Dreams of a Dark Warrior (7 page)

told him that?

A row of bushes between him and the house rustled. Another enemy lying in wait? The Valkyrie had

plenty of adversaries. And they had no idea danger lurked so close—

The front doors burst open; a woman stormed outside.

Regin.

He released a sharp breath.

Those wild braids held her hair back from her face, revealing al her delicate features. Her cheekbones

were high and defined, her nose pert. Blond brows drew together over her vivid amber eyes, and her ful

lips were parted.

She radiated a pure golden light.

A feeling of recognition swept over him. At once, the near crippling tension he’d endured for decades

began to ebb. Why? How?

She wasn’t the first unearthly beauty they’d tracked—the Order’s island compound was fil ed with them

—so he would’ve thought himself prepared for her comeliness. But he feared she might be the
most

beautiful.

At least to me.

“Make a hole, bitches!” she yel ed to the wraiths, tossing one of them … a braid of hair? When the red-

robed beings parted, she strode down the steps, her thick-heeled boots clicking.

Out on the lawn, she stopped and cocked her head, drawing those swords with a lethal grace. One of

her pointed ears was visible and clearly twitching as she scanned the night. She would see Declan …

would
sense
him.

He was about to slip back when the bushes nearby rustled once more.

Without a second’s thought she dove into them, pouncing on whatever skulked there. A moment later, a

ghoul’s severed head came flying out. When she bounded from the shrubs, her swords were already

sheathed and twigs protruded from those haphazard braids. She reached up, felt them, then left them

there with a shrug.

When a trio of other women staggered out onto the front porch, Regin held up the head and made an

exaggerated curtsy. They cheered drunkenly. Witches, no doubt. They were the Valkyrie’s al ies and

notorious drunks.

One laughed, tripped over her own feet into a pratfal , then laughed again.

Regin turned back to face his direction. With her skin glowing brighter and her expression animated,

she punted the ghoul’s head like a footbal , then shaded her eyes melodramatical y. As it sailed far above him toward a nearby swamp, she cried, “It. Might. Go. Al . The. … Way!”

She
cannot
be one thousand years old.

The witches cheered again.

That task completed, she plucked a sat-phone from a holster on her belt. She texted something, her

fingers so fast they were a blur, then strol ed over to her car and hopped inside. The engine purred when

she started it. She pul ed up in front of the house, honking the horn and rol ing down the windows.

“Nïx!” she cal ed. “Get your ass out here!” She said something to the witches in a lower voice, and they

howled with laughter. But when Regin turned from them, her easy grin faltered, her demeanor

preoccupied.

Another Valkyrie sauntered from that madhouse, a black-haired one with vacant eyes, cradling what

looked like a paralyzed bat in one arm like a babe.

She had to be Nïx the Ever-Knowing, a powerful soothsayer. Though she looked to be in her mid-

twenties, she was one of the oldest—and most crazed—immortals on record.

She wore a long, flowing skirt, cowboy boots, and a T-shirt that read VALKYRIE in big block letters with

an arrow pointing up at her face.

Flaunting themselves. The arrogance. Christ, how he hated them.

She too proffered a braid to the wraiths—
a toll of some sort?
—then joined Regin in the car, blowing a kiss to the witches. The two Valkyrie pul ed out, some asinine song blaring from the car stereo—the only

lyrics were “Da-da-da.” They bobbed their heads in unison to the music.

As they passed, he drew back into the brush, his heart thundering. But the dark-haired one turned,

looking directly at him with
eerie
golden eyes.

Just as the hair on the back of his neck stood up, the soothsayer mouthed,
You’re late.

Regin the Radiant sensed some enemy was hot on her ass as she sped down dark country roads.

But she simply didn’t have
time
for a fight to the death just now. Regin had to reach Lucia before it was too late.

She adjusted the rearview mirror. “Are we being fol owed?”

Nïx nodded happily. “Usual y.” She tapped her chin with her free hand. “You know, you think you don’t

like it, but actual y you’l miss it when it’s gone.”

Regin scowled at her sister, doing her damnedest to ignore Bertil—the bat Nïx carried. It’d been a gift

from a
secret admirer
. “Seeing as we’re on our way to the Loreport, you probably should tel me where I’m flying out to tonight.” Nïx’s last report on Lucia had her in the Amazon, of al places.

