Frozen: Heart of Dread, Book One

PRAISE FOR MELISSA DE LA CRUZ

for
BLUE BLOODS:

“De la Cruz’s
Blue Bloods
introduces a conception of vampires far different from traditional stake-fleeing demons, coupling sly humor . . . with the gauzier trappings of being fanged and fabulous . . . teens will savor the thrilling sense of being initiated into an exclusive secret society.”

—
Booklist (starred review)

“De la Cruz combines American history, vampires and a crew of rich New York City kids, delivering a page-turning debut in
Blue Bloods
.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Schuyler Van Alen is #9 on the Top 25 Vampires of all time.”

—
Entertainment Weekly

for
WITCHES OF EAST END:

“Centuries after the practice of magic was forbidden, Freya, Ingrid, and their mom struggle to restrain their witchy ways as chaos builds in their Long Island town. A bubbling cauldron of mystery and romance, the novel shares the fanciful plotting of Blue Bloods, the author’s teen vampire series . . . [B]reezy fun.”

—
People

“A magical and romantic page-turner . . .
Witches of East End
is certain to attract new adult readers . . . The pacing is masterful, and while the witchcraft is entertaining, it’s ultimately a love triangle that makes the story compelling. De la Cruz has created a family of empathetic women who are both magically gifted and humanly flawed.”

—
Washington Post

“For anyone who was frustrated watching Samantha suppress her magic on
Bewitched
, Ms. de la Cruz brings some satisfaction. In her first novel for adults, the author . . . lets her repressed sorceresses rip.”

—
New York Times

“What happens when a family of Long Island witches is forbidden to practice magic? This tale of powerful women, from the author of the addictive Blue Bloods series, mixes mystery, a battle of good versus evil and a dash of Norse mythology into a page-turning parable of inner strength.”

—
Self

“
Witches of East End
has all the ingredients you’d expect from one of Melissa’s bestselling YA novels—intrigue, mystery and plenty of romance. But with the novel falling under the ‘adult’ categorization, Melissa’s able to make her love scenes even more . . . magical.”

—MTV.com

“De la Cruz has, with
Witches
, once again managed to enliven and embellish upon history and mythology with a clever interweaving of past and present, both real and imagined . . . [It] casts a spell.”

—
Los Angeles Times

“De la Cruz is a formidable storyteller with a narrative voice strong enough to handle the fruits of her imagination. Even readers who generally avoid witches and whatnot stand to be won over by the time the cliffhanger-with-a-twist-ending hits.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Fantasy for well-read adults.”

—
Kirkus Reviews

“A sexy, magical romp, sure to bring de la Cruz a legion of new fans.”

—Kelley Armstrong,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Otherworld series

G. P. Putnam’s Sons

An imprint of Penguin Young Readers Group

Published by The Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, USA

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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com

Copyright © 2013 by Melissa de la Cruz and Michael Johnston.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission in writing from the publisher. G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Reg. U.S. Pat. & Tm. Off. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

De la Cruz, Melissa, 1971–

Frozen / by Melissa de la Cruz and Michael Johnston. p. cm.

Summary: More than a century after a catastrophic disaster wiped out most of humanity and covered much of the earth with ice, sixteen-year-old Nat yields to the voice in her head urging her to embark on a dangerous journey across a poisoned sea to the mythical land, Blue. [1. Voyages and travels—Fiction. 2. Environmental degradation—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. 4. Immortality—Fiction. 5. Science fiction.] I. Johnston, Michael (Michael Anthony), 1973– II. Title.

PZ7.D36967Fs 2013 [Fic]—dc23 2012034138

Published simultaneously in Canada. Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN 978-1-101-60787-9

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

For Mattie

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

—R
OBERT
F
ROST,
“F
IRE AND
I
CE
”

It’s time to begin.

—I
MAGINE
D
RAGONS,
“I
T’S
T
IME
”

T
HEY WERE COMING FOR HER. SHE COULD
hear their heavy footsteps echoing in the concrete hallway. In a way, the sound was a relief. For days upon days she had been left in the room, alone, in total silence, with little food and water, the weight of solitude becoming ever more oppressive, the silence a heaviness that she could not shake, punishment for refusing to do as she was told, punishment for being what she was.

She had forgotten how many days, how many months, she had been left here, alone with only her thoughts for company.

But not quite alone.

