Black Frost (13 page)

“Dad!”

My heart thudded into my feet at the sound of
Ashley’s cry and all three elves spun to look at my daughter in the
window of the door, her face panicked. Charm was barking
frantically as Ash started to unbolt the door.

“Ash NO!” I screamed.

The two pointy-eared thugs further back
turned and started to head for the house, I jumped for my gun, the
calculator in my head telling me I couldn’t beat the remaining elf
to the prize. I had already failed, lured into a simple trap, out
maneuvered and outfought, but I was going to kill at least one of
them, even as I died. That simple plan in place, I dove for the
Sig, grabbed it and rolled to my feet, startled that I had
succeeded. The reason was instantly obvious. My elf was swarming
with pucks, his head and body covered by at least ten, swiping at
them ineffectively with his blade.

The other two were almost to the house and I
couldn’t fire as Ashley was directly behind them. One elf was
slightly ahead of the other, and he was inches from the porch when
a white blur took him off his feet and slammed him to the ground
fifteen feet away. The white goblin tore the elf’s left arm off at
the shoulder before slamming his misshapen jaws shut on the doomed
Hunter’s face. About the same height as the Summer goblins, this
one massed a great deal more, maybe more than two hundred pounds,
and its power was awful, except that it was killing my enemy.

The remaining Hunter bounded to the porch,
ignoring the fate of his companions, intent upon the prize.
Ashley’s fear gripped face backed from the window as the elf
approached the door. Two yards from the door,
she
appeared,
resolving from murky shadow like a ghost. One moment the porch was
empty except for the Hunter, the next instant a quicksilver form
wearing black was gliding from the dark corner, her night inked
blade slicing the elf from waist to opposite ribcage, cutting
without resistance.

Her platinum hair was pulled back in a
ponytail like her brother’s, but shorter, and her eyes were locked
on mine as she ignored the suddenly dead Hunter lying in chunks at
her feet. Unlike Greer, her irises were silver, the glittering
silver of expensive flatware or bullion coin.

A flutter of activity from the nearest Hunter
took my attention to him just as he shook off the cluster of pucks.
It appeared that their razor jaws couldn’t penetrate the odd
leather of his suit, but his face, neck and hands were a mass of
bite wounds. They looked horrifically painful, and he grimaced in
pain, but still reached up behind him to the quiver on his back.
The wooden something he pulled from the quiver
snapped
open
and he was now holding a short, powerful looking bow. He didn’t get
any farther though, because I shot him. My gun had locked itself to
him without thought, the red dot of the laser hovering on his
torso. I automatically triple tapped him, two to the chest, one to
the head. The old Mozambique drill. My dad had taught it to me when
I was fifteen. A rapid reaction drill designed to produce immediate
stops to attacking hostiles. It worked as advertised, dropping him
like a sack of manure.

My attention swiveled back to my daughter,
who was now five feet from what Greer had described as the most
dangerous fighter of his generation, separated by just a wooden and
glass door. Her name popped into my head….Neeve. She studied Ashley
for a moment, then looked back to me, her dark face expressionless.
Then she moved off the porch, her motions fluid and eerie silent,
sliding into the shadows by the corner of the house, her eyes
locked on mine till she disappeared around the edge. The white
goblin snarled once at the remains of the Hunter in its blue
bloodied hands, met my gaze with its gleaming red eyes, then
bounded after the Winter Guardian, covering the distance in three
awful leaps. My pucks chattered and squeaked to themselves as they
hovered over the body of my kill, taking turns delightedly flying
through the greenish motes of light that had started to rise into
the air like sparks from a fire. The other two bodies were also
sparking, as well as melting into bluish goo. The leather clothes
stayed intact, as did the silver metallic blades.

Ashley unbolted the door and ran to me, Charm
a barking brown blur at her feet. Automatic training took hold and
I dropped the hammer of my Sig back to double action mode, using
the hammer drop.

