He ran his fingers through his hair as reality set in. With Kaderin, he might never experience any of it again. He wanted a loyal bond between the two of them; she'd already left without a word. This was only physical for her, like the quick release she'd craved in the cave, when he'd wanted to touch her for hours. His heart sank as he realized nothing had changed between them, just as she'd warned him before he'd taken her. And the last time they'd spoken of the future, he'd vowed that he wouldn't be in hers—
He glanced up, spying a note on the bedside table. He snatched it like a drowning man cast a lifeline.
There's blood in the refrigerator. Will be in sun today, so call me when you wake up—I put my number in your phone.
xoxo Kaderin.
His jaw slackened. Though the letter was short, he found himself rereading it. It was like a note a wife would leave for her husband, and so he couldn't wrap his mind around it. They'd resolved nothing last night and still had the same angers between them.
Is she playing with me? Is this some sort of cruel jest? Do I have a phone?
Confounded, he scuffed naked into the kitchen to the refrigerator, taking a deep breath as he grasped the handle. There, the only thing inside—a plain paper bag.
She'd brought him blood. Why would she do this? Is it poisoned? He took the bag out and tossed it onto the counter, but as he turned, he saw the box from the minefield. She'd left it.
He shut the refrigerator door and repeatedly knocked his head against it.
Congo River Basin,
Prize: One jade jaguar pentacle, altar tool for demonolatry, worth thirteen points
When Sebastian traced to her and found himself in a sweltering brush, he recognized which prize Kaderin had chosen.
She had navigated the jungle—the equatorial jungle—from the low lying riverside to these highlands of the Virunga Massif. Nearby was a pounding waterfall, and beside it lay an ancient grave. The prize was buried there in the rich, dark earth.
Though the canopy was dense, he was still burning, avoiding shafts of light as though they were spears raining down. But it didn't matter, he had to do anything possible to help her... since she'd given up the box.
He carried it in his jacket pocket and ran his finger over it, wishing the prize weren't expired.
Was he pleased that she didn't want that between them? Without question. But now, all he could think about was the incredible number of points she'd sacrificed toward a win that she'd obviously kill for.
Where the hell is she? He couldn't spy her out through the thick growth and the waterfall's mist, but he couldn't remain much longer—
A branch cracked behind him. He whirled around—to catch the flat of a shovel with his face.
The metal clanged against his skull, reverberating... until... blackness.
When he awoke, he was being dragged. The Scot? His face is wasted. Too weak to trace. Try again. Blackness wavered once more.
'To some of us, leech, this is no' a game,' MacRieve said. Sound of waterfall nearing. Steam thickening. Can't trace. 'No' merely a way to impress a Valkyrie, so that she might deign to fuck you.'
Dragged to the edge.
'For your stunt at the minefield, you're going for a swim, and your wee Valkyrie is going for a dive.'
How high is the drop? Won't matter. The sun...
'I doona think you'll die, no matter how much you might want to.'
MacRieve punted him in the ribs, sending him flying over the edge.
34
Tortuguerro Beach, Costa Rica
Prize: A tear of Amphitrite, preserved into a bead, worth eleven points
W alking a bit bowlegged there, siren?' Kaderin asked lightly, though she was seething at this visible reminder that Cindey had obviously screwed the very endowed Nereus when that option had returned on the scrolls. She and Cindey were now almost tied. 'Nereus must be slumming.'
'Speaking of slumming, where's your vampire?' Cindey asked. 'The nymphs said they heard him forsake you. I didn't think that was even possible.'
'Do I look like I care?' She'd always enjoyed asking that question, since she knew the answer was invariably no—
'Yes, Kaderin, you do.' Cindey sounded amazed by this fact.
Kaderin casually hissed at her, hoping to cover her dismay, because it was true that she'd been vampire-free for forty-eight hours. Sebastian hadn't called, he hadn't traced to her, and she felt like a nailed-and-bailed idiot.
Good money said she'd... come on too strong?
Yes, he'd said things, expressed sentiments and promises when she'd been kissing him. But how much weight could she put on those words? He'd been out of his mind with pleasure.
How could she not be his favorite girl at the time?
And really, what had they settled? Other than that the interlude was most definitely, unequivocally supposed to be meaningless sex? And exactly why had she been so adamant about that?
She had absolutely refused to call Myst to ask about Sebastian. That stance had lasted about six hours before she broke down. But Myst and Nikolai hadn't seen him or heard from him at all in two days.
Third major turnoff? Not calling. Especially after a gymnastic round of immortal sex.
Giving in to her insecurities in this new situation was better than the alternative: acknowledging that he would be here—unless he was injured. Or worse.
She figured that since her emotions were still so changeable, she might as well try them all on like new coats. And she liked the look and feel of angry and indignant so much better than worried and fearful.
None of this mattered. Once she went back for her sisters, none of this would have been. She had to remember that.
Since the morning she'd left him the letter—and left her prize behind—she'd competed at three tasks. At each one, she'd had the misfortune of meeting up with Lucindeya and Bowen.
Bowen remained gruesomely injured from the minefield, showing no regeneration whatsoever. He was still missing an eye and the skin over half his forehead. Blood had been seeping from the wound at his side, soaking his cambric shirt. The young witch's curse was not to be shaken.
Kaderin almost felt sorry for him—the way she'd feel sorry for a mindless wolf caught in the teeth of a spring trap. She'd freed them before, and they always appeared bewildered, eyes wild, having no idea why they'd been chosen to feel such pain or how to end it.
Bowen reminded her of exactly that. But, in the end, the wolves always snarled and snapped, and though he was cursed, Bowen was still a force to be reckoned with in the competition.
She'd slogged through a quicksand jungle to retrieve a jade pentacle. She'd thought she was so fast and had believed she had a chance against Bowen because he was still injured. But he'd flown over the untamed terrain as if renewed. He'd dusted her to that prize, leaving her panting and robbed of points.
He'd scrutinized her, even took a menacing step toward her. Then, as if he'd made a weighty decision, he'd turned from her.
In Egypt, Kaderin had answered a riddle of staggering complexity that left the Sphinx—and the Lykae and the siren—wondering how she'd done it. Secretly, she'd wondered herself. She'd earned the single golden scarab for ten points and had narrowed the gap on Bowen and taken a slim lead over Cindey.
But just last night in China, Bowen had been the first to the sole Urn of the Eight Immortals, leaving her and Cindey completely out for all the effort to get there. He'd reached his eighty-seven points, securing his spot in the
