easygoing, quick to laugh, a prankster.

"Hi, Regin, it's Kaderin." She swallowed. "I'm calling to check on Emma. Is she any better?"

"Hey, Kiddy-Kad! She's totally better. She's healed already."

"Healed?" Kaderin asked in surprise. "This is great news, but how can it be? Did the witches help?"

"Actually, she's already wed that Lykae - that hateful one we wanted to neuter - two nights ago."

Had Regin just purposely glossed over that question? Kaderin wanted to know more but had always believed that in digging for secrets, she was begging Fate to somehow reveal her own. And now with her new secret? Kaderin would let Regin coast by so very easily right now.

"I can't believe she married him." The werewolf had absconded with Emmaline, taking her back to his castle in Scotland.

"I know. A freaking Lykae. It could be worse, I suppose. Could have been a leech." Though Emma was half leech herself and drank blood for sustenance, the coven didn't think of her that way whatsoever. "Nah, Emma isn't that big of a bonehead."

Kaderin felt a tic in her cheek, almost as if she had winced. The Valkyrie covens were at war with the vampires even now, and the Lore was hurtling toward an Accession - a war among immortals that occurred every five hundred years. During times like this, Kaderin was expected to be ridding vampires from the earth, not riding them. Did her face just get hot?

"We tried to call you," Regin said. Kaderin heard her blow a gum bubble. Like so many Valkyrie, she would chew only one specific brand, Sad Wiener Peppermint, which was beyond foul. Kaderin herself secretly preferred Happy Squirrel Citrus. "I think you left your sat phone at the Lykae's in all the confusion."

"I remember," Kaderin said, but she had to wonder if they'd truly called her. Kaderin was an emotionless cipher, and many were uncomfortable around her - especially at celebrations.

Kaderin recognized when situations might be humorous but was never moved to laugh. She knew she loved her half-sisters but never felt the need to show affection. At a wedding, she wouldn't have even approached a smile.

She bit her lip and stared at her feet. Luckily, Kaderin couldn't perceive the sting of hurt feelings from being left out, either. No, not at all. "Well, Regin, it happens that I didn't mind ditching the phone since you'd locked the Crazy Frog ring tone into it."

"Me? Who? Whaa?"

"Tell Emma congratulations for me," Kaderin said. "Is Myst around?" Maybe Kaderin could uncover why Myst had been so tempted by that vampire general - without revealing that she herself had been pleasured by one.

"She's busy."

"With what? When will she be able to talk?"

"Dunno." Another gum bubble popped. "So the Hie cranks up in two days. Are you ready?"

Another change of subject?

"Everything is in preparation," Kaderin answered. All her supplies were packed and her transportation confirmed. That had proved easy enough. The Accord - a federation of twelve Valkyrie covens - had agreed that they needed the capability to move readily about the world - especially Kaderin in the upcoming Hie. So they'd established a network of helicopters and jets available on most continents.

Pilots would be on call for Kaderin in all the key capitals. As she'd specified, they would be demons, and they wouldn't ask a lot of questions.

Naturally, the Valkyrie, with their lavish sensibilities, had only the best. Any competitors in the Hie worth their salt would be taking advantage of modern modes of transportation. But not all would enjoy luxury helicopters and Learjets.

"So where's your first stop?" Regin asked.

"All the competitors have to meet at Riora's temple." The goddess Riora was the patroness of the Hie. It was her competition - she made the rules; she decided the prizes.

"Kind of like an orientation?"

"I suppose." Kaderin's first jaunt would be from the exclusive and modern jetport at the London City Airport to Riora's ancient temple, hidden in an enchanted forest. The temple had been built before humans began keeping their histories and was found only with secret coordinates.

Kaderin might as well be going back in time, and yet she'd be traveling there in an Augusta 109, the fastest and most richly appointed civilian helicopter in the world.

Regin sounded as if she were typing on a keyboard. "You know, the results of this Hie are supposed to be posted in real time to the Net. Which is convenient, since you've never sent word back to us about how you're doing - even though we got you all those carrier pigeons. By the way, I adored and named all of them, and you... you just tossed them."

"Internet results will be interesting, and the birds, though beloved, preferred to be free." Pigeon drama. Scenes like that one reminded Kaderin why she worked alone.

7

At sunset, Sebastian took a shower the only way he could in his castle - with melted snow water caught in a cistern and piped freezing cold into a small tiled and drained room. After that he dressed in new clothes. He shined his sword, sheathed it with a belt at his hips, and sat on the edge of the bed, prepared to test his theory.

Everything depended on his success. I must find her to have her. His hand was damp around the hilt of his sword.

Then he frowned. If this could work, he didn't want to appear adversarial to her. He could just see himself materializing at a family dinner - the overgrown vampire with the very big sword. He unstrapped the belt, placed it aside, then sat once more.

This was all about sense detail. Focus. He concentrated on her for long moments. Wipe everything from your mind but her...

Nothing. He lay back.

Imagine seeing her beautiful face once more. Her elfin features, the delicate chin and high cheekbones, the way she'd gazed up at him with those smoldering hazel eyes.

He slowed his breathing. Recall how she felt beneath you. Her body was soft, giving, a perfect fit to his.

The remembered scent of her hair and skin called him as sharply as a cry for him would. He began tracing, feeling himself leaving the cold of his castle and moving toward warmth, having no idea what he would find.

Temple of the Goddess Riora, Codru Forest, Moldova

Day 1 of the Twelfth Talisman's Hie

The usual suspects, Kaderin thought with boredom. From her perch on a balcony rail, she surveyed the assembly gathered below her in the gallery of Riora's temple.

As with most temples, Riora's sported the obligatory marble Palladian style, with dishes of fire and candles to light it. Yet that's where the similarity ended. Tucked deep within the heart of the enchanted Codru Forest, it had lichen-covered oaks punching through the walls or lying fallen inside. Roots buckled the heavy floor. The dome was a skylight with glass cut into an intricate and patternless design.

"Order overcome, impossibility incarnate," that was Riora's motto. She was the goddess of impossibility and exalted proving possible the impossible. Few knew this, though, and she was coy, joking and spreading rumors. In the last fifty years, she'd come out as the goddess of bowling couture.

Kaderin waited with hundreds of other competitors, because Riora was tardy again. Nothing new there. To get her to be on time, Kaderin had been tempted at the last Hie to declare it impossible for goddesses to be punctual. But then Riora would just have declared that it was impossible for a Valkyrie to bathe in a vat of boiling oil for a decade.

To pass the time, Kaderin gazed down with disdain at the nymphs, making sure they saw her contempt. She jerked her chin up at Lucindeya, the siren who had been her closest competition at the last Hie. Lucindeya, or Cindey, was a violent, merciless rival, and so had earned Kaderin's respect. They customarily used each other to advance until it was only the two of them in the finals.

Then all bets were off.