I then reloaded the gun with the spare
magazine at my waist, the partially used mag going into my coat
pocket. All my actions were by rote, ingrained from childhood by a
man who had trained countless agents to stay alive in drug
wars.

I caught my daughter in my left arm, not yet
willing to holster my gun, till we were safely inside. The pucks
provided an aerial escort as we quickly moved back to the house,
then they flew off into the twilight, Pancho in tailguard position,
giving us a little midair bow before streaking after his clan.

Chapter 12

We got back inside, and I locked the door
behind us. Then I armed all the gun traps, the house alarm and
settled near the kitchen and the old cellar door. Ashley brought me
a big glass of orange juice and when I looked at her with raised
eyebrows she explained.

“I read somewhere that sugar can help with
shock,” she said, then gasped loudly.

“Dad, your arm!” she said pointing.

My long sleeve shirt was black and that had
helped hide the blood from my puncture wound, which I had ignored
till now. It had throbbed before, but adrenaline and the threat of
imminent death had pushed the pain into the background. Now,
brought fully to my attention it started to really hurt. I grabbed
some kitchen scissors and, with Ashley’s help cut the shirt sleeve
from wrist to mid-forearm where the wound bled deep red. Dad’s
voice started to play in my head, lecturing on how to clean a
puncture with running water, disinfect and cover lightly when the
bleeding stops.

“Ash, grab the first aid kit from my bathroom
will you?” I asked, hoping the task would keep her just busy enough
to dull her worry. While she darted out of the kitchen to get it, I
ran cold tap water over the puncture which washed away the older
blood along with fresh as it cleaned the wound. Washed up, the
puncture didn’t look like much, just a small hole less than an
eighth of an inch in diameter. The depth of it was probably a
quarter inch or so, but the skin and muscle had sprung back, making
the hole smaller.

I patted the spot dry and when a pale Ashley
returned with the kit, I used a gauze pad covered in Neosporin to
disinfect it. That done I covered it with a self adhesive pad from
the first aid kit and flexed my right hand experimentally. I won’t
lie, it hurt, but function was unimpaired as my triple tap had
proven.

“Not too bad, kiddo, but it aches a little.
Would you grab a couple of Motrin for me?”

She nodded, calmer after seeing how small the
wound really was.

When she brought the pills I gulped them
down, then drank half the glass of orange juice.

“Dad, what happened out there?”

“What happened Ash, was that I got suckered
out of my house by Hunters…elves of the Green Court. Then the pucks
attacked one of them, what I think was an ice goblin attacked
another, and Greer’s sister killed the last one. Then I shot the
one the pucks were fighting with.”

She just looked at me, her face pale and I
gathered her into a hug. But while her face was buried into my
neck, I examined the fact that I had just killed a sentient being.
The goblin I had killed in the woods was a monster, not much
different than killing an attacking dog. But the Hunter was a
person, and I had shot him down. I was sorry I had had to kill him.
But it really didn’t bother me that he was dead. Weird huh? See,
the thing was that I was more upset that some group had decided to
attack us, had decided that killing me and kidnapping Ashley was
the proper action for them. My actions to protect my daughter and
myself were clear and justified in my head. At the heart of it, I
was more disturbed that his decisions and those of his companions
had resulted in their deaths than I was concerned with the manner
or delivery of their deaths.

Reading the paper or watching the news had
provided daily examples of one person attacking another, but until
it happened to us personally, it had all been abstract. Arms
length…a tragic story, but not immediately compelling. Now we were
neck deep in a story that would headline every news outlet in the
world and the idea that we were the targets was equal parts scary
and surreal. I rapidly alternated from fear to anger and back to
fear.

A sudden loud beeping made us both jump and
whirl around to look in the direction of the sound. It was only the
oven, announcing that Ashley’s pizza was done. We looked at each
other and laughed a little, both ignoring the slightly hysterical
tone in our voices. I took my hand off the butt of my gun and
pulled the pizza from the oven. Then I looked at our well lit
interior and the blackness of night out the window.

