At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(107)

“Wait!” he cried.

She hesitated.

“I have a proposition,” he said.

The blade seemed to hang of its own accord in the air, heavy and sharp, rich with the promise of death. Then Osborn lowered it so that the tip came to rest between the sleeping forms of the children.

“A contest,” he said.

She laughed. “What kind of contest do you have in mind? War hammers? Crossbows? Battle-axes?” Her laugh grew louder. “Perhaps two-handed broadswords?”

“Riddles,” he answered.

She tipped her head. “What?”

“Riddles. A contest as old as the Sphinx and beloved by the ancient Greeks as well as the Vikings. A contest that any scop worth her words would agree to.”

Her forehead creased as she considered this.

Evan said, “You asked Talfour a riddle before you killed him. In the moonlight, you said, Prick me this. The start of a riddle. I imagine you did the same with Desser.”

“Riddles they failed to answer.”

“But they had that chance. These children deserve the same.”

“Then riddle me this, dwarf. How does a sleeping child answer a riddle?”

“Through a proxy. I claim their riddles.”

She narrowed her eyes at him through the camera lens. “What would be the conditions of this contest? If I agree. If I agree.”

“My conditions are these.” He said the words loftily, as though he held all the cards.

She scrutinized him, her gaze thin and sharp.

He continued. “One riddle for each child—”

“Three,” she answered. “Three riddles for each child.”

He nodded his agreement. “Three riddles. You ask the riddle, and if I answer all three correctly, that child goes free. It is an honorable way of settling disputes. And it will amuse the gods. And the Others.”

An uncanny intelligence shone in her eyes. Intelligence and madness entwined, like the sacred bound up with violence.

She said, “If I win, then I take all three of you. If you win, then I take only your life.”

Fate goes ever as it must, Beowulf had said, acknowledging that he was destined to die under the claws of the dragon. But he was also asserting that, while he lived, he would do whatever he could to protect his countrymen.

“As you wish,” he said. He was shivering hard enough now from the cold that his teeth chattered.

“And,” she went on, “for each wrong answer, I will take something from the child. They won’t die so peaceably.”

He reeled. What had he done? He reminded himself of his favorite quote from Cicero: While there’s life, there’s hope.

“I agree,” he said. “But . . .”

She cocked her head.

“But,” he continued, “you must come outside, come here to these woods, and face me. I know you’re close. Just by the lagoon. Come here and let us meet face-to-face, as honorable opponents. It will please the Others.”

And if the gods saw fit, maybe someone would come along. Someone out and about even in the weather and even though the park had been closed for hours.

Maybe they would see and call for help.

“Do not!” Osborn cried. She picked up the sword and slammed the tip against the ground. Sparks flew from the cement. Tommy stirred in his sleep. “Do not tell me what will or will not please the Others. You do not know them. You have not sacrificed man and bird to them.”

Somewhere in the near distance, there came a sound. A harsh breath, as if someone labored through the snow. Hope rose in him like a leap of light. But he did not dare speak or turn his head.

Instead, he lowered his gaze humbly. “You are right. I apologize. But it does seem fitting that you emerge from your lair just as Grendel’s mother emerged from hers to avenge her son’s death. Those were the rules she played by.”

Her face contorted with silent grief, and he knew he had her there. He didn’t yet know what final blow had sent her on this path. But he knew at least two secrets to her pain. Her mother’s death. And her child’s—Rhinehart’s grandson. No wonder Rhinehart had tried so hard to distract them from the truth. He must have been terrified the killer might be his own daughter.

She said, “I agree to your terms. It is only right that we meet in the woods, face-to-face. When we’ve finished, whichever of us wins, I will begin your preparation for meeting the Others. I hope you are strong, Dr. Wilding. Your journey toward death will feel like an eternity.”

The camera went black.





CHAPTER 36


Addie and Patrick stood in the office of the U of C campus police while Diana paced the hallway outside. The ax-wielding postdoc had joined up in the hunt for Evan after confirming to the police that the professor was not at home.

She had a murderous glint in her eye.

It was an anger Addie shared. Both at the killer and at Evan. She was ready to borrow Diana’s ax and start smashing things.

She’d start with the man standing in front of her.

“Go on,” Addie said to the officer. Frank Martin.

“Like I explained on the phone,” Martin said. “I met him upstairs in the coffee shop. I was going to give him a lift to his car. Him and the kid. But the Chicago PD officer came and offered to escort the two of them. It seemed like they knew each other.”