“Hmm. Should I remember?”

“Me. Meeting up with Lucia. Who’s gearing up to slay Cruach, her worst nightmare.” Crom Cruach was

the ancient horned god of human sacrifices and cannibalism—and the monster who’d tricked Lucia into

leaving Valhal a. Every five hundred years, he tried to escape his prison. For the last two times, Lucia—

with Regin as her trusty wingman—had forcibly denied his parole. “Any of this ringing a bel , Nïx?”

Blankness.

“Gods, I don’t have time for this!” Lucia was out there alone; Cruach was rising nowish. And Nïx was

spacing
?

“Don’t shriek,” Nïx chided. “You’l hurt Bertil’s ears, and he needs them for echolocation.” As she

stroked her new pet in a love-him-and-pet-him-and-cal -him-George kind of way, her eyes were even

more vacant than usual. Her visions of the future had been hitting her rapid-fire lately, and they were

taking a tol .

Assholes were laying odds in the Lore betting book that Nucking Futs Nïx wouldn’t make it through this

Accession with any remaining sanity intact. And there wasn’t a whole lot remaining.

“Don’t fret, love,” Nïx said reassuringly.

“How can I not fret …” Regin trailed off. “You’re talking to the freaking bat!”

She tickled its bel y with a claw. “Coochy-coo.” Regin swore the bat smacked its lips with contentment,

snuggling into her arm.

Had Nïx been feeding that little winged rat her blood? “Don’t you know that those things spread Cujos?

Damn, Nïxie, you’re getting worse. Even more cray-cray than usual.”

She briefly glanced up. “That’s fair.”

“Uh-huh.” Regin downshifted, tires squealing as she swerved to dodge a roadkil -bound possum.

“But what about your own cray-crayness, Regin? You’ve been behaving very badly of late. Getting high

on intoxispel s and picking fights. You are acting out, and it simply must stop unless you invite me to join in.”

Also fair. But what else was Regin supposed to do? A year ago, she and Lucia had undertaken a

badass mission to discover a way to defeat the unkil able Cruach forever. Instead of merely imprisoning

him. They’d traveled al over the world together, risking their lives.

In other words, good times. But then Prince Garreth MacRieve, Lucia’s werewolf admirer, had started

fol owing her everywhere, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Regin’s solution? Euthanasia.

Lucia’s solution to Regin’s solution? Leave her behind when she was nursing a hangover.

Abandoned me like last year’s wardrobe.
Regin’s claws dug into the steering wheel. After a mil ennium of never leaving each other’s side.
But last year’s wardrobe is determined to make a comeback.

“Nïx, you promised you’d tel me where Luce is if I did everything you asked me. I cleaned your room. I

took your Bentley to the shop after you went off-roading again. And I put in hours at the Lore foundling

house with those little punks.” Regin had begun to cal it the Lorphanage and predicted it’d stick. “I
need
to keep moving anyway. You know he’s returning soon.”

Aidan. With his heart-stopping smile and big, possessive hands. Though she longed to see her Viking

in any reincarnation, she’d decided that he might actual y live a ful life if he never found her.

Nïx sighed. “Have you truly given up al hope of finding a way to be with him?”

Regin glanced over at her, trying not to feel even a sliver of hope. “Any reason not to give up?”

“I believe my advice to you was ‘Go find and bang your berserker.’”

“Huh. Wel , see, I tried that, and it didn’t quite work out for me.”
The last four times!
“I just can’t … I’m not doing it again.” The guilt got worse with each reincarnation. She was his doom, might as wel deal the deathblow herself.

Aidan had been sword-struck in his first life, poisoned in his second, crushed during a shipwreck in his

third. In his fourth, he’d been shot. Al directly after she and his reincarnation had made love for the first time.

“Unless you can tel me things might be different this time?” Regin added. Damn, could she sound more

desperate? But Nïx helped other immortals with things like this.
Why not me?

“What would you do to be with him, hmm? What would you sacrifice?”

“To break this curse, I would do just about any-thing.”