“We’re gonna eat by candlelight tonight,
pumpkin,” I announced starting to turn off lights. Ashley
immediately joined in, killing the lights in the family room, while
I turned off the foyer lights and turned on all the exterior
lights. Now we could see out, but looking in was harder.

My mind returned to the fight scene and
something new occurred to me.

“Ash, I think I’ve seen those men before –
earlier today. I saw that girl, Eirwen cross the road by the
pharmacy and meet up with three men. I’m pretty sure they were the
same ones.”

“So…you think Eirwen was one of them?” she
asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I do. Listen, here’s what I want to
do. Let’s eat some pizza, ‘cause we need the energy. Then we’re
gonna hunker down for the night. I think we’ll sleep right down
here. Greer told me he would return soon and I need to ask him what
is going on and what our options are. At first light, we head to
Grandpa’s, okay?”

“Should we call grandpa or go there now?” she
asked, her tone and body language telling me she would really like
to head there immediately.

I shook my head. “If we call Grandpa, he’ll
insist on heading over here. I don’t want him out there in the
dark. The elves all have really good night vision according to
Greer. Same for us leaving to go there…too vulnerable getting from
here to the car, although if we had to I would. Plus, I really need
to talk to Greer, he’s the only one who can answer my
questions.”

She nodded, then picked at her pizza
absently.

“Listen, we’re gonna figure this out!” I said
as confidently as I could. Meanwhile I was trying to find any ideas
for
how
I was gonna make that happen. Only two ideas
presented themselves. One, that I could somehow negotiate through
Greer, and two, that maybe my Dad’s federal connections could
protect us.

Examining both, I found more questions than
answers. Did Greer have any clout with his Court? Would anyone in
his world listen? Would the US government believe any of this?
Could they even protect us? And who would protect us from our own
government if they thought Ashley really had any of these Talents
or powers or what have you.

***

We made a sleeping area on the floor of the
family room, near the door to the cellar. The couch cushions made
for okay temporary mattresses, covered with a couple of Ashley’s
old comforters. I found myself staring at Peter Pan and Tinkerbell
on the one that was wrapped around my daughter. Charm was curled up
next to her, but while Ash was asleep, the little pitbull was on
active guard duty, watching and listening to the night. I kept an
eye on the monitor, the cameras showing the lit up exterior to good
effect, but frankly, I had more faith in Charm’s biological alarms
than the electronic ones. The heat from our woodstove, the pizza
and the aftereffect of the fight lulled me to sleep. I woke
suddenly, when Charm’s head came off the floor, the low growl in
her chest bringing me awake with awful suddenness. The cable box by
the television showed twelve sixteen. I checked the monitor in my
lap and my heart froze at the sight of a male figure moving about
my yard. A second later I recognized it as Greer’s form and my
blood pressure dropped measurably. He was inspecting the remains of
the Hunters, holding up the leather uniforms and gathering their
blades and bows. When he had them all together he rolled each blade
and bow in a green suit and stacked the bundles on the porch, then
he looked directly at the camera on the porch, his expression
expectant.

I slid carefully out from under my own
comforter (Winnie the Pooh) and whispered “Stay!” to Charm, who
chose to listen to my command. I could swear that dog understood
her job was to protect the child-woman curled next to her.

Disarming the alarm and cradling my
Winchester, I eased out the door, gently closing it behind me.

Greer watched me without a word, studying me
as I in turn studied the night around us. It was all quiet, cold
and frosty.

“You’ve been a bit busy,” he said when I
finally met his gaze.

“I had help,” I answered, which sent his
eyebrows up.

“I did notice that only one had bullet holes
in it,” he said, gesturing at the bundled leather by his feet.

I nodded. “They had me dead to rights, but
the pucks distracted one, a white monster that looked like two of
the green goblins put together killed the second, and your sister
chopped the last one in half,” I said.

“Dad?” a worried voice called from
inside.

“It’s okay Ash,” I said back, loud enough to
carry through the door. “Why don’t you come inside and I’ll give
you the run down?” I said, making the decision to let him in.