I warned you about waiting,
rumbled the voice in her head. The voice that she heard in her dreams, whose words echoed like thunder, thunder and ash, smoke and flame. When it spoke, she saw a beast through the inferno, carrying her aloft on black wings through dark skies as it rained fire upon its enemies. The fire that raged within her. The fire that destroyed and consumed. The fire that would destroy and consume her if she let it.

Her destiny. A destiny of rage and ruin.

Fire and pain.

The voice in her head was the reason her eyes were not brown or gray. Her clear tiger eyes—hazel-green with golden pupils—told the world she carried a mark on her skin, one that she kept hidden, one that was shaped like a flame and hurt like a burn, right above her heart. The reason she was imprisoned, the reason they wanted her to do as she was told.

The girl did not want to be different. She did not want to be marked. She did not want to be what the voice said she was. What the commander and the doctors believed she was. A freak. A monster.

Let me go—
she had implored the first time she had been brought to this place
—I’m not what you think I am.
She had insisted they were wrong about her from the beginning of her captivity.

What is your talent?
they had demanded.
Show us.

I have none,
she had told them.
I have no ability. I can do nothing. Let me go. You’re wrong. Let me go.

She never told them about the voice in her head.

But they found ways to use her anyway.

• • •

Now they were coming, their heavy footsteps plodding against the stone. They would make her do what they wanted, and she would not be able to refuse. It was always this way. She resisted at first, they punished her for it, and finally she gave in.

Unless . . .

Unless she listened to the voice.

When it spoke to her, it always said the same thing:
I have been searching for you, but now it is you who must find me. The time has come for us to be one. The map has been found. Leave this place. Journey to the Blue.

Like others she had heard the legends of a secret doorway in the middle of the ruined Pacific that led to a place where the air was warm and the water was turquoise. But the way was impossible—the dark oceans treacherous, and many had perished attempting to find it.

But perhaps there was hope. Perhaps she would find a way to do what it sought.

Out there.

In New Vegas.

Outside her window, far away, she could see the glittering lights of the city shining through the gray. Before the ice, night skies were supposedly black and infinite, dotted with stars that shone as sharp as diamonds against velvet. Looking up into that dark expanse you could imagine traveling to distant lands, experiencing the vastness of the universe, and understanding your own small part in it. But now the sky was glassy and opaque at night, a reflection of the bright white snow that covered the ground and swirled in the atmosphere. Even the brightest of stars appeared only as faint, distant glimmers in the blurry firmament.

There were no more stars. There was only New Vegas, glowing, a beacon in the darkness.

The city lights stopped abruptly at a long arcing line just a few miles out. Beyond the line, beyond the border, everything was black, Garbage Country, a place where light had disappeared—a no-man’s-land of terrors—and past that, the toxic sea. And somewhere, hidden in that ocean, if she believed what the voice said, she would find a way to another world.

• • •

They were closer and closer. She could hear their voices outside, arguing.

The guards were opening the door.

She didn’t have much time . . .

Panic rose in her throat.

What would they ask her to do now . . . what did they want . . . the children most likely . . . always the children . . .

They were here.

The window!
the voice bellowed.
Now!

Glass smashed, broken, sharp icicles falling to the floor. The door burst open, but the girl was already on the ledge, the cold air whipping against her cheeks. She shivered in her thin pajamas, the arctic winds blowing sharp as daggers as she dangled on the knife-edge, two hundred stories in the air.

Fly!

I will hold you.

Her mark was burning like a hot ember against her skin. It had awakened, as a rush of power, electric as the sparks that lit up the sky, snaked through her limbs, and she was warm, so warm, as if she was bathed in fire. She was burning, burning, the mark above her heart pressing on her like a brand, scorching her with its heat.

Let us be one.

You are mine.

No, never!
She shook her head, but they were inside now, the commander and his men, raising their guns, training their sights on her.

“STOP!” The commander stared her down. “REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE!”

GO!

She was dead either way. Fire and pain. Rage and ruin.

She turned from the room and toward the city lights, toward New Vegas, frozen city of impossible delights, a world where everything and anything could be bought and sold, the pulsing, decadent, greedy heart of the new republic. New Vegas: a place where she could hide, a place where she could find passage, out to the water, into the Blue.

The commander was screaming. He aimed and pressed the trigger.

She held her breath. There was only one way to go.

Out and down.

Up and away.

Fly!
roared the monster in her head.

The girl jumped from the ledge and into the void.