“Just about?” After long, tense moments, Nïx said, “I have no resolution to tel you.” She couldn’t

foresee everything, wasn’t
all
-knowing. Instead, she’d been dubbed the Ever-Knowing, because her

visions had appeared without fail for three mil ennia.

“No resolution?” She hadn’t expected Nïx to pony up the answer to a thousand-year-old curse before

Regin ran her next red light, but a crumb of hope would’ve been nice.

“No matter,” Nïx said. “You must find something to occupy yourself. There’s more to life than

destroying vampires.”

“Right. Like destroying evil cannibal gods with Lucia,” Regin said, proud of her segue.

“Always back to Lucia. You’re exceedingly loyal to al your friends—even to your own detriment.”

“Whatever. Loyalty’s not a bad thing.”

“It is when you leave heaven for it. It is when you have nothing to show for it. For instance, your some-

some meter is reading empty. What about that nice leopard-shifter pack that wanted to date you? The

benefits of a variety pack of males cannot be overstated.”

If the rest of her sisters—or, gods forbid, her witch buddies—found out Regin hadn’t been laid in nearly

two hundred years, she’d never live it down. But like some stupid, sappy tool, she stayed faithful to Aidan and his reincarnates.

“Are you happy, Regin?”

She gave Nïx the look her question deserved. “I’m the prankster, remember? The happy-go-lucky one.

Ask anyone—they’l tel you I’m the cheeriest Valkyrie.” She studied Nïx’s expression, this time noticing

the shadows under her sister’s eyes. “Why? Are you happy? You seem tired al the time.” She didn’t

mention Nïx’s shrieking fits or disappearances, the bizarre eccentricities that only grew worse.

“I’m actively involved in steering the lives of thousands of beings. Which directly affects hundreds of

thousands, which indirectly affects mil ions, with a ripple effect reaching bil ions. If someone said, ‘It ain’t easy being Nïxie,’ I wouldn’t cal him a liar.”

Regin never real y thought about the pressure Nïx might be under. If the bat made her happy and

calmed her, then …
Welcome to the family, Bertil.

In a prickly tone, Nïx said, “And yet al anyone talks about is how the Enemy of Old is making power

plays in the Lore. His power plays are
child’s play
compared to mine.”

Like Nïx, Lothaire the Enemy of Old was one of the oldest and most powerful beings in the Lore. But

the vampire was pure evil.

Nïx sniffed, “Lothaire’s no saner than I am.”

As Regin opened her mouth to correct her, Nïx amended, “Not
much
saner.”

“There, now.” Regin reached over to pat Nïx’s shoulder, but that bat hissed at her. “Why don’t you hook

up with someone, cozy away with a male for a few weeks? Weren’t you seeing Mike Rowe?”

“I do miss that baritone-voiced rapscal ion.” Nïx sighed. “But above al else, I’m a career woman. I’ve

no time to dal y.”

“You could take just a short vacay, you know? See some sights.”
This might be one of the most lucid

conversations I’ve ever had with Nïx.

“I’m three thousand and three years old.” Nïx turned her vacant gaze out the window. “I’ve seen

everything
—” She sat up, eyes wild. “Squirrel!”

Strike
lucid
. “Hey, I know, you could come with me to find Lucia!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found just yet. You know she’l cal you before the final showcase

showdown with Cruach. For now, I’ve told you she’s with MacRieve.”

“
With
with? ’Cause I refuse to believe that yet another Valkyrie is making time with a werewolf.” Much less the prim and proper Lucia.

The earthy Lykae revered sex and matehood; Lucia’s magical skil with a bow was celibacy-based. If

she got horizontal with a guy, she’d get kicked out of the Skathians, losing her archery forever. Which

she needed to fight Cruach.

Hence the fleeing from MacRieve and al .

“Refuse or accept, I cal ’em like I see ’em,” Nïx said. “Now, I have just one final task for you in the

Quarter. I need you to go take out some adversaries. Make it an example kil ing.”

“Example kil ing? Must be Tuesday. And you’re not going to get in on the action?”

Nïx blinked at her, aghast. “Who wil sit Bertil?”

Regin groaned.

“Besides, I’m going to visit Loa’s voodoo shop. She’s having an Accession sale. Everything